"Although there have been many theories regarding the ident.i.ty of the Villisca ax murderer, no one was ever found guilty of the heinous crime. Now, a hundred years later, the malevolent shadow of a heinous crime hangs over this home and eight victims still cry out for justice."

An eerie silence fell, our collective breathing, in and out, in and out, the only sound in the room.

Throughout Keelie's recitation I'd tried to distance myself from the words, tried to think of anything but the story she told, the story of a tragic and horrific murder that took place in this very home while the innocent victims lay sleeping and oblivious in their beds.

You're surrounded by big, tough men, I reminded myself. Patrick and Manny and two st.u.r.dy cameramen were just steps away.

"The owners wouldn't give us permission to use candles so we'll have to make do with these penlights. Manny," Keelie was saying, "lights please."

Manny flipped his bada.s.s flashlight off and the room went dark. Well, darker. The light from the cameras cast creepy shadows on the walls and around the room.

"Now, everybody put their fingertips on the thingy here. That's right. Nice and easy. Eww. Gross. Who's the nail biter?"

Frankie s.n.a.t.c.hed his hands back. "I think I'll keep Debbie, er, Dixie company," he said.

"Everyone must clear their minds completely," Keelie said.

"That shouldn't take long." That observation came from "Debbie's" corner of the room.

"Clear your mind and let it flow throughout the house, out, out, into the great beyond. We are reaching out to the spirit or spirits in this house. Spirits, are you there?"

"Uh, excuse me." I raised my hand. "Could I have some clarification here? Which spirit or spirits are we reaching out to? Victims of violent murder spirits or...ax-wielding, murderous psycho spirits?" My voice did a quivery vibrato number at the end.

"Does it matter?" Keelie asked.

"Uh. Yeah. What part of ax-wielding, murderous psycho spirit did you miss?"

"Listen, Turner. If you want to wimp out-"

"You smell that?" Langley said.

"Smell what?"

"That smell. It smells like-"

Bacon.

Shhh!" Tiara hushed. "Listen! Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Keelie said.

"That."

I strained to listen.

Thump.

"Did you hear that?"

"It came from upstairs."

Thump. Thump.

"There it is again."

"Hey! Who's moving the mouse?"

"Mouse?"

"The pointer! The indicator! It's moving!"

I stared down at our fingertips. The pointer was moving.

Thump! Thump!

"Listen! There it was again!"

"Shhh!"

"I don't like this."

"Knock it off! Quit pushing the pointer!"

"I'm not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Thump. Thump. THUMP!

"What the h.e.l.l!"

"Oh. My. G.o.d!"

"Turn on the lights! Turn on the lights now!"

Camera lights bounced off the walls in a frenzied dance.

"Where's the light switch?"

"Manny?"

"Just a minute. Manny's light won't work."

"You're s.h.i.tting me."

"Wait! What are you doing? Hold on! Where are you going?"

I jumped to my feet. Others around me did the same, kicking penlights and sending them rolling across the floor, their beams creating creepy, distorted shadows on the walls and curtains.

"I'm outta here."

As someone had aptly pointed out earlier, it was every man/woman for his/herself.

Thump, thump, thump.

The sound came from the top of the staircase, and I did what any sane, young woman would do under the circ.u.mstances. I bolted like the scared little Nancy-girl I was. I ran in the direction I figured the front door should be, only to have my way blocked by a tangle of torsos, arms, and legs.

"Could we have a little light here," Langley's voice shook, the calm, British facade cracking under the pressure.

Thump.

Manny's big ol' light suddenly came on.

Thump. Thump.

I watched in terrified slow motion as a bright red ball bounced down the stairs.

Thump. Thump. Thump!

"Aaaaaa!"

I'm pretty sure I screamed b.l.o.o.d.y murder, but it was hard to know for sure because Langley Carlisle the Third and Drew Van Vleet had a scream fest compet.i.tion going on to see who could sound more like a female 'fraidy pants than I did.

I pivoted, changing direction. Now that I was better oriented, I saw my opening. I felt my way to the kitchen, just off the parlor, aiming for the back door and escape.

Like those balance-challenged scary movie heroines who can't seem to master the concept of putting one foot in front of the other without falling, my own feet wouldn't seem to cooperate. I felt my knees buckle, and I went down, crumpling to the floor like blonde bimbo serial killer bait.

"Oomph!" I reached a hand out to see what I'd fallen over and gasped. I shoved myself away when I realized it wasn't a "what" but a "who" that had tripped me up.

I swore. One itty-bitty curse word.

This was not good. Not good at all.

I could see the headline now: Villisca Murder House Claims Teen Idol Victim.

Talk about your reality checks.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

"Oh, my G.o.d! Jax?" Keelie knelt over the latest body I'd stumbled across and cradled her ex's head. "Talk to me! Jax!"

"Aaaaaa!" The "body" in question suddenly let loose with a bone-chilling scream and sat up, grabbing at Keelie. "Gotcha!"

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Keelie jumped to her feet and shoved Jax away. His head smacked the wooden floor.

I winced. Judging from Keelie's reaction, a b.u.mp on the head would be the least of Jax Whitver's concerns.

"You scared the s.h.i.t out of me!" Keelie railed. "What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?"

Looking surprisingly alive and well-at least for the moment-Jax chuckled and sat up, resting a hand on one knee, his pearly white teeth standing out in the darkened house.

"Providing some very entertaining footage for the show, I'd imagine," Langley observed.

"You're sick!" Tiara gave Jax's leg a nudge with the toe of her shoe. "He's sick!" She repeated for the benefit of those of us who were too dense to pick it up the first time.

She'd get no argument from me. I'd be lucky if my hair wasn't white when I got a look at it come daylight.

"What's the big deal? I came in the back door, heard you getting your ghost on with the Ouija fest, and decided it would be fun to lie down and wait for someone to discover me."

"You son of b.i.t.c.h!" Keelie said again. "You scared us to death! That's what the big deal is!"

"Yeah. And what about that ball?" Tiara asked.

"Ball?" Jax shook his head. "What ball? What are you talking about?"

"The ball you bounced down the stairs!" Tiara said.

Jax shook his head. "Down the stairs? What the h.e.l.l are you talking about? I was never upstairs."

"Sure," Tiara said. "Sure."

"I'm serious. I never went past the kitchen. You would have seen me. And heard me."

To prove his point, Jax got up and walked to the tiny staircase. He mounted several steps. The resulting squeaks and creaks were deafening.

I frowned. No way could he have gotten up that staircase without the rest of us hearing.

"Well, if you didn't-" Langley started.

"And we didn't," Tiara said.

"Then...who?" Keelie asked.

"Or what?" Jax said.

A sound, not unlike someone might make when he or she steps on a hundred-year-old creaky board, made us lift our eyes to the ceiling. We stood, hushed and waiting.

"You know. I could do with a loo break," Lang suddenly said.