The first thing Gabriella noticed when she got back to work the next morning was how pale James looked. He was curled up under a heavy blanket at the end of the couch with an abandoned stack of paperwork on the coffee table in front of him. Her heart sank as he glanced up at her. “Hey, Gabs.”

“Hi.”

“Looks like I have it too.”

She could tell, even from here. “I’m sorry,” she said uselessly.

James shrugged and winced. “Not your fault,” he said. “But now that you guys are here, I’m going to go home.”

“I’m driving him,” Amelia said from behind Gabriella, making her jump. “Can you keep watch here until I get back? I’ll be like ten minutes.”

Right, James’s new place was less than a block from here. “I can walk it,” James argued.

“Fine, I’ll walk you there.”

He scowled, but didn’t argue any further. Instead, he stood up and cringed, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Don’t be a jackass,” Amelia said, her voice gentle despite the harsh words.

“I feel bad leaving you guys here,” he said as they walked down the stairs.

“Yeah, and you’ll feel worse if you stay and die on the couch.”

They walked out the door and there was quiet as it closed behind them. Gabriella glanced over at the printer, but nothing had come through. So she took a moment to pour a cup of coffee from the mostly full carafe in the kitchen, then sat down to read her emails.

There was one that was CC’d to her and James from the Hillsborough County Historical Society. Considering it was only nine-thirty in the morning, she owed someone there a very nice fruit basket.

James and Gabriella –

Attached are some maps and sketches of the Greenville Tavern as it was in 1811, when it was built. Judging by the photos you sent me, your aunt’s house is at least partially the original structure, though there have been additions built onto it over the years. I’ve also scanned the pamphlet of local legends we were discussing last night. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do to assist you.

-Brenda

Gabriella started with the maps, waiting impatiently as the files chugged to life on the screen. As they did so, her phone buzzed with a text. She glanced over at it.

MOM

I’ll be at the house today. Not staying, but meeting with Patrick.

Patrick better not say or do anything that would get him kicked out of her mother’s house. If he blew it, then the case was off and they were back at square one. Right as it seemed like she was finally getting somewhere.

GABRIELLA

Thanks. James is sick today, so I don’t know the plans on our end. Everyone but me and Amelia have it.

She turned back to the map, which was fully loaded now. This one was clearer than the one she’d been looking at yesterday. The tavern was located just off to the side of the page, where she could also see the outlines of the other parcels of land. Behind the tavern, the property line actually seemed closer to the house than it currently was. She couldn’t be certain of the measurements yet, but just eyeballing it, there was probably at least fifteen feet of difference there. Interesting.

She moved on to the PDF of the pamphlet, which seemed very promising. Once again, the computer strained to open the file. Gabriella was tempted to click over to her email while she waited for it to open, but that might be too much for the Foundation’s computer system to handle.

Her phone buzzed again, and she jumped, knowing it had to be her mom but definitely not hoping it was Elliot.

MOM

How are you?

There was a question. Good and terrible? She didn’t want her mom to worry about her, but apparently, that wasn’t going to happen.

GABRIELLA

I’m alright. Sad. Mad. Mostly I just want to work.

If Gabriella looked at it from any amount of distance, she didn’t like how she wanted to throw herself into her work like this. But maybe since it was temporary, it was fine. After all, even James and his workaholic tendencies weren’t about shutting out bad feelings. So she wasn’t emulating that. Instead, she was just coping temporarily.

Her mom didn’t answer for a few minutes and the PDF took even longer than she’d anticipated to load. Gabriella sipped her coffee and looked around the quiet house. It was cozy for a paranormal investigation headquarters, all things considered. Right now the table behind her was still cluttered with tools, but there were also some lingering Christmas and winter ornaments that hadn’t been put away yet. Glitter from a few of them streaked the handle of an old hatchet that was laying at the head of the table.

The living room was a little cluttered, and she knew it was because they were all neglecting the cleaning roster. So, as she waited to be able to do her job, she got up and quickly picked up a little. She straightened up the pillows and tossed the blanket James had been wrapped in on the couch. Then she thought better of it, took the germ-infested blanket off, and brought it into the kitchen, where there was a tiny washing machine tucked under one of the worn counters. It was too small to do anything more than towels or linens, nobody was bringing their home laundry here to get it done. But it saved them a lot of time and money going to the laundromat, which she was pretty sure was the only reason the Foundation had actually agreed to buy it however many years ago.

By the time she had a wash humming and the living room as clean as it was going to get, the pamphlet was finished downloading. It was more of a book than a pamphlet, and the pages were extremely faded. Still, if Brenda had scanned this thing specifically to send to them, Gabriella was going to have to get an even better fruit basket than she was already envisioning for the county archivist.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a way to search for keywords within the text. Which made sense considering it was written on a typewriter at least fifty years ago. So she had to scan through the small text herself. By the time Amelia got back fifteen minutes later, Gabriella was through the first third of the book with no mention of the Greenville Tavern.

“God, that apartment is a nightmare,” Amelia said as she sat down at one of the other computers. “Graham’s still sick and James was adamant we were walking there. So of course I had to help him up the fucking stairs, which is why I took so long. I’m glad I had a mask on me. I know I’m at risk just from existing right now, but if I hadn’t had it, I’d probably walk out of that house with the flu again instantly.”

Gabriella winced, unsure how to respond. But Amelia wasn’t looking for a response, so she turned back to her reading.

“We have a case in Fitchburg later,” Amelia said after a moment, cutting into Gabriella’s concentration. “There’s a house up by the college whose security camera keeps catching a figure in the backyard.”

It’s a burglar. Or a drunk college kid going in the yard on a dare. Or maybe a smudge on the camera. Elliot’s voice was in Gabriella’s head before she could stop it. Was he really making her more skeptical of what she saw every day with her own eyes?

“Um, yeah, that sounds good,” Gabriella said, trying to shake off the discomfort this thought brought on. “When are we going?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Amelia said. “What are you working on?”

She showed Amelia the map and pamphlet, explaining the thread they were tugging on. Amelia looked impressed.

“Have you told Patrick?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Gabriella said. “James was going to talk to him, but I’m not sure he did.”

“We’ll call him later,” Amelia said. “Actually…”

She went back to the computer and clicked on a few things. “We’re supposed to go up there to consult on your mom’s case at noon,” she said.

“Can we do that?” Gabriella asked.

“I’ll confirm it with McGovern, but I think so,” Amelia replied. “I’ll ask Rosa to watch for any problems. And Jenny over in Franklin County should be on today.”

There was a sound at the door, then it opened a second later. Both of them jumped and spun in their chairs as Madelyn walked in.

“Hey!” she called.

“What are you doing here?” Amelia asked.

“I’m on today, remember?”

Madelyn came up the stairs slowly. She looked a little thinner than she had before she got sick, but well. “Twenty-four hours fever free. So what are we doing?”

Amelia looked like she was unsure for a second, then glanced over at Gabriella. “Well, if you’re up to taking comms and holding things down here for a few hours, we’re hanging some cameras in a backyard, then hunting a ghost at her mother’s house. We’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Perfect,” Madelyn said.

“James just went home sick. I saw Graham there, he’s still a mess.”

“Bradley texted me earlier,” Madelyn said. “He said he feels fine, this is stupid. So nothing new there.”

Amelia laughed. “Alright,” she said. “Go get settled.”

Madelyn made her way down the hall toward the bedrooms and Gabriella could see the tension leaving Amelia’s stance as she watched. She turned around and saw Gabriella looking at her.

“I was pushing our luck leaving this place empty,” Amelia admitted. “But I’d also have to listen to Patrick’s bullshit if we didn’t go today. So it was a lose-lose. Okay, we leave for Fitchburg in fifteen minutes.”

She went down the hall after Madelyn, leaving Gabriella at the computers. Gabriella turned back to her pamphlet and kept going, moving into a small segment of local folklore. She was just about ready to give up and prepare to leave, when a sketch of a tavern caught her eye.

One name that comes up beginning in the 1850s is that of Virginia Richelieu. Virginia Richelieu was a dancer, according to the stories around the area. She was making her way home to Canada when the trail brought her to an inn in New Hampshire. The rumors vary about what happened there. One version says an ill-fated whirlwind romance with the landlord ended in heartbreak. Other, darker tales, suggest murder. But from there, Virginia’s trail ran cold. Nobody saw her again, but the patrons of the inn swore they felt her presence for years after. Could the ghost of a Nova Scotia dancer be haunting a nameless inn in Southern New Hampshire?

There was no positive proof any of this had ever happened, or that a Virginia Richelieu even existed. But it was another thread to tug on, so she’d get to work on it after they investigated the ghostly happenings of a small Fitchburg single-family home.

---

The case was another straightforward one. Gabriella didn’t like the skepticism or the hints of disdain she felt about the work as she prepared equipment in the yard and Amelia interviewed the family who lived there. The evidence had been cleared of tampering and all the tests that the Foundation did had come back negative. This was as real as the other cases they worked on every single day. So why did she want to chalk it up to a trick?

“Maybe they’re trying to get some kind of TV deal,” she said to Amelia, the words falling out as she hooked a camera up to the wooden fence.

Amelia looked at her, tucking a lock of her blonde hair under the old beanie she wore. “Who?”

Gabriella gestured toward the house, which the family had vacated a little while ago. Amelia frowned at her. “Why?” she asked. “Is there anything you noticed? Something different from the usual cases?”

“No,” Gabriella admitted. “But maybe that’s it. Maybe we take these cases and there’s a logical explanation for them.”

“Your ex-boyfriend’s a fantastic ventriloquist,” Amelia said as she reached over and tightened the strap on Gabriella’s camera. “If it weren’t for the fact that I know you have a fucking brain in your head, I’d swear it was you saying that.”

Gabriella’s face caught fire in the cold air. “It’s not…” she started, but trailed off knowing full well she didn’t have a defense.

“Do you think all the work we’ve done is fake?” Amelia asked.

Her tone wasn’t too hard, and Gabriella had to be grateful. She’d been on the receiving end of Amelia’s icy disdain before and never wanted to be in that position again.

“No, of course not,” Gabriella said quickly.

“You’ve seen these things yourself, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve experienced them. With senses that haven’t been impacted by any kind of injury or intoxication?”

Gabriella was about seventy percent sure that question came directly from the handbook and this made her feel even sillier. “Yes, I have.”

“So who do you believe? Someone who has never experienced any of this job, has not been on the scene at any of your cases, and is so skeptical that they’re not going to believe it when they’re literally lifted off the floor? Or are you going to believe what you actually experience for yourself?”

Sure, she was mortified, but the flood of relief was worth it. “You’re right,” Gabriella admitted.

“Listen,” Amelia had a degree of sympathy in her voice that told Gabriella this wasn’t the first time something like this had come up. “You know what you know. Just because a man with too much fucking confidence disagrees, you do not ever bend. Got it? Don’t let him convince you that you don’t know your own experience and your own brain.”

God, the way she talked made Elliot sound like a monster. Gabriella felt the urge to defend him, but before she could, Amelia held up her hand. “Don’t,” she said. “I know he’s not an ogre. He’s just a guy.”

“How many times have you had this conversation?” Gabriella asked.

“My best friend is a straight woman,” Amelia said with a laugh as she looked up at the cameras that were now ready to catch anything in the yard. “And I’m thoroughly sick of seeing Madelyn tear herself down for men too. Sooo… a few times.”

She smiled at Gabriella and there was only warmth, no disdain. “That’s part of this,” she said. “I remember we talked about this back in the fall, right? It’s hard. But you’ll figure it out. With or without him.”

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 12