One Grave at a Time by Jeaniene Frost

hundred different fields,” he replied evenly. “If that doesn’t answer your question, then you’re wasting my time.”
    Satisfaction flitted across the edge of my emotions. Someone smart who was passionate about his work and dedicated to his team was more than I’d hoped for. Maybe Tyler had hit a home run directing us here.
    “Make sure you do EVPs and take lots of pictures on five,” Chris called out to a young woman who hurried past us.
    I glanced up toward the sixth floor, where I’d seen the most shadows pass by the windows. This facility primarily contained residual ghosts; brief, repeating snapshots of people who had long since passed on, no more sentient than a splice of frames from a film reel. Judging by the levels of energy emanating from the building, a couple sentient spirits also called Waverly Hills home, but they didn’t stick to one place in this huge facility. The sixth floor would yield the best chance for pictures of unexplainable shadows or orbs. Not anything that would make headline news, but at least it’d be something tangible that Chris’s group could take home with them. They’d rented this place for the night; might as well help steer them into getting their money’s worth.
    “Try six instead,” I suggested. “You’ll have better luck.”
    Chris’s gaze narrowed. “Five has had more reported cases of incidents,” he countered.
    I smiled blandly. “Six will net you more solid data, but hey. It’s your show.”
    Chris looked at Tyler, who nodded in confirmation. Bones just folded his arms, his coolly detached expression revealing nothing. The young woman balanced her tripod camera on her hip, and I didn’t need to tap into her thoughts to know it was heavy. Chris gave a last, musing glance at me before he spoke again.
    “Start on six first, Lexie.”
    Fucking tourists should just keep their mouths shut, Lexie thought, but her “sure thing!” was as cheerful as it was false. I wasn’t offended. She could take orders and knew when to keep her opinions to herself. Again my hopes lifted about this group.
    “Follow me,” Chris said after a measured silence. “We’ll talk while I work.”
    W e had covered most of the first floor by the time I finished telling Chris what we were looking for, and why. He kept his verbal comments to a minimum; but from his thoughts, Chris had trouble believing who Kramer was, not to mention the extent of the Inquisitor’s abilities. Just like Tyler predicted. That was okay. Two sentient—and chatty—ghosts had been not-so-stealthily following me from the moment I crossed through Waverly Hills’ doors. From their matching, dated clothes, I deduced that they were former patients of the facility. Their comments to each other revealed that since they’d died, they liked to pass the time by playing pranks on visitors, especially ghost investigators. Perfect.
    I waited until Chris paused in front of what looked like a large, lengthy tunnel before I put my plan into action.
    “You, hiding behind the support beam, what’s your name?” I said to the ghost currently skulking a few yards off. He came out with a “busted” expression on his filmy countenance, twisting the edges of his long-sleeved, pale pajamas.
    “Herbert.”
    “Who are you talking to?” Chris wondered, looking in that direction but, of course, seeing no one.
    “One of Waverly’s former residents,” I replied, thinking the ghost was too young and cute to be named Herbert. “Can you do me a favor, Herbert? Fly through the bearded man’s body. Only the bearded man.”
    Herbert obeyed without hesitation. Dexter barked once at the ghost’s zooming approach, but before Chris finished muttering, “What kind of joke is this?” the ghost dove right through his upper torso and appeared out on the other side.
    Chris stood absolutely still. Thoughts skidded across his mind almost too fast for me to read. Guts feel cold. Tingly, but she couldn’t actually be able to direct a