Page 25 of Ghosted Cowboy
"Then let's go."
MIDNIGHT EATS OCCUPIEDthe southeast corner of the square, its vintage neon sign casting pink light across thesidewalk. Inside, red vinyl booths lined the walls, black-and-white checkered floor gleaming under fluorescent lights. The diner was warm after the chill outside, windows already starting to fog at the edges.
June Caldwell looked up from the register, her face lighting up when she saw us. "Well now, if it isn't our theater stars! That was some scare this afternoon. You doing okay, honey?"
"Fine, thanks to Ransom." I slid into a booth while he took the seat across from me. "Got room for two?"
"For you? Always." She grabbed menus, lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Though between you and me, folks have been talking. All these incidents—the mirror message, now this rod? People are starting to wonder if maybe the old place really is haunted. You know the stories about the actress who died there in 1923."
I'd heard them. Everyone had. But June loved her ghost stories almost as much as she loved gossip.
"Do you really think it's a ghost?" Ransom asked skeptically. "Or have you noticed anything—or anyone—acting strange lately?"
June's eyes went bright—she lived for questions like this. She slid into the booth beside me, her voice dropping even lower. "Well now that you mention it, there has been some oddness. That Brooke girl—she's been mighty touchy since losing the lead role to Rainey. Saw her arguing with Vivian a couple weeks ago, something about professional experience deserving recognition." She leaned closer. "And that lighting tech, Darcy? Always filming everything. Makes folks uncomfortable, you know? Like she's looking for something to catch on camera."
"Has Brooke said anything specific?" I pressed. "About the production, about me?"
June pursed her lips, thinking. "Nothing direct. But she's been real friendly with Darcy lately. Saw them having lunch here Tuesday, heads bent together real close."
Ransom and I exchanged a look.
June patted my hand. "Now you two sit tight. Let me get your orders in." She slid back out of the booth. "What'll it be?"
"Chicken fried steak for me," I said. "Well done, please."
"Burger for me, medium," Ransom added.
After she bustled away, Ransom pulled out his phone. "Brooke's jealous. She's made that clear. But would she actually try to hurt you?"
"Depends how desperate she is." I thought about the cutting remarks, the barely concealed anger. "She went to LA expecting to be a star. Came back broke and teaching high school drama. That's got to sting."
"What about Darcy?" Ransom scrolled through his phone. "June mentioned she's always filming for her social media."
"Apparently she’s building her portfolio or something—wants to work in film eventually." I wrapped my fingers around my water glass, the condensation cool against my palms. "What if she caught something on camera that the police missed when they reviewed the theater's security footage? Background details we didn't notice."
"Good thinking." He typed in her name. "If she's documenting everything for her portfolio, she might have angles the security cameras didn't catch."
We spent the next few minutes watching her behind-the-scenes videos. She'd posted dozens over the past few weeks—cast members running lines, Vivian directing, set construction, costume fittings. The videos had decent production value, creative perspectives, good editing.
"Wait." Ransom paused on one. "Look at the timestamp on this video from Saturday. The night of the mirror message."
I leaned across the table to see better. The video showed the stage, cast members in the middle of the spirit summoning scene. Time stamp: 7:43 PM.
"The power went out around 7:45," I said. "The message was written while we were in the dark."
"Right. So where's the video of what happened during the blackout? Where's the aftermath?" He scrolled further. "The next video isn't until Sunday afternoon. Huge gap."
"That's strange," I said slowly. Ransom frowned.
June returned with our food. The chicken fried steak looked delicious—golden crust, creamy gravy, exactly how I liked it. My stomach rumbled. I'd been too nervous to eat much today, and suddenly I was starving.
I cut into the meat, lifted the first bite to my mouth—
And immediately spit it back onto my plate.
"Rainey?" Ransom was half out of his seat. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't speak, just pointed at my plate. The steak I'd cut into was completely raw inside—bloody, cold, wrong. My stomach lurched. The bite I'd swallowed wanted to come back up. I grabbed my water glass with shaking hands and drained it.
