“It’s a vibe.”
He barked out a laugh. “Okay, yes. It has a vibe.”
I shot a few pictures from the video I was recording on my phone. The quality would be a little less than a regular picture, but I didn’t want to stop recording in case the hoodie guy came back.
“You should start rating ghost tours as part of your program,” Dane said. I think he meant it as a joke, but it wasn’t a horrible idea. Could I talk my boss into it? “This one has a certain creepy-chic vibe.”
Our guide, a small, thin woman named Tracy in a vintage tan trench coat, lifted an electric lantern with a flourish. “Welcome to Charleston’s most haunted resting place. The Circle Cemetery. Here the dead don’t move on but linger.”
I smirked. She had a good flair for dramatics. Dane rolled his eyes.
See? No adventure.
“Let’s go inside and see if anyone is out tonight,” Tracy said as she opened the gate.
“Ohh, spooky,” Dane whispered in my ear.
I batted his hand away. One, because his lack of excitement annoyed me, but also because having his lips so close to my ear made my stomach get twisty.
And we weren’t going to consider that right now.
We followed our group down the gravel path. Our shoes crunched against the loose stone, mixing with Tracy’s comments about Civil War soldiers, yellow fever, and a ghost bride who sometimes appeared in a ripped wedding dress.
I leaned against Dane as I whispered, “Is it a requirement that every haunted cemetery have a sad bride?”
His lips tipped up. “She’s probably on the payroll.”
No adventure, but he was funny.
I tried not to laugh.
Tracy talked about the different types of headstones and then told us to wander the area and find our favorite.
We worked our way closer to her, and I kept my voice low to respect the dead. I doubted they wanted me up in their business talking loudly while they were trying to haunt people.
“Quick question,” I said when Tracy’s attention turned to us by her side. “Do you know a guy named William? He did tours here. Right?”
Tracy’s lips parted. “William?”
“Yeah. I follow his blog, and I heard he might have transferred to Boone Hall. Do they have a ghost tour?”
Our guide tilted her head in thought. “No, William would never leave our company. He’s best friends with the owner.”
That’s new.
“You’re sure?” I asked, trying to work out the fresh pieces of this new story.
“Positive.” Tracy’s smile twitched. “But…”
She just needed a little push. “I have a friend who swore she saw him leading a tour at Boone Hall a few months ago.”
Tracy shook her head, looking back at our group as they wandered the cemetery. “That’s not possible.”
“Because he wouldn’t leave here?” Why was she so sure of that? People left jobs all the time.
She leaned in closer to whisper low enough no one else would hear. “Because William died. About six months ago, he had an accident and drowned.”
I feigned shock. “That’s so horrible. I’m sorry. We had no idea. Did we, honey?”
