When the car arrives and she steps inside, the boy isn’t there, but Shelly’s worked with enough ghosts to know how to encourage him to come out. She hits a button for the top floor and lets her hair out of its bun, winding a strand around her finger.

The boy appears as the elevator passes between floors 5 and 6. The first thing he does is press every button between 7 and 30.

Shelly can’t help grinning. Estelle would like him. He haunts the hotel the way a ghost in the movies would.

“Hi,” she says. “Do you want to talk? I bet you’re bored.” It’s a long shot and she feels silly doing it, but Shelly reaches into her pocket for the photograph of her and her mother. She holds it out in front of her. “Have you seen my mom?”

The boy turns to look at her, frowning. He’s a solid ghost, well established in the hotel. Shelly has read the story in the book the hotel manager gave them—it says that the haunting is perpetuated by a young woman who jumped from the building’s top floor. She was beautiful, according to the story, which increased the tragedy. Even sadder, she’d had a young son.

The boy doesn’t look like he wants to help her. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Shelly. Please, I want to find her.”

“I haven’t seen any moms,” the boy says as they roll to a stop at floor 11 and the doors open then close again. “I haven’t seen anyone interesting in forever. Why aren’t there any toys? Why won’t anyone play with me?”

“I’ll play with you,” Shelly says. “Will you look at my photo?”

“I don’t want to play with you,” the boy says, but he looks at Shelly’s photo anyway. The boy shakes his head, flickering in and out of focus, like the ghost in Isabel’s house. Shelly feels a spike of alarm shoot through her. He’s upset. “I’ve never seen her before. Have you seen my mom? Where did she go? She left me here, didn’t she? She left me all on my own!”

Shelly takes a step away from the ghost, pressing her back against the elevator wall. The lights flash off and on. “My mom left me, too. That’s why I’m here,” she tells him, raising her voice. “I’m looking for her!” He seems like he’s in his own world. She gets the feeling it doesn’t matter what she says because the boy isn’t really listening.

“Who are you?” the boy asks. “Why are you here? Why won’t you leave me alone?”