The Ghost Who Stayed Home

by Anna J. McIntyre

  Lily nodded solemnly. “Yes, she is for now.”

  “What about the rest of them?”

  Anxious, Lily licked her lips. “All but…Chris.”

  Walt frowned. “Chris?”

  “Is that why you finally came? Did Chris come to you?”

  “How would Chris come to me, Lily?”

  “You know…”

  “What are you saying, Lily? And where are you?”

  Her eyes wide and frightened, Lily shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  In the next moment, she vanished.

  Walt glanced around the beach; she was no longer in sight.

  Wherever Lily was, she was no longer sleeping.

  FOUR

  Officer Brian Henderson sat at the chief’s desk, sorting through papers. He hadn’t had a day off since the chief and Joe Morelli had taken off—that had been over a week ago. Absently combing one hand through his hair while trying to find some order to the papers on his desk, he told himself he was too old for this crap. Just as he gathered up several papers and tossed them into a pile, a soft knock at the open doorway caught his attention. He looked up. It was the chief’s sister, Sissy Conway, and by her red-edged eyes, it was obvious she had been crying.

  Just as Brian stood up, Sissy rushed into the office and said, “Evan’s missing!”

  “Evan? What do you mean missing?” Walking around the desk to greet her, Brian gently took Sissy by the arm and led her to a chair. She sat down, her purse on her lap.

  “When I got up this morning, he wasn’t in his bed. We’ve looked all over. I think he’s run away.” Sissy started crying again.

  Awkwardly patting her shoulder, Brian said, “Calm down, Sissy. I’m sure we’ll find him with a friend, or maybe he went over to his house.” Sitting on the edge of the desk, he looked down at Sissy, who fished a tissue from her purse and dabbed tears from the corners of her eyes. She stopped crying.

  Shaking her head, she said, “No. Bruce went over there already. There was no sign of Evan. Bruce even went inside. We thought maybe Evan had a key we didn’t know about. But the place was still all locked up. It didn’t look like anyone had been there. Bruce checked all the rooms—even the closets. Evan wasn’t there.”

  “Considering what’s happened with his father—”

  “He doesn’t know,” Sissy said before Brian could finish his sentence.

  Brian frowned. “What do you mean he doesn’t know?”

  Sissy shrugged sheepishly. “We just told the boys the trip was extended for a few more days. We hoped…” She glanced down at the tissue in her hand, absently twisting it.

  “Sissy, you do realize the entire town is talking about this. Hell, there was a city council meeting last night. You know that, I saw Bruce there.”

  Again, Sissy shrugged. “We just didn’t want to worry the boys. It seemed premature.”

  “What about their friends at school? You don’t think one of them heard something at home and then said something to either Evan or Eddy?”

  “I know he was upset his father wasn’t going to make the birthday party.”

  “Birthday party? It’s Evan’s birthday?”

  Sissy shook her head. “No. One of his little friends. It was his birthday. Ed was supposed to be back in time to take him.” She smiled up sadly at Brian. “Ed was scheduled to work this afternoon, so he promised he’d drop Evan off at the party first. Evan likes to show his dad off—you know—in his uniform. He’s pretty proud of his daddy.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Brian studied Sissy. She was a handsome woman, a few years older than her brother, Police Chief Edward MacDonald. Tall and slender, she had the same blue-gray eyes as her brother, and Brian suspected her brown hair would have streaks of gray like her sibling’s if she didn’t have it colored. Sissy and her husband, Bruce, had never had children. Since the chief had lost his wife, Sissy had tried to step into the role of surrogate mom, but Brian wondered if she had the temperament to raise little boys—she seemed a little high-strung to him.

  “Right before I went to bed last night. I never really checked the time. After Bruce got home from the city council meeting, we stayed downstairs and talked for about thirty minutes before going upstairs to bed. Right before I went to our room, I checked on the boys. They were both sleeping.”

  “What time did you get up this morning?”

  “We always sleep in on Saturdays. It was around nine when I looked into the boys’ room. Eddy was still sleeping, but Evan’s bed was empty. I assumed he was downstairs, watching cartoons. But when I got downstairs, I couldn’t find him.” Sissy paused a moment and opened her purse. She removed a flashlight and stood up briefly, handing it to Brian.

  “What’s this?” Brian took the flashlight and studied it for a moment. Its end was missing, as were its batteries.

  “That’s Evan’s flashlight. He always sleeps with it. After Bruce got back from Ed’s house, we walked around the neighborhood, checking to see if anyone had seen Evan. We found this a couple blocks from our house, lying on the sidewalk.”

  “I assume you’ve called his friends?”

  “Just the ones I know. But I did call Trevor’s mother—he’s the boy who’s having a birthday party today. All of Evan’s little friends will be there, so Bruce is going to go over there and talk to the parents and kids when they arrive, see if anyone knows anything.”

  “Where is Bruce now?”

  “He’s home with Eddy. We didn’t want to leave him alone. Especially now.”

  Picking up a pencil from the desk, Brian absently tapped it against one knee. “What does Eddy say about his brother?”

  “He doesn’t know where he is.” Tears filled Sissy’s eyes again. “What are we going to do?”

  “For now, we need to find your nephew.” Standing up, Brian walked around his desk and sat down. Picking up the phone, he made a call.

  Sissy sat quietly, listening. When Brian finally hung up, she said, “Thank you, Brian.”

  “We’re going to find him. I promise you.”

  Shoving her crumpled tissue into her open purse, she pulled out a fresh one and blew her nose. “This has been absolutely the worse week in my life. Have you talked to the other families?”

  “Joe’s the only one—aside from your brother—who has family locally. Craig’s been stopping in about every afternoon, checking for updates. As for the rest of them, I’ve been talking to Lily’s parents every day. I can’t help but feel especially horrible for them—they thought they lost their daughter once already. Of course, Danielle has no one for me to call, same for Chris. I’ve also been talking to Ian and Kelly’s parents. And Carol Ann’s brother. Thanks for giving me that number, by the way.”

  “I wasn’t sure it was still good. Ed gave it to me when he and Carol Ann went to Hawaii last year.”

  “It’s surprising how many of them have lost both parents—kind of makes me feel old. After all, they’re all younger than me.”

  “From what I understand, Carol Ann was raised by her older brother. I believe he recently got out of the military.”

  “Maybe that explains his stoic attitude.”

  Sissy frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Lily’s parents have been basket cases—can’t say I blame them. Ian and Kelly’s parents, not much better. But Carol Ann’s brother, well, he didn’t say much. Just thanked me for the information and asked me to contact him as soon as we found out something.”

  “I’ve never met the brother before. But I remember Carol Ann saying he wasn’t an especially warm and fuzzy guy, but they were close.” Sissy stood up. “I better get going. Bruce is waiting at home for me.”

  Brian stood. “If Evan shows up—and I have a feeling he’s going to be wandering in on his own—call me immediately.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  EVAN HAD JUST CHANGED into the clean clothes Walt had brought him that morning. They were the same clothes he had been wearing when he had first arrived
at Marlow House the night before. Standing by the dresser in Danielle’s bedroom, Evan watched in fascination as the sheets, pillows, blankets, and bedspread from the bed he had slept in floated effortlessly in the air and then miraculously settled neatly over the mattress.

  “Wow, that’s awesome! I wish I had you at my house.”

  Walt chuckled. “If I lived at your house, you would make your own bed. But for now, we can’t chance Joanne noticing anything out of place. As it is, this morning I had to wipe up the muddy footprints you left on the kitchen floor last night.”

  “Who’s Joanne?” Evan followed Walt out of the bedroom.

  “She’s the housekeeper. She comes over at least twice a day to check on the house and feed Max and Sadie. We need to find someplace for you to hide when she gets here.”

  “When is she going to come?” Still following Walt, Evan took hold of the railing and made his way down the stairs.

  “I’m not sure. But I have Sadie standing guard. When she barks, you need to hightail it to your hiding place.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Walt paused mid staircase and looked at Evan. “If we’re downstairs, the closet in the downstairs bedroom. I can’t see any reason Joanne would go in there.” Walt continued down the stairs.

  “Did you figure out where my dad is?”

  “No. But I did find out he’s alive.”

  “I knew it! How did you find out?”

  “I managed to hop into Lily’s dream last night. She told me right before she woke up.”

  “Did you try again?”

  Stepping onto the first-floor landing, Walt looked up to Evan, waiting for the boy to reach him. “I tried. But I have a feeling, wherever they are, I don’t imagine they’re sleeping well. Dream hops don’t seem to work as well on someone who’s catnapping.”

  “Catnapping?” Evan frowned. He stepped onto the first-floor landing and then followed Walt to the kitchen.

  “Someone who is restless, can’t get into a deep sleep. Maybe dozes off, and then wakes up a few minutes later. I suspect wherever they are, the sleeping accommodations aren’t the best. But I’m not giving up.”

  “Good.”

  Walt opened the kitchen door for Evan.

  “I’m hungry,” Evan announced as he walked into the kitchen.

  “I’m afraid there isn’t much in the refrigerator.”

  “I had some cookies in my coat pocket! Where’s my coat?”

  “I’m afraid those didn’t survive your little adventure last night.”

  “Oh…” Evan’s lower lip stuck out in a pout.

  “Look in the pantry. I’m sure you’ll find something there. Just don’t mess it up. Joanne might look in there.”

  Before Evan had a chance to open the pantry door, they heard Sadie barking.

  “Quick. To the bedroom you stayed in when you were here the first time. Hurry. In the closet,” Walt ordered.

  JOANNE HAD JUST PARKED her car along the sidewalk in front of Marlow House when something in the side yard caught her attention. Stepping from her car, she looked over and noticed one of the branches hanging over the fence appeared to be broken. Instead of arching over the fence, the limb hung limply from a larger branch.

  Frowning, Joanne slammed her car door shut and headed for the side gate to have a closer look. After unlocking the side gate, she entered and made her way to the injured branch.

  “I’ll need to ask Marie if I can call the gardener,” she muttered.

  Turning from the tree, she headed for the side door leading to the kitchen. Just as she was about to step onto the side porch, she froze. Spatters of dry mud covered the patio and doggy door.

  Joanne groaned. “Oh please, don’t tell me Sadie came out here and rolled in the mud.” Hurriedly, Joanne unlocked the kitchen door. The moment she did, she called, “Sadie!”

  Tossing her purse on the kitchen counter, she glanced around the room and was relieved to see the floors were still clean. There was no evidence of mud. She still expected to find mud caked on the golden retriever. However, when a clean dog charged into the room a moment later, she began thinking cat. Did Max make that mess outside?

  Kneeling down to greet Sadie, Joanne heard a meow. Glancing up from the dog, she spied Max standing in the doorway—his black fur shiny and clean, and the tips of his ears snowy white.

  FIVE

  Perched cockeyed on the gray head of hair was a lavender straw hat, its front brim folded back, which defeated its initial purpose: keeping the sun from Marie Nichols’s eyes. She stood in the middle of the front yard, surveying the damage from the previous night’s storm. It hadn’t been a gentle sprinkle.

  Early spring flowers, their heads weighed down from the recent dousing, dotted the fenced yard, while the lawn glistened. Behind Marie was her bright yellow beach cottage, its white trim clean and fresh from a recent painting. Hands on hips, she wore a pink floral, cotton housedress and lime-green rubber rain boots. Overhead the sun lit up the blue sky. Whatever rainclouds had been there the night before had vanished by noon.

  Her grandson, Adam, found her still standing there when he pulled up in front of her house ten minutes later.

  “I like your outfit,” Adam teased when he met his grandmother at the front gate. In his hand he carried a sack of take-out food. He’d brought his grandmother lunch.

  Removing her hat, she used it to swat Adam. “Oh hush.” Turning to the house, the elderly woman led the way to her front door.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she asked, “Any news on the plane?”

  “Nothing.”

  At the front porch, Marie removed her boots. Once inside, she hung her hat on the coat rack in the entry hall. Minutes later she sat with Adam in the kitchen, unwrapping the sandwich he had brought her.

  “I don’t understand. They should have found the plane by now. They know where it went down,” Marie said before taking a bite.

  “The witness didn’t give an exact location. That’s an immense area. Nothing but forest.”

  Marie set her sandwich down on a napkin and looked at Adam. “Isn’t there some way they can track its location? Don’t planes send out some sort of radar when they crash?”

  “I guess not.” Adam picked up a small sack of potato chips and tore it open.

  “I don’t like this. It’s been a week—how long can they survive alone in the forest?”

  Assuming they survived the crash, Adam thought before saying, “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a girlfriend.” He popped a potato chip in his mouth.

  Marie frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Chris invited me to go along. But I felt like a fifth wheel. There wasn’t really anyone I wanted to ask.”

  “Oh my! You never told me that!”

  Adam shrugged and picked up another potato chip.

  “I suppose in this instance, I’m glad you aren’t in a serious relationship. If you were, you would have probably been on that plane, and then instead of worrying about Danielle, Lily, and the rest of them, I’d be worried about you too!”

  “I just hope it’s not too late. There’re a hell of a lot of people on that plane that I’ll miss if they never come home.”

  Picking up her sandwich, Marie started to take a bite but instead asked, “Do you know anything about the pilot?”

  “Just that he owns the plane—runs a charter service. From everything I’ve heard, he’s a damn good pilot—which gives me hope.”

  “You mentioned you were going to check on their houses. Did you?”

  “I went over to your house yesterday and Chris’s. Not the Gusarov Estate, but his house on Beach Drive. Everything was fine. But after last night’s storm, I’m having Bill go around and check on all the vacant properties. I also stopped at Marlow House yesterday. Joanne was there.”

  “How are Max and Sadie?” Marie asked.

  “Okay for now. Joanne goes over there every day and feeds them. I just hope we don’t have to find homes for those two.”
/>   “I would take them in a heartbeat—but those kids are coming home!”

  “Grandma, you hate cats. And you always said you’d never have a dog because they’d dig up your garden.”

  “I don’t hate cats. I just don’t like them using my yard as a litter box. As for the dog digging, from what I recall, Ian’s dog is well trained. I expect Danielle and the rest to return safely. But if they don’t—god forbid—I certainly would not turn my back on two helpless animals that meant so much to her. Absolutely not.” Stubbornly, Marie shook her head.

  Adam smiled weakly at his grandmother, picked up his soda, and took a drink while thinking, Another reason to keep praying for their safe return. If they don’t come back, I’m going to be coming over here every day to pick up Sadie’s dog poop and clean Max’s litter box.

  DANGLING from his lips was a lit cigarette, its prominent ash threatening to fall off at any moment. Bill Jones pulled his truck in front of the Gusarov Estate and turned off the engine. He removed his cigarette and flicked its ash carelessly out the open window before returning it to his mouth and grabbing the clipboard off his passenger seat.

  Pulling a pen from the pocket of his blue work shirt, he scribbled a note on the clipboard’s top paper and then tossed the clipboard back onto the seat before opening the truck’s door. On his last stop he had fished out the key to the Gusarov Estate from his glove compartment and had shoved it into one pocket of his work pants.

  Making his way up the walk to the front door, he wondered what was going to happen to the Gusarov Estate if the plane and passengers weren’t found. Would Adam be able to sell the property? he wondered. And what about the house on Beach Drive?

  Adam never came out and directly told Bill that Chris Johnson was in truth the wealthy and reclusive philanthropist Chris Glandon. But it didn’t take him long to figure it out. He knew Johnson—or Glandon—whatever he wanted to be called—had purchased both properties. It wasn’t exactly something Adam could keep a secret from Bill since he regularly sent him over to work on both properties.