I hold up the walkie. “There’s something here,” I say.

“You think you can make contact?” he replies.

“Of course,” I reply, even though I’m not sure.

There’s a strange look on Elliot’s face. He reaches into his bag and pulls out his EMF meter. The meter flutters out of control, the pin-like needle dancing wildly. The squeaking returns on the other side of the bookcase.

“You really don’t hear that?” I ask.

Elliot shakes his head. I steady myself, prowling around the corner to the next row. At first, I see nothing, but then that ringing noise knifes in and out of my ears. Down the row, in a shallow doorway, is a tall, gangly silhouette. With trembling hands, I reach in my back pocket and unfold the crinkled photo of the girls. Glancing at the names and the girls’ faces, I pinpoint the one with the leg braces.

“Tammy,” I whisper, reading off the written name of the girl.

Her cumbersome frame lumbers off in those squeaking leg braces. I follow her.

“Ange, where are you going?” Elliot says. “Come on. Give me something.”

Down the hallway, I watch Tammy awkwardly totter with her leg braces. I say her name louder, though my voice catches. “Tammy.”

She halts, balancing on her braces. I try to control the ringing in my ears. Slowly, Tammy turns, her face obscured in shadows. I can feel her staring at me. The ringing daggers in my head. “Tammy. My name’s Angela…”

Tammy raises a finger to her lips. “Shhh,” she says, giving me a long look.

She then pivots, her metal braces creaking as she clomps down the hall. Sque-eak. Sque-eak. Sque-eak. Elliot stands next to me, filming the hallway, and then my reaction.

“You’re not seeing this?” I ask.

He shakes his head again, his eyes wide. I stare after Tammy. “She wants us to follow her,” I say.

Elliot drops the camera a little. “Okay,” he replies, his voice unsure. Steeling myself, I carry on down the hall.

The walkie dips in and out with static. “Ange, you copy?” Jackson says. “Turn back. Mrs. Green says the girls never went in the East Hall.”

But I keep going. Elliot shifts behind me. “We should turn around.”

A rotting floorboard groans under my foot. “Turn around then,” I say.

“Ange, come on. You’re freaking me out.”

Tammy’s disappeared around a corner now. The floorboards creak under us like cracking ice. “I just, I feel like…we’re almost there,” I say, and it’s true. It’s like we’re on the verge of something. The air crackles with electricity.

“Almost…where?” he asks. “I’m all for you following your gut, but you can’t keep me in the dark.” When I say nothing, he sighs. “Let’s…”

There’s a sickening shunk behind me.