While the coughing of Vic's car faded in the distance, Alex volunteered to fetch a ladder, a power drill, and an extension cord. Matt picked up his duffle bag with the ghost sensors from the van and set up his laptop on a free desk. When Deborah provided him with the password of the Wi-Fi, I knew my partner had everything his heart could wish for. This left me superfluid for the moment and I returned to the back of the depot to locate the ghost.

Now I wasn't surrounded by a group of talking people, I found it easier to analyse the reaction of my paranormal sense. I walked up and down the aisles several times, concentrating on the tingling in my wrist and the immaterial breeze ruffling the hairs on my arm. The presence of the ghost was perceptible perhaps five or six metres around the spot where Vic had picked up the shard. The rest of the depot seemed more or less clean, with a lingering supernatural trace here and there, but nothing I could put my finger on.

Satisfied with my observations, I returned to Matt, who was engaged in a discussion with Alex, explaining how his sensors worked. Eager to support us, the depot worker helped us find ideal spots to cover the main aisle and the place of the ghost's last appearance with several sensors. I held the ladder for Matt while he mounted his gadgets.

Alex trailed along. He was convinced now we would not declare him mad and spoke freely about his encounters with the White Lady. While I listened to his stories, I concluded the ghost was shy and didn't mean to harm the living. "Have you ever found out what she searches for in the depot?"

Alex scratched his chin. "I don't know. She only appears and disappears moments later, at least if someone is around to observe her. I've never heard her talk or sing or something." He hesitated for a moment before he continued. "Sometimes, I saw her almost every night, but then, months could pass until she turned up again. But most of the time, she seems to hang around at the same place. I always wondered why."

"Some ghosts are bound to a certain place or an object important to them." According to my grandma, it could also be a person or an event, but elaborating on my accumulated ghost wisdom wouldn't bring us further. I was far more interested in hearing what Alex had to say about the specific haunting of his building. "Can you show me all the places you have seen her?"

"Sure." It turned out the ghost preferred the right side of the building and appeared more often than not in the area I had located earlier. To be sure, I checked the labels on the shelves and boxes in all the places designated by Alex. They all contained material from the En Chaplix excavation.

Matt came to the same conclusion. "You were right, San. Everything points to a strong connection between the ghost and that En Chaplix place."

Alex frowned and pointed at the left part of the front room. "Except one story I heard. It happened over there." I joined him at two working tables loaded with packing materials and a labelling machine. "My predecessor told me about an encounter he had with the ghost right here, while he registered a load of incoming finds."

Patrice, who sat nearby typing information into a database, looked up from his laptop and shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Alex stepped up to him. "Is there a problem with the program again?"

"No, not at all." With a shrug, the young man leaned back in his swivel chair. "I just can't get over the fact you all believe in this crap."

"Ha, I know well where you come from, young man. Believe me, I laughed at that old fellow Tony too when he told me his stories. I took him for either a drunk or a lunatic. Perhaps some of his tales were exaggerated, but I swear I almost wet my pants when I first encountered the ghost—and so would you."

The choked chuckle of the community worker made me smile. Confronted with Alex's serious attitude, he didn't know what to believe anymore—he probably took us all for nuts. I couldn't blame him. Most people only learn to accept the existence of paranormal manifestations when they have no other way to explain away what they see with their own two eyes. I turned to Alex. "Can you recall some stories you've heard over the years?"

He leaned against a table and crossed his muscular arms. "Right. Well, Tony said it was worst after the renovation of the depot in the late nineties. Seems they worked long hours to finish the inventory and stow all the boxes in their rightful place. One evening, when he was about to call it a day, he heard a low moan and first thought his coworker must have fallen asleep over her keyboard. But when he checked on her, she stared into the corner over there, trembling and pale like death. He wanted to make fun of her when he saw the spectre himself, floating between the stacks of packing cases. He described her as a beautiful young woman in white, her long hair braided around her head like a crown and her eyes gleaming like ice crystals. According to him, she swayed like a willow and had the grace of a dancer."

"Seems like a lot of details and that he was rather fond of the ghost." Matt descended from the ladder and moved it to the corner pointed out by Alex. "I'll place a sensor here too, if there's a chance the ghost appeared here."

"I have never seen her in this part of the depot—but I've also never made out all the details Tony described. Perhaps he added some over the years, as happens with stories told over a beer too often."

I agreed with this speculation, but then, it was also possible Tony was far more ghost-sensitive than Alex. To me, Sir Guillaume's eyes glowed red beneath bushy eyebrows and above a crooked nose and full lips while Lou insisted he could barely make out the knight's features. This brought up something else. "Do you think Tony's ghost was the same you have seen, or could there be several?"

"I must admit, I've never seen the White Lady in as much detail as he described, but all considered, I'm convinced he was talking about the same apparition. The long white shift and the dark hair, her slender frame, and the fact she seems not malevolent at all are giveaways."

"Yes, that's an important part. Although most ghosts shy away from interaction with the living." I held the ladder while Matt used the power drill to screw his sensor to a wall support. He had them placed now to cover every open surface, including the corner Alex showed us, the central aisle and the one pointed out by Vic, and the common area in front of the office.

My partner switched on his gadget, climbed down, and handed Alex the drill. "That's it. Now it would be best if you wouldn't cut the Wi-Fi connection tonight. Is this an option?"

"Sure, just tell Deborah to change the settings." Alex picked up the ladder to stow it.

Matt set up his laptop on the desk beside Deborah, and they engaged in a technical discussion. I profited to wander once more through the depot, mulling over everything I'd learned so far. The number of genuine details in Alex's and his predecessor's tales led me to the conclusion the ghost had been hanging out here for decades, probably since the En Chaplix excavation in the eighties.

At eleven-thirty, Matt declared he had finished the task. "Thanks for the help, Deborah."

"My pleasure." The woman smiled. "The more so if it helps to lighten the White Lady's burden. I hope I'll never suffer the fate of haunting a bleak place like this one."

"None of us would wish for that. Matt and I will try our best to help her. Will you join us tonight?"

Her complexion paled. "No, thank you. I don't think I'd have the nerves to confront a ghost."

"That's understandable." Matt consoled her and turned to Alex, who walked up the aisle towards us. "What about you, Alex, want to come tonight?"

He shook his head. "I'd love to, but I have two kids at home and one of them down with the flu. My wife will be glad when I'm back early. I wish you luck, though."

I nodded, glad they both declined. It was best if we didn't have too many spectators. "Thanks, we'll give our best, anyway." I said goodbye to Deborah and waved to the community worker, who answered with a lopsided grin, before I turned to Alex. "Thanks for everything, and the best health to your little one."

"Thanks. He'll be up and ready for mischief in no time, I'm sure." His handshake was solid. "I'm glad the White Lady gets professional help. Although I must admit that I'll miss her—this place will feel empty without her unpredictable appearances."