She stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her in an attempt to have the last word. Jeremy laughed, thinking she was a lot like he was. Unable to resist, he pressed the b.u.t.ton on his door to lower her window. He leaned across the seat.

"Hey, Lexie?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"Since it might be chilly tonight, feel free to grab a bottle of wine."

She put her hands on her hips. "Why? So you can ply me with liquor?"

He grinned. "Only if you're okay with that."

Her eyes narrowed, but like before, she looked more playful than offended. "Not only do I not keep any wine in the house, Mr. Marsh, but I'd say no, anyway."

"You don't drink?"

"Not too much," she said. "Now, wait there," she warned, pointing toward the drive. "I'm going to throw on a pair of jeans."

"I promise not to even try try to peek in the window." to peek in the window."

"Good idea. I'd definitely have to tell Rodney if you did something that stupid."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Trust me," she said, trying to muster a severe look, "it wouldn't be."

Jeremy watched her move up the walkway, certain that he'd never met anyone quite like her.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled to a stop in front of Cedar Creek Cemetery. He'd angled the car so the headlights shone into the cemetery, and his first thought was that even the fog looked different here. It was dense and impenetrable in places while thin in others, and the slight breeze made discrete tendrils curve and twist, almost as if alive. The low-hanging branches of the magnolia tree were nothing but darkened shadows, and the crumbling tombs added to the eerie effect. It was so dark that Jeremy was unable to discern even the faintest sliver of the moon in the sky.

Leaving the car idling, he popped the trunk. As she peered in, Lexie's eyes widened.

"It looks like you've got the makings to build a bomb in there."

"Nah," he said. "Just a bunch of cool things. Guys love their toys, you know."

"I thought you'd just have a video camera or something like that."

"I do. I have four of them."

"Why do you need four?"

"To film every angle, of course. For instance, what if the ghosts are walking in the wrong direction? I might not get their faces."

She ignored the comment. "And what's this thing?" she asked, pointing to an electronic box.

"A microwave radiation detector. And this over here," he said, gesturing at another item, "sort of goes with it. It detects electromagnetic activity."

"You're kidding."

"No," he said. "It's in the official ghostbuster's handbook. You'll often find increased spiritual activity in areas where there are high concentrations of energy, and this will help detect an abnormal energy field."

"Have you ever recorded an abnormal energy field?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. In a supposedly haunted house, no less. Unfortunately, it had nothing to do with ghosts. The owner's microwave oven wasn't working properly."

"Ah," she said.

He looked at her. "Now you're stealing my lines."

"It's all I could come up with. Sorry."

"It's okay. I'll share."

"Why do you have all this stuff?"

"Because," he said, "when I debunk the possibility of ghosts, I have to use everything that paranormal investigators use. I don't want to be accused of missing anything, and these people have their rules. Besides, it seems more impressive when someone reads that you've used an electromagnetic detector. They think you know what you're doing."

"And do you?"

"Sure. I told you, I have the official handbook."

She laughed. "So what can I help you with? Do you need me to help carry any of this stuff?"

"We'll be using all of it. But if you consider this to be manly work, I'm sure I can handle it on my own while you do your nails or something."

She pulled out one of the camcorders, slung it over her shoulder, and grabbed another one.

"Okay, Mr. Manly, which way?"

"That depends. Where do you think we should set up? Since you've seen the lights, maybe you have some ideas."

She nodded in the direction of the magnolia tree, where she'd been heading when he'd first seen her in the cemetery.

"Over there," she said. "That's where you'll see the lights."

It was the spot directly in front of Riker's Hill, though the hill was hidden in the fog.

"Do they always appear in the same spot?"

"I have no idea. But that's where they were when I saw them."

Over the next hour, as Lexie filmed him with one of the camcorders, Jeremy set everything up. He arranged the other three video recorders in a large triangular pattern, mounting them on tripods, attaching special filtering lenses to two of them, and adjusting the zoom until the entire area was overlapped. He tested the laser remotes, then began setting up the audio equipment. Four microphones were attached to nearby trees, and a fifth was placed near the center, which was where he'd set the electromagnetic and radiation detectors, as well as the central recorder.

As he was making sure everything worked properly, he heard Lexie calling out to him.

"Hey, how do I look?"

He turned and saw her wearing the night-vision goggles and looking something like a bug.

"Very s.e.xy," he said. "I think you've definitely found your style."

"These things are neat. I can see everything out here."

"Anything I should be worried about?"

"Aside from a couple of hungry cougars and bears, you seem to be alone."

"Well, I'm almost done here. All I still have to do is spread some flour and unwind the thread."

"Flour? Like baking flour?"

"It's to make sure no one tampers with the equipment. The flour is so I can check for footprints, and the thread will let me know if anyone else approaches."

"That's very clever. But you know we're alone out here, right?"

"You can never be certain," he said.

"Oh, I'm certain. But you just do your thing, and I'll keep the camera pointed in the right direction. You're doing great, by the way."

He laughed as he opened the bag of flour and began pouring, circling the cameras with a thin white layer. He did the same around the microphones and other equipment, then tied the thread to a branch and formed a large square around the whole area as if closing off a crime scene. He ran a second thread about two feet lower and then hung small bells on the thread. When he finally finished, he made his way back to Lexie.

"I didn't know there was so much to do," she said.

"I guess you're developing a whole new level of respect for me, huh?"

"Not really. I was actually just trying to make conversation."

He smiled before nodding toward the car. "I'm going to go hit the lights on the car. And hopefully, none of this will have been in vain."

When he shut off the engine, the cemetery turned black and he waited for his eyes to adjust. Unfortunately, they didn't, the cemetery proving to be darker than a cave. After feeling his way back to the gate like a blind spelunker, he stumbled on an exposed root just inside the entrance and nearly fell.

"Can I have my night-vision goggles?" he shouted.

"No," he heard her respond. "Like I said, these things are neat. And besides, you're doing fine."

"But I can't see anything."

"You're clear for the next few steps. Just walk forward."

He moved forward slowly with his arms outstretched before stopping.

"Now what?"

"You're in front of a crypt, so move to your left." She sounded way too amused by this, Jeremy thought.

"You forgot to say 'Simon says.'"

"Do you want my help or not?"

"I really want my goggles," he almost pleaded.

"You'll have to come and get them."

"You could always come and get me instead."

"I could, but I won't. It's much more fun to see you wandering around like a zombie. Now move to your left. I'll tell you when to stop."

The game proceeded this way until he finally found his way back to her side. As he took a seat, she slipped the goggles off, grinning.

"Here you go," she said.

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem. I'm glad I could help."

For the next half hour or so, Lexie and Jeremy rehashed the events of the party. It was too dark for Jeremy to read Lexie's face, but he liked how close she felt in the enveloping darkness.

Changing the topic of conversation, he said, "Tell me about the time that you saw the lights. I heard everyone else's story tonight."

Though her features were nothing but shadows, Jeremy had the impression that she was being drawn back in time to something she wasn't sure she wanted to remember.

"I was eight years old," she said, her voice soft. "For whatever reason, I'd started having nightmares about my parents. Doris kept their wedding picture on the wall, and that was the way they always looked in the dream: Mom in her wedding dress and Dad in his tuxedo. Only this time, they were trapped in their car after it had fallen in the river. It was like I was looking at them from outside the car, and I could see the panic and fear on both their faces as water slowly filled the car. And my mom would get this real sad expression on her face, like she knew it was the end, and all of a sudden, the car would start sinking faster, and I'd be watching it descend from above."

Her voice was strangely devoid of emotion, and she sighed.

"I'd wake up screaming. I don't know how many times it happened-it just sort of blurs together now in one big memory-but it must have gone on long enough for Doris to realize it wasn't just a phase. I suppose other parents might have taken me to a therapist, but Doris . . . well, she just woke me up late one night and told me to get dressed and put on a warm jacket, and the next thing I knew she'd brought me here. She told me she was going to show me something wonderful . . .

"I remember it was a night like tonight, so Doris held my hand to keep me from stumbling. We wound our way among the tombstones and then sat for a while until the lights came. They looked almost alive-everything got really bright . . . until the lights just faded away. And then we went home."

He could almost hear her shrug. "Even though I was young, I knew then what had happened, and when I got back home, I couldn't sleep, because I'd just seen the ghosts of my parents. It was like they'd come to visit me. After that, I stopped having the nightmares."

Jeremy was silent.

She leaned closer. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes," he said, "actually, I do. Your story would have been the one that I remembered from tonight, even if I didn't know you."

"Well, just so you know, I'd rather my experience not end up in your article."

"Are you sure? You can be famous."

"I'll pa.s.s. I'm witnessing firsthand how a little fame can ruin a person."

He laughed. "Since this is off the record, then, can I ask if your memories were part of the reason you agreed to come out here tonight? Or was it because you wanted to enjoy my scintillating company?"

"Well, it definitely wasn't the latter," she said, but even as she said it, she knew it was. She thought he realized it as well, but in the brief pause that followed her remark, she sensed that her words had stung.

"I'm sorry," she said.