One door wasn’t.

Spencer’s bedroom door stood open.

Inside, the lights were on.

You stopped.

On the bed sat a Ghost Face mask.

It was unmistakable.

Darkened stains marked the white surface. Dried, uneven, smeared in places where fingers must have touched it. The fabric beneath it was bunched as if it had been dropped in a hurry.

The mask wasn’t alone.

A black robe lay folded beside it.

Footsteps sounded behind you.

“Hey—bathroom’s the other way.”

You didn’t move.

The footsteps stopped.

The voice lowered. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”