Trigger Warning: Some readers may find the depiction of sexual assault in this chapter to be triggering. Please read at your own discretion.

Sarah and Caleb stood silently next to the Ouija board, the mutual looks on their faces echoing the same question. What the fuck did they get into?

Before either could find the proper words, the flap on the tent fluttered.

"What are you kids doing in here?" asked a woman dressed in a fortune teller's costume, complete with peasant skirt, beaded scarf and hoop earrings, as she barged in.

"Uh, nothing." Caleb snapped back to reality first and grabbed Sarah by the hand. "We were just leaving."

Outside, he draped his arm around her shoulder. "That was insane," he admitted with a nervous laugh. "So you really think this Arthur could have murdered some woman and then stuffed her behind a fireplace in that creepy house on the corner?"

"His wife," she said quietly as her eyes focused on the icy path beneath her feet. The going had definitely gotten more unsure while they'd been inside.

The boy flinched. "What? Was there something about her in those documents, too?"

Oh, how Sarah wished she'd found anything much less the woman's name, but thinking back on it, it really was a lot to ask. Of course, she never expected to see the classic typewriter font or even the elegant cursive scroll of letters spelling out Mabel. That was just Jane's best attempt at an old-timey name to fit her resident ghost. But there wasn't even a checked box for Arthur Tuffin's marital status to provide a clue.

She did suppose all of that was normal for an era when women rarely had their own identities, let alone co-owned property. No matter how annoying the omission, it was—unfortunately—expected.

Sarah took a deep breath, recalling the different scenarios she'd run through her head in the last few days. No, she definitely couldn't share all of them with Caleb for fear of sounding even more unhinged. He was still waiting for an answer, so picking the simplest would have to do.

"Educated guess, you know—since marriage was more or less expected back then. And once a woman was out of her parents' house, she was her husband's responsibility. So honestly, he could say anything to explain her disappearance," she said, the weight of his arm on her shoulder suddenly more evident than before.

"That's messed up," he said, making Sarah feel a little better. He may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but at least he wasn't a complete misogynist.

"Yeah," she agreed, snuggling closer to him both for warmth and stability. She had begun to tremble; the events of the night had apparently taken more out of her than she'd realized.

Caleb took the cue. "Are you ready to get out of here?" he asked as they arrived at a fork in the path. To the right, the festival was still going in full swing. The left led to the street.

"You don't mind?" she asked in return, worried that they hadn't finished everything there was to see or do.

He chuckled, holding her even tighter. "Of course not. But don't worry. I'm not going to ditch you just yet."

Sarah was pleased. She didn't want the night to end either. Knowing that her aunt would be busy in the square until the last visitors had left, she also didn't have to worry about permission or curfews.

She was, however, curious about Caleb's plans.

"So, where to now?" Sarah asked when they had settled back into the Jeep.

He started the ignition and smiled. "It's a surprise."

The answer was both mysterious and defiant enough for her liking, and she didn't press any further.

As they drove out of town in the increasingly heavy snowfall, Sarah lost track of where they were until she recognized a familiar stretch of dilapidated fencing.

"Isn't this where the bonfire was a few weeks back?" she asked, almost certain of the answer.

Caleb turned down a side road, barely visible underneath the unblemished snow. "Maybe."

The way he said it—with a teasing self-assurance—made Sarah's heart race. The last time she was alone with the quarterback, he was still recovering from that freak carbon monoxide poisoning. There was a bit of groping and a lot of making out, but with his mom just down the stairs, that was the extent of it. But now . . .. Now they were going to be completely alone, perhaps miles from anyone.

Sarah's initial excitement quickly turned to apprehension.

"I . . . I don't know if this is a good idea," she said, looking at the fat snowflakes hitting the windshield, the crisp, white dots lit by the headlamps as they flew in the darkness. The effect reminded her of the moment in Star Wars right before the Millenium Falcon hit warp speed, and briefly, her eyes lost focus.

Caleb reached over and took her hand, squeezing the cold fingers. Whether it was out of reassurance or authority, Sarah was unclear.

"What are you worried about, California? C'mon. This is me we're talking about," he said, glancing at her as the Jeep bounced with greater effort over the unplowed landscape. "I thought you liked me."

"I do. I like you a lot," she said with an unfamiliar air of defensiveness. The admission made her vulnerable, which was a feeling Sarah tried to avoid at all costs. But somehow, she now had a hard time over her words and emotions. She rubbed her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"No need to apologize," Caleb said as he pulled to a stop just inside the tree line. Ahead of them, the dark forest loomed. Behind, a blizzard was forming. "Here. Follow me. I know exactly what you need."

She feared that he'd want her to get out of the car and go with him into the woods or something, but instead, Caleb began to shrug out of his jacket. Once it was off, he kicked off his boots and climbed over the center console into the backseat.

Patting the empty spot next to him, he smiled. "Well, come on."

Sarah bit her lip in hesitation. She was horny as hell, but there was also a little voice in the back of her head screaming bad idea! But her teenage hormones won.

After using her toes to easily slip off one shoe and then the other—the laces of the well-worn Docs hadn't needed to be untied for years—she attacked the zipper on the loaner parka. With just a few inches to go, the slider stopped.

"It's jammed," she said, tugging up and down without any luck.

"Lemme help," Caleb offered, urging her to him.

Sarah stepped on the seat and climbed into the back. Facing the boy, she sat still as he patiently wiggled the zipper just-so to free it of the obstruction.

"There you go," he said as he pushed the jacket off her shoulders.

She didn't have time to exhale even a quick thanks as his hands slid down her sides to hold her steady before his mouth crushed into hers.

"Hm, I've been waiting for this all night," Caleb muttered between the sloppy, urgent, and increasingly demanding kisses.

"Slow down," Sarah whispered as his hand slipped up under her shirt, but he didn't seem to hear.

It's fine, she told herself. After all, this was nothing she hadn't done before. Let him have a little fun, even if she wasn't totally into it. Teenage hookups were normal. She could stop him if it got really out of control.

Actually, this was kind of flattering in a weird way, to have a boy as popular and gorgeous like Caleb Ceballos want someone as damaged as her. It wasn't his fault that she overanalyzed everything and couldn't just enjoy letting loose.

Stars twinkled behind Sarah's closed eyelids as Caleb suddenly shifted their weight, pulling her onto her back under him. Her jeans were now unbuttoned, allowing him to kiss her stomach, the trail of wetness he was leaving as his mouth traveled upward making her cold.

The car felt like it was on the high seas as the whole thing began to sway under her, and even as she looked up, the world wouldn't stop spinning.

"Hey, I don't feel so good," she croaked through parched lips.

He lifted his head, hovering over the left boob he'd been playing with. "Don't worry. It's all good. Just relax, California," he said with an eerie calmness.

Sarah didn't want to relax. She wanted to pull her clothes back on and push him away, but her body wouldn't oblige. Her limbs felt like they were made of lead, pinning her horizontally on the back seat.

Or was that the six-foot-one high school quarterback between her legs who was now fiddling with a belt buckle to undo his own pants?

Sarah gasped, realizing what was happening, but feeling powerless to do anything against it. Turning her head, she was able to at least look away. The side window above her head gave a look at the wintry sky and the rapidly falling, fat snowflakes.

"Oh, yeah," she heard Caleb moan with pleasure as he entered her. Her eyes teared up as he began to slowly pump—in, out, in, out—before gradually picking up pace.

"Come on, baby. You know you like it," he encouraged, which Sarah found strange because she had done nothing at all.

The snowflakes sure were pretty, though. Although most were clumped together like tufts of cotton candy, a few single crystals had landed on the pane, holding their unique shapes for just a few seconds before melting away.

"Yes! That's it. Oh, yes," came the moans as Caleb's body stiffened over hers before he collapsed on top of her. "That was fucking amazing."

She couldn't agree, breathing a sigh of relief at it just being over. But with the deed done, Caleb had become chatty. The words were jumbled, though, and Sarah couldn't make sense of what he was saying.

". . . coach insisted . . . drama queen . . . Sunday fun day . . .."

Outside the window, something moved.

Any other time, Sarah would have probably screamed. But now, all she could do is helplessly watch as what first looked like a faint outline moving through the blizzard turn into a woman.

She stood there in a summer dress, her brown hair perfectly set as though she had just stepped out of the movie Pearl Harbor. In her confusion, it took Sarah an extra beat to recognize her, but when she did, it was like a jolt of adrenaline had been pumped into her body.

It was the woman from the gazebo, the one who had nervously cowered in the town square when she'd picked up her bike that day. The woman who looked out of place and at home at the same time.

"Mabel."

"What?" Caleb asked, lifting his head from his previous reclining position.

Sarah hadn't meant to whisper the name out loud. She didn't even think she had regained the ability to speak. But vocalizing the name of the woman who she was sure Arthur Tuffin had killed gave her strength. Jane's ghost was real. And she was here to help her.

Using Caleb's confusion to her advantage, Sarah pushed the boy off herself and adjusted the clothes she was still wearing. With only the thought of escape on her mind, she grabbed the handle and swung the door open.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Caleb shouted after her as the snow blew in and she jumped out.

Sarah ignored him, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she began to run.

"Sarah! Sarah, come back here!" She heard Caleb call out to her, but she didn't slow as she slipped between the trees and headed deeper into the forest. "You'll freeze to . . .."

She didn't hear the rest.