“Son, you just going to stand there and let her call you names?” Dad asked.

“Uh, yes, sir?” replied Lucas.

“Good answer,” said Dad. “But, seriously, these photos aren’t going to end up on Facebook or YouTube or some kooky ghost-hunting site, right?”

“N-no, sir,” said Lucas, who then seemed to stop himself from what he was about to utter next, probably some memorized, knee-jerk spiel about case confidentiality.

“Dad’s not ready to show anything off yet.” I gave Lucas a pointed glare, hoping he now understood how my father felt about the spirit realm and those who wanted to tap into it.

“Nothing worth showing off.” Dad backtracked in the direction he’d come. “You can probably tell, Luke, that I’ve only just started patching up the place.”

“It’s Lucas, Dad,” I corrected.

“Lucas,” replied Dad. “As in George. Got it. Maybe I should make it easy on myself and just call you Skywalker.”

“Well, sir,” said Lucas. “I’ve been told I am strong with the Force.”

“Ugh.” I palm-slapped my forehead. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Hey.” Dad pointed at Lucas with the newel cap. “Who shot first?”

“Uh, that would be Han, sir.”

Dad grinned. “I like this kid,” he said, continuing to aim the newel cap at Lucas, not like he was a person but, rather, an interesting specimen of fauna I’d retrieved from the woods. One he was even considering letting me keep. “I left Chess in the yard, so . . .”

I waved him on.

“Dinner in an hour, Steph,” he said over his shoulder as he turned. “Skywalker, I hope you’re hungry.”

With that, Dad was out of sight again, giving me the chance to breathe a sigh of relief.

“I guess I should have asked permission first about the camera,” mumbled Lucas.

“Permission granted,” I said. “And don’t mind my dad.”

“Easy for you to say. You forgot to mention your dad was the Brawny Towel guy.”

“He’s really just a big teddy bear.” I smiled, nudging him with one elbow.

Lucas didn’t look convinced.

I grinned. “We’d better get started with this investigation before he and my sister come back in. So, where to first?”

“Well, that depends,” he said. “Where would you say your concerns first began?”

Mine? The answer to that would be the graveyard. But that would be the wrong place to take Lucas with my dad prowling around outside.

“I guess, technically, that would be Charlie’s room,” I said. “So, this way.”

“Charlie is your little sister?”

“Yep,” I called back as I reached the stairs. Gripping the now headless newel, I turned with a smirk and waited for him to join me. “And I just dare you to call her Chuck.”

TWELVE

Zedok

“It’s speculated in some circles that closets, as a general rule, can be problematic.”

The boy’s voice drifted to me through the halfway open door of Charlie’s bedroom, which once, long ago, had been my bedroom. Erik’s.