"The source of this ghost activity is coming from the Mystery Shack," Jack announced, swerving so hard that they all slammed into the walls. 

Jazz nervously stared out the window, fiddling with the ghost gun her parents had handed out. She hadn't seen Danny since last night, and she had the feeling he was in trouble. He was always in trouble.

The car suddenly screeched to a halt as Jack slammed on the brakes. Jazz looked up and saw the twins from the Mystery shack, and an older man who looked strikingly similar to the gift shop owner. 

"Hello!" the man called. 

"We hear you can help us out with a ghost problem."

..........................................................................

Bill riffled through the dresser drawers in Ford's study. Nothing. He scoured every inch of the basement. Nothing. He turned through all the bedrooms, almost destroyed the attic, and searched in and through very wall. 

Nothing. 

"Looks like old Sixer got sneaky," Bill commented to himself, floating to a stop above the wrecked portal. "Glad I taught him something. It makes his downfall that much more humiliating."

But his new body betrayed him. The white gloved hands clenched into fists of fury at having been outsmarted. 

"Time to step it up," Bill announced to the empty house. 

He phased through the basement ceiling and waited by the deserted ghost rift. If he knew Stanford at all, he wouldn't have to search him out. Ford would come to him.