locked.
Fourteen
“Ricardo!” I said, banging on the door. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
“ ¡No! ” Ricardo shouted. “ ¡Alto! ”
“He’s saying stop,” Cameron said. “Something’s happening in there.”
Cameron tried to body-slam the door while Sal ran to the other one, shouting at the top of his lungs, “We need help! Hey! Help!”
“Fire!” Rory screamed. “Fire!”
That worked. I heard the distant sound of footsteps on the attic stairs. In the next room, Ricardo was still babbling for his attacker to stop.
“Serves him right,” Polly muttered. “Serves you all right.”
I turned to see the ghost standing there, her arms crossed.
“He’s going to kill him,” she said, smirking. “And it’ll be all your fault for not believing me.”
Ricardo screamed. Mid-scream, he was cut short, with an oomph . Then, “Who the hell are you?” and, “Hey! Put me down!”
Rory and Cameron both turned from the door to look at me.
“Is that…Ricardo?” Rory said.
I could hear someone working on the attic door now, yelling for tools. Then there was a sharp crack at the door Ricardo had run through. It flew open. Jeremy stood there, holding Ricardo aloft by the back of his hoodie.
Cameron looked from Jeremy to the broken door. “How’d you get that open?”
“I work out.”
“That’s…your boyfriend,” Rory said, turning to me. “What’s going on here?”
“Make him put me down!” Ricardo yelled—in perfect English. “He’s assaulting me.”
“No.” Jeremy kicked a switch-blade through the open door. “I saved you from an assault. Self-inflicted.” Jeremy walked through, still holding Ricardo. “I found him screaming and getting ready to cut himself with that.”
“He’s possessed!” Frank said. “Quick! Pin him down before he attacks someone.”
I gave Frank a withering look. Jeremy lowered Ricardo to the floor but kept a grip on his hoodie. Rory slipped behind Jeremy and retrieved something from the next room.
“Ricardo’s cell phone.” She looked at him. “It seems to be voice recording. Do you want me to stop it?”
Ricardo scowled at her.
She checked out the phone. “Oh, look. Emails. From your editor. About the exposé you’re running here.” She turned to me. “We’ve got ourselves an undercover reporter.”
“He stabbed himself?” Cameron said. “Seriously? That’s fucked up, dude.”
“I suspect he did more than that,” Jeremy said. “There’s sound equipment back there, too, which I’ll wager explains the voice I heard when I was coming through.”
“I had nothing to do with that. It was—” Ricardo’s gaze shot toward us, then away. He squared his shoulders. “I’m still going to expose this fraud. I know the truth. There were no ‘letters.’ There are no dead girls.”
“Sure there are,” Cameron said. “I found them online.”
“ Missing girls. Not dead ones. That was all faked to see if you’d fall for it.” He gestured at me.
“But she didn’t,” Jeremy said. “I heard her. Jaime never said she saw the missing girls. No matter how strongly she was urged to do so.”
I slowly turned toward the guy who’d been urging me so strongly. Frank edged backward as I advanced. Rory strode past me.
“Hey!” he said as she reached into his pockets. “You can’t—”
She pulled out a remote. When she hit a button, a voice boomed, “Get out!”
She looked up at him. “Okay, you can say it now.”
“Wh-what?”
She glanced over at Ricardo. “You, too. Repeat after me. I would have gotten away with it too… ”
Cameron grinned. “ If it wasn’t for you meddling kids. ”
…
We’d been scammed. It seemed, though, that our enterprising young journalist hadn’t orchestrated the scheme. Frank had discovered what Ricardo was doing and offered him a real scoop, in return for a little extra role-play.
The house had been rigged by Frank before we arrived. He’d put in a sound system with
Fourteen
“Ricardo!” I said, banging on the door. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?”
“ ¡No! ” Ricardo shouted. “ ¡Alto! ”
“He’s saying stop,” Cameron said. “Something’s happening in there.”
Cameron tried to body-slam the door while Sal ran to the other one, shouting at the top of his lungs, “We need help! Hey! Help!”
“Fire!” Rory screamed. “Fire!”
That worked. I heard the distant sound of footsteps on the attic stairs. In the next room, Ricardo was still babbling for his attacker to stop.
“Serves him right,” Polly muttered. “Serves you all right.”
I turned to see the ghost standing there, her arms crossed.
“He’s going to kill him,” she said, smirking. “And it’ll be all your fault for not believing me.”
Ricardo screamed. Mid-scream, he was cut short, with an oomph . Then, “Who the hell are you?” and, “Hey! Put me down!”
Rory and Cameron both turned from the door to look at me.
“Is that…Ricardo?” Rory said.
I could hear someone working on the attic door now, yelling for tools. Then there was a sharp crack at the door Ricardo had run through. It flew open. Jeremy stood there, holding Ricardo aloft by the back of his hoodie.
Cameron looked from Jeremy to the broken door. “How’d you get that open?”
“I work out.”
“That’s…your boyfriend,” Rory said, turning to me. “What’s going on here?”
“Make him put me down!” Ricardo yelled—in perfect English. “He’s assaulting me.”
“No.” Jeremy kicked a switch-blade through the open door. “I saved you from an assault. Self-inflicted.” Jeremy walked through, still holding Ricardo. “I found him screaming and getting ready to cut himself with that.”
“He’s possessed!” Frank said. “Quick! Pin him down before he attacks someone.”
I gave Frank a withering look. Jeremy lowered Ricardo to the floor but kept a grip on his hoodie. Rory slipped behind Jeremy and retrieved something from the next room.
“Ricardo’s cell phone.” She looked at him. “It seems to be voice recording. Do you want me to stop it?”
Ricardo scowled at her.
She checked out the phone. “Oh, look. Emails. From your editor. About the exposé you’re running here.” She turned to me. “We’ve got ourselves an undercover reporter.”
“He stabbed himself?” Cameron said. “Seriously? That’s fucked up, dude.”
“I suspect he did more than that,” Jeremy said. “There’s sound equipment back there, too, which I’ll wager explains the voice I heard when I was coming through.”
“I had nothing to do with that. It was—” Ricardo’s gaze shot toward us, then away. He squared his shoulders. “I’m still going to expose this fraud. I know the truth. There were no ‘letters.’ There are no dead girls.”
“Sure there are,” Cameron said. “I found them online.”
“ Missing girls. Not dead ones. That was all faked to see if you’d fall for it.” He gestured at me.
“But she didn’t,” Jeremy said. “I heard her. Jaime never said she saw the missing girls. No matter how strongly she was urged to do so.”
I slowly turned toward the guy who’d been urging me so strongly. Frank edged backward as I advanced. Rory strode past me.
“Hey!” he said as she reached into his pockets. “You can’t—”
She pulled out a remote. When she hit a button, a voice boomed, “Get out!”
She looked up at him. “Okay, you can say it now.”
“Wh-what?”
She glanced over at Ricardo. “You, too. Repeat after me. I would have gotten away with it too… ”
Cameron grinned. “ If it wasn’t for you meddling kids. ”
…
We’d been scammed. It seemed, though, that our enterprising young journalist hadn’t orchestrated the scheme. Frank had discovered what Ricardo was doing and offered him a real scoop, in return for a little extra role-play.
The house had been rigged by Frank before we arrived. He’d put in a sound system with
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