The Ghost Who Stayed Home

by Anna J. McIntyre

  “He owns a bank?”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s his now—and the shareholders. His father started it.”

  Lily reached for a granola bar. As she opened it, she said, “I sure hope Chris is going to be okay.”

  Before popping the last bite of the granola bar in her mouth, Danielle said, “I’m just happy I haven’t seen him. We have to figure out some way out of here. If only Walt was here to help us.”

  EIGHTEEN

  When Danielle woke up the next morning, she wanted to weep. Not just because every muscle in her back cried out in pain from sleeping on the concrete floor—or the fact the shackle had rubbed her ankle raw—or that her stomach growled from hunger, and if she had to eat another granola bar, she was going to throw up—she wanted to weep because Walt hadn’t visited her dreams. While he had promised not to intrude on her sleep while she was away with Chris, she desperately needed to talk to him. Not that he could actually do anything to help her, but talking to Walt always made her feel better.

  Staring up at the ceiling rafters, she heard Lily say, “You’re awake.”

  Dragging herself to a sitting position, Danielle combed her fingers through her tangled hair. “Does your back hurt as much as mine?”

  “Probably. But I’m so glad you woke up; I have to pee so bad.” Lily, who sat on the floor next to Danielle, began to stand up, rattling her chains.

  “Why did my sleeping keep you from using your bucket? I certainly wasn’t going to see anything.” Danielle yawned and ran both set of fingers through her hair, attempting to tame her unruly curls.

  “Because I didn’t want to shout privacy and wake you up.” Since being held captive, the group had come to an arrangement. When any of them needed to use their bucket, he or she would simply shout privacy, and the others would look away. It helped to preserve a modicum of their dignity. Fortunately, when nature called during the evening, the darkness of night provided the necessary privacy; therefore, it wasn’t necessary to shout and wake anyone—not that anyone was getting any real sleep.

  Just as Lily was about to shout privacy, the door opened, letting in the morning sunlight, along with two men. One man was the largest of the kidnappers—while the second man was someone Danielle had never seen before. What she found most troubling, he was not wearing a mask.

  “Oh crap,” Danielle muttered.

  “No kidding!” Lily squirmed. “I can’t very well pee now!”

  “Bathroom break,” the masked man shouted.

  “Thank god,” Lily mumbled under her breath. She then called out, “Can I go first?”

  The large man shrugged and walked in her and Danielle’s direction—his companion trailing behind him.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Danielle whispered to Lily, her eyes never leaving the approaching men.

  Lily muttered impatiently, “I just have to pee.”

  Danielle’s gaze remained focused on the unmasked man. He now stood just a few feet away and smiled down at her while his companion unshackled Lily and led her—bucket in hand—to the bathroom. Danielle glanced at the pair and watched as Lily walked alone into the small bathroom, closing the door behind her, leaving the larger man standing guard just outside the door.

  Looking back to the unmasked man, Danielle felt ill. He has no problem showing us his face.

  While she had briefly seen the pilot’s face that first day, she was fairly confident he was wearing a fake beard at the time and had colored his hair, not to mention the fact he wore large dark sunglasses. Danielle had felt she and her friends would be safe for as long as their kidnappers believed they would not be able to be identified. Yet, now that Danielle thought about it, the pilot—and she was fairly certain that was who the man was who had interrogated her about her financial situation had been—hadn’t concealed his eyes from her the day before. She could see them through the eye holes of his ski mask—they were brown.

  This man had blue eyes—icy blue eyes—and they stared at her with keen interest. The first two kidnappers each wore matching tan jumpsuits—reminding her of something a mechanic might wear. This man wore a suit that looked even more outdated than Walt’s. On his head he wore—What do they call those hats? Oh, I remember, a Bowler hat, Danielle thought.

  Pale complexioned, he wore a coal black pencil-thin mustache. She assumed it was the same color as his hair, which was hidden under the hat. If she was to hazard a guess at his age, she would say he was in his early fifties, which might mean some of the hair under the hat was more gray than black. She guessed he was no more than five feet seven inches tall, and she wouldn’t describe him as thin or heavy—an average build. The way in which he examined her made her highly uncomfortable. She turned to where his partner waited outside the bathroom door for Lily.

  “You look rather uncomfortable like that.” To Danielle’s surprise, the man had an English accent.

  Danielle closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, her back still to the man. She could feel the beating of her heart accelerate.

  “You have lovely hair, although I imagine it could benefit from a good brushing,” he said in his heavy accent. “I’d love to do that for you.” He then chuckled. “Ahhh, or a warm bath. I bet that would feel good to you. I could scrub your lovely back—you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  A paralyzing chill moved down Danielle’s spine. None of the kidnappers had made any sexual innuendos toward any of them—until now. She had a sick feeling he must be the ringleader—considering his manner of dress—which made her feel even more vulnerable. What terrified her most was the fact he brazenly allowed them to see his face. Clinging to her optimism was proving to be more and more difficult.

  She continued to ignore his unwelcome comments and wondered if any of the others could hear what he was saying to her. He wasn’t talking much louder than a whisper, and considering how spread out they all were, she suspected she was the only one who could hear what he was actually saying.

  A few minutes later Lily returned from the bathroom, carrying an empty bucket. After setting the bucket down, she sat down quietly, waiting for the masked man to place the shackle back on her ankle.

  “Can you please hook that to the other ankle?” Lily asked in a small voice.

  “Why’s it matter?” he snapped.

  “My ankle is getting raw. It hurts…please?” Lily smiled pleadingly at her captor. He let out a snort, but honored her request.

  “Oh, thank you!” Lily burst out, relieved not to have the shackle rub on her already sore skin.

  Without another comment, the man locked the shackle and then moved to release Danielle’s ankle. He knelt before her and slipped the key into the rusty lock. She glanced at the empty metal bucket Lily had just set down and thought how easy it would be to grab it and crack it over the man’s head. If she could knock him out, all they would have to do is take his keys, secure the shackles around his ankles, free the rest, and escape. But there was only one problem—the guy with the English accent was standing there, and as far as she knew, he had a pistol in his pocket. Plus, she wasn’t sure who was standing outside the door to the warehouse.

  Ten minutes later, Danielle stepped out of the bathroom, carrying her now empty bucket. The man with the English accent was standing by Lily, and she wondered if he was taunting Lily in the same way he had taunted her. By all appearances, Lily was ignoring the man, just as she had.

  “May I please see Chris?” Danielle pleaded before returning to her spot by Lily. “Just for a few minutes, please?”

  The masked man shook his head. “No. Your friend is taking care of him.”

  “Please, can’t I just see him?” she begged.

  The masked man stared at her for a moment and then said, “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll talk to the boss. See what he says.”

  Danielle glanced over to the man still standing by Lily and wondered, Is that the boss?

  “Thank you. I would really appreciate that,” she said in a small voice.

&nbs
p; The man chuckled and then took Danielle by the arm and gave her a gentle shove in Lily’s direction. “I have to say you two are the most damned polite hostages.”

  After he re-secured Danielle’s shackle a few moments later, the masked kidnapper went to take Kelly to the bathroom. Instead of going with him, his English companion stayed by Lily and Danielle—both of whom were sitting side by side on the concrete floor.

  “If I could help you ladies get out of here, I would,” the man with the English accent said with a sigh.

  Danielle resisted the temptation to look up at him, but stared blankly at the bathroom doorway, which Kelly had just gone through. The man in the Bowler hadn’t spoken very loudly, so she doubted his companion had overheard what he had just said. She wondered, Maybe he isn’t the boss? She assumed he must have made the same improper comments to Lily, which would explain why her friend was doing her best to ignore the man.

  “I assume Chris is the one I saw in the bed—the one with his head all bandaged. I heard you ask about seeing him. Not sure what the point would be, he wouldn’t even know you’re there,” the man told Danielle.

  She reserved comment, yet sat quietly while the other man led her friends, one by one, to use the bathroom. The only one who wasn’t there to use it was Carol Ann, who remained with Chris—wherever that might be.

  “Looks like my friend is getting ready to leave,” the maskless man said as he watched his companion chain up the last hostage who had used the bathroom.

  With a sigh he turned from Danielle and Lily and started to the door, yet not before saying, “I do wish I could help you ladies.”

  After the two men left the building, shutting the door behind them, Danielle said, “Oh my god, what does this mean?”

  Wrinkling her brow, Lily turned to Danielle. “What does what mean?”

  “He didn’t have a mask on! We can identify him.”

  Confused, Lily glanced from Danielle to the door leading to the outside and then back to Danielle. “What are you talking about? He had a mask on. And I thought it was rather decent of him to put that damn thing on my other ankle. I figure that’s a good sign. He might be a kidnapper, but so far he doesn’t seem sadistic.”

  “I’m talking about the other guy!”

  “Other guy? What in the world are you talking about?” Again Lily glanced to the door and back to Danielle.

  “The guy in the suit with the Bowler hat. With the English accent!”

  Perplexed, Lily shook her head. “I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Danielle started to say something and then paused a moment and studied Lily’s questioning expression. Finally, she pointed to the door leading to the outside and asked, “Tell me, how many men just walked out that door a minute ago?”

  “How many men? Are you saying there was more than one?”

  “Are you telling me there wasn’t?” Danielle countered.

  “I saw one. The same guy who comes in here every couple of hours to check on us. Are you saying you saw someone else?”

  “I saw the guy who comes in here every few hours—and the guy who was with him.”

  “Guy that was with him?”

  “Are you trying to be funny, Lily? I’m really not in the mood to be messed with. You know exactly who I mean. He was wearing a suit, Bowler hat, and had an English…” Danielle stopped midsentence and studied Lily. She knew her friend well enough to know she hadn’t been messing with her.

  “If you’re saying you didn’t see him…and I did…that means…”

  Lily’s eyes widened. “There was a ghost here?”

  NINETEEN

  “We would be going home today,” Lily told Danielle the next morning when they woke up. It was the last Thursday in April.

  “I wonder if Walt has any idea about what’s going on?” Danielle sat up, rattling the chain hooked to the manacle securing her ankle. “Although I doubt it. If he did, I’m sure he would have come to me in a dream hop by now.”

  “I’m sure everyone back home knows our plane went missing, since we never arrived at the dude ranch. I suppose it’s possible Walt saw something on the news—he does like to watch TV,” Lily suggested. “Maybe he has tried a dream hop, but can’t get through for some reason. It’s not like either of us has gotten a decent night’s sleep.”

  They sat in silence for a moment. Lily finally asked, “So do you have any idea who the ghost was?”

  Danielle shook her head. “He was obviously British. And by what he was wearing, I’d have to say he died years ago…maybe the late 1800s.”

  “You think that could mean we’re not in the United States anymore?” Lily asked.

  “Why would you say that?”

  Lily shrugged. “We could be anywhere. Who knows where that pilot flew us to.”

  “But like the chief says, we’re probably in the desert, considering the evening temperature for this time of year.”

  “It just seems weird, a British ghost hanging around. Makes me wonder if we were flown out of the country.”

  “Lily, it’s not like people from the UK didn’t visit the US back in the late 1800s…” Danielle paused a moment and considered her words. “Was it called the UK back then?”

  Lily nodded. “Yeah. I remember a lecture from one of my college history classes. What I recall, what we know as the United Kingdom was formed around 1800, so I wouldn’t be surprised if it was called the UK by the end of that century.”

  “I wish I’d realized he was a ghost yesterday morning.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t stick around or come back to talk to you. Seems ghosts are always anxious to communicate with someone who can see and hear them.”

  “Yeah, but like I told you yesterday—I didn’t acknowledge his presence. I’m really regretting that now. He said he was willing to help us.”

  “He also thought you were hot,” Lily teased.

  Danielle rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, that. It freaked me out when I thought he was one of the kidnappers.”

  “But that’s a good thing—I mean him finding you attractive. Maybe he’ll come back to see you again. I know he’s a ghost, but he was a man once.”

  “If he does come back, the most I can hope for is finding out more about our kidnappers—or where they’re keeping us.”

  “Gee, Dani, why such low expectations? I was hoping we could use him to maybe steal the keys from our kidnappers so we can get out of this place.”

  Danielle shook her head. “I wish. But the fact is, if he’s wandering around, I don’t imagine he has any spare energy to move objects.”

  “But it is possible. I mean, perhaps he’s confined to this area—which would mean, like Walt, he’s capable of moving objects and helping us.”

  “Perhaps. But even if that’s true, unless he comes back in here, there’s no way for him to help us even if he can move objects.” Danielle reminded her.

  “WE CAN’T STAY HERE INDEFINITELY,” Clay told Sky as he paced the living room of the single-wide mobile home.

  Sky sat on the sofa, drinking a cup of coffee while watching his partner rant. “What do you suggest?”

  “I say we take what we can get and then get the hell out of here!” Clay told him. “This was supposed to be done with on Monday. We take them, get Glandon to transfer that money before anyone even knows they’re missing, and then we get the hell out of here.”

  Sky slammed his cup on the particle board table, sloshing lukewarm coffee on the already stained tabletop. “And whose fault is that?”

  “I have an idea,” Andy said as she entered the room. She had overheard their argument from the hallway.

  “I hope it’s a good one,” Sky muttered as he picked up his cup and took a swig.

  “We’ve been waiting for Chris to wake up—but that hasn’t happened.”

  “Tell us something we don’t know,” Clay snapped.

  “Shut up,” Sky told him.

  “What I’m suggesting, maybe we need to let Daniel
le come in here and talk to Chris.” She turned to Clay. “You told us she wanted to see him, right?”

  “Exactly how is that supposed to help us?” Clay asked.

  “I’ve heard stories of people who were in a coma and came out of it after someone they cared about talked to them—encouraged them. Maybe he needs a familiar voice to bring him out of it.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Clay flopped down in the easy chair.

  “What do we have to lose?” Sky asked. “We sure as hell can’t stay here indefinitely. The longer we stay here, the more our chances increase that we’ll be caught.”

  “That’s why I suggested we just cut our losses and take what we can get. What did Boatman say she had? Thirty grand? Hell of a lot better than what we’re getting out of Glandon,” Clay said.

  “At least try,” Andy urged. “Let her come see him. Give it one more night.”

  DANIELLE STOOD QUIETLY as one of her captors removed the blindfold. When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing at the foot of a bed—its occupant was Chris—who appeared to be sleeping, his head wrapped in a bloodied bandage.

  “Chris!” Danielle gasped, rushing to his side. She sat on the edge of the mattress and reached out to gently touch his face. He didn’t respond to her touch, yet she could tell he was breathing. She looked up to the man who had brought her to the room—the same man who came every day to let them use the bathroom.

  “Where is Carol Ann?” she asked.

  “We figured since you’re here with him, we’d let her go back with the others. She’s been nagging us to see her boyfriend. Maybe this’ll shut her up.”

  Danielle watched as he turned from her and walked toward the door. Just as he was about to leave the room, he paused and looked at her. “I’ll be in the hallway. And we have people outside those windows.” He pointed to the bedroom windows; they were covered with foil. “Stay away from the windows, and don’t try anything funny, or your little nurse friend won’t be able to take care of your boyfriend.” With that he walked out of the room, leaving Danielle alone.