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A n hour after I’ve become a criminal, we’re back in that spot in the state park where we conducted our last exorcism .

Luke cups his hand over the fire bowl, trying to get his match to catch on such a windy day. He curses. He’s generally in a foul mood, even for Luke .

“I don’t like this shot-in-the-dark shit,” Luke mutters as he cups his other hand over the fire, shielding the flicker of flame from the breeze. “Summon a bunch of things and see what kind of bad shows up. This whole case …”

Mave interrupts, “I think Luke wants you to know this particular exorcism has been a bit below our usual standards .”

“That’s good to know. I was about to leave you guys a shit Yelp review.” I step closer to Mave to look at the objects on his palm: there’s a clump of dark hair, a Chapstick, all bagged separately in plastic evidence bags .

“Did he kill her in his moving van?” Luke asks. “That’s a lot of shit for them to have found on her body .”

“It is,” Mave says. “Frankly, it’s all quite questionable. Why was the body moved? Were there other bodies that were moved as well, and the others just weren’t found? Someone who was so cautious as to bury the girls in those woods doesn’t seem likely to move on to a public dumpster .”

“Maybe she was a one-off,” Luke says. “Hell, maybe the killer is her, seeking ‘revenge’. Sometimes the ghosties aren’t very bright .”

“That’s so disrespectful,” I chide him. I can’t stop thinking about the bright-eyed girl with permed blond hair .

“Whatever. Maybe we should get her and Claudia together,” Luke says. “See what happens .”

“Let’s just do this and see what happens is pretty much Luke’s approach to life,” Mave tells me .

“I’ve noticed .”

We’re all stalling. Another poltergeist, another binding spell, another opening to the gate of Hell. It’s never a party .

“Let’s get on with it,” Luke says .

Pour the salt. Pour the oil. Light the fire. Speak the blessing. Invite the dead .

And then stand there, on a windy, chilly autumn afternoon, as raindrops begin to splat in fat drops. I can’t help but feel like the rain is going to make this ugly dye in my hair run down my back and stain my beloved anorak jacket .

“Ghost’s a little tardy,” Luke murmurs .

“Maybe we don’t have something of the poltergeist’s,” Mave says, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Maybe this did all belong to the girl, and she left this plane …”

“The girl had blond hair. She was just carrying around some dark hair in the folds of her clothes for… what? Maybe she faked her own death, she was trying to get back at a bad ex or something ?”

I shoot him a death glare. Again, disrespecting the dead .

“Or maybe this was more complicated than we thought,” Mave says. “What are the reasons to move a body? To avoid detection? To plant suspicion on someone else? Maybe this isn’t our poltergeist’s hair. Maybe it was an attempt to get someone else arrested for his crimes .”

“That is dark,” Luke says. “I don’t ever want to get on your bad side .”

“You do every day,” Mave promises him .

Luke sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m at a loss, guys. You want to go through the records, see who the cops liked for this, see if maybe they had a suspect who might have been the suspect that the killer wanted us to see? I need a fucking whiteboard to keep track of our theories. This is supposed to be easy.” He turns to me, his voice quiet. It sounds like even frenetically-energetic Luke is getting tired. “You’re supposed to be able to talk to them .”

“This poltergeist doesn’t want to talk to me,” I say .

“I think we should burn Claudia,” he says. “Take one piece out of play .”

“What if Claudia is trying to protect the girls ?”

“That’s not usually how poltergeists work,” Luke says. “And if it was, I don’t think she’d be flinging dirt in our faces and doing uncomfortable things with Barbies. That does not make me think that she’s on our side .”

“Maybe she’s not convinced we’re on her side.” The rain is running down into my eyes, and I blink it away, pressing my hand above my eyes to shield them. “Maybe we should get to know more about Claudia .”

Mave slips off his jacket, a light blue rain slicker. He holds it out above my head, a makeshift umbrella .

“You’re so fucking gallant I can’t stand it,” Luke tells him. “All right, kids. Back to the library .”