Page 99 of Middle of the Night

“We’re in here,” Henry calls.

Ten seconds and a rustle of tent flaps later and Ashley is on her hands and knees, peering at us with a questioning look. “What’s all this?”

“We’re camping,” Henry says.

Ashley flicks her gaze my way. “I can see that.”

“Henry, chill here for a minute while I talk to your mom.” I start to crawl out of the tent, making sure to snag the bourbon on my way out. Ashley’s eyes widen when she sees it.

“We won’t be long,” she adds.

We cross the yard and head into the kitchen. As soon as the patio door is shut, Ashley says, “What the hell is going on, Ethan? I sent Henry over to ask if you wanted to have dinner with us. Instead, I find the two of you hanging out in a tent. Since when do you have a tent?”

“Since this morning,” I say. “I thought it would help me remember.”

“Remember what?”

“Who killed Billy.”

Ashley pulls a chair away from the kitchen table and slumps into it. “Do you really think that will happen?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“Because Billy told me to.”

Ashley gives me a slack-jawed look, her eyes shining with concern. “By Billy, you mean—”

“His spirit,” I say.

“Right,” Ashley says with a nod. “That’s what I was afraid you meant. Why would Billy’s spirit—”

“Or ghost,” I interject. “I guess.”

“Sure. Why would his ghost—which isn’t a thing, by the way— Why would he tell you to do this? Wait, here’s a better question:Howdid he tell you?”

I proceed to tell her everything I omitted the other night when I first mentioned the idea of Billy’s presence on the cul-de-sac. The garage lights flicking on around the neighborhood and the baseballs in the yard. I even tell her about what Billy wrote in my notebook, knowing it sounds preposterous at best, clinically insane at worst. But I’m compelled to forge ahead anyway, in the long-shot hope that speaking it out loud will make it sound less crazy. I end by saying, “What if Billy wanted to be found? What if he made it happen?”

“But why now?” Ashley says. “Why, after all these years, would he let himself be found? Why now and not decades ago?”

I’m losing her. Obviously. I start talking faster.

“Because he knew I was here. Back on Hemlock Circle full-time for the first time since he disappeared. And now he wants me to find out what really happened to him.”

Ashley stays silent a moment, letting it all sink in. Her concerned look has shifted somewhat, edging closer to fear. What’s unclear is if she’s afraidforme orofme.

“You really think Billy’s ghost is asking you to solve his murder?”

“Yes.”

“You know that only happens in the movies, right?” she says. “That in real life, ghost kids don’t urge people to solve their murders? But let’s say you’re right. You’re not. This is batshit insane. But for now, let’s say Billy’s ghost is haunting your yard and throwing baseballs into it. Where would a ghost even get a baseball?”

An excellent question. One I haven’t considered and have no logical answer for.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But it’s been happening. And I’m not the only person who’s noticed it. You heard your dad the other night. He said he saw Billy.”

“I told you not to listen to him. My dad doesn’t know what year it is half the time,” Ashley says, the words catching in the back of her throat. “Today, he asked me what my mother was making for dinner. She’s been dead for years, Ethan. And it was like he didn’t even know.”

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