Even better because I’d been recording the entire thing from my perfectly held phone, so we had footage to work into the podcast.
He kept us two paces behind everyone else to scold me. “If you’re still hell-bent on solving this case.”
“I am.” That was a simple answer.
Dane glared at me. “Then will you at least go about this smartly?”
“Why? Elenore said she just ran with it when she solved her case in Savannah.” That seemed to be the best way to go about solving cases when ghosts were involved.
Of course, her case didn’t end up being a ghost, but that was a minor detail. The important part was that she solved the case.
I’d definitely get internet clout, a raise, and possibly even a promotion if I solved this one.
“Delaney, I’m serious,” he said, and he actually sounded serious. And also perturbed. I had no idea why. “Elenore almost died. You need to be smarter.”
“Aww, would you be sad if I died?” I asked as our group stopped at another building on the tour.
An older woman gave a gasp at something Jeremy said, but I missed it, too busy staring into Dane’s gaze wondering what he was thinking.
He blinked. “Yeah, because if you die on my watch, I’ll probably get a write-up.”
Magical moment gone.
“That’s sweet,” I deadpanned. “Pay attention to the tour, D-bag.”
Now, that nickname had potential.
I finished the last piece of my breakfast bagel. If Dane was going to continue breaking into my room, at least he brought food and coffee with him. It wasn’t a horrible compromise.
Plus, he was nice to look at.
Until he opened his mouth, anyway.
“Did you finish that already?” Dane asked as I threw away the bagel’s wrapping.
I glared at him. Did he just call me fat? “You can leave.”
“No thanks. I think your television is bigger.” He propped his feet on the wooden coffee table in the middle of my seating area, and the television flickered to life.
How annoying.
Not wanting to sit by him, because he smelled ridiculously good this morning, I took up a spot at the small table with my phone in front of me.
The tour lasted more than two hours, so I’d had to cover it in three different videos. I stuck in headphones to listen to the replay so I didn’t bother Dane’s TV watching. I started the first one and settled in to watch.
Ten minutes in, something in the video struck me as odd, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. Dane laughed on the couch, and I smiled right as our guide explained how the British had walked through the streets of Charleston with their guns.
There!
Something happened again on the video. A flash of pitch black entered the screen and left.
Was it a ghost?
I sped up the video, trying to see where the black spots in the footage appeared the most. Was it every stop on the tour or only the first?
The blackness fluttered in from the right of the video, and I held my breath as it left again. This time was different. Light from the streetlamps offered a better view.
It wasn’t a ghost.
