The whole room turns on him then, tempers kicking off, from Malcolm, who looks ready to box his ears, to Cate, who’s shaking her head in disgust, Priscilla, who’s pinching the bridge of her nose, and Kenzo, who simply mutters “Dick.”
“It was a joke!” Jaxon says, shoving his hands in the pockets of his robe.
“Get out,” says Sienna, pointing at the door.
“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Jaxon mutters as Kenzo grabs his shoulders and ushers him back into the hall.
Priscilla pauses in the doorway. “There are plenty of places to sleep,” she says. “You’re welcome to find one.”
Cate lingers. “You can share my room,” she offers. “It’s very...green. Aggressively so. But as far as I can tell, no ghosts.”
Millie sniffles and shakes her head, gathering her nerve.
“No,” she says, wiping her nose. “It’s fine. I’ll stay.”
“That’s our girl,” says Malcolm, patting her shoulder.
Millie’s gaze flicks back to the typewriter. “I don’t know how I didn’t hear it,” she murmurs. “I should have heard it, right?”
Sienna frowns. That’s true.
“Could it have been there when you went to bed?” asks Priscilla, but Millie shakes her head, on the verge of tears again.
“A mystery.” Malcolm scratches his chin as he drifts toward the device. He feeds a fresh sheet of blue paper onto the roll and types the message out again. The sound is loud and crisp. He ejects the sheet and studies it, alongside the original note.
“Ha!” he says, donning the air of a classic detective. “Have a look at this.” He hands the original sheet of pale-blue paper to Sienna. “What do you see?”
Millie and Cate both lean in, peering over her shoulder. It takes her tired brain a moment, but then the penny drops. Or rather, the letter.
TheGinGET OUTis offset, the bottom edge landing below the other five letters. The crookedness stands out. Typewriters aren’t like fingerprints. They’re not meant to be unique.
“Whoever wrote this,” says Sienna, “they didn’t do it in here. Their typewriter has a fault, and yours doesn’t.”
“What if we got samples from the other rooms?” asks Cate.
“Bright girl,” says Malcolm, beaming like a proud father. “That’s an excellent idea. After all, humans lie, but machines do not.”
“I mean, theydo,” says Kenzo. “Just look at AI. But this is analog equipment. Old-fashioned, honest. I say we test it.”
“Count me out,” says Jaxon. “What happened to the right to privacy? I don’t need you all snooping in my shit.”
“You sound pretty defensive,” says Kenzo. “Care to confess?”
“I would, if it were me. But it’s not. Besides, if the culprit broke into Millie’s room, they could break into anyone’s. One of you could be trying to set me up.”
It’s not a terrible point, but the way Jaxon says it isn’t doing him any favors. Besides, he strikes Sienna as exactly the type to pull this shit. But she doesn’t push it. Millie’s got a soft spot for him—God knows why—and there’s no sense upsetting her any more tonight.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” says Priscilla. “But the good news, Millie, is that I think we can now rule out an angry ghost.”
Millie looks at least a little mollified, but Cate pulls her throw closer. “If a housewerehaunted, it’d be this one.”
“Not a specter,” declares Malcolm. “Just a jealous competitor.”
Sienna rubs the girl’s back. “Do you want something,” she asks gently, “to help you sleep? I’ve got some pills.”
Has Millie ever taken sleeping meds? she wonders, belatedly. If not, how much harm could one little pill do? On second thought, she doesn’t know if they’ve expired—do sleeping pills expire? She should check. She reaches on instinct for the cell in her pocket before remembering it isn’t there.
In the end, it doesn’t matter. Millie shakes her head. “No thanks,” she says, looking around her room. “I’ll... just keep the lights on.”
