But as soon as I take another step, a crate crashes from the top of the pile. I yelp and jump back just before the crate smashes to the floor. It would have knocked me out had it hit me in the head.

“Hayley!” Now it’s Amelia. She and everyone else are standing on the other side of the smashed crates, staring at me in horror. “It’s dangerous back there! Crates are falling everywhere!”

“It’s the ghost,” someone else pipes up. “It’s got to be!”

“So this place is haunted?” another voice cries. “I’m outta here!”

“Hayley,” Paul interjects. “Please. You have to stop. You’re jeopardizing the show—for real. Every minute we waste with this is costing us money—and you know we’re on thin ice.”

I nod. I know that. But I have to do this.

I turn from them, facing the huge wall of crates and the light from the projector. Someone’s back there. I can see a shadow moving. Whoever it is, he or she knows I’m here—Amelia and Paul and everyone else have blown my cover. I have only seconds before they escape.

Another box smashes to my left. I duck away from it, trying not to feel afraid. I zigzag past the wall of crates until I’m at the very back. There’s a thin corridor behind the crates, only big enough for a person to fit through. It’s dark in there, but I can just make out a shadow slipping away. I also see a projector screen, definitely the one that has been beaming the ghostly image onto the wall. I also notice a few strong, heavy ropes hanging from the wall of crates, stretching all the way to the top. Perhaps this is how the person was making the crates fall. Maybe they’d rigged some sort of system to push them off from the ground, making it look like they were falling all on their own, the work of a ghost.

The figure is getting away. I hurry down the narrow corridor. “Wait!” I cry out, twisting the sapphire ring around my finger for extra courage. “I see you! Stop! It’s over, okay?”

The figure keeps moving. A door opens, and light from another room floods in. The person slips through to their escape, but not before I catch up to him and spin him around.

When I see who it is, I rear back. “Y-You?” I whisper.

It’s Mike. The guy who told us about the ghost in the first place.

Chapter Nineteen

Mike is dressed from head to toe in all black. He stares at me angrily…and guiltily.

“You?” I cry. “You’re the one who’s been doing this?”

“Please,” Mike begs. “This isn’t what it looks like. I haven’t hurt anyone. I’m doing someone a favor, that’s all.”

“A favor?” I’m confused. “What do you mean? Who?”