Free Spookygirl - Paranormal Investigator by Jill Baguchinsky Page B

of his memories of Mom.
    And tossed it all in a coffin. And people think
I’m
morbid.
    I had to work fast. I expected Dad home within half an hour. That wasn’t enough time to go through the boxes,and I couldn’t let him find me snooping in the spare room. I wanted to grab all the boxes at once, but since there wasn’t enough space in my tiny bedroom to store them all, I’d have to settle for attacking them one at a time. I could sort through the first one, then trade it for another the next time Dad was out. I tucked a box under my arm, closed the coffin, and ran back up to the apartment.
    I figured the boxes couldn’t all contain equipment. There were probably all kinds of clues and stuff in them. The idea of finding out more about Mom excited me a lot more than investigating the shower room hell gate.
    I opened the top flaps and found a scattered mess of papers, photographs, and assorted little things. It looked like everything had been packed quickly, without any attempt at organization.
    It was how I’d pack away the belongings and mementos of a loved one I’d just lost. I bet Dad had stuffed everything of emotional value in these boxes, and he probably hadn’t opened them since. At least he had kept them, but why hang onto a bunch of memories you won’t let yourself enjoy or remember? Sure Mom was dead, but the contents of the boxes might’ve let us feel closer to her all these years.
    I came across Mom’s address book, small and lavender, with a pair of cartoon owls on the cover. I remembered those owls. When I was little, Mom always made sure I wrote thank-you notes for any presents I got from friendsand relatives (even Aunt Thelma, who always gave awful, useful presents like socks and savings bonds). When I had a note ready to send, Mom would tell me to look up the address in her little book.
    I found a drawing of a black cat I’d scribbled for her when I was five. I’d wanted a cat in the worst way back then, but Mom didn’t think it would be wise to trust Buster with small animals. She was afraid he’d get jealous and do something…unappealing to them.
    Then I found a tangled clutter of stuff that looked like it had come straight from the top of a dresser. Dad had probably swiped it all into the box at once, just so he wouldn’t have to look at it. A silver chain, a couple of movie ticket stubs and receipts, a really ancient tube of peppermint lip balm, a single earring, a pen, a ponytail holder, a small wooden jewelry box, some change. And a single gemstone—a tiger’s eye, shiny and smooth. I remembered that stone, remembered admiring it. Mom hadn’t carried it around with her, but she kept it because she thought the brown tones were pretty. I liked the way the textures shimmered and shifted when I rolled the stone in my palm.
    Dad had told me Mom’s things were gone. It was really hard not to be mad at him for keeping the boxes a secret; finding just a few small things gave me back parts of Mom I thought I’d lost.
    Under a to-do list and a couple of bank statements,I found a small, box-shaped object made of black plastic. It looked a little like an old television remote, only with knobs instead of buttons, and a dark digital screen. Okay, this had to be something important. There was a power switch on the side; I turned it on, but nothing happened. I flipped the box over and saw a battery compartment on the back. From the box’s weight, I guessed there were probably dead batteries inside.
Please tell me they didn’t leak,
I thought, opening the compartment. I was in luck.
    After changing the batteries, I tried the power switch again. This time the digital readout lit up in bright green. A second later it registered a 1.4, whatever that meant. I’d need to research how to use it, but from what I’d read in the Ramsay Court account, I guessed it was probably an EMF reader, a device that measured electromagnetic fields. The presence of a ghost was supposed to cause a surge in the reading.