The Ghost Who Stayed Home

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “I imagine that would taste better with milk,” Walt noted.

  “I eat it like this at home.” Evan popped a fistful of Cheerios in his mouth and then asked, “Do you like Cheerios? It’s my dad’s favorite.”

  Walt leaned back comfortably in the chair, a cigar in one hand. “I’ve never had them.”

  Evan frowned. “Never had Cheerios?”

  “In case you didn’t know it—spirits don’t eat food.”

  “You mean ghosts?” Evan popped more dry cereal into his mouth.

  “I prefer spirit,” Walt told him.

  “What about when you were alive? You never had them then?” Evan dug his hand deeper into the box.

  “I’m afraid Cheerios weren’t around when I was alive.”

  “What did you have instead of Cheerios?”

  “Instead of?” Walt considered the question a moment. “Well, we had oatmeal.”

  Evan wrinkled his nose. “I don’t like oatmeal. My Aunt Sissy makes it, but I think it tastes like glue.”

  Walt chuckled. “We also had cornflakes.”

  “Cornflakes?”

  Walt nodded.

  “Cornflakes are okay.” Evan set the now empty box next to him on the couch while Sadie eagerly sniffed the surrounding area for any stray Cheerios.

  “Are you still hungry?” Walt asked.

  Evan shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”

  “We need to get that box back in the pantry. I can’t have Joanne finding it in the trash.”

  “Hey, Walt, if you can’t eat, how come you can smoke?”

  Walt shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can.”

  “My dad says smoking is bad for you.”

  Walt eyed Evan seriously. “It is. I would recommend you never try it.”

  “Then how come you do it?”

  Walt smiled. “Well, since I’m dead, it’s really not an issue.”

  “It must be awesome to be dead. To be like you.”

  “Awesome?” Walt frowned. “I would much rather be alive like you.”

  “How come? You can walk through walls and spy on people and make stuff float through the air.”

  Walt studied Evan a moment and then asked, “Do you like ice cream?”

  “Ice cream? Well, sure! Everyone likes ice cream.”

  “I liked ice cream too.”

  “They had ice cream when you were alive?” Evan asked.

  Walt laughed. “Yes. In fact, we used to make our own using a hand-cranked ice cream maker. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s still around here someplace. But my point was—I can never enjoy ice cream again. But it’s not just food I can’t enjoy—I can’t go outside or have conversations with people like you can. No, trust me, Evan, I would take life over death any day.”

  “I don’t think I’d like it if I couldn’t have ice cream again.”

  Walt stood up. “That’s just one of many things I miss now that I’m on this side. Now come, let’s put that box in the pantry.”

  “I’m glad my dad is still alive. He really likes ice cream.” Evan picked up the empty cereal box and climbed off the sofa. He followed Walt out of the parlor, heading for the kitchen, Sadie trotting along by his side.

  “What are we going to do now?” Evan asked after he put the cereal box in its place in the pantry.

  “At the moment, there’s not much we can do. I’m going to keep trying to dream hop—but so far I haven’t been successful. Then of course, we need to figure out some way to use that information to help bring them home. I feel horrible about your aunt and uncle—and even your brother.”

  “Horrible why?”

  “I’m sure they’re worried sick about you—plus they’re also worried about your father. But whatever I find out will do no one any good if I can’t communicate it to the outside world, and I need you for that.”

  “I want to do whatever I can to help! I’ll stay here until we find my dad!”

  Walt smiled at Evan and then looked to the kitchen door. “Why don’t you go into the parlor and watch some television.” Walt looked at Sadie. “And you stand guard. Let Evan know if Joanne drives up.” He looked back to Evan. “And I’m going to go into the library and concentrate. It might be the middle of the afternoon, but maybe I can catch one of them sleeping.”

  Evan headed for the door. Just as he reached it, Walt called out his name. He turned and looked at Walt.

  “Remember,” Walt reminded him. “If Sadie starts barking, turn off the TV and hightail it to the closet in the downstairs bedroom. And don’t make a mess—or else Joanne will know someone’s here.”

  After Evan reached the parlor, he was about to turn on the television when he noticed the telephone. His father had made him and his brother memorize several phone numbers—one of them was his Aunt Sissy’s. He remembered hearing her cry when she had talked to his uncle about his missing father. He hated the thought that she was probably crying now because of him.

  Evan stood there a few more minutes, asking himself what he should do. What would it hurt? Evan wondered. All he wanted to do was let his aunt know he was okay. After all, he had taken off in the middle of the night, and she might think he was dead somewhere.

  Glancing to the door leading to the hallway, Evan considered going to Walt and asking him if it was okay if he called his aunt. He wouldn’t have to tell her where he was—just that he was okay. But then, Evan remembered Walt was trying to initiate a dream hop, and if he interrupted him, it might mess things up and prevent them from helping his dad.

  Deciding he could make the decision by himself, Evan marched to the telephone sitting on the desk and called his aunt’s house.

  “Hello?” Aunt Sissy answered a moment later.

  “Aunt Sissy, this is Evan.”

  “Evan! Oh my god, where are you?”

  Evan could tell she was now crying. “I just called to tell you I’m okay.”

  “Evan, honey, tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you. I’m not mad at you for leaving; I just want you to come home.”

  “I can’t tell you. I just want you to know I’m okay. I promise. But Dad’s alive, and I’m going to help bring him home.”

  “What are you talking about? Evan, where are you?”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Sissy. I’m okay,” Evan said before hanging up the phone.

  BRIAN HADN’T BEEN BACK to the station for more than fifteen minutes when Adam Nichols walked through the office doorway and found him sitting at the chief’s desk.

  “Do you have a minute?” Adam asked when he walked in.

  Brian looked up at Adam and leaned back in the chair. “Not really, but what’s up?”

  “I just talked to Bill. He told me about what he found in the basement at the Gusarov Estate.” Adam took a seat and faced Brian.

  “Yeah, well, I just got off the phone with the FBI.”

  “They’re coming in on this one?” Adam asked.

  “Looks like a kidnapping. We may no longer be looking for just the wreckage of a crash.”

  “I suppose that might be good news,” Adam suggested.

  “How so?”

  “If someone hijacked the plane, then there’s a good chance they’re still alive.”

  “Regardless of the hijacking, someone saw that plane go down.”

  “Are they sure it was their plane?” Adam asked.

  “It was where the plane should have been at the time it went down. And the witness was looking through binoculars. He described the painting on the side of the plane. It’s a custom job. There isn’t another plane that has it.”

  Adam started to say something and then paused. He looked at Brian and frowned. “If someone hijacked the plane in Oregon, why would they still be flying toward Texas?”

  Brian shrugged. “I don’t know. If it wasn’t for the witness describing what he saw on the side of the plane, I’d be questioning if the downed plane was theirs.”

  “And there hasn’t been any ransom request?”

  “Not that
I’m aware of, which is why I’m glad you stopped in.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You’re Chris’s real estate broker, you must know something about his business—his personal finances—who would a kidnapper call to ask for a ransom?”

  Adam shrugged. “I’m not really sure. I have no idea who his attorney is. And what makes you so sure the kidnapper—assuming this is a kidnapping—is targeting Chris?”

  “Are you suggesting another target—Danielle maybe?”

  “It’s no secret she has money—you have to admit her story’s been sensationalized, with the Missing Thorndike, the gold coins, not to mention the inheritances. As for Chris, it’s not really public knowledge that he has money.”

  “The pilot knew,” Brian said.

  “He did?”

  Brian nodded. “But he insists he didn’t tell anyone—except for some girl he was seeing.”

  Adam shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. “It’s always that one girl that brings a guy down.”

  Brian let out a snort. “Yeah, no kidding.”

  “As for Danielle, you might want to check the bank. That’s where she has the Missing Thorndike. She doesn’t have access to the coins yet, so if the kidnappers were looking for that, it’s not going to happen.”

  “I have to admit I was pretty focused on Chris. It didn’t even dawn on me that they might be targeting Danielle.”

  “And Lily, don’t forget Lily,” Adam noted.

  “Lily?” Brian frowned.

  “I know she got a hefty settlement from the Gusarov Estate, not sure how much exactly. I don’t think it’s anything like what Danielle has, but I’m pretty sure it was well over a million. Not sure who knows, but anyone who was following that case would assume she got something.”

  “Perhaps, but this is a pretty elaborate kidnapping if the target is someone like Lily—or even Danielle.”

  “Maybe it’s all of them?” Adam suggested. “There’s also Ian. He’s pretty successful; a number of his books have been bestsellers and made into documentaries. I’ve no idea what he’s worth, but I’d imagine it’s more than Lily. Maybe even close to Danielle.”

  Brian picked up the phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “The bank. I want to make sure the Missing Thorndike is still there.”

  Adam glanced at his watch. “Are they still open? I know they close early on Saturday.”

  Brian didn’t respond to the question because someone at the bank answered his call. When he got off the phone a few minutes later, he said, “It’s still there. No action on any of her accounts.”

  “They told you that without a warrant?” Adam asked.

  Brian smiled. “Susan Mitchell can be pretty accommodating.” He leaned back in his chair and studied Adam.

  “Susan answered the phone? Last time I spoke to her, she wasn’t working Saturdays anymore.”

  “I imagine with Klein’s death they’ve been moving people around,” Brian said before asking, “Who controls Danielle’s estate if she isn’t here? Any idea?”

  “Umm…you mean who would have access to her money?”

  Brian nodded.

  “The only one I know…my grandmother.”

  Brian sat up abruptly. “Your grandmother?”

  “Yep. I know when Danielle had her last will drawn up, she listed three people who would have power of attorney in the event…well, in an event like this. Lily would be the primary one—and if she wasn’t able to perform the duty, it would fall on Chris. And if Chris is unavailable, it then goes to my grandmother. Grandma showed me the papers after the plane went missing. So I suppose if a kidnapper was trying to contact someone with a ransom demand, they would have to go to her.”

  Before Brian could respond to Adam, the office phone rang. Putting up a hand to signify hold that thought, Brian answered the phone. Adam sat quietly, listening to Brian’s side of the conversation.

  “He what?…Did he say where he was?…Do you have that number?…It should be on the phone…damn…” Brian stood up abruptly, said a few more words, and then slammed down the phone.

  “Everything okay?” Adam asked.

  “Sissy heard from Evan. I need to go.”

  Adam stood up. “Sure, I understand. Hope the kid is okay. I’m going to head over to Grandma’s and let her know what’s going on. She needs to be prepared in case someone does contact her.”

  EIGHT

  “I’m so stupid!” Sissy declared when she threw open the front door.

  Wearing his Frederickport Police Department uniform, cap in hand, Brian stood on Sissy’s front porch. Before he could ask what she meant, Sissy turned her back to him and marched to her living room, leaving the door wide open, a silent invitation for him to enter. Fitting the cap back on his head, Brian stepped into the house and closed the door behind him. He followed Sissy into the living room.

  Stopping abruptly, she turned to face him. Clearly agitated, she said, “I didn’t even think to trace the call. I just ran to get Bruce and tell him what happened, and then the phone rang. It was some stupid telemarketer, but then I couldn’t trace it, it only tells you the number of the last person who called.”

  Brian glanced around. “Where is Bruce?”

  “I had him take Eddy to the park. I didn’t want him here when you showed up. The poor kid is so upset. Bruce and I told him this morning about his father—that his plane is missing—that we think it went down.”

  “It’s gotten more complicated,” Brian said, taking a seat on the sofa. He pulled off his cap again and tossed it on the cushion next to him.

  “What do you mean?” Sissy sat down on a chair, facing Brian.

  Brian quickly explained about finding the pilot and how they now believed the plane had been hijacked. He then turned the conversation back to Evan.

  “He didn’t give any clue as to where he was?” Brian asked.

  She shook her head. “No. he just said not to worry, that he was okay. But that he was going to help bring his father home.”

  “Bring his father home?” Brian’s first thought, Is Evan with the kidnappers? Not wanting to upset Sissy, he kept that thought to himself. He stood up. “I’m going to need a warrant. If you hear anything, call me immediately.”

  “Warrant?” Sissy frowned.

  “The phone company should be able to give us the phone numbers of your incoming calls. For that, they’ll want a warrant.”

  Sissy jumped to her feet. “You can find out where Evan is?”

  “At least where he was when he called you—hopefully.”

  “Hopefully?”

  “We don’t know if he was calling from a landline or a cellphone. If someone handed him one of those throwaway phones to make a call, then there is really no way to trace him.”

  “DANIELLE’S BEEN KIDNAPPED?” Marie dropped her gardening trowel; it landed by her feet.

  Adam bent down and picked up the trowel, handing it back to his grandmother. “Let’s go in the house and discuss this.”

  With an anxious nod, Marie started following her grandson to the front walkway. They had just reached the door when a dark sedan pulled up in front of the property and stopped. Instead of going into the house, Adam and Marie paused and looked to the street. Two men, wearing sunglasses and dressed in dark suits, emerged from the vehicle and made their way to the front gate.

  “Mrs. Nichols?” one of the men called out when he reached the gate, his companion at his side.

  With a frown, Marie stepped from her porch back onto the walkway and looked at the men. “Yes?”

  The man who had called out removed his identification from his pocket and flashed it at Marie. Even if she wasn’t almost ninety-one years old, it would have been impossible for her to read it from where she stood. “I’m Special Agent Wilson with the FBI, and this is Special Agent Thomas. We need to talk to you—”

  Before he finished his sentence, Marie had already shuffled to the gate, moving briskly for a woman her age. Age
nt Wilson was about to put his ID back in his pocket when Marie reached over the gate and snatched it from his hand, startling the agent.

  “Goodness gracious, you don’t expect me to be able to read this thing from all the way over there, do you?” she scolded. Squinting, she tried to read the identification badge.

  “Ma’am, if we could just come in—” Wilson began, only to be cut off by Marie again.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Marie used her hand—the one still holding the trowel—to wave Adam—who was already halfway down the walkway, coming in her direction—back to the front door. “Adam, run in the house and get my reading glasses. They’re on the kitchen table.” Marie paused a moment and then added, “Or maybe in my bedroom.”

  “Ma’am, can we please just go inside and talk?” Wilson asked impatiently.

  Scowling at the agent, Marie shook her head defiantly. “Young man, I certainly did not get to be my age by letting strange men just march into my house.” She turned to Adam, who was now at her side. “Adam, please, I need my glasses.”

  “Grandma, why don’t you just let me see it.” Adam reached for the ID in Marie’s hand, only to be swatted away.

  Clutching the ID to her breast, she frowned at Adam. “I’m perfectly capable of reading the man’s identification. I just need my glasses!”

  Rolling his eyes, Adam let out a sigh and shrugged apologetically at the two men before turning and heading to the house to retrieve his grandmother’s glasses.

  “And don’t you be rolling your eyes at me, young man!” she called out to Adam.

  A few minutes later, her reading glasses propped at the end of her nose, Marie closely examined the agent’s identification. When she was sufficiently satisfied, she demanded to see the other agent’s identification. Begrudgingly, he complied.

  Standing behind her, Adam let out an exasperated sigh. Ignoring Adam, Marie handed the second agent his ID back.

  “I know you just think I’m being a silly old lady,” Marie said as she started to open the gate to let the men in her front yard. “But for all I know, you’re the kidnappers who have Danielle and the rest of them.”