Chapter Ten: Dropped Call Bookshelf Phenomena (Nancy Drew)

"And...um. The RX Hydrophone. I guess." John Gray sticks his hand out expectantly from behind the tower of monstrous machinery.

I snap out of my thick daze, scanning the fistful of wires in my hand. "...Which is that?"

"Yellow. Four prongs."

Yelloooww. I yank it out of the snarl, dropping the end into his palm. He mumbles some form of gratitude and disappears further behind the sickly beeping monitor which demands medical attention, apparently.

How I ever got stuck here is beyond my knowledge. But the ghost hunter somehow manages to keep our uninteresting conversation alive as he tears wires out from the guts of something.

This is how I've decided to amuse myself just so I don't end up biting my fingernails entirely off for lack of anything else to do. But hearing paranormal phenomena after paranormal phenomena after paranormal phenomena for the past half hour doesn't exactly cure my restlessness. It's actually worse. It's like pouring salt on a raw, open wound. It's torture.

"So yeah. As I was saying.." John Gray continues as the screen of the monitor bursts into a sheet of broken pixelated snow. "The figures slowly melted back into the wall, leaving zero trace that they were actually there in the first place. One of the witnesses of this whole event happened to have a camera and took some pictures, and you'll never guess how they developed."

….you lost me. Maybe I just haven't been paying attention, but at this point? I have no idea what the guy is talking about.

"Oh? What."

"Blue," open hand waiting.

Blue? The pictures developed blue? OH, right. Blue wire. Gotcha. Haha. Wow. …..I'm bored. I yank out the thin wire wrapped in harsh blue plastic and hand it to John Gray.

"It didn't develop. Nothing showed up on the photographic paper. In fact, the whole face of the wall appeared covered with these dark, unidentifiable blobs. Almost like the spirit behind the strange markings intervened with the film, blotting out something that is not meant to be captured..."

Long pause. While I space out.

John Gray pulls his head out from behind the monitor, eyebrows raised. "Hello?"

"Um wow. That's... amazing." I manage to slap on my best paranormal-geek smile, nodding quickly. "I wonder why—"

"You can't." he straightens up, eyes going wide and suddenly serious. "Wondering and questioning the unseen world is what drives us further apart from them. From finding the clues that will solve unexplained mysteries." he shakes his head slowly. "You have to be very careful not to wonder too much."

I nod, trying to stay focused here. "Okaay."

John Gray just stares at me for a long moment, forehead tensed with something like worry. "Make sure you don't pry too much into their world." Then he breaks into something of a dry smile, "My niece was once abducted by a ghost,"

"Really?" I blink, trying my best to focus, but sounding terribly uninterested. "That's.. horrible."

He shrugs, scooping the handful of tangled wires out of my palm. "It was kinda cool, actually," and ducks behind the machinery again. "Nobody really believed her account of the whole ordeal. Isn't that insane."

I don't reply. Shuffle a step backward, actually. Nearly bumping into the tapestry divan and tripping myself.

John Gray shoves one more wire into the back of the screen—and the whole thing blacks out with a nearly inaudible sizzle. "Ohhh….great."

"Well," I clasp my hands together, taking an optimistic approach. "I'd better be going, I think. I promised..." I pause, chewing my lower lip, and stumbling, mumbling through the last part of my sentence. "..I'm.. sure I must've promised someone something—BYE." And with a quick polite wave, I turn and flee the stuffy low-lit makeshift ghost lab.

John Gray manages to wave back, not really paying much attention. And I'm out of there. Thank God. I was starting to think that I'd never escape.

I make my way through the hallway, heading back to the dining car, and planning on maybe catching Charleena for a quick chat. I've been meaning to ask her about what she thought of the letter Tino presented the other night, because she's such a junkie for old documents.

I would act like I didn't have any leads on the letter—act like I knew nothing about those attempted forgeries we found in Tino's wastebasket—and just kind of ask her if she found the letter from "Jake Hurley" at all… suspicious. It would be good to know her take on things. But first? First, I'm calling Joe.

Why? I don't know, it's stupid and weird, but all of a sudden I've got this sick, uncalled-for dread making itself at home in my gut. It's almost like a sense, deep down, that I know something's wrong. But then, it's probably just my overactive imagination. I mean, what could possibly be going wrong? Joe is probably just hanging out with Frank or something.

But I wanted to talk to him again, anyway. So I pull out my iPhone and stop just inside the doorway of the sleeping car, dialing Joe. And waiting. And waiting. …..and waiting. Then letting the phone drop from my ear and listening more closely to a faint sound muffled by a wall. His ringtone. Down the hall three doors, inside his room.

It just keeps playing, and the phone in my hand just keeps ringing, so I wind my way through the hallway, stopping at their door. Joe's ringtone still playing from inside. I blow out a sigh into the face of the faded oak door, lifting my hand to give it a gentle knock.

"Hey guys? You in there?" It stops ringing, and my iPhone starts going to his voicemail. I knock again. "….Joe?"

No reply. I hang up and try the knob. Locked.

I get it done quickly, though—my hands going straight to my messy up-do, sliding out a bobby pin and cramming it into the mouth of the doorknob. The lock proves to be an easy one—these old doors are cake. So simple.

I ease open the door, letting myself inside the stuffy, hot bedroom. It's totally empty, save the junk everywhere. I almost immediately find Joe's cell phone, which is sitting on the desk plugged into the wall. Something about the total numb quiet of everything is just a little.. eerie.

I reach over the desk to swipe open the notification that just popped up onto the screen: ATAC Carrier 6.1 Update Complete – please synchronize your device: 00.38

I have no idea what any of this means—but it obviously has something to do with an update from ATAC. That's why Joe must have left his phone in here and locked the door. I still can't seem to shake the feeling of deep-seated nervousness—the knowing that something isn't quite right here.

It bothers me that I can't get in touch with Joe—but then, he's probably with Frank. Deciding that this is more likely, I pull up a new screen on my phone and quickly dial Frank. He picks up after a couple of rings.

"Hi Nancy, what's up?"

"Hey Frank. Actually, I kind of wanted to know what's going on with you guys." I clear my throat. "I wanted to go over some stuff together."

He coughs uncomfortably. "Uh, okay… maybe."

I scrunch my eyebrows together at how vague he's being. "What do you mean, maybe? Are you in the middle of something?"

"No. Well yeah, sort of." By the way Frank is talking, it sounds like he's crawling around in some really tight, claustrophobic place.

"Wait, what?" I'm totally confused at this point. "What are you doing?"

"Right now I'm working on fixing this.. lovely bookcase for Lori."

"You're fixing a bookcase?"

He coughs. "Uh, yeah."

"In the caboose?"

"Yeah."

"In front of Lori?"

"Yeah."

"So that's why you're acting all awkward and uncomfortable and not answering me in great detail?"

He almost laughs slightly. A dry, awkward kind. "…Yeah."

"Okay." I shrug, running my fingers through my strawberry blonde hair, which is now really falling out of its do. "Well uh, can I talk to Joe for a second?"

"Joe isn't with me,"

No. No way. My heart dives to my boots as my eyes fall on the scrap of paper sitting on the closed netbook on the little desk pushed into the corner of the room. I snatch up the note. Joe's handwriting.

Frank ,

You took too long.

Don't come looking for me. I'm fine on my own..

I'll fill you in on everything later.

I swallow hard, remembering everything last night. And this morning. How he talked about it. How he couldn't stand waiting so long to confront Tino with all the evidence we found. And how he held onto those forged letters.

No. He couldn't have. He just… he wouldn't have done that.

"….Nancy?" Frank finally asks after a silence. "You still there?"

"I have to go, Frank," I manage to get out the words, my throat running dry. "I'll call you back." and with that, I drop the call, shoving my phone into my jeans pocket and tearing out of that room as fast as I know how, slamming the door behind me.

Joe wouldn't have gone and done something stupid like that, would he? He wouldn't have gone and confronted Tino without anybody else with him. He wouldn't have gone alone. Would he? Something tells me for certain, deep within my bones, that he had.

Out the door, through Camille's car, though that door, Jake's car, and finally I dive inside the doorway to Hurley's old library-like office. My gaze flies right to the desk—the vacant desk.

"What?" I feel the word escape my lips in a barely-spoken whisper. I pull back out of the doorway, looking down the hall for a moment before closing the space between me and the door at the end of the train car. Grabbing the unlocked handle and throwing it open.

A blast of cold rushing wind crashes into me, along with a very familiar set of blue eyes. Panic. That's the only thing that really registers at first.

"Joe! I was—I was looking all over the place for you." I glance up fully to take in the rest—which is just Tino, shoving past me and mumbling some form of excuse. I step to the side of the doorway, trying to get out of his way, and also trying to figure out what the heck is going on.

Finally my gaze rests fully on Joe. Hair messed, clothes disheveled. Looking pretty knocked off guard. "Sorry I—" his right hand goes behind his back. "I didn't have my phone with me.."

"What's going on, Joe? What are you doing?" I don't mention the note right away. But I throw a kind of incognito glance in Tino's direction.

"Nothing. I'm—I was just looking for you actually. I want you to meet me in the dining car, okay?"

"I don't get it—" I pause to toss a quick glance over my shoulder, realizing that Tino has stopped just inside the door and is just kind of hanging out in the hallway. Not really leaving. I turn back to Joe to mouth, "Did you bust him?"

Joe takes a step forward, putting one hand—his left hand—on my wrist and gently pushing me back inside the train car. "I'll meet you in the dining car, okay? Please."

Okay, so it kind of freaks me out. This entire thing. But nothing can be seriously wrong, right? Yeah, Joe seems to be acting kind of weird, but he hasn't said anything outright about what he was doing out on the platform—and what is Tino doing here? He looks like he has nothing to do with this little run-in.

Joe steps inside after me and shuts the door. "Just meet me in the dining car. Okay, Nance?"

I throw him a look to ask if he really wants me to go. Something about leaving him here alone with Tino—something about it still doesn't feel okay. But he nods, running his hand—his left hand—through his messy blonde hair. Still keeping his right hand behind his back.

So I do it—I leave. It doesn't feel right, but I do it anyway. Because I trust Joe. I trust that he knows what he's doing. I wind my way around the corner, bringing myself to walk all the way to the other end of the train car, willing myself to open the door. To step outside. To shut it behind me. To leave him back there.

Thank you for reading, FlightFeathers! I love getting your feedback. ^.^ And thank you to everyone else who is reading this! Please leave a review if you'd like. :)