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“That’s a good question,” Oliver said. “According to my research, which is really just me doing internet searches down an ever more cryptic and sketchy paranormal rabbit hole, there is a difference between the two.” He consulted his phone again and his thumbs danced over the glass before he tapped on a site and scrolled to the spot he needed. Dave loved to see the glint of excitement in his eyes. “A ghost is tied to the location of the person’s death, and often doesn’t realize they’re dead. There’s usually unfinished business that needs to be handled or something. There can be bad emotions tied to a ghost, depending on how the person died.”
“Okay. That would make sense in this case.”
“Right, exactly.”
“Her unfinished business is all the men she never had?” Dave said.
“Maybe. Or revenge for her murder. Maybe she blames all men for her death.”
“Could be. Then what’s a spirit?”
“Spirits aren’t tied to a particular place. They are the flickering reflection of a person’s soul after they’ve died, most commonly visiting those with whom they had an emotional bond in life.”
“So, more protective or loving than ghosts,” Dave said.
“Right.”
“I get it.” He chuckled quietly. “Maybe this ghost we’re looking for is pissed because they didn’t give her a very good name.”
Oliver laughed. “Maybe.” He read from his phone: “The Vixen of the Morelock Motel. Isn’t really the catchiest of monikers, is it?”
They passed a billboard, one of the old wooden types that had been hand painted decades ago based on the flaking and peeling. Spend the Night in Air-Conditioned Comfort, the billboard’s top line stated in big bold text. Beneath that, only slightly smaller, it read, The Morelock Motel 2 Miles Ahead.
“The Morelock Motel,” Dave said. “I mean, even the name of the place is creepy as hell. Didn’t the owner figure he was damning himself with that name?”
Oliver laughed again, and a glow of gentle satisfaction warmed Dave’s chest. It made him feel good when he got Oliver to look up from his phone or away from his laptop, and it was even better when he could get him to laugh. This was definitely a different relationship level than he’d managed with anyone else, and it was exciting and a little frightening. He loved Oliver, had said it countless times now over the years, but he hadn’t expected to fall so much in love with him. Oliver’s quick mind, sharp wit, bravery, and handsome features had really hooked him when they’d first met. Getting to know how his mind worked had kept Dave invested these last couple of years. He couldn’t imagine ever being bored spending time with Oliver.
“Here’s the turnoff.” Oliver pointed toward a narrow road practically hidden by trees. “Sheesh, no wonder people stopped coming here. They couldn’t find the place.”
“It is tucked away, isn’t it?”
Dave slowed and eased into the turn. The trees seemed to swallow the car up, and he glanced into the rearview mirror to watch the sunlit asphalt road diminish behind them. It felt more than a little dramatically final.
If the road they’d been traveling had been rough, this one felt like the Oregon Trail. Dave winced at every bump and jolt, his car squeaking and rattling as he eased it down the road. A thankfully short distance later, the trees opened around a wide pock-marked and weed-infested gravel parking lot that butted right up to the long, single-story structure of the Morelock Motel. Dave stopped at the edge of the gravel lot a few yards away from the building and leaned over the wheel to peer through the bug-splattered windshield.
To say the motel had seen better days would have been presuming that, at some point in its long history, the place had actually once looked good. The siding had long ago been a godawful yellow, the doors and windows trimmed in green, and every door had been painted a different and equally lurid color. The only good thing about how long the place had been abandoned was that exposure to the elements had washed those colors out and made them less garish, though they were now sliding quickly into decay.
“It’s, um, colorful,” Oliver said, leaning forward as well.
“Not sure any of those colors are natural.”
Oliver smiled. “Come on, let’s look around.”
“Got your spectrograph fully charged?” Dave asked.
“Cute. And I wish I had one. I’d love to be able to register ghostly presences.”
They got out of the car and came together at the front, looking the place over. Dave got a definite creepy vibe, and he wasn’t so sure his idea for them to spend the night here had been a good one. He’d thought the motel would be in better shape than its current condition.
“Think any people are staying in the rooms?” Dave asked. “Transients?”
“Possibly,” Oliver said, then shrugged. “Probably.”
Dave held out the key fob for the car and hit the lock button. “All right, let’s go explore before it gets dark.”
“Are you scared?”
“Scared is a very charged word,” Dave said. “But I will admit my senses are heightened by anxiety.”
