Page 6

The dining room smelled faintly of old wood, dust, and damp plaster. It had another fireplace, though smaller than the one in the sitting room, and a long wall of windows facing the overgrown garden. Someone had left a chandelier hanging over the center of the room, all tarnished metal and missing crystals.

Nate looked up at it. “Is that original?”

“I believe so.”

So no one knew.

He wrote chandelier questionable.

The ghost appeared beside the fireplace.

“You think writing things down makes you clever?”

Nate checked the wall beneath the windows. It was bubbling and damp. Maybe a bad sill. Maybe exterior drainage.

He wrote window wall moisture.

“Seriously, stop that.”

Sandra swept a hand toward the windows. “Imagine this opened up for dinner parties. The light in here is beautiful in the evening.”

The ghost’s glare snapped to her.

Was he going to try haunting Sandra again?

No, he turned toward the pocket door instead.

The air tightened.

Ah.

The ghost wanted to make a point. He wanted to force a reaction.

Nate held his breath. Time to see exactly how powerful this entity was.

The pocket door rattled.

Sandra jumped.

The door rattled again, harder this time, wood knocking against old track. Dust shook loose from the top edge.

The ghost lifted his chin, eyes fixed on Nate. A challenge.

Nate held his gaze. Let’s see what you’ve got.

The ghost snapped his hand sideways.

The door slid approximately three inches and stopped with a sad little thunk.

Silence.

Sandra stared at it.

Nate stared at it.

The ghost stared at it.

Somewhere inside the wall, the track creaked weakly.