PENNY AND DETECTIVE Walker stood outside his small house, ready for their ride to the Barclay Hotel. The driver was exactly on time—something the detective could appreciate. Punctuality was an underrated quality.

Penny clutched her book bag and bounced on her heels. This trip was so exciting! She couldn’t wait to take lots of pictures, so she could show her friends when she got home to Florida. Maybe for once everyone wouldn’t assume that all she did was read.

The car was long, like a limo of some sort. Penny had never been in a limo before. She wanted to take pictures, but there wasn’t time to pull out her phone. The driver held the door, looking all official in his suit and hat.

There were two benches facing each other. A woman sat on the forward-facing part. She was on the phone talking about troubleshooting things. And there was a boy. Penny guessed he was about her age. He clutched a backpack on his lap, like it held a treasure or something.

“Hi,” Penny said as she slid to the far end of the rear-facing seat. Her legs dangled off the seat but couldn’t touch the ground. She’d never liked being short; it made her feel like a toddler.

Her grandpa slid in. He looked perturbed. “I hope I don’t get carsick, facing backward,” he muttered.

“You can sit up front if you like,” the driver offered.

The detective hesitated. He looked at Penny, clearly worried about her sitting alone.

“It’s fine, Grandpa,” Penny said. She put her book bag next to her. “It’s not a long drive.”

The detective nodded, and moved to the front of the car on the passenger side.

“I’m JJ,” the boy said. “Did you win too?”

Penny nodded. “My grandpa did. I’m tagging along.”

“Me too.” JJ pointed to his mother. “Sorry, my mom’s always busy.”

“I get it. My parents are like that sometimes too,” Penny said. If they weren’t running their business, they were underwater in their scuba gear. “I’m Penny.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. They drove up some winding roads—because she was facing backward, Penny couldn’t really tell much from what she saw out her window. There were lots of pine trees, and she could feel that they were going up in elevation. It made her a little dizzy. The altitude took some getting used to, and they were obviously going high up into the mountains.

JJ said, out of the blue, “Do you think the Barclay Hotel is haunted?” He seemed very excited to go, just like Penny.

Penny hesitated. “I don’t know . . .”

“Do you ever watch Ghost Catchers?”

Penny shook her head. She was about to tell JJ that she did watch a lot of Antiques Roadshow, but she thought that might make her sound boring.

“It’s pretty good.” JJ thought it was a great show, but didn’t want to seem too eager. Penny could tell by the way he was trying to hide his excited expression. “They go to these haunted places and try to get evidence of ghosts.”

Penny almost rolled her eyes. “Like what evidence?”

JJ sat up a little. “There was an apparition, a ghost, and they caught it on camera at this old tavern in Maine. And then they got a voice recording of a spirit telling them to go away.”

Penny seemed to think that over for a second. “How about the Barclay Hotel? What’s the story there?”

JJ said, “Supposedly, there’s a lady in a white nightdress who roams the halls of the hotel. They say she’s Mr. Barclay’s wife, looking for her daughter.”

“That’s kind of sad,” Penny said.

“I know.” JJ paused. “And there’s a little boy who died there, way back in, like, the nineteen fifties or something. He was the son of one of the hotel’s guests. They say he sometimes plays in the halls with his marble collection.”

“Who is they?” Penny asked. She really didn’t believe in all this ghost stuff. Poppycock, that’s what it was.

“Employees of the Barclay Hotel,” JJ said.

This didn’t seem like very strong evidence to Penny, but JJ was clearly excited.

He continued, “There’s this creepy ghost caretaker named Mr. Roberts who floats around outside. And then there’s room two seventeen, of course—the most haunted room in the hotel . . .”

Suddenly, JJ squinted. “You don’t believe in ghosts. You’re a skeptic.”

Penny shrugged. “I just don’t think it’s real.”

JJ clutched his backpack. “Well, I’m going to investigate this weekend. I’m a ghost hunter.”

“How do you even do that? Hunt for ghosts, I mean.” Penny was a little curious now. She liked investigating things. It’s why she loved going to the library: there was always something new to discover.

JJ said, “I have a ghost hunting kit.” He looked at Penny. “I still have to investigate more about the hotel history. That’s part of ghost hunting too: doing research.” He unzipped his backpack and pulled out a giant book. It had a picture of the Barclay Hotel on it, surrounded by a gilded frame. JJ handed the book to Penny.

The History of the Barclay Hotel.

“Wow, this thing weighs as much as I do,” Penny said. It was no exaggeration. She opened it, and saw the tiny print, with only a few black-and-white photos throughout.

“Boring,” JJ said.

“But I’ll bet it has good information on the hotel,” Penny countered. “Research. That part sounds interesting.” Penny got tossed around as they made a sharp turn one way, then another. She held on as best as she could. The book actually helped weigh her down.

“I hope I get to stay in room two seventeen,” JJ said.

Penny handed the book back. She thought about JJ’s ghost hunting, and his investigation. And she thought about her own goal: to have a story to tell when she got home. And not one from a book this time. “I’ll make you a bet,” she said. “I bet I can prove that the Barclay Hotel isn’t haunted.”

That was quite the gamble.

JJ raised his chin. “You’re on.”

Just as Penny was feeling like she might get carsick, the driver slowed. From her window, she saw a massive clearing appear between the pine trees, like a surprise.

Or a secret rather, hidden in the Rockies.

There it was!

The Barclay Hotel.