As I pulled into the dusty gravel parking lot at the Nevada State Prison in Carson City, it was hot. Early evening in July still means plenty of heat, and I could feel it, even with the A/C in my car running. The second thing I noticed was a coyote jauntily crossing between me and the old entrance gate, giving me a quick glance as if to remind me these days, this is his territory — it’s humans who don’t belong. And in some ways, the coyote was right, as the now shuttered prison no longer houses people. But depending on who you ask, it does house ghosts. And plenty of them.