Speed Dating With the Dead by Scott Nicholson

to recover.”
    “Not that kind of game. This is for keeps.”
    “Where we headed?”
    “I saw on that guy’s clipboard that they’re headed for 302. We have time to give them a little show.”
    “What about all the cameras they’ve got rolling?”
    “We’ll use them.”
    After the turn of the corridor, they reached a set of stairs that squeaked with every step. Ann admired the cleverness of the maintenance staff. From the mirrors on the walls to the careful disrepair, a Hollywood construction team couldn’t have concocted a better stage. The hotel even had a chilly draft snaking through the hallway.
    They found 302 unlocked, as Ann knew it would be. All the hunt locations were guaranteed to be open around the clock, just in case some hardcore spirit junkies needed a late-night fix.
    “So what’s the plan?” Duncan asked.
    “There you go, talking in questions again.”
    “I have a probing mind.”
    “And probing other things. But once in while you should just shut up and follow my orders.”
    “What do I get out of that deal?”
    “My undying gratitude. Now go to the window and wrap yourself inside the curtain liner.”
    “Nobody’s going to fall for that.”
    “I’m going to flash the lights. Anyone standing outside will see your silhouette but won’t have time to observe any definite features. So you’ll become a ‘sighting,’ and everyone will want to run in here with their instruments.”
    “I still don’t get it.” Even as he was expressing doubt, he headed for the window, and Ann smiled to herself. She knew how to get what she wanted, and he likely had a few good months left before she burned him out.
    “If 302 becomes a hot spot, then we have time to set up stuff in the other rooms.”
    “What stuff?” The woman coming out of the bathroom surprised Ann, and Duncan was already untangling himself from the curtains.
    “Uh, sorry. Didn’t know anybody was in here.”
    “Yeah, our group hunted here and I had to….” She rolled her eyes into the bathroom. “Darned thing didn’t flush.”
    “We were just goofing off,” Ann said.
    “You said something about a sighting.”
    Ann had been thrown off her game with Duncan witnessing. The woman looked to be in her 30s and was attractive, but had none of the spaciness of the other hunters, that vacant-eyed desperation that made them so easy to fool. “I heard this room was haunted.”
    “It is,” she said. “I’m Tonya, by the way. Tonya Townsend.”
    “I’m Ann, and that’s Duncan.”
    Duncan moved away from the window and pretended to investigate the closet, going so far as to flick his flashlight on and peer into the corners.
    “Nothing in the closet,” Tonya said. “It’s gone. I felt it.”
    “You’re a...what do they call them, a ‘sensitive’?” Ann figured the woman would be flattered.
    “I’m a hairdresser,” she said. “The head is a powerful place for spiritual energy and when you’re styling someone’s hair, you’re messing with the crown chakra.”
    Ann had heard of the seven-point energy system derived from a Hindu-based healing tradition, but she wasn’t sure it held any more validity than ghosts and goblins. But she nodded, more to distract Tonya from her suspicion than because of any interest in the subject. “And you know when ghosts are around?”
    “Yes,” she said, eyeing Duncan, who was now peering under the bed. “I can feel them. Sort of like the static before a thunderstorm.”
    Or maybe exactly like that. One of Ann’s theories was that minor electromagnetic fluctuations could lead to disorientation and hallucinations, and people who were hard-wired to be susceptible were also more likely to report paranormal experiences.
    “Did you sense one here earlier?” Duncan asked. His eyes met Ann’s, and she saw a conspiratorial glimmer in them. He was changing the subject.
    “Yeah. It was the suicide guy. The one who jumped from the third floor and got skewered.”
    “I thought he jumped