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"I've been to a lot of hockey games here," said Lori. "Trust me, the ice is our friend."

The trio ran back towards the rink, and as they reached the ice they all hit their knees, sliding to the other side. The new Zamboni-less smoothing method worked remarkably well, and they crossed the rink even faster than Lori had anticipated.

They then raced up the steps toward the exit, and sure enough, there was the ghost. He had taken the elevator up to the concourse and was running around the perimeter looking for a way out, but the good guys cut him off at the path.

The security guard tackled and subdued the troublemaker. Up close, it was clear that this wasn't the real Figgins, but rather someone wearing a Figgins mask.

"I knew it couldn't be a ghost," Lori said. "Let's see who's under this mask..."

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