“You guys were both out of it.”
“Not that out of it.”
“I—”
Elexis pointed to Logan’s tote bag. A faint blue seared through the stitching. She fished through the bag and pulled the ThermoGeist to freedom, pointing it at the hoodie. Just like the windmill episode of ParaSpectors, the device blared solid blue. She turned it away from the hoodie and it went dark again.
“Have you talked to Nick?” Logan asked. Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth. “Since the party?”
Elexis shook his head.
Logan closed her eyes. She was sinking.
“Take that hoodie. We’re going to the police.”
18
Long Shadows
Logan slipped into the passenger seat of the Ford and let out a sigh. It was only her second trip to the Owyhee County police station, but she was already tired of it. Elexis was still inside, talking to Sheriff Paris and waiting for Gracia to pick him up. The moment they left the woods, Ashley seemed clearer. The dark circles under her eyes subsided, and she was back to being her annoyingly wholesome, doe-eyed self.
Logan, on the other hand, was hazier. Tristan Granger was a missing stranger; Nick Porter was a missing friend. Her stomach twisted until she thought she might puke.
“I think we should talk,” Ashley said, climbing behind the steering wheel. “I’m still not … I’m just really confused.”
Logan nodded. They pulled away from the station onto the lonely highway toward Barton Ranch, plucky guitar humming faintly from the radio.
Ashley chewed on her bottom lip, eyes trained on the road ahead. “Am I losing it? Like, this isn’t normal. I know it’s not normal to see ghosts and stuff. I don’t even know if it’s possible.”
“You’re not losing it.”
“Then what’s happening to me?”
Logan sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not just you, though. I’ve been off since I got here, too.”
Ashley narrowed her eyes.
“I’ve been having these weird dreams.” Logan looked out the window, tracing her finger along the rubber dust trap that bordered the glass. “It’ll be like a regular dream, then out of nowhere, I have to start digging.”
“Like you’re looking for something?”
“No. I’m digging a grave.” Logan shifted in her seat. “For myself. I crawl inside and someone starts throwing dirt on me. I can’t breathe and then I just … wake up.”
“Who’s burying you?”
Logan looked at Ashley. Even now, in the truck, far away from the stifling world of her nightmares, it was like she couldn’t breathe.
Ashley’s mouth twisted into a careful frown. “… is it Brandon?”
Logan looked away.
The sun was just beyond the hills on the horizon when they made it to Barton Ranch, giving the sky an eerie red glow. All the lights in the house were off as far as Logan could tell, except for one window on the right side of the house facing the empty fields. The yellow light inside flickered.
“Is that your room? Logan asked.
“Yeah,” Ashley said, “but I don’t know why it’d be doing that.”
“Huh. You’re sure it’s okay for me to come in?” Logan asked. Something about the pristine front face of the house didn’t sit well with her. “Your mom won’t care?”
“She’s not home.” Ashley motioned lazily to the driveway. “No cars.”