“The ironic thing is,” Daphne said, “my brother Paul, who was always looked at as the black sheep of the family, may be the only one that can save us.”

Nina sidled next to Jessica. “You’ve seen how networks are eating up ghost shows left and right. Even channels that have no relation to the weird or paranormal are filling every slot they can with people running around with night vision cameras. If it’s done right, it can make a lot of money. Ormsby Island is the right place. You, my dear, are the right lure. And I’m the right person to put it all together.”

Jessica recoiled as if Nina was breathing onion and garlic in her face. She said, softly, “Bitch, I can’t wait until you come to me so scared you’ll be begging for my help.” Nina’s confident smiled faltered for a moment so brief, Tobe wasn’t sure he’d seen her façade crumble at all. “And when I tell you to take a hike, you remember this moment. You want to stir things up? Bad frigging idea. While you play games, Eddie and I will get to the truth here and if you’re very lucky, we’ll make it go away before it gets its claws into you.”

Jessica snagged her bag, brushing against Nina as she went upstairs. Eddie, avoiding eye contact, went right behind her.

The house suddenly shook, as if it had been pulled up from its foundation and dropped back down again. Tobe’s hand met his wife’s as she gasped. Paul, Mitch and Rusty came bounding in the great room, eyes like frightened cats.

“What the hell was that?” Rusty cried.

Nina walked about the room, eyes partially closed, arms outstretched, her palms upright.

She said, “That, my friends, is pay dirt.”

When the house shook, Jessica ran to the window at the end of the hall. She breathed a long sigh of relief when she spotted Alice and Jason running in the backyard, laughing and blissfully unaware.

“Eddie, was that you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not me. Them. I can’t tell whether they were upset or happy with your interaction with Nina.”

Jessica threw her bags back into the Blue Room. “This place is a fucking circus. If it comes down to it, I’ll take those kids, load them on the boat and paddle my way back to the mainland.”

Eddie grasped her arms. “I think you did a pretty good job throwing down the gauntlet. You also laid out exactly what we have to do.”

“I did? I think I kinda blacked out there for a second.”

“You did. We have to find out exactly what happened here and the names of the children so you can set them free.”

She gave him a soft punch in his chest. “Seeing as we’re cut off from the world without access to any records, people or even the internet, it’s not going to be easy.”

Out of all the people she had helped come to grips with the paranormal in her life, she had never been blindsided like this. She felt like a chump. Her time away from the field had dulled her senses, clouded her ability to judge people and situations.

But feeling the way the entire house just vibrated, the strange ability she had to fuel EBs hadn’t waned one iota.

“Which means we have to fix you,” she said. “Remember the first time I brought you on an investigation?”

“How can I forget? You were being choked to death by that pissed off EB. Of course, you did encourage it to come at you with everything it had.”

Twisting her hair into a ponytail, she said, “Exactly. You were able to grab his name for me so I could send him away. I just need you to do the same thing here, only like a hundred or more times. This time around, though, I won’t be the one provoking them.”

“So they’ll only be strangling other people.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that, especially if one of them looks like a dime store gypsy.”

They both let out a burst of quiet laughter. It was a much needed release from all the tension they had gathered downstairs.

“Plus,” Jessica added, “we need to find that attic. The EBs didn’t point you in that direction for nothing. At least now, I don’t have to be polite and ask permission to poke around those locked rooms.” She went into her room, rummaged through one of her bags and came back out to show him her arsenal—several paper clips and a small screwdriver.

“What the heck is that?” Eddie asked.

“My lock picking tools. A house this old, this should be all I need to get in those rooms.”

He plucked the screwdriver from her hand. “Since when did you become a thief? Was this another one of your experiences on the road?”

She took the tool back and stuffed it in her back pocket. “I was bored one weekend and learned how to do it on YouTube. It’s easier than you think.”

“Easier than just asking for the key?”

“Think of it as insurance. I’m not sure they’re going to play nice with me from here on in. They wanted to use me so I can draw the EBs out, make them strong enough to show up on camera and audio so they can snag some million-dollar deal. Well, shame on me, but they got what they wanted. Now all I want to do is protect those kids and do my best to wreck the Harpers’ little plan.”

Chapter Twenty

Rusty nervously stroked his mustache while he filled a folding table with various monitors and cameras. The scene with Nina and Jessica had been ugly. He prided himself on being a lover, not a fighter. Confrontations made him jumpy. The only child of soft-spoken Lutheran parents, he’d always sought quiet corners, happier with silent contemplation than loud parties. His five-year stint in the army had given him enough barking and bellowing to last a lifetime.

“You got everything?” Mitch asked when he entered the library.

He nodded, eyeing the thousands of dollars of equipment, some of it borrowed without permission from the studio where Mitch did contract work. They should be good if they returned it all by Sunday, no one being the wiser.

“I was hoping to charge everything up at once, but the electrical here leaves a lot to be desired. We’re going to have to be careful with how much we plug in. If something blows out here, we’re screwed.”

When Paul told Rusty on the boat ride over that the place ran on a generator, he’d been less than thrilled. Everything they had required juice—lots of it. Gennies drained easily.

Mitch collapsed into a chair, his girth causing the wood to protest. “We’ll do some light filming tonight, then spend tomorrow making sure everything is fully charged so we can go at it hot and heavy. You want any help with that?”

Rusty waved him off. “I’ve got it. It’s better I keep busy.”

He’d known and worked with Mitch on various projects—commercials, a documentary on the Atlanta drought, a couple of music videos by fledgling pop stars that never popped, and even a corporate video on sexual harassment in the workplace. They were both cameramen by trade, though Mitch had directed a few things as well. Rusty liked working with him. The big guy made him laugh and was a consummate pro.

Unfortunately, times were tough and they needed to find a way to jump on a gravy train, any gravy train. They weren’t getting any younger. And then came Paul, an old friend from film school, with a plan that had potential.

“Ominous start to things,” Rusty said as he checked a mini dv camcorder.

Mitch blew out a big gust of air, rubbing his belly. “That’s what happens when you’re surrounded by people who are obviously bat shit.”

“Jessica was pissed, but she seemed normal to me.”

“She’s a goddamn ghost hunter, Rusty. That’s a little nuts.”

“That doesn’t say much for us, agreeing to be part of this.”

Paul rounded the corner and closed the library door behind him. “Hey, sorry about all that, guys.”

“Speak of the bat shit devil,” Mitch said with a hard grin. “Was what that girl said true? Is the boat really frozen?”

Paul waved his concern away. “It’s not frozen. The engine just won’t turn over. Some water may have gotten into the starter. I’ll try it again tomorrow. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”