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T he sidewalk in front of the Beanery is bustling, even at 8 am. It’s all freshmen like me who couldn’t control being assigned to an 8- or 9-am class. Girls in yoga pants–naturally–and one overachiever in a long skirt and high-heeled boots stream past me, carrying backpacks. The scent of slightly burnt coffee wafts out of the Beanery when the door opens, and I hesitate, keeping a lookout for a threat .

A threat to me or to Luke? I don’t know. But I feel conspicuous now, lingering in front of the Beanery. I could be waiting for anyone and not necessarily an exorcism-conducting felon .

I take one last look for the police and then walk, casually I hope, past the Beanery to the tidy bushes that border the empty parking lot behind the library. Librarians, apparently, have enough sense not to start their work day at 8 am. I should totally reconsider my career options .

I sit on the curb with my feet kicked out on the fresh black pavement of the library parking lot, and watch two squirrels chase each other back and forth, apparently in deep conflict over a walnut. The minutes tick by .

As I wait for Luke, I become more and more convinced that I could have finally slept if I’d stayed in bed, instead of coming here to shiver alone with the squirrels for company. But I can’t stop worrying that Luke isn’t coming because he’s in trouble. Maybe I accidentally set a trap for him .

Then Luke sits down heavily on the curb next to me, a cardboard coffee cup in one hand. “Good god. You didn’t even hear me, did you ?”

I’m ignoring the invitation to this argument. “I’m worried about you .”

His lips quirk. “But not worried enough to actually listen when I ask you to do something .”

“Well, I’m worried by you too. Where’s Mave ?”

“Right here.” Mave jogs down from the back of the Beanery, carrying his own cup .

“Seriously, I’ve been sitting here worried you guys would get arrested and meanwhile, you sashayed into the beanery for hot cocoa ?”

“Black coffee for Mr. Manly,” Mave tells me, sitting down on the curb beside me. From behind his back, he produces a third cup. “Lattes for me and you .”

“I like you,” I tell him gratefully, accepting the cup. “Even if I think you two are being foolish in the pursuit of caffeine .”

“We’re fine,” Luke says, but doesn’t elaborate, which kicks my imagination into high gear. “Just catch us up on what happened to you, and then we’ll tell you about our adventures yesterday .”

“And then we can plan the day’s adventures,” Mave says, taking a sip. Foam sticks to his upper lip. It ruins his dangerous beauty and makes him just plain old cute .

“I never see it as an adventure til it’s over,” Luke says. “Until then, it’s just one big to-do list of shit that can go terribly wrong.” He nods at me, waiting for me to tell him about my day .

“So the police came looking for me yesterday. Along with Professor Boyd, the Kappa Omega alumni advisor .”

“Oh yeah, I met that prick .”

“He seemed to think highly of you .”

“Pricks usually do,” Mave says lightly .

“That attempt at humor is out of character,” Luke says. “I can even forgive you for failing. It’s just nice to see the attempt .”

“They had all these rap sheets — ”

“Someone watches Law and Order,” Luke puts in .

“—And they said there was more that was expunged from your juvenile record. B he misses Mave’s tell. But my heart just sped up .

“Nah, that’s not true,” Luke says. “We’re just part of a ring of Hunters. On the road with a mission. Evading the police keeps thing lively .”

But I know, from Mave’s face, that he’s lying .

“So now you don’t trust me,” Luke says. “Just because Professor Boyd knocked on your door? I think that is one highly questionable dude .”

“Well, that I agree with,” I say .

“But,” Luke says, and then stops, his eyes studying my face. He wants to hear that I do trust him .

I’m not going to lie to him. “Tell me about the murder .”

“Oh, yes.” Mave pulls a sheath of folded papers out of the interior pocket of his brown leather jacket. “It was 1998. This young woman, Lark Geiger, disappeared in November .”

“Why didn’t we know about that earlier ?”

“She didn’t come up during any of our searches,” Luke tells me .

I’m still trying to process what Luke’s lying about, exactly. Who is he on the run from? Hunters? Cops? The mob ?

Is Luke Chamberlain in trouble, or is he trouble ?

“So tell me about Lark.” She’s the important one. “What happened to her ?”

“She was considered a bit unstable, and she had very little family to look for her. When she disappeared, there was no evidence of foul play. They thought she’d run away .”

“But then she was found …”

Luke nods, his face etched with tension. “In a dumpster just off campus .”

“Tell me she hadn’t been there for all those years .”

“She hadn’t been there for all those years,” Mave says. “That dumpster is in heavy use by a retail store, and it’s emptied weekly. Someone dumped her there .”

“ Why ?”

“Because psychopathic serial killers are usually insane,” Luke says. “And kind of stupid, to boot, in my experience .”

“ So then …”

Mave tells me, “I’m not attached to this theory, but here’s what I think may have happened. We have this killer who killed this girl. Maybe she was the only one, or maybe she’s the only one we know about. For whatever reason, he moves the body in 2002. Then… years later… he dies. And now, as a poltergeist, he haunts the frat and takes a girl every two years, recognizing some kind of anniversary we can’t make sense of .”

“So you think I’m right. Claudia’s not any kind of killer .”

“We don’t even know whether your ghost is named Claudia,” Luke says. “That’s a guess on your part .”

“The strung-out ghost? It just makes the most sense .”

“I’m glad you see so much sense in this bizarre-o case,” Luke says. “I can’t wait to shake the dust of this crappy college town off my feet. This whole thing’s been one big mess .”

“Well, did you get the evidence you were looking for?” If they have something of the killer’s, then we can finally burn him .

Luke makes a face. “We didn’t get the evidence yet .”

“ Why not ?”

“Because you’re right,” Luke says, which is nice to hear for once from him but, of course, comes with a catch: “I can’t waltz into the police station. I need you to help Mave .”

“How do you even know where to find this stuff?” I ask, my head swimming with the idea of helping Mave to commit a felony. Exorcising ghosts is one thing, breaking the law is another. But for now, I can focus on the impossibly logistics of such a thing instead of the possible prison sentence .

Luke jerks his thumb at Mave. “ Hacker - fu .”

“Anyway,” Mave says, “we know it’s in this evidence storage facility; we know what aisle and bin, even. Our only problem is getting to it .”

“You’d be like, tangentially involved,” Luke says. “Hardly at all. There’s almost no way you could even be linked to it .”

I stare at him. I continue to have the nagging sense that he is bullshitting me .

Luke grins. “Live a little, Ash. Live a little .”