As you wander the halls, perhaps searching for the exit, you come across an open door. This office has no visible nameplate or  number,  just an unusual poster taped to the door that reads, I Have No Choice But To Believe.

Intriguing. Hey, is that scent in the air the aroma of slowly roasting pumpkin shell?

You peek into the office and see that it's as dark as the heart of midnight, except for one thing;  a large, real jack-o-lantern sits on a shelf, grinning invitingly as the big candle inside slowly cooks its lid.  

But wait, it gets even better.  Next to the jacko is a plate full of candies.  Nice candies, too--not those cheap peanut-butter taffy things wrapped in orange and black wax paper.  

This is weird. This is spooky, even.

Are you meant to go inside and take some candy? Is it poisoned?!  Or are the occupants of this office just having an eccentric trick-or-treat? Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you enter.

The place is cold.  The electricity doesn't seem to be working.  There is no one around. There is no furniture even, except for the shelves with the candy and the jacko. Oh, and over in the corner there is a lone file cabinet.  The office is totally deserted.

But still, you don't feel like an intruder.  If ghosts there be here, they're friendly and welcome your company. You can feel that in your bones.

You have some candy.  Nope.  No razor blades embedded in the Snickers bar.

You turn the jack-o-lantern around so that its face is projected across the office, looking like a macabre searchlight. The luminous happy-face comes to rest on the file cabinet and you see, stuck to the top drawer, an orange post-it note:

it says. You go over, open the file cabinet drawer and take out the contents: one thick manilla folder. You open it and begin to read by jack-o-lantern light...