"Listen to this," Dawn said, looking up from the tattered paperback she'd had her nose buried in for almost the entirety of the drive. Reaching forward, she flicked the radio off.

"What?" Abby asked. Whatever this was, it better be worth turning off Darlene Love!

"Rumor has it that our hotel is haunted."

Abby arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

Dawn nodded. "Really," she replied. "A silent film actor was shot in the lobby in the early twenties by one of his rivals. Some say the studio he was working for actually arranged the hit."

Abby's eyes widened. "Wow!" Though, if she was being honest with herself, something told her that wasn't exactly new information to Dawn.

"That's not all," Dawn continued. "A couple people are said to have gone missing before they could check out. In the fifties, a gangster was found dead in his room by housekeeping staff."

"Was it murder?"

"Not according to his death certificate," Dawn replied, smirking, "though I have my own theories." She looked back to her book. "It says here that guests have reported hearing odd noises in the night - moaning, shrieks, muffled conversations, stuff like that. Others say they feel like they're being watched."

Abby snorted. "Do the ghosts not have anything better to do than be busybodies?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Other people say that their bathroom sink keeps getting turned on, even when they haven't used it." She shivered. "I hope that doesn't happen to us."

"But I thought you liked ghosts!"

"That's no excuse for them to waste water!"

Abby shook her head. Wasn't it just her luck that they might not even be alone after finally getting a weekend together?