The high windows that ran the length of the convention center concourse let in the orange sunset light from outside. After three 12-hour days at InterSync Expo, I was ready to finish up tomorrow’s short day, break the booth down, and load out; I was dead on my feet.

The show had ended for the last full day an hour ago. My phone texted with a ping from Julie asking when I was meeting them at the restaurant. I texted back explaining I was just swinging by the booth to drop off some brochures for tomorrow before heading to meet them.

“Girl, don’t leave us hanging!” She texted back.

“I won’t. I’m packing tonight when I get home and if I don’t drop these off now, I know I’ll forget and pack them too! It’ll just take a sec.”

“Fine. But I’m ordering you a spicy marg. Better be here before the ice melts!”

“Deal!” I wrote back and dropped my phone in my purse. Honestly, walking through the deserted concourse felt really nice after dodging conference attendees all day when the concourse was packed with men and women heads down in their phones or engaged in conversation but oblivious to others around them, bumping and jostling to get here to there.

Now, though, the quiet space felt downright peaceful.

Rounding a corner, I heard the distinct clinking of cutlery on China, the rising din of dozens and dozens of conversations, and overlayed with smooth jazz. I saw ballroom B off the concourse had its doors open and red-jacketed security was standing outside the entrance.

“What’s going on?” I asked when I got closer.

“Final night mixer for InterSync Expo,” the tired-looking woman said.

“I didn’t think there was a mixer tonight…”

She shrugged. “That’s what I’m told.” She eyed the badge on the lanyard around my neck. “You can go in if you’d like.”

I thought about Julie and the rest of the crew at the restaurant. But then I also thought I should at least make an appearance on behalf of our company… “Thanks,” I said and hurried in.

Inside the room it looked… just like the other social mixers we’d had all week. Men – almost exclusively men – standing around with green beer bottles or plastic wine glasses in their hands, awkwardly juggling plates filled with fried or steamed hors d’oeuvres. I almost turned around and headed right back out to my waiting spicy marg, but I heard my name called.

“Amelia! Over here!” the man’s voice called.

I turned and my blood ran cold. “Alex?” I asked astonished.

“Amelia!” Alex said as he came closer. “It’s been too long! How are things? How’s the show going?”

“G-good,” I stammered, trying to figure out what was going on. Alex had been a mentor to me, training me in this marketing role years before. I shadowed him at my first InterSync Expo. Alex, however, was also dead. Car accident two years back. But now I was talking to him…

“That’s great. The booth looks amazing! You really outdid yourself this year,” he praised.

“Thanks,” was all I could muster.

“You won’t believe who’s here— Greg! Greg!” He waved across the hall. From the mass of people mingling came a tall skinny man with a shock of white hair. “Amelia, this is Greg Meyer.”

“Amelia!” Greg greeted me enthusiastically. “So good to meet you. Alex has said many great things about you.” Greg Meyer founded LumaTrace thirty years ago.

Greg Meyer died ten years before I started.

“We went by the booth last night,” Greg continued. “I felt you really made the products pop. Amazing job!”

“Last night?” I nodded as if this was perfectly normal to be talking to two dead men.

“Yeah,” Alex confirmed. “Our badges won’t let us in during the regular conference hours,” he said, holding up his badge which looked identical to mine… except reversed; where my badge was white my name and company in black ink, theirs was black with white lettering.

“Ah, I see…” I nodded. At that moment, my phone started ringing. I’d never been so glad I forgot to silence the thing. I reached in my purse and saw it was Julie. “Oh,” I said looking from the phone to Alex and Greg, “I have to take this. I’ll be right back,” I said, backing quickly towards the entrance. I turned and hurried the last few yards out the doors leading back to the concourse before accepting the call.

“Girl, where are you?” Julie demanded.

“Holy crap, Jules, you will not believe where I am…” I turned around to face the hall and the doors were closed and everything was quiet. No sounds of mingling, of smooth jazz, just the waning evening light and the fluorescent lights in the concourse.

“Amelia? Are you there?”

“I… I think I just saw a ghost. Two ghosts— many ghosts,” I stammered.

“Okay,” Julie replied. “But did you scan their badges? We need all the leads we can get!”