She’s doing it again,Fudge thinks suddenly, his little ears perking up as he watches Hazel.Heath didn’t like it when she did that.
I glance down at him, curious, but his doggy attention has already shifted to a fallen popcorn kernel.
Is he talking about Hazel? Or the ghost? Or something else entirely?
Hazel spots me before I can ask and steps away from her crew, meeting me halfway. Her orange pumpkin antennae from the other night have been replaced by a professional-looking headset, but she’s still dressed all in black, the unofficial uniform of paranormal investigators everywhere.
“Bizzy,” she greets me with a smile. “Enjoying the festival?”
“It’s certainly spirited,” I say with a laugh, watching as one of her crew members adjusts what looks like a small mechanical device attached to the side of the haunted house. “What are you filming today?”
And here we go with suspect number two. If Hazel Hershey knows anything about who killed Heath, I’m going to get those answers, one way or another. After all, ghosts aren’t the only things that can be exposed in the light of day.
CHAPTER 14
Hazel Hershey glances at her watch, then at her crew as the Fright Night Halloween Festival rages all around us like a quasi-organized sugar-fueled apocalypse.
It’s the middle of the afternoon and my parents just whisked Ella off to win some spooky yet adorable stuffed prizes, probably while arguing about the proper technique for ring toss and whether Dad’s back can handle another heroic attempt at carnival games. Spoiler alert: it can’t.
“That’s enough B-roll for today, guys,” Hazel shouts at her men. “Let’s wrap it up.” She turns to me with a warm smile and tucks a strand of her spiky red hair behind one ear. “I’ve actually been hoping to run into you, Bizzy.”
Her crew begins packing up equipment with the relieved efficiency of people who just got an unexpected early dismissal, and I take a moment to study Hazel more carefully. She’s tall and willowy, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose that gives her a deceptively youthful appearance despite being in her mid-thirties, I’m guessing. She’s clad in black as usual but with a chunky orange necklace that looks like little pumpkins strung together. The effect is Halloween professional, if that’s a thing.
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious as to why she wanted to run into me. “What can I help you with?”
“Actually,” Hazel says, lowering her voice to that conspiratorial tone that immediately makes me want to look over my shoulder for eavesdroppers, “I was hoping I might be able to help you.” She glances around at the bustling festival, where a toddler dressed as a vampire is currently having a meltdown because someone told him vampires don’t eat cotton candy—probably Gwyneth. “Could we talk somewhere a bit quieter? I have some information I think you should know.”
Finally caught her alone without that husband of hers hovering,she muses to herself and now I’m twice as curious.
She has to know Jasper is the lead detective in the case, doesn’t she? That and the fact that pillow talk is practically a currency between the two of us.
I nod and follow as she leads me to a bench beneath a large oak tree that’s been decorated with plastic ravens and orange lights, still within sight of the festival but far enough away that we won’t be overheard by anyone except possibly the fake ravens, who don’t look like they can be trusted anyway. Fudge trots along behind us, occasionally sniffing the air like he’s trying to solve mysteries through his nose alone.
“First,” Hazel says, reaching into her messenger bag with the careful precision of someone handling either important documents or explosives. “I have something exciting to show you.” She pulls out a tablet and swipes across the screen a few times, her fingers moving with speedy efficiency. “We caught your ghost again last night! And this time, the image is much clearer.”
She turns the tablet toward me, and I find myself staring at my own face—or rather, a translucent, glowing version of it—floating in front of the bay window at the inn. The resemblance is uncanny, down to the slight asymmetry of my eyebrows that I’ve been fighting with tweezers for years.
“That’s...” I swallow hard, genuinely disturbed by the image because seeing yourself as a ghost is definitely not on anyone’s bucket list. “That’s definitely me. Or something that looks exactly like me, which is somehow even more unsettling.”
“I know.” Hazel nods and her expression is a perfect blend of excitement and concern like a scientist who’s just discoveredsomething amazing and slightly terrifying. “It’s the clearest paranormal evidence we’ve captured in years. The face is unmistakable.”
This will be perfect for the Halloween special,her thought drifts my way with enthusiasm.The ratings will go through the roof.
Well, that’s comforting. Nothing like being someone’s ticket to paranormal stardom.
“Have you shown this to anyone else?” I ask, still staring at ghost me and wondering if this is what I look like when I’m having an out-of-body experience during Ella’s three AM feeding sessions.
“Just my team. And I wanted to show you, of course, since it’s your...” she pauses delicately as if she’s trying to find the politically correct term for creepy supernatural doppelganger. “Likeness.”
“Oh my goodness.” I hand the tablet back to her, my mind racing faster than Fudge chasing a tennis ball. “What do you make of it? Is it common for ghosts to look like living people, or am I just special that way?”
“There are theories,” Hazel explains, slipping easily into lecture mode. “Some paranormal researchers believe spirits can manifest in forms that will be recognized by the living—a kind of spiritual communication shortcut. Others think that strong energy from a living person can create a kind of echo in haunted spaces.”
She tucks the tablet away with the same careful precision. “My day job in pharmaceutical sales actually helps with my paranormal research more than you might think. Both require meticulous documentation, understanding of technical equipment, and a healthy skepticism until you have repeatable results.”
“You work in pharmaceuticals?” I ask, genuinely surprised because somehow I’d pictured her living off YouTube ad revenue and selling ghost-hunting equipment on eBay. It’s hard to picture Hazel in a corporate setting, although her polished presentation suddenly makes a lot more sense.
She gives a quick laugh. “Yes, I’m the senior sales representative for Meridian Pharmaceuticals,” she confirms with a smile that suggests she’s used to people being surprised by this revelation. “I’ve worked my way up over the past decade. Paranormal filmmaking is more or less my passion project, though it’s starting to gain enough traction that I might be able to transition to it full-time eventually.And I’d love to.” She leans in a notch. “The pharmaceutical background gives me credibility in research circles that many paranormal investigators lack. I approach hauntings with scientific methodology—controlled conditions, calibrated equipment, documented protocols.” A touch of pride enters her voice. “Not everyone in our field is so rigorous.”
