The Adventures of Riley Longhill: Ghost Hunter!

I wearily unlocked the door to my camper. Geist let out a happy bark as she trotted up to greet me, tail wagging. Well, at least someone was happy to see me. After Hal and Gia left me in Room 16 at the Hotel Vendome, I had a confusing phone conversation with Craig, who was having difficulty understanding what precisely had happened. He also seemed inordinately focused on who Hal was and why he was in my room. After I finally hung up with him, I spent the rest of the night crouched in the corner, eyes peeled for any other ghostly encounters. Nothing happened. I must have dozed off at some point because when I opened my eyes, the morning sun was streaming through my room. Stiff and sore, my neck and back aching, and my eyes gritty from lack of sleep, I took a hot shower to try and loosen my muscles up. It didn't really help. I tried to console myself. At least I had a story for my blog, right? A real ghostly encounter with Noble, the ghost cat, who ate a living mouse (never mind that ghosts don't normally eat)! That really happened … didn’t it? So what if I couldn't find any trace of the mouse, or really, any trace of anything happening last night. The mouse could have disappeared in some hole somewhere. And ghosts, well they don't leave a trail anyway. Right? As I was leaving, I noticed the maid cart by the room Hal stayed in. It was pretty early for him to be out and about. Or did he already check out? I went down to the lobby, passing a couple guys wearing white exterminator shirts. Gia wasn't in the lobby; instead, there was a middle-aged, grumpy-looking woman drinking a huge cup of coffee. She was on the phone, complaining about millennials' lack of work ethic. She checked me out without ever interrupting her conversation, and when I left, she was still complaining. I shut the door of the camper and slumped on the bed. Maybe what I really needed was a nap. My phone rang. It was my sister Katie. "Seen a vampire yet?" she asked, shouting over a loud buzzing in the background. "I already told you I'm not looking for vampires," I said tiredly. "I'm a ghost hunter." "You sound exhausted," she yelled. "I AM exhausted," I said. "What's with the noise?" "Oh the kids are sawing something," she said. "With a chainsaw?" "Well, something. They're using some sort of power tool." "Is that safe?" "Well, it's not like they're unsupervised," Katie said. "I'm standing right here." I wondered about that, but decided I was too tired to ask. "So, what happened to you?" she asked. I told her everything that happened last night, with only a few interruptions from Katie, who wanted to make sure the cat's tail remained out of harm's way. "Well, that sounds like good news," she said when I was done. "You saw a ghost, right?" "Maybe," I said. I was feeling more and more discouraged the longer I talked. "What are you talking about, 'maybe’?" she asked. "You heard Noble! What more do you want?" I slumped further in my seat. "Maybe I'm just tired, but I don't know … maybe this whole thing was a bad idea." "What??? Why would you say that?" "Well, I don't have any equipment except for a stupid compass. Which probably IS broken, although it seems to be working now. I didn't really see anything except for a mouse, which was alive. Yeah, we heard something, but who knows what it was. Maybe it was a noise from outside, or, I don't know, the water heater. The hotel is old, after all. Old hotels make noises." "But, the cold …" "Could have been a draft," I interrupted. "Everything could have a reasonable explanation. A broke compass. A draft. Maybe Coco is right and this whole ghost thing is silly." "Riley, stop. Just stop," Katie said. "This is silly. You're being silly." I blinked. "What do you mean?" "What did you think was going to happen? Riley, you're doing something completely new! Of course you're going to have hiccups and problems. That's just par for the course." "Yes, but …" "And, besides, you ARE having...

I squared my shoulders and flung open the closet door. The closet looked like a normal hotel closet, with a few empty hangers on the rack, a folded blanket on the shelf, a stand for suitcases and …. A mouse. I blinked. Yes, there was a real-life mouse sitting in the middle of the closet. I screamed. The mouse let out a shriek of its own and darted away, causing me to dance backward and trip over a chair, which clattered to the floor with me. "Riley! What's going on?" Craig's voice demanded from the phone. At the same time, there was a loud pounding on the door, causing me to scream again. "What's going on?" a muffled male voice yelled from the other side of the door. "Do you need help?" Was that Hal? Maybe he could get the mouse out. I untangled myself from the chair and hurried to the door. "Hold on," I said to Craig as I started unlocking the door. "Hold on?" Craig squawked. "Are you kidding me? Hold on?" I ignored him and opened the door. It was Hal, his arms filled with a variety of technical devices. "I heard screams," he said, his face barely containing his glee. "What is it? What did you see?" He started elbowing his way into my room. "Who's that?" Craig asked from the phone, at the same time as another voice called down the hallway. "Riley? Are you okay? I thought I heard screams." It was Gia, from the front desk. At least someone was asking me if I was okay. Unlike Hal, who was busy setting up his tech toys on my table. I noticed he had managed to knock over my ghost-hunting kit, strewing the contents (including my notebook and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups), across the floor. "What's with the compass?" he asked. "I'm fine," I called out to Gia as she caught up to me. "What did you see?" she asked, a little out of breath. Her face was bright with excitement. "So, where was it?" Hal asked, leaning over his equipment and twisting and turning knobs. "Riley, what on earth is going on there?" Craig asked. I opened my mouth to explain about the mouse when I saw something move by my notebook—a little nose poked out between the pages. I screamed again and jumped on the bed. "There! There," I shrieked. "Do you see it?" Hal swiveled around so quickly, he dropped one of his tech gadgets. "Where? What?" "Is it Abby?" Gia asked breathlessly, madly searching the room. "Riley, what is going on?" Craig asked. The nose disappeared, and I saw the papers tremble. "There! By my notebook." "Your notebook? What?" Hal asked. "Why would Abby be by your notebook?" Gia asked. "Maybe it's Noble, the cat," Hal said, his movements jerky as he searched the room. He looked like a cop in a B action movie. "No, not Abby," I said impatiently. "Or Noble. It's a mouse." Hal's face went blank. "A what?" Gia looked confused. "A mouse? I don't remember anyone ever talking about a ghost mouse before. Could Noble have killed it?" "No! Not a ghost mouse," I said. "A real one." "There's a mouse in your hotel room?" Craig asked from the phone. "We don't have mice," Gia said indignantly. "But, I saw it," I said. Hal finally found my notebook and slowly approached it, nudging it with his foot. Nothing happened. "Are you sure you saw a mouse?" "Positive," I said. "I've never seen any mice in this hotel," Gia said. "Well, there was one in this room," I said. "Where did you see it?" Hal asked. "In the closet." Hal's eyes went wide. "The closet? Where Noble died? Are you sure you saw a mouse and not the cat?" "I know what I saw, Hal," I said. "Who is Hal?" Craig asked. Hal went over to the closet to examine it. "I can't believe we have a mouse," Gia said. She turned to me. "Are you sure?" "If there was a mouse," Hal said, his head in the closet. "It seems to be gone now." "It's not in the closetnow," I said. "I told you, I saw it by my notebook." Hal glanced at my notebook. "I already checked there. There was no mouse." He turned to stare at me. "If there was a mouse, where did it go?" "Are you saying I'm lying?" I...

I froze, Craig's words echoing in my head. Maybe your compass is acting like that because there's a ghost in your room. The phone crackled. "Riley?" Craig's voice floated out. "Are you there?" I licked my suddenly dry lip as I desperately searched the room. Everything appeared to be normal. Except for my compass. Which was still weirdly pointed to the west no matter which way I turned it. "Riley?" Craig said again. "I'm here," I said, forcing the words out of my numb mouth. "I can't see …" There it was again. Screech. The scratching noise. I gasped and scrambled backwards., knocking the chair over in the process. It was coming from the closet! "Riley, what is going on?" Craig demanded, his voice growing louder. "Craig, it's coming from the closet," I said as quietly as I could. "What's coming from the closet?" "The noise! The scratching noise." "There's something in your closet?" I backed up a couple more steps. "I think so." "Riley," Craig sounded panicked. "You need to get out of your room. Now!" Along with the scratching, I heard the jingling of a bell again. Almost like … a dog collar. Or … maybe a cat collar. "I don't think it's a person," I said. "I think it’s Noble." "Who is Noble?" "The cat." Now that I was remembering the story, I could feel myself start to calm down. "After Abby's husband left, Abby locked herself in this room, and she locked the cat in the closet … until they both starved to death. People have said they heard scratching and bells jingling from the closet before." "So you think there's a ghost cat in the closet?" Craig sounded more than a little skeptical. "What if you're wrong?" "Well, I suppose it could be Abby as well, but I don't remember anyone reporting any sightings of her in the closet." "I didn't mean Abby." Craig sounded like he was trying very hard to remain patient. "I mean, what if it's an actual person? You know, someone who is still living?" "But, what about the compass?" I argued. "You were the one who said the compass not working right was a sign that a ghost was here." "Or, maybe you broke it when you dropped it." "I didn't drop it. It just ended up on the floor … somehow." "Uh huh. Point being that I wouldn't rule out a person being in your closet based on a compass." I stared at the compass. It still stubbornly refused to shift in any direction other than west. "Well, there's one way to find out," I said. "I can go open the closet." "No!" Craig shouted. "What if you're wrong? At least go get someone." "I'm a ghost hunter," I said, sounding far more confident than I felt. "This is what ghost hunters do. They investigate." I wiped my sweaty hands on my shorts. "You can still investigate with someone with you," Craig argued. "Yes, but what if I come back and Noble is gone?" I asked. "I can't miss this chance." "Riley, you're going to get yourself killed," Craig moaned. "Noble won't hurt me," I said. "No one has reported any aggression from either Noble or Abby. They're friendly ghosts." "I'm not worried about the ghosts," Craig said. I stood up, wiping my hands again on my shorts. I could still hear the scratching and the jangling of the bell. Slowly, I started to inch my way toward the closet. "I'm almost at the closet," I whispered. "Once I'm there, then …" At that moment, a cold draft of air brushed against me and I shivered. "What just happened?" Craig asked. "Nothing, I just stepped into a cold draft," I said. "At least, I think it was just a draft." "What else could it have been?" I shivered again, although this time, not because of the draft. "That's part of how you know if there's a ghost around," I said. "The temperature drops." "Or it could just actually be a draft," Craig said. "You said the hotel is old, right? Old hotels have drafts." "Maybe," I said. "My compass is still not working." Thump. The noise was soft but unmistakable. Something had fallen to the floor. Something behind me. I spun around, nearly dropping the...

I knew something was off the moment I stepped back into my room, Room 16, Abby's room. At first, I couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Did it feel different? Look different? Smell different? I did a careful scan. What was I missing? The bedspread was still smooth and untouched. My ghost hunting kit was on the floor. My overnight bag was next to the closet … Wait a minute. My ghost hunting kit was on the chair when I left. Not on the floor. Or … was it? Now I wasn't sure. I thought back to all the things I did when I first walked into the hotel room. Yes, I was sure I put my ghost hunting kit on the chair because I wanted to get my compass out. And … Hold on. Where was my compass? Oh God. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My compass was gone. I was SURE I left it on the table. I had been trying to figure out the whole north business, and I set it down when I left the room. Although, now that I thought about it, couldn't I have just looked at the compass? Why did I feel the need to go find Gia? But, that was beside the point. Right now, I needed to find that compass. I quickly searched and discovered it laying on the floor, upside down, like it had been knocked off the table. Had I done that? Or … was it Abby? A cold touch of fear caressed my spine. I shivered. I looked around the room, seeking any sign of a ghostly presence. But everything seemed perfectly normal. Other than my compass being on the floor. I picked it up and tried to orient it to north. But, no matter which way I pointed it, it stayed west. Something was wrong. What happened to it? Did it somehow get broken when it fell off the table? I laid it down and stared at it. Now what? I had been so excited to finally have a piece of ghost-hunting equipment in my ghost-hunting kit. Now that it was broken, I felt so disappointed. Should I try to fix it? How would I do that? A little voice inside me answered: Craig would know. No! I'm NOT calling Craig. He's my EX-boyfriend, which means I don't call him to help me fix problems. Well, if not him, then who? I didn't get the feeling Gia knew her way around a toolkit. I suppose I could knock on Hal's door. He seemed like a pretty handy guy. Probably be happy to help, so he could try and weasel his way into this room and do his own investigation. Of course, then I'd have to admit I was a ghost hunter with no ghost-hunting equipment. No thanks. Or I could just continue investigating the way I started—with no equipment. And my trusty snacks, of course. And caffeine. But, that felt like failure. I was upleveling! I needed actual ghost-hunting equipment. It appeared I had no choice. I had to call Craig. "Riley, this is a surprise." I squirmed a little. "I need your help." "Oh. So NOW you're asking me for help." "If you don't want to help, then just tell me," I snapped. God, this was a bad idea. I never should have called. "I didn't say I wouldn't help," he said. "What do you need? Do you need me to come over?" "It might be tough for you to come over as I'm still in Prescott, Arizona," I said. "Are you still in a broom closet?" "No! I'm in the Hotel Vendome. I'm investigating Abby and her cat Noble. I'm actually in her room." "You're investigating a cat?" "I'm investigating ghosts," I said impatiently. "Abby and Noble are both ghosts." "A ghost cat," Craig mused. "Okay, so what do you need my help with?" I sighed. "My compass broke." "Compass? What on earth do you need a compass for? You're not tracking a ghost, are you?" Creak. Groan. Some sort of shuffling noise against the hotel door. What was that? "Not tracking as in following a ghost," I answered, trying to focus on my conversation with Craig. "It's part of my ghost-hunting equipment." The shuffling grew louder. I shifted so I could get a better view of the door, but I couldn't see anything. The hotel was pretty old. It was probably just the normal settling noises that occur in an old building. "How does a compass fit into ghost hunting?" "Well,...

As I packed for my big night in Abby's room, Room 16 in the Hotel Vendome, I couldn't stop thinking about my conversation with Hal. Was I doing this ghost hunting thing all wrong? I didn't have any of the equipment he talked about—my ghost-hunting kit consisted of a notebook, a flashlight, and a camera. Well, all that and food. Because you might get hungry waiting for a ghost to show up. And caffeine. Because how else do you stay awake in the middle of the night? But, maybe it was time to kick it up a notch. Become more professional. After all, other famous ghost hunters probably had all that technical equipment Hal mentioned, so maybe that's what I needed to do: invest in some high-tech gadgets. The problem was, I didn't know where to start. Was there a store somewhere that stocked this kind of stuff? Would they show me how to use everything? There probably wasn't time for Amazon to ship it all to me in time for tonight's ghost hunt. Maybe the Internet could help. But, a couple of searches later, my head was spinning. Spirit boxes. Infrared motion detectors. REM pods. Digital thermometers. Thermal imaging devices. EMF meters. Ion counters. Radiation detectors. Wait a minute. Radiation detectors? Are ghosts radioactive? Was I going to get radiation poisoning doing this? Oh man, I could practically hear Coco telling me “I told you so.” Actually, a little more research revealed that no, ghosts aren't radioactive, but radiation detectors could pick up EVPs. I had no idea what EVPs were, but they sounded important. I would have to remember that the next time I talked to Hal. But, back to the more pressing concern—how could I get all this stuff before tonight? Not to mention, how would I afford it all? That’s when I saw it in the search results: do-it-yourself ghost-hunting equipment! This had possibilities. I mean, how hard could it be? It had to be easier than putting together a swing set, right? There was even a YouTube video. Actually, a whole series of YouTube videos. Although, tools would be a bit of a problem, since I didn't own any. Hmmm. But, wait—this EMF meter. The do-it-yourself version is just a regular old cheap compass. I could definitely go buy one of those. That was totally within my skill set. And, while I was at it, I better buy a bigger bag to house my rapidly growing ghost-hunting kit. After getting my new items, I was already feeling more professional. Plus, I had new acronyms to throw around, like “EMF” and “EVP.” See, there was something to this upleveling. The phone rang. It was Coco. "Got your blog up yet?" she asked. "Better," I said. "I'm spending the night at the Hotel Vendome. In Room 16. Abby's room." "Well, that's certainly a better choice than a broom closet." I decided to ignore that. "And, I have actual ghost-hunting equipment." "Really? What were you using before?" "Well, I had the basics," I said evasively. "But now I have actual ghost-hunting equipment." "Wow, I'm impressed," Coco said. "Did you spend a lot?" "No, because I found a build-your-own ghost-hunting equipment site." "Wait," Coco said. "You're telling me you built it yourself? Don't you remember what happened with the swing set?" "We don't need to talk about the swing set," I said hastily. "Savannah is just fine." "You hope." "The doctor assured us there was no lasting damage," I said. "But, never mind that. Building my own ghost-hunting equipment was way easier." "Really?" Coco didn't sound convinced. "So, what did you build?" "An EMF meter," I said proudly. "What's that?" "What do you think? It tracks EMFs." "Which are?" "It means there's a ghost nearby," I said exasperated. Maybe I needed to do more research so I would have better answers. "Sounds complicated," Coco said. "How did you build it?" "Well, you see, this is the best part," I said. "It's a compass." "Wait, what? Why do you need a compass? To track which direction the ghost is going?" "No, nothing like that. If the compass goes crazy and starts spinning around, that...

To start my research on all the ghost sightings of Abby, the ghost at Hotel Vendome (along with her cat, Noble, who is also part of the real ghost stories and true hauntings lore), I decided to check out the local Sharlot Hall Museum, which is dedicated to preserving Prescott's rich Western history. Prescott is actually an old mining town, over a hundred years old. (Which explains why it's the site of so many ghost sightings and real ghost stories.) It was even the first capital of Arizona. Doc Holiday apparently spent some time here gambling (and killing a few folks!) before joining Wyatt Earp in Tombstone (He was likely in Prescott for the same reason as Abby as they both had TB). Big Nose Kate (Doc's girlfriend) also apparently worked here for a short time as a prostitute. I'm unclear if that was before or after Doc's death, and how much Doc had to do with her decision to work a prostitute, but if it was before and if he did have something to do with it, might Big Nose Kate's ghost be flitting around here, too? Maybe she’s even haunting Doc Holiday as payback for the whole prostitution thing. I mean, it seems just as bad as the whole “going out for cigarettes and never coming back” ordeal Abby went through. (If you missed that episode, check it out here.) Anyway, I digress. I'm not looking for Big Nose Kate's ghost right now, anyhow. This is about Abby and Noble. I figured if there were any records of true hauntings and real ghost stories around Prescott, I’d find them at Sharlot Hall Museum. What I discovered there is that Abby was actually the source of a couple of books, The Search for Abby, and Hotel Vendome: The Story of Prescott's Historic Haunted Hotel, both by Ken Edwards. I was SO excited to learn that there had been so many ghost sightings of her over the years that there was enough fodder for not one but two books. Apparently, both Abby and Noble liked to roam all over the hotel. Well, now that I had more background, it was time to go check out the Hotel Vendome. From the outside, it looked more like a bed and breakfast than a hotel. It was a charming building located a block off of Prescott's famous downtown and Whiskey Row. Better yet, inside there’s even a little bar. How perfect! I couldn't think of a better way to research than over a glass of wine. I immediately headed over. It had to be five o'clock somewhere, right? There was one woman standing behind the check-in desk. When she saw me head over to the bar on the other side of the lobby, she followed me. "What can I get you?" She wore black, had short black hair too black to be anything but dyed, and multiple piercings, most in her ears but one in her nose, too. The only thing that wasn't black on her was a small white name tag that read, "Gia." I ordered a glass of wine and explained I was there to learn more about Abby. "Oh, you'll want this," she said, after pouring my wine. She disappeared for a moment and came back with a huge book, which she plopped down in front of me. "This is our Abby book." [caption id="attachment_638" align="alignleft" width="225"] Well this should keep me busy.[/caption] I started to page through. It was loaded with real ghost stories and ghost sightings of both Abby and Noble, and it went back years. I was amazed. "Have you seen Abby?" I asked Gia. She shook her head. "I'm still pretty new. But, I'm hoping." She folded her arms and leaned over the bar. "To be honest, a big reason why I took this job was because I want to see her." "Really?" Oh, this was perfect. A fellow ghost hunter. "I'm a ghost hunter." She widened her eyes. "Oh my God, that's so cool. Are you on a show or anything?" "I have a blog," I said. It was technically true, right? I had bought the domain name, so that meant I had it. Just because I hadn't actually started posting didn't mean it didn’t exist. "But, I'm still just getting started," I continued, seeing her start to open her mouth, presumably to ask me for the URL. "So, you're here to see Abby's...

I admit it, my last ghost hunting adventure at the Hassayampa Inn had … mixed results. On one hand, I saw my first ghost! Yay me! On the other hand … I wasn't sure I could actually, you know, post about it without getting in trouble. Well, never fear. Today was a brand new day. A brand new start to my ghost hunting adventure! And, what better place to get that fresh start but the Hotel Vendome in Prescott, Arizona. According to local legend, Abby and her husband moved to Prescott because Abby was sick with TB. While it appears they were living in the hotel, it's also a little unclear why that was. The most popular story claims they were the original owners of the hotel, which was built in 1917, but ended up losing it and the new owners kept them on as managers. However, according to folks who have actually researched old deeds, there's no proof they ever owned the hotel. Which, of course, doesn't mean they weren't the managers, just that they never owned it. Other stories said they were simply living there for free. I suppose they could have been paying guests as well. Regardless, they were living in the Hotel Vendome in 1921 on the day when Abby's husband went out for medicine for her, and never came back. Abby was so distraught, she locked herself in her room, refusing to eat until she perished. She also locked her cat Noble in the closet, and he died at about the same time. Now, both Abby and her cat haunt the hotel. "A ghost cat," I said to my dog Geist (Geist means “ghost” in German and is pronounced Guy-st). "What do you think about that?" Geist did not appear to like that idea at all. "I know you used to chase that feral cat in our neighborhood," I said. "But, maybe a ghost cat would be different." Geist picked up her alligator squeaky toy and gave it a few good hard squeaks. She shot me a meaningful look, the toy dangling out of her mouth. "Are you saying that's what you want to do to the cat?" Geist squeaked it one more time. "Well, unfortunately for you, the hotel doesn't allow dogs." Geist groaned and put her head down. "It's not my decision," I started to say when my phone rang. It was my sister, Katie. "How’s the zombie hunting?" she asked. "Hey kids, be careful with that saw." In the background I could hear the kids bickering. "It's my turn with the saw. No, you always get it! It's mine." "Zombies? What, you think I'm in a Walking Dead episode?" "Of course not. Silly. The Walking Dead isn't real," Katie said. "And you think zombie hunting is real?" "Well, you're doing it." "No. I'm not," I said. "I'm ghost hunting." "Oh yes, ghosts. Have you found any yet?" "I did. Faith." "Just one?" She sounded disappointed. "Just one? Most people never see a ghost. Ever. In their entire lives." "Yes, but most people aren't ghost hunters. I would think if a ghost hunter couldn't see ghosts that would be a bit of an issue." "Whatever," I said. "I'm getting ready for my next adventure. I’m going to look for Abby. In the Hotel Vendome." "What happened to Abby?" "Her husband went out for medicine or something and never came back, so she locked herself and her cat up in the room and starved to death." "I'm sensing a theme," Katie said. "Didn't your last ghost die because her husband went out for cigarettes and never returned?" "Do you think they stick around to haunt their husbands?" I asked. "Oooh, that's an idea. I'm going to tell Jack if he goes out for cigarettes one night and never returns, that's grounds for me to haunt him." 'Just as long as you don't kill him first." "There's that," Katie said. "Hey, kids, stop that. The cat doesn't want to play with the saw. I have to go." The Hotel Vendome would be my most famous haunted hotel yet. Although, that wasn't saying much as it was only my second. But, still. The Hotel Vendome had been featured in a bunch of specials and stories of documented hauntings. With any luck, I, too, would meet Abby. With even more luck, I'd get a really cool story out of it that I could share on my...

Did I really just see an actual, genuine real ghost?! Did I just catch a glimpse of Faith, the resident real ghost of the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona? With shaking hands, I pawed through my ghost-hunting kit to find my notes. Yes, there it was. Faith wore a pink a dress. Faith carried flowers. Oh my God. I just saw a real ghost. I had to get out of here. I shoved everything back into my ghost-hunting kit as fast as I could before tripping over the mop and falling in a heap outside of the broom closet. "What the …? Are you okay?" Oh God. Did Faith talk too? I let out a little scream before I realized it was the cute guy from downstairs. He was staring at me with something like horror on his face. "Did you see her?" I asked frantically. Now he looked confused and horrified. "See who? Did you just fall out of the broom closet?" "Never mind that. I'm talking about Faith." "Faith who?" "Faith, the ghost! The real ghost!" His eyes widened. "You saw Faith?" "Pink dress, flowers and everything. Did you see her?" He shook his head. "No, I just got here. I had a complaint about loud noises up here." "It must have been Faith." He looked skeptical. "I've never heard of Faith making noises before." "But it must have been her. I saw her walk past me in the hallway and disappear there." I pointed to room 426, the room Faith hung herself in. He looked even more skeptical. "Walk past you where? From the broom closet?" I waved my hands around. "That doesn't matter. What matters is I saw Faith. She walked by me." All around us I could see doors opening. People dressed in the nightgowns and oversized nightshirts peered out at me. Suddenly, I was conscious of myself—still splayed out on the floor covered in coffee stains and empty packages of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. If that wasn't enough, the mop decided to choose that exact moment to tip over, whacking me on the head. The cute hotel employee jumped forward. "Oh my God, are you okay?" "I'm fine," I said, brushing off his attempts to help while awkwardly getting to my feet. I bent down to pick up the mop, but he beat me to it. "Don't worry about this. I can …" he paused as he peeked into the closet, seeing my coffee-soaked rag, empty bottle of iced salted caramel mocha coffee, and more empty Reeses Peanut Butter Cup packages. "I can take care of this. Although, I still don't understand why you were in the broom closet. Were you looking for something?" Oh crap. I was hoping he would have forgotten about the broom closet. "Uh … I was … Faith! I saw Faith." "We already established you saw Faith." "Who’s Faith?" An older woman wearing thick, white face cream asked. We both ignored her. "No," I said. "I mean. I saw Faith and she scared me so much I jumped into the broom closet." Now he really looked skeptical. "You jumped into the broom closet to escape from Faith?" "Who’s Faith?" The woman asked again louder. "Of course," I said. "I figured it was safe. No one had ever seen Faith in a broom closet before. At least, no one had ever talked about it." "And what about all the candy wrappers?" "Those were already in the closet." "And the coffee?" "That too." He stared meaningfully at the stain on my shirt. I found myself plucking it self-consciously. "Well," I said brightly. "If that's it, I better get going." "Of course," he said. "What room are you in? I'll walk you there." Room? Uh oh. "I … I can't possibly stay here," I said. "What if Faith comes back?" "I want to know who this Faith is," the older woman asked. "Faith is … pretty harmless," he said. "I think you'll be okay. But, what room are you in? I can check if there's been any sightings in that room." I was shaking my head. "No. Absolutely not. I have to go." I turned and started marching down the hall as the older woman came out of her room and stood in front of the employee. "I demand to know who this Faith person is and why she's wandering around the hotel." "Wait a minute," he called out. "Folks, it's okay, go back to bed. I have...

My phone rang as I was sitting in the maid's closet at the Hassayampa Inn. I jumped, spilling my iced salted caramel mocha latte all over me. It was Craig, my on-again, off-again EX-boyfriend. I grabbed at the phone, spilling more coffee all over myself, trying to silence it before the entire hallway of guests came out of their rooms to see what the commotion was all about. "What do you want?" I hissed into phone, as I unsuccessfully tried to mop up the coffee. Napkins, I told myself. I definitely needed to add napkins to the ghost- hunting kit. Oh, but wait. I was in a broom closet, after all. Maybe I could find something. "That's hardly friendly," Craig said reproachfully. "I don't have to be friendly. We aren't dating anymore. Remember?" "Why are you whispering?" he asked. "What's going on? Are you with someone?" I managed to find an old rag that looked somewhat clean and used it to scrub at my clothes. "What part of ‘not dating’ did you not understand?" "So, you ARE with someone? We just broke up." God, I couldn't believe I was arguing about this in a broom closet. "Can we talk about this later? This isn't a good time." "I can't believe you started dating someone. Doesn't our relationship mean anything to you?" I squeezed my eyes shut and started counting to ten. "We're. Not. Dating. Anymore. There is no relationship. That means if I want to, I can date someone else." "Is this why you wanted to break up? Because you wanted to date other people?" "I didn't break up with you. You broke up with me." I sucked in my breath. "This is ridiculous. I'm not even with anyone right now, anyhow." "Then, why are you whispering?" He still sounded suspicious. "Because I'm in a broom closet." It sounded even worse out loud then it was in my head. "You're what? Did you say a broom closet?" I was starting to wish there was a hole in the broom closet I could crawl into. "Yes." He was silent for a moment, digesting the new info. "You're dating a married man, aren't you?" "What?" I couldn't even believe what I had just heard. "How did you get 'dating a married man' out of 'I'm in a broom closet?'" "Because his wife must have come home and now you're hiding." "Oh my God, Craig. I just told you I'm not seeing anyone." "Then what are you doing in a broom closet?" "I'm ghost hunting." "In a broom closet?" "Why not? What's wrong with a broom closet?" "Well, I don't know. Did the ghost die in there?" "The ghost is a she," I informed him, feeling like I really needed to get the conversation back under control. "Her name is Faith." "And did Faith die in a broom closet?" "Well, no," I admitted. "Not exactly. She hung herself in the honeymoon suite." "Has Faith been seen in the broom closet?" "Well, no," I said. "At least, not to my knowledge. But that doesn't mean she couldn't haunt here, from time to time." "But, if she died in the honeymoon suite, why aren't you investigating there?" "Because I'm trying to save money. At least until I get the blog going." "Let me get this straight," Craig said. "You want to become a ghost hunter. And you're going to monetize being a ghost hunter by writing about your adventures on a blog. Which means you need to investigate ghost sightings. And you're investigating by hiding in a broom closet even though the ghost has nothing to do with the closet." "It's not as bad as that sounds," I protested. God, this couldn't be that terrible of an idea, could it? "I'm in a broom closet next to the honeymoon suite." “'Next to?" "Well, near," I admitted. "But, you're still outside the suite." "Faith has been seen in the halls too," I said. "Riley. I …" "Look, I got to go," I said. "I don't want people to get suspicious." "No, we certainly wouldn't want that to happen," Craig said. "Ha, ha," I said sarcastically. "I'll call you later." "I'm not bailing you out if you get thrown in jail for this," he said. I hung up. Stupid Craig. Faith's ghost probably flitted by while I was on the phone with him and I missed it. All his fault....

Time for one last check of my new-and-improved ghost hunting kit before heading out for a night of ghost hunting. In addition to the notebook and pen from before, I’ve added a flashlight, camera, tape recorder, bottled water, almonds, and a bag of M&Ms to my ghost hunting kit. I then shoved in three bottles of iced, salted-caramel mocha coffee. Actually, four bottles would make more sense; that should last me eight hours if I drank one every two hours. I stuck in one more. Wait, maybe some Reese's peanut butter cups, too. Peanut butter is good for you, right? It has protein. Plus, the sugar would help keep me awake. You know, with all that sugar, I probably would crave something salty. I had the almonds and salted mocha, but maybe a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips wouldn't be a bad idea, either. I took another look at all the food I was taking in my ghost hunting kit and had second thoughts. Did I really need all that junk food? I was trying to lose the 10 pounds I gained after Craig and I broke up. Maybe I should pack carrot sticks and celery in my ghost hunting kit. And some dill dip (I mean, if I’m eating carrots and celery, I deserve the dill dip). Plus, don’t you burn calories with every piece of celery you eat? Definitely need the dill dip. Sigh. It's still a lot of food. Although ... just because I brought it didn't mean I had to eat it. Wouldn't it be better to have it with me (in case of emergency, of course) rather than be hungry and grumpy? “Be prepared,” the Boy Scouts say. As a ghost hunter, I should always be prepared. And a ghost hunting kit is the perfect way for me to be prepared. Maybe I'll make that my motto too. I'll add it to my ghost hunting blog, once I get it up and running. I made a mental note. My plan was simple: I was going to sneak upstairs the Hassayampa Inn and find some corner near room 426, which is where Faith the ghost hung herself, and spend the night waiting to see what materialized (pun intended). What could be simpler? "You can hold down the fort," I told Geist, my dog (pronounced GUY-ist and means ghost in German). "It's just for one night." Geist sighed and put her head down. "Right. I'll be careful. I promise." I tugged my oversized tee shirt down. I was wearing what I hoped would be a nondescript outfit: a navy blue tee shirt and jean shorts. That should allow me to blend in, right? I took a final look around my camper (the first thing I purchased when I realized I was wasting my life in a job I hated and wanted to follow my dream of becoming a ghost hunter) before heading out. The Hassayampa Inn had been less than forthcoming when I had asked about Faith, their resident ghost. The woman at the front desk hadn't allowed me to go up to the fourth floor to investigate properly. And, if I was going to be a ghost hunter, and publish all of my ghostly encounters on my blog, then I needed to investigate. Hence my current plan to spend the night near the room Faith killed herself. I headed over to Hassayampa Inn, all the while telling myself that all I needed to do was simply act like I belonged. If I acted like I had a room there and had every right to be walking up the stairs at that hour, then I would have no problem. It's not like there's a guard standing by the door demanding to know who each person is. Right? The lobby was empty save for one employee sitting behind the desk. He looked up at me, and it was all I could do to not confess this whole crazy scheme to him. Instead, I steeled my shoulders, smiled pleasantly and headed for the stairs. I had just started to climb when he called out to me. "Ma'am?" I whirled around. Oh God, he knew. Somehow he knew. And who was he calling “Ma'am,” anyhow? He didn't look much older than me sitting there with his pressed shirt, short brown hair … sort of cute in a wholesome, clean-cut sort of way. He nodded to the side. "Would you like to use the elevator?" [caption id="attachment_458" align="alignleft" width="225"] Look how innocent of...

Our first stop as ghost hunters was the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona. According to local legend, in 1927, Faith was the much younger, new bride of an older gentleman, and they chose the Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona to honeymoon. Faith's husband went out to buy cigarettes and never returned. After a few days of wailing and teeth gnashing and hair pulling and garment rending and other acceptable forms of grieving for women back then, Faith lost faith, and hung herself in the honeymoon suite. Apparently, people have reported seeing her body from the street. Guests and staff have also claimed to have seen Faith’s ghost (crying at the end of the bed, dressed in a pink gown in the hallway, disappearing into rooms), along with other unexplained incidents (lights going on and off, and cold spots). You know, all the “normal” haunting-related things. [caption id="attachment_486" align="alignleft" width="225"] Think that's where Faith's body was seen from the street?[/caption] "They're even pet-friendly," I announced to Geist, my dog (pronounced GUY-st, meaning "ghost" in German). Geist looked mildly interested. But … I wasn’t staying at the Hassayampa Inn. Did I really want to walk in the lobby with a dog? Or would that be too much of a distraction? "What do you think?" I asked. "Do you want to come? Or is it just going to be weird?" Geist sighed loudly and put her head down. "Yeah, you're probably right. You should stay here and keep an eye on things," I said as I collected my ghost-hunting items (which consisted of a blank notebook and a pen — I hadn't quite gotten a handle on the whole ghost-hunting equipment thing yet) and prepared to head out of the second-hand camper I had bought just for ghost hunting. (My first purchase, when I become a famous ghost hunter, would definitely be a motor home. This camper was just way too small for Geist and me. Actually, maybe that purchase would come after hiring a professional driver. It took me half the day trying to back into this space in the RV park, until finally a nice, retired gentleman took pity on me and parked it for me. Embarrassing.) The Hassayampa Inn was an absolutely beautiful older building set in downtown Prescott, which is an old mining town nestled in the mountains of Arizona. There's a ton of history in this historic town, as well as ghosts, so I thought it would be the perfect place to begin my new career as a ghost hunter. They were definitely a little busy at the Hassyampa Inn. A number of people were checking in, examining maps and grabbing bellboys to help them drag in copious amounts of luggage. Was this the right time to be asking about Faith? Or would I be shooed away as a bother? As I hung back in the corner of the lobby, my phone rang. It was my sister Katie. I answered as I hurried outside, not wanting anyone to overhear. "How's the vampire hunting?" she asked. From the background I could hear kids arguing. "It's my turn with the hammer! You always get everything first!" "Hey," Katie said away from the phone. "You have to share or you're all going to your rooms. Sorry," she said. "Where were we? Oh, vampire hunting." "I keep telling you, I'm ghosthunting," I said, impatiently. "Oh, right. Well, you know, pregnancy brain," Katie said. "Savannah is eight." "Well, it takes awhile for pregnancy brain to go away," she said. "So, have you found any ghosts yet?" "I'm here at my first haunted hotel," I said. "The Hassayampa Inn in Prescott, Arizona. The ghost's name is Faith." "What happened to Faith?" "She hung herself after her husband left her. He went to buy cigarettes and never came back." "He probably didn't even smoke," Katie said. "That should have been her first clue." "Do you think he actually told her he was going to buy cigarettes, or do you think that got added in later?" I asked. "I mean, now it's like a cliché that a spouse goes to buy cigarettes and never returns, but does that ever actually happen?" "Well, there's probably a reason it's nowa...

I'm Riley Longhill, and my dog Geist and I are ghost hunters. Okay, okay, I confess. I'm new to this ghost-hunting business. You see, my mother died last year, and her death really brought home how truly short life is. A few months after her death, I took a good, hard look at my life, and was appalled at what I saw. A job I hated. An on-again, off-again relationship (currently OFF and staying that way). A tiny apartment. And a black-and-white mutt of a dog I named Geist, which means “ghost” in German (it's pronounced GUYst). Why did I name my dog Geist? Because I always had a secret passion for ghost hunting … traveling the country and visiting haunted places to investigate whether they truly ARE haunted. But, I always told myself how silly that was. You can't make any money being a ghost hunter, right? I needed to go do something practical, like work in an advertising agency. So that’s precisely what I did. It paid the bills. (Sort of. If you didn't count the growing balance on my credit cards.) And … I hated it. But, after my mother died, I realized I could no longer lie to myself. For years, I had told myself that what I was doing was was precisely what you’re supposed to do when you're in your twenties and thirties. You get a job. You work. HARD. It doesn't matter if you like it or not (in fact, you probably WON'T like it because it's called “WORK” for a reason). Besides, I had been brought up to value hard work. Want to be successful? Work hard. If you do, eventually, you'll be "rewarded," and you can finally do what you always wanted to do. But, what if you never get there? That was the question that haunted me as I watched my all-too-young mother take her final breaths. Did I really want to risk spending my life working so hard, only to never actually enjoy the fruits of my labor? And, more importantly, did I really want to waste all those years working and not enjoying my life? The next thing I knew, I was turning in my notice, packing up my belongings (putting most of them in storage), sub-letting my apartment, buying a secondhand camper, and hitting the road with Geist to become the next great ghost hunters! I was ready. In fact, I had already begun fantasizing about what life would be like once Geist and I were famous ghost hunters. I imagined showing up at haunted hotels, only to have the receptionist start jumping up and down, yelling "Riley! Oh my God, I can't believe you're here! I love your stuff! Can we get a selfie? Geist, too. Look everyone! The ghost hunters are here!" [caption id="attachment_460" align="alignleft" width="225"] See how excited Geist is to hunt some ghosts?[/caption] And, of course, I would graciously accept, kneeling down to make sure Geist was in the shot … My phone rang. "Riley, where in God's name are you?" It was my best friend Coco. We had gone to high school together, been roommates in college, and were still friends to this day. She was also convinced I had lost my mind. "On the interstate," I said, carefully navigating. I hadn't quite gotten the hang of driving with a camper and it had been slow going so far. “Definitely getting a driver once Geist and I are famous ghost hunters,” I thought to myself. "Aren't you supposed to be focused on driving?" "I am. My cell is hands free." Coco sighed. "Riley, it's not too late to change your mind." "Why would I want to do that?" "Oh, only because of 2,000 reasons I can think of off the top of my head. But, probably most importantly, how are you going to pay for any of this?" "I told you. My blog." "Oh, of course. How could I forget? The blog." I ignored the sarcasm dripping from her words as I gently pressed on the brakes. I didn't want to get too close to the cars in front of me (never mind they were about a half mile ahead). "Why not a blog? Everyone loves a good blog. Especially a blog with a dog in it. Not to mention a blog about ghost hunters." "Uh huh. Can you even make money with a blog?" "Lots of people make money with blogs," I said...