One Grave at a Time (Night Huntress #6)(21)

“Let’s get this party started!” Chris, N.I.P.D.’s team leader, finished his pep talk with.

“Finally,” Bones muttered, too low for anyone but me to overhear.

We’d promised not to start with our questions until all of their prep work was done, having been told that setting up was too crucial for distractions. Little did we know how much prep work they were talking about. We’d been standing outside for a good two hours. If left to himself, Bones might have green-eyed Chris and the others into forgetting about their set-up-first conditions, but he knew I would have objected to that. We were here because we wanted their help, not the other way around. Besides, two hours of polite waiting wasn’t going to make or break our circumstances with Kramer.

Unless he showed up soon in another murderous mood.

“So,” Chris said, sizing us up as he approached. I didn’t mind that he’d barely glanced our way before this. All his attention had been on making sure his team was prepared, and that was a plus in my book. “What’s this big, urgent issue that Tyler tells me can’t wait until tomorrow?”

Bones glanced at the van with N.I.P.D. painted on the side, the endless cords for their equipment, and the dozen team members bustling about before he replied.

“You doing this because you truly believe in activity on the other side, or because you want to make a bit of profit off the gullible?”

Chris bristled, his cheeks becoming ruddier above his beard while his scent flared with anger. That wasn’t what I paid attention to. It was his spate of thoughts.

So sick of dealing with ignorant pricks who can’t see beyond what society tells them to believe. Never should’ve agreed to let Tyler bring them here tonight; we’ve got too much work to do.

“I have a Master of Science in Engineering from Stanford, so I can make more money with a hell of a lot less effort in about a hundred different fields,” he replied evenly. “If that doesn’t answer your question, then you’re wasting my time.”

Satisfaction flitted across the edge of my emotions. Someone smart who was passionate about his work and dedicated to his team was more than I’d hoped for. Maybe Tyler had hit a home run directing us here.

“Make sure you do EVPs and take lots of pictures on five,” Chris called out to a young woman who hurried past us.

I glanced up toward the sixth floor, where I’d seen the most shadows pass by the windows. This facility primarily contained residual ghosts; brief, repeating snapshots of people who had long since passed on, no more sentient than a splice of frames from a film reel. Judging by the levels of energy emanating from the building, a couple sentient spirits also called Waverly Hills home, but they didn’t stick to one place in this huge facility. The sixth floor would yield the best chance for pictures of unexplainable shadows or orbs. Not anything that would make headline news, but at least it’d be something tangible that Chris’s group could take home with them. They’d rented this place for the night; might as well help steer them into getting their money’s worth.

“Try six instead,” I suggested. “You’ll have better luck.”

Chris’s gaze narrowed. “Five has had more reported cases of incidents,” he countered.

I smiled blandly. “Six will net you more solid data, but hey. It’s your show.”

Chris looked at Tyler, who nodded in confirmation. Bones just folded his arms, his coolly detached expression revealing nothing. The young woman balanced her tripod camera on her hip, and I didn’t need to tap into her thoughts to know it was heavy. Chris gave a last, musing glance at me before he spoke again.

“Start on six first, Lexie.”

Fucking tourists should just keep their mouths shut, Lexie thought, but her “sure thing!” was as cheerful as it was false. I wasn’t offended. She could take orders and knew when to keep her opinions to herself. Again my hopes lifted about this group.

“Follow me,” Chris said after a measured silence. “We’ll talk while I work.”

We had covered most of the first floor by the time I finished telling Chris what we were looking for, and why. He kept his verbal comments to a minimum; but from his thoughts, Chris had trouble believing who Kramer was, not to mention the extent of the Inquisitor’s abilities. Just like Tyler predicted. That was okay. Two sentient—and chatty—ghosts had been not-so-stealthily following me from the moment I crossed through Waverly Hills’ doors. From their matching, dated clothes, I deduced that they were former patients of the facility. Their comments to each other revealed that since they’d died, they liked to pass the time by playing pranks on visitors, especially ghost investigators. Perfect.

I waited until Chris paused in front of what looked like a large, lengthy tunnel before I put my plan into action.

“You, hiding behind the support beam, what’s your name?” I said to the ghost currently skulking a few yards off. He came out with a “busted” expression on his filmy countenance, twisting the edges of his long-sleeved, pale pajamas.

“Herbert.”

“Who are you talking to?” Chris wondered, looking in that direction but, of course, seeing no one.

“One of Waverly’s former residents,” I replied, thinking the ghost was too young and cute to be named Herbert. “Can you do me a favor, Herbert? Fly through the bearded man’s body. Only the bearded man.”