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Oliver would never in a million years have imagined falling for a brother of Cody Bower. Oliver and Cody more or less tolerated one another, and the little Oliver had seen of Dave and Cody’s older and extremely conservative brother Roman had made him want to avoid every Bower family member for the rest of his life, so Oliver had been shocked to realize he and Dave not only clicked, but actually worked well together. Who knew he could actually feel this way for a Bower?
The rhythm of Dave’s deep breaths calmed him, lulling him into a sleepy trance. He needed to get some sleep as well to be ready for whatever happened that night. A yawn helped to convince him that a nap alongside Dave sounded like the perfect way to pass the morning. He stood and carried the chair into the room then closed the door. He braced the back of the chair beneath the knob then returned the notebook to his backpack.
With slow, careful movements, Oliver lay beside Dave and closed his eyes. The steady sound of Dave’s breathing quickly carried him off into a heavy sleep.
CHAPTER THREE
A loud, relentless pounding startled Dave from a deep sleep. It sounded as if someone was banging the side of their fist against a door. But, who would do that? And which door were they trying to get open? Was there a fire in the apartment building?
He sat up and looked around the dim and rundown room. Where the hell was he?
“What the fuck?”
Oliver’s sleep-slurred voice from beside him made Dave jump. He put a hand over his racing heart as Oliver pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing sleep from his eyes before fumbling his glasses off the nightstand.
Then his memory kicked in. Abandoned and haunted motel. The screams in the woods and the face in the window. And now, someone pounding on the door. Perfect.
“You heard it too?” Dave said. “Thought I was dreaming.”
“Yeah.”
The pounding came again, sudden and loud, startling shouts from them both. Dave’s breath came in short pants, and his skin had gone clammy. Heart attack maybe? Or his body purging the sudden rush of adrenaline? He put his feet on the floor and stood, fingertips tingling and the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He looked across the mattress at the door, noting with relief that the chair was still propped beneath the knob. Who, or what, was out there, trying to get inside? Trying to get to them.
Oliver slid across the mattress, the tarp crinkle-crackling with his movements, and stood beside him, also looking toward the door. Dave instinctively put out an arm, gently moving Oliver slightly behind him.
“It’s the middle of the day,” Oliver said. “Why would a ghost be pounding on the door in the afternoon? Isn’t that something they do at night?”
“Do ghosts even knock?” Dave said. “Or would it just walk right through the door?”
“I don’t think there’s a rule book. Maybe it wants to frighten us.”
Dave licked his lips and opened and closed his fists a few times. “Guess we should open the door and find out.”
“Let me get my phone,” Oliver said. “I’ll get a video of it.”
“That means I’m opening the door on my own, huh?”
“I’ll be right beside you,” Oliver said, eyes on his phone as he tapped at the glass. “Well, maybe right beside and a bit behind, to get the best angle.”
“Sure,” Dave said with a curt nod, keeping his eyes on the door. “Gotta get the angle just right to be able to get video of me being murdered by a ghost.”
“We need to get proof,” Oliver said, then held up the phone, the light from the flash making Dave squint. “Okay, I’m ready when you are.”
Dave glared into the camera. “And if I’m never ready, you’re just going to make a video of me standing here giving you the stink eye?”
Another bout of hard, heavy pounding rattled the door in the frame and made them both jump. Oliver turned the phone toward the door, the steady light from the flash weakly illuminating that corner of the room.
“We’re here at the Morelock Motel in Pennsylvania,” Oliver said in a quiet voice, keeping the camera on the door, “investigating the legend of the Vixen of the Morelock Motel, a ghost who’s supposedly haunted this motel for decades. Last night, someone or something was prowling around outside the room, and we didn’t get much sleep.”
“Because you screamed like a five-year-old child,” Dave said.
Oliver swung the phone back toward him, and Dave squinted and held up a hand. “Hey,” Oliver said, “there was a face just inches away from mine on the other side of the window. You would have screamed, too.”
Dave gave a noncommittal grunt and waved at him. “Get the light out of my eyes.”
“Anyway…” Oliver said as he aimed the camera at the door once again. “We were catching up on sleep during the day when someone, or something, started pounding on the door.” He shot Dave a cool look while keeping the camera fixed on the door. “And this time I didn’t scream at all.”
Dave waved off his sassy comment before facing the door and squaring his shoulders. He lifted his chin, clenched his fists, and moved to the bottom corner of the bed closest to the door. He was a few feet from the chair tipped back under the knob. He licked his lips and slowly approached the door, carefully removing the chair from beneath the knob. He looked over his shoulder at Oliver who held his phone up, focused on him.
