"Where is this woman? Why is she late?" I tweak the miniature mic on my lapel and allow Ron to do what he does best and adjust the audio levels from inside the acoustics booth. "What questions would she have for me?"

The heel of my boot repeatedly taps against the wooden boards beneath my feet. The stillness in the stuffy room triggers a familiar sense of unease. Even as the computer monitors illuminate the space with a greenish glow produced by old night vision footage.

Maximus's guttural purrs and violent scratching assaults the room door from outside, but at any second gentle raps of knuckles would replace the black cat's claws. The tapping of my heel increases, vibrating a loose floorboard underneath the worn carpet.

"You're anxious." Ron's mature and cigarette-scratched voice replaces the silence in my earphones. "But our most entertaining interviews were the ones where you ask eyewitnesses detailed questions about their paranormal encounters. The best ones pulled in some of our highest ratings."

I nod. "But with this interview I'm not the only one asking questions. Still, you estimated ten million views in the first twenty-four hours of airing?"

"That's right." Ron tinkers with the settings and his voice comes in louder, clearer. "It would be a much-needed boost for Room Eighty-Four's continued success. No doubt."

"No fucking doubt."

Thirst, habit, and mixed emotions urge me to replace my glass of cola with an iced cold foamer. However, the professional in me wants to kick me in the groin for even entertaining such a thought. As the flattened soda and melting ice slosh near the rim of the cup in my hand, Ron's words sink in. "Only a pretentious amateur would get wasted before filming their most anticipated episode."

I snort at his mind-reading ability. "It's not the fear of appearing like an ignorant, incompetent jackass that frightens me, but what might slip my lips." I take a sip, push the glass out of reach, and mentally pat myself on the back for fighting temptation. "Thank god for editing." A soft rapping on the door lures me to turn in my squeaky seat toward Ron. "You heard that, right?"

"Must be her." He scrambles to take his position behind the large camera before me and adjusts the tripod. "Should I start shooting?"

"You mean you weren't?" With a flick of my wrist, I prompt him to record, and with reluctance I walk to the door. After unlocking the latch and allowing the door to open a sliver, I peer through the gap.

"You must be Ms. Elaine Humphrey." I search her cynical glare. Her dark messy pixie cut shapes her sunken face, while smeared makeup collects in tiny creases at the corners of her eyelids.

"And you must be Bruce Dunce." Her moist breath wisps through the door crack. "Well, aren't you gonna show me what's behind the door to room eighty-four?"

I ignore the impulse to slam the door in her face for mocking my tagline and chuckle at the condescending joke instead. I allow her to step inside, surprised that Maximus has left the vicinity. "Welcome." My invitation comes out dry and unenthusiastic.

"Wow." She tucks her tote under her arm and crooks her neck, taking in every flat screen displayed on the wide horseshoe shaped desk that takes up half the room. "You really like the total dark and creepy atmosphere, huh? Or is this just a set? Something you do for views?"

I swallow my annoyance and clear my throat. "Is that question part of the interview?"

She jerks her head and meets my gaze, expressing annoyance. "You really work like this?"

I nod. "Yep."

With a manicured finger, she points to the hundreds of tin film reel canisters that line the four walls. "And what about those? Are those real archives of all the paranormal phenomenon you've featured on the show?"

"This is the real deal."

She chuckles. "One of your slogans, huh?" Her laugh dies down. "So funny. I can already see this is gonna be great."

Sarcasm.

I blink slowly to keep from rolling my eyes. "Why don't you have a seat, Ms. Humphrey."

"Ms. Humph—" She snorts, smiling. "A vintage gentleman at such a young age. You can call me Elaine." She sits in the chair facing the camera and looks to Ron beyond the lens. A wide smile jets across her face, revealing rows of tobacco-stained teeth. "We're not live yet, are we?"

I shake my head. "Uh, this here is Ron my audio-visual guy and we're just recording for promotional purposes. We'll chop this up in editing."

"AV tech." A nervous grin stretches Ron's lips as he clips a wireless microphone to her shirt collar and returns to the media booth.

"Oh, good." Her smile drops. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a laptop to balance on her thighs. "So, we have time to go over the ins and outs."

"Ins and outs?" Curious, I lift an eyebrow.

She lifts the computer lid. "Yeah, any topics I should stay away from?"

"Yep, the entire subject." The unease in my chuckle gave me away. "Joking. Just lightening the mood."

"I thought so." She shoots a menacing glare. "Since you're supposedly parading around the ghost of my dead brother on your little web show for your audience's entertainment, I figured no question is off limits."

"Uh." I scratch my temple with my middle finger. "I understand this is a sensitive subject for you, and I'll try to answer all the questions you have, but—"

"Try?" She folds her arms across her chest and sits back. "Do you have any idea what exploiting my brother's death has done to our family? I see how it's benefited you and aided in your success. You should answer all my questions. Don't you think you owe me that much?"

Silence commences and our stares become entangled.

I purposely ignore Maximus's guttural purrs from outside the room door again, and Elaine follows suit, insisting on baring her anger.

"You're right." I break the silence. "I made a name for myself with the recording of Old Henry Humphrey's Famous Phantom Footsteps, the least I can do is answer a few questions." I nod and finally sit in the empty chair directly across from her. "Let's begin." Mimicking her body language, I cross my arms over my chest.

She gestures to the camera. "Well, aren't you gonna do your bit? The whole 'What's Behind the Door to Room Eighty-Four' skit? I gotta tell you, that's the best part of the show. Spooky."

"That's all done in editing." I take in a large breath. "How about we just get to it?"

"Get to it, huh?" Her slow nod says more than she had at this point. "How old are you really, Ryland Winters?"

I nearly gasp, but snort instead. "I'd prefer if you refer to me as Bruce Dunce. My legal name just doesn't have that ring to it."

"I agree. Your legal name makes you seem younger and dumber than your moniker. But you must be smarter than you look to successfully hide who you really are."

"Uh. Wow—"

She clears her throat and returns to her notes. "It's been three years since my brother, Henry Humphrey, was struck by a train at Cedar Crossing. A year after he died, you captured what some say is evidence of his spirit as it haunts a mile-long section of railroad. My question, Bruce. How did you even fathom that those train tracks were haunted?"

I tap my chin, thinking back. "I had been getting reports of unexplained phenomena coming from that area."

"Three years ago, at the ripe old age of twenty-one you weren't even a paranormal investigator yet, am I right? So, why did you get reports about paranormal happenings?"

"That's correct. During that time, I was transitioning from the book industry to the paranormal field. I wanted to dive into an area that was quickly gaining popularity online."

"Ghost hunting." She cocks her head.

"That's right. I had mentioned my interest during a live book review. A couple of local viewers suggested I check out the train tracks—" A feral yowl outside the studio door made me jump in my seat and startle Elaine.

"What is it?" Her eyes grow wide.

I listen for a few seconds.

Footsteps outside the door. A distinct hobble, tap, slide of booted heel, sole, toe on uneven floorboards. "What is this?" I stand from my seat. "This is a joke, right?" I glared, unimpressed. "Ron?"

"What happened?" Ron questions through my earphones.

"You guys don't... hear that?" I study the puzzled look on Elaine's face.

She huffs. "Oh, this definitely gonna be good."

~~~

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