“Ghosts don’t exist,” Matt snapped. “They’ve never existed. They didn’t exist yesterday, they don’t exist today, and they’re not going to exist tomorrow. They’re made-up bedtime stories for mouth-breathers who are scared of dying and you’re too smart to believe in them!”

His statement hung in the air like something that absolutely, positively could not be taken back. Trinity looked as though she’d been slapped.

“I mean,” Matt said, stammering, “I guess they could exist, but I don’t think this was one.”

“Screw off,” Trinity said, turning her back on him. “You want to see my ghost, Ruth Anne? Come here and take a look.”

Trinity had the camera open and was rewinding the footage. Against her better judgment Amy drifted over to watch. Lines of static crackled, and then the film slowed to normal speed. On the screen was one of the EMF meters, sitting in the middle of the massive slab of a Frånjk dining room table surrounded by eight chairs. The shot zoomed out until the EMF meter was just a little white dot, then the camera moved toward it, generating a slasher-movie point-of-view effect as it rocked from side to side.

Trinity’s voice, tinny and electronic, squeaked out of the camera’s speaker. “The punishments of the penitents were designed to redeem their souls. Even today, this Orsk superstore echoes with the cries of the dead.”

“Are you narrating?” Amy asked.

“I told her not to do that,” Matt said.

“No one’s listening to you, Matt,” Trinity said.

The camera panned across the room display as it approached the dining table. It passed one of the “Orsk: Our Home Is Forever” posters that listed all the environmentally friendly materials used to make the Frånjk line. It panned past a human figure standing in the bedroom door. Then it panned past a set of Rimmeyob shelves. Around her, Amy felt everyone stop breathing. Her legs went numb.

Slowly, the camera panned back toward the bedroom door, but it was too late. A shadow rushed out and the lens went black. The camera rocked up and flipped over, and light fixtures streaked across the frame.

“Did you see?” Trinity exclaimed. “He came right at me! He was freezing cold and brushed past me, and I tripped over one of the chairs.”

“He jumped you,” Matt said.

“He was trying to communicate!” Trinity said.

The footage did a flip and suddenly they were looking at the back of a man running down the Path toward Kitchens. Amy caught a glimpse of a dark blue shirt and white tennis shoes before he dove behind an island countertop.

“You see?” Matt asked. “He’s wearing sneakers. What kind of ghost wears sneakers?”

“Oh, my God,” Amy said. “I’ve seen this guy! He was here this morning when I got to work. I saw him standing in Bedrooms.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Basil asked.