Almost instantly, the arm releases me again. I'm still trying to force a scream past my locked jaw, when the lights flicker on so quickly that I flinch. And then, Steve is standing in front of me, laughing.

"I got you good that time, didn't I?" He looks ridiculously proud of himself. "I was in the back room the whole time, I heard you call out to me and decided to sneak up on you."

I want so badly to wipe that infuriating smirk off his face, but right now, I'm a little preoccupied with other things. Like breathing. My chest is tight, and I can't seem to either inhale or exhale.

I'm not sure what expression I'm wearing, but Steve's smile slips a little. "Summer? What's wrong? I didn't scare you too badly, did I?"

It's his turn to flinch as the scream that's been struggling to escape, finally bursts out of me. He reflexively throws his hands up in a defensive position, as if he thinks I'm going to fly at him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Summer? What's wrong, why are you..."

His voice fades into the babble of noise in my brain. My paralyzing terror is melting into something else... uncontrollable, white-hot rage.

Who do you think you are, Gonsalves?

Faintly, from downstairs somewhere, I hear Grant's voice. "What in the... was that Summer?"

Steve is still standing in front of me, a look of bewilderment on his face, holding out his hands as if he doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Summer!" Now I hear two sets of footsteps thundering up over the stairs. Jason and Grant must have heard me scream all the way from the first floor.

I'm breathing hard now, my fists clenched, my heart still pounding. My mind is racing so quickly that I can hardly think straight. One single thought pushes its way to the forefront of my brain, and resounds like a hammer striking a gong.

I hate you! I hate you!

It's not until Steve's head snaps back as though he's been struck that I realize I've screamed the words out loud.

I turn and bolt from the room.

I have no idea how I manage to get down over two flights of stairs without falling headlong. I catch a brief glimpse of Grant reaching out as though to grab me as I pass him, but I nimbly dodge him.

From behind me, Jason roars, "Steve! What the hell is going on?!"

I don't even remember crossing the foyer. I burst through the front door like a tornado, only to skid to a stop as I'm faced with a wall of rain. The front porch is still fairly dry, but rain lashes the weeds and shrubs in the overgrown front yard and makes them shake accusing fingers at me.

I have no idea how long I frantically pace the front porch, hugging myself and trying to breathe through the rage and fear.

Don't melt down, Summer. Breathe. Breathe. Don't panic. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't...

I stumble to a halt as the front door opens. A beam of light shows yellow across the porch floor, before disappearing as the door swings shut once more. Jason and Grant have joined me on the front porch.

"Summer? Are you okay?" Grant's voice is soft with compassion. I open my mouth, and close it again. Finally I shake my head.

Not really.

Jason exhales so loudly that it's easy to hear him, above the pouring rain. Finally he speaks up, and his voice is as gentle as Grant's. "What do you need, Summer? What can we do?"

"I... I want..." My voice is shaky and I choke on the tears that I'm trying to hold back. One clings stubbornly to an eyelash, and I furiously blink it away.

"Yes, Summer? What do you want?" Grant encourages me.

"I want... I want..." You baby. You absolute, moldy, pathetic, mess of a baby. "I want to go home. I want... my daddy." The words rush out in a whisper, and I'm not even sure at first that Jason and Grant hear me.

Jason and Grant exchange a long look. Finally Jason shakes his head slightly and turns to me. I'm expecting him to chide me, but instead he just holds out his arms. "Come here, sweetheart."

It must be because he's the father of five already, that Jason knows exactly what to do. My walls crumble, and suddenly I'm blubbering into the shoulder of his black jacket. My tears make a damp patch on the leather, but I'm past caring at this point.

Grant rubs my shoulder comfortingly. He's muttering soothing words under his breath, but I don't hear them over the pounding rain. It's enough to know that I'm safe, that whatever is up there in the dark hasn't gotten me.

Finally I pull back, my sobs dwindling away to shuddering gasps as I calm down. I haven't even heard the door open again, but as I try to wipe my eyes, I catch a glimpse of Tango standing in the doorway. Kris and Amy are huddled close on either side of him, and Joe is peering over Tango's shoulder.

Jason raises his voice and addresses them. "You guys go ahead and finish packing up the gear. Dave, you're in charge. Take Joe and the girls and get everything loaded."

Tango nods wordlessly, and I catch his wide-eyed look of sympathy before the door eases shut.

Grant looks like he's about to say something, when the door re-opens and all of us turn towards it.

This time, it's Steve standing in the open doorway. Holding onto either side of the door frame, he leans out and glances anxiously from one of us to the other.

I quickly drop my eyes, but not before I notice the uncertainty in his gaze, eyebrows forming question marks, lips slightly parted.

"I'll deal with you in a minute," Jason growls, and I flinch at the ominous warning note in his voice.

I peer up at Jason, noticing the way his jaw is set and the steel in his deep-set eyes. Steve must see it too, because he hastily retreats, closing the door behind him.

Jason rubs the back of his neck and turns to me. "Stay here with Grant, all right? Steve and I need to have a chat."

"No!" I catch at Jason's arm as he turns to leave. Misunderstanding, he pats my shoulder. "It's all right, Summer. Grant is here with you."

"Wait!" I grab his arm once more. "Please, Jay."

I've never, in all my time with TAPS, called Jason "Jay."

He knows this as well as I do, and it surprises him enough that he turns and gives me his full attention.

Somehow I can't shake the feeling that something terrible will happen if Jason lets his anger loose on Steve. He might... he might even fire Steve from TAPS. That would be a disaster. Steve practically is TAPS; or at least, he's one of its most recognizable members.

But right now, I have no way of putting all that into words. I can only hope that Jason can hear what I'm trying to say.

"Please don't," I beg now.

"I have to talk with Steve," he points out, but I'm already shaking my head.

"You don't want me to talk to him?" I shake my head again. "Summer, why not?" Jason's eyebrows are knitted together in perplexity, but he's genuinely trying to understand.

"Jay said 'talk', Summer, not bite his head off." Grant looks at me with a faint smile, and I know that he understands.

Jason raises his eyebrows as he catches on. He grumbles faintly, but there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes, and I'm glad he's not as angry as he looked a minute ago. "How about this? Steve and I are going to have a calm, reasonable discussion about what is and isn't appropriate behavior while investigating."

It's not quite what I was hoping for, but it'll have to do, and I finally nod in agreement.

"Okay, then," Jason says finally. "You can come inside, Summer, or you can stay out here and get some fresh air. Grant will stay with you until you're sure you're all right, right, G.?"

"Of course." Grant gives me a warm smile as Jason opens the creaky front door and disappears inside.

With Jason gone, I stare out across the front yard. A beam of light from an upstairs window faintly illuminates the three TAPS vehicles parked in front of the asylum. Even with their hulking shapes almost hidden in darkness, I can see the reflection of raindrops trickling down their windows.

A gust of wind splatters a sheet of rain past the porch railing, and I hug myself tightly. Grant must notice, because he offers, "How about going back inside, Summer? You don't have your jacket, and it's a little chilly out here."

His voice is calm and matter-of-fact, as if we're not standing in pitch darkness on the front porch of a haunted asylum in a major downpour. I've always seen Grant as the voice of reason, and now I understand why. Nothing seems to perturb him at all.

"Okay," I agree, shivering as a few raindrops strike my already-sodden face. I guess a few more won't make that much difference.

Stepping over the threshold, the bright glare of light makes me wince. Jason and Steve are nowhere in sight, I notice. The rest of the TAPS team is quickly and quietly packing up the gear, with a noticeable absence of any laughter or chatter.

"Looking good, guys," Grant says in approval. "Is that the last of it, Tango?"

"That's it, Grant. We should be all ready for loading." Tango glances quickly at me before focusing back on Grant.

"Good, then. Let's get at it. Anyone have the keys to the tech van?"

"Right here, Grant." Steve's voice is subdued as he steps into the foyer with Jason following him. I quickly turn away and pick up a camera case, almost stepping on Joe's heels in my hurry to follow him out to the van.

I might have avoided Steve that time, but he tries to waylay me on my way back inside. "Listen, Summer..."

I wordlessly step around him and reach for a coil of cable.

"Summer?" His voice sounds almost plaintive, but I brush past him and follow Joe outside once again.

Steve doesn't try to speak to me again, but I can sense him watching me as I help the rest of the team load the gear. I stuff down the pang of remorse I feel every time I catch a glimpse of the hurt in his eyes. The terror of that dark room is still too close for me to forget it quite yet.

"All right, crew." Jason stands with hands on hips, after taking a quick survey of the asylum interior to make sure we haven't forgotten anything. "We don't have too far of a drive to get home tonight, so let's hit the road."

There are answering murmurs of agreement as we scatter. Steve and Tango hop aboard the tech van, and Kris, Amy, and Joe climb aboard the Yukon, but I hesitate.

"Anything wrong, Summer?" Grant catches my uncertain look.

I shake my head, and then blurt, "Can... can I ride with you guys tonight?"

Grant looks surprised, but immediately agrees. "Of course you can. Hop in."

I very seldom ride in the lead vehicle, usually preferring the company of Kris and Amy, but tonight I feel too drained for the myriad of questions that I know will accompany our drive home.

While Jason concludes his conversation with Mr. Blanton, who's arrived just in time to lock up and see us off, I climb into the back seat of the Yukon. Grant slides into the passenger seat, and Jason takes his place behind the wheel a minute later.

"Decided to opt for some more civilized company tonight?" he jokes lightly, catching my eye in the real view mirror.

I shrug and give him a faint smile in return. "Not more civilized, just... more quiet."

"Understood." Jason is preoccupied for the next few moments, pulling onto the street and making sure our convoy is headed in the right direction. Grant is equally quiet, appearing lost in thought, and I slump again the seat back and try to untangle my own thoughts.

You told Steve you hated him.

I don't realize that I've groaned out load, but Grant twists around in his seat to look at me. "Everything all right?"

"Yes. No. I don't know."

Grant makes a sound of sympathy. "Want to talk about it?"

I sigh loudly. "Maybe? I...well, not really."

"Up to you." Grant doesn't press the matter further.

Another minute of silence passes, and I finally mumble, "I feel like an idiot."

Seems like that's the only thing you can say when you're with TAPS. You tend to have a lot of idiotic moments, Lafrenière.

Jason turns his head, not quite able to meet my gaze without taking his eyes off the road, but acknowledging my statement nonetheless. "Why is that?"

"I don't know. I just feel foolish. I... I panicked. Froze. Laid an egg. I'm a paranormal investigator; well, investigator-in-training, anyway. I don't know what's wrong with me! I'm not supposed to be scared of anything!"

"Says who?" Grant replies. "I don't know a single person who's not afraid of something or other."

"But you and Jason aren't scared of anything," I murmur.

Jason chuckles. "Sure we are. Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it's not there."

"Absolutely," Grant agrees. "You told us that you've watched every episode of Ghost Hunters, Summer. You must remember the investigation we did at the old army fort, and the tunnels that no paranormal investigators had ever been invited to explore before?"

I try to recall that particular episode. "I... think so?"

"Well, when I was down in those tunnels with Jay, we split up. I was just turning to go around a corner, when an army soldier's face appeared barely a foot from mine. It was one of the craziest paranormal experiences that I'd had up to that time."

I have to grin. "I remember now."

Grant snorts. "Then you also remember my reaction. I jumped about a foot off the floor, and hollered so loud that Jay came running. It wasn't so much the apparition itself, but the unexpectedness of it. Honestly, it scared the crap out of me for about ten seconds."

I giggle softly.

"Grant's right," Jason puts in. "And don't forget, Summer, you stayed upstairs in the dark by yourself to do some EVP work, and caught that amazing response with the K2 meter. Not to mention the time you stayed up in the attic with those bats down in Georgia to do an EVP session, and when you climbed into the trapdoor in Maine. Those aren't the actions of someone paralyzed by fear."

"I guess," I say softly.

"Anyone can get startled," Jason points out. "For example, when Steve... how exactly did he scare you, anyway? Jumped out of a closet?"

"He turned off all the lights, and then grabbed me from behind," I sulk.

"Ouch," mutters Grant

"It's my fault," I admit guiltily. "I scared him and Tango, up in the attic that time. You know, with the statue?"

"Not even remotely the same thing," Grant says firmly. "I'm surprised at Steve, honestly. He likes to play pranks, but this was taking it a bit far, even for him."

"I overreacted," I protested. "You probably would have just laughed if he had done it to you."

"I would have blackened his eye," Jason grumbles. "He knows better than to try a fool stunt like that. Especially when you'd already had some odd experiences up there and were feeling unnerved about the whole thing."

I look at him in surprise. "How did you...?"

"I saw your face when Tango asked you to go up to the third floor," Jason chuckles. "You were scared out of your wits, but you marched up those stairs like a woman on a mission."

I'm glad no one can see my blush through the darkness.

"That's the kind of thing that makes you a good investigator," Grant says. "You're scared, but you do it anyway. And as for Steve's tomfoolery, I think any one of us would have gotten a fright if someone grabbed us from behind in the darkness. Kind of lucky for Steve that you freeze when you're scared, otherwise he'd be walking around sporting a black eye, like Jay said."

We share a quiet laugh at that, and I feel slightly better.

"It's another bump in the road," Jason advises me. "Don't let it eat at you."

"Okay," I agree with a soft sigh, but I know that it will eat at me, probably for weeks. That's just the way I am.

Our conversation dwindles. The night seems to be growing darker, and the only illumination is the soft glow of the dashboard lights and the Yukon's powerful high beams reflecting off the highway. The hum of tires on wet pavement and the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers sweeping away the rain act as a gentle lullaby.

"Summer? Summer. Wake up."

I groan softly, blinking back the cobwebs of sleep. I must have dozed off, my head pillowed on my arm, half stretched out along the Yukon's back seat.

Realizing that we're no longer moving, I sit up groggily. "Where are we?"

"Look outside," Grant chuckles.

I do as he suggests, and then jolt to attention when I comprehend that the Yukon is parked in my driveway.

"Wait, wha-... how?" I'm still foggy with sleep, but I manage to ask, "What about my car?"

"It'll be fine, parked at TAPS headquarters," Jason reassures me. "If you phone one of us tomorrow, we can give you a ride to go get it. But I didn't feel comfortable about letting you drive home by yourself tonight."

As always, I'm touched by Jason and Grant's thoughtfulness. "Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. Good job tonight," Grant says, reaching behind his shoulder to give me a fist bump.

"Get some sleep. That's an order," Jason tells me, a twinkle in his eye belying the sternness in his voice.

"Yes sir," I answer playfully.

Shivering in the cold air, I drag myself and my belongings up the driveway to the porch. Jason and Grant remain parked until I manage to find my keys and get my front door open.

I turn and wave as they back out of the driveway. Jason doesn't honk the horn, out of respect for sleeping neighbors, but I see Grant's hand uplifted in reply as they zoom down the street.

The luminescent numbers on the kitchen stove show 4:18 A.M. as I drag myself wearily up the stairs.

Even as exhausted as I am, it takes me a long time to fall asleep.