Free Speed Dating With the Dead by Scott Nicholson Page B

oozed from the dark gaps around it.
    Cody plucked the plywood away, revealing a hole about the size of four cinder blocks. A rank, earthy odor oozed from the opening, and the blackness inside was almost palpable, a solid mass that threatened to spill out like stuffing from a torn sofa.
    “I don’t remember that hole being there,” Janey said, relishing a last scolding of Wally Reams.
    Cody squatted, fished a penlight from his pocket, and speared the thin shaft of light into the darkness. He stuck his head into the opening. “Sweet.”
    “What is it?” Janey asked, shuddering at the thought of rats and other vermin having a free run to the kitchen.
    “Looks like some kind of repair access. For pipes and heating ducts.”
    As Janey leaned to peer over Cody’s shoulder, the EMF meter began blinking again, this time in a staccato frenzy. She almost dropped it.
    “Whatever it is, it’s in here,” Cody said, taking the meter from her.
    “Great. An evil spirit is just what we need.”
    Cody shook his head. “I doubt we’d get that lucky. I meant that the source of the fluctuation is down there. Wires, pipes, maybe some kind of heat or water pump. The first job in this line of work is to eliminate all the possible solutions until you get to the impossible.”
    He turned and looked up at her, his cheek smudged with a cobweb. “People think ghosts are everywhere, but the truth is they’re pretty damned rare. You have to cut through a lot of noise to get to the real deal.”
    Janey handed Cody the meter and straightened her jacket. “Well, don’t be crawling down in there without written permission. Mr. Wilson’s contract limits the hunts to the public areas.”
    Cody did the Charm School bit, dimples and all, and one eyelid fluttered in a conspiratorial wink. “I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”
    She didn’t know whether to spank him or kiss him, and she tightened her lips so she didn’t appear flustered. “And don’t be summoning any demons to my hotel.”
    “You don’t have to summon demons. If they want to be here, they already are.”
    Janey left Cody to his meter and note pad, acutely aware of the subtle noises of the hotel: air sluicing through the central ductwork, the distant creaking of the old elevator, the muted music from the kitchen, the rumbling of washers and dryers. She had a sense of the hotel as an organic, living thing, with its own circulatory system, breath, and skeleton.
    And its own memories.
    Its own desires.
    And perhaps a will to live.
    She hurried to the dining room, a chill settling on her skin. She kept her eyes dead ahead.

 
     
    Chapter 12
     
    This was exactly what he’d wanted, the main reason he’d set up the ghost hunt. He’d even prayed for it, in such awkward fashion as he could undertake that act of humility. But maybe it wasn’t so wise to ask God for things, because He might deliver them.
    Wayne had brushed Burton off with a mumbled story about the Ouija session reminding him of his wife because they’d played the board game together in college. Burton hadn’t bought it completely but hadn’t pressed for more details.
    We played, all right. Only it wasn’t in college.
    Wayne checked the monitor system. The guests who had signed up for early hunts were already making the rounds of the most notorious rooms, led by members of the SSI team. Wayne and Burton had charted out the rotation schedule to ensure that everyone would be able to spend time in 318, 202, and 218, with the dining room optional. Little history had been gathered on the dining room, though supposedly a spirit dubbed “The Waiter” still offered service in the wee hours of night.
    Wayne turned to the group of six that had assembled for the next hunt. Two were old ladies who looked wiry and clear-eyed, knotty hands clutching meters labeled “Ghost Detector.” Such devices were usually sold on the Internet by enterprising paranormal sites, run by entrepreneurs who bought basic EMF meters at