Paranelope, a ghost hunter who's been cancelled for faking evidence, must discover the truth behind a local cryptid in order to clear her name.
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Penelope, better known as the ghost hunter PARANELOPE to her millions of followers, has only ever want...
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The massive moon lit the empty road almost as brightly as if it were day. Penelope didn't need the extra help. With everyone in Ridgestone for the festival, it was really just her out here. Driving along, with no other cars in sight, felt a little like she had driven into the aftermath of the apocalypse and she was the only person left alive... She tried to put the thought out of her head. She didn't want to think about being dead or alive...
The truck heaved around as she turned it onto the rough road that led through the subdivision, bumping along the potholes she was in too much of a hurry to dodge. She only slowed down as the houses started to seem familiar. She passed the driveway where Beth's SUV was still parked, now dusted with a few fallen leaves. The keys Gunnar had given her burned a hole in her pocket, but she drove on, down to the next house. Henry's beat up 90s JEEP was right where he said he'd left it, parked in the driveway of the house across from the old Christensen place. It was dark and still—empty. That meant he had to be still here.
Is that a good sign, or a bad sign?
She turned her head, looking down the opposite driveway to the Christensen place. It was empty. No sign of Gunnar, or his truck.
A sudden worry washed over her. She wondered if she had jumped to the wrong conclusion—maybe Gunnar really was just attending to other business. And if she had been wrong, if Gunnar hadn't been on his way here, then she had broken their agreement by running away.
And now he would be on his way here after he'd been told about it.
Which meant she had to hurry.
She didn't pull into any driveway, instead she turned the truck around and parked on the road. She left the keys in the ignition and the doors unlocked. She wanted to be ready to run.
Penelope scanned her surroundings as she crept through the woods on her way back to the Christensen house. With the bright moon, she could see everything clearly—every tree, every branch, every blade of grass—cast in sharp relief and edged with cold light. The old sunken Christensen house looked especially eerie, just a dark silhouette against the bright sky. As she neared the back, she sidestepped a patch of vibrant foxglove and ducked behind a tree. She pressed in close to its shadow and peered around the edge to assess the situation.
