I sucked in a breath, feeling a chill seeping into my chest. “Oh, that’s not good.”
“I’m afraid to go home. I may have to rent a room at the motel.”
“Is there anyone you can call, the landlord, someone to help?”
“I suppose, but I don’t want to make a huge deal out of this. You’re sure no one else ever had stories about that house?” Ms. Wilson straightened up as the principal walked by, giving him a tight smile. “Wait here a moment,” she told me, then ducked into the staff lounge.
I passed the time looking out the windows to the courtyard. They overlooked a few bare birch trees huddled in a corner. I didn’t see any ravens, which was a plus.
Ms. Wilson returned a minute later with her water bottle.
“What’re you going to do?”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll get a room at the Pioneer Inn.” She lifted her chin and tugged at the hem of her sweater, trying to smooth it.
“Did you pack things for a motel stay?”
“No, I got out of there as fast as I could. The place gave me the creeps.”
I felt bad for her. She really did look scared. “I’ll go check out your house with you, if you need me to.”
“Don’t be silly. I could ask a colleague or…” Her eyes clouded. “No, I don’t want them gossiping. Teachers do that too, you know,” she added with an embarrassed smile.
“I’ll meet you there after school. No one will have to know. At least you can grab your essentials if you’re too afraid to keep staying there.”
“I have Butch in the car,” she said, sniffling. “He’s my only essential.”
“Oh, I’ll bring my boyfriend Morgan with me. Just so we’ll feel safe in case it’s not a ghost or whatever. We had plans before my shift at the coffee shop later.”
She looked panicked for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, fine. Thanks, Lily.”
I texted Morgan between my next classes, making sure he was feeling up to ghost-busting with me. I was really curious to see the damage Millicent had supposedly done.
***
“You sure you’re up to this?” I tucked a strand of Morgan’s longish hair behind his ears. He smelled like forest and musk and a hint of citrusy cologne. The smoky residue from the fire was mostly gone, but I didn’t trust that he was one hundred percent okay.
“I don’t want you going in Ms. Wilson’s house alone.” His voice was a tad hoarse. “Not after your vision in the woods.”
“Thank you.” I kissed him gently before we climbed out of the truck.
“So you’re the boyfriend,” Ms. Wilson said, giving Morgan the once-over as we approached. Her eyelashes fluttered a little, which made me want to squeeze Morgan closer. Yes, he was cute, but he wasn’t up for ogling. “You’re the one who saved Bob Murphy last night,” she added. “The whole town’s talking about you.”
“Morgan McAllister.” He extended his hand to Ms. Wilson. “A pleasure. Now, let’s go see what’s happened.”
She beamed at him as she shook his hand. “It’s right this way.”
We both followed Ms. Wilson up the walkway, but at the threshold, she stepped back and let Morgan enter first.
Behind us, in Ms. Wilson’s Volkswagen Beetle, Butch howled and scratched at the window with his front paws. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or just mad at being cooped up.
“Oh, he does that,” Ms. Wilson said, catching my concerned glance. “He’ll settle down in a moment.”
“Maybe he’s afraid of ghosts,” I replied. “Animals can be quite sensitive to the paranormal.”
“You believe that?” Ms. Wilson turned and put a hand on the door frame, studying me.
“Sure, isn’t that in your animal research? I mean, the birds.” I gestured toward the iron fence, where a raven sat preening its feathers.
“Of course. You’re right,” she said, her voice trailing away.
Inside, the destruction looked even worse than the photographs she’d shown me. We paused in the living room, glancing down at the mess on the floor, books, magazines, little art objects. The place had been so nice for the party on Saturday night, put together, decorated, like Ms. Wilson. Now, she and the room shared the same disheveled appearance. Surveying the mess, she actually looked like she was on the verge of crying.
“It’s the whole house?” Morgan said from the dining room.
Ms. Wilson straightened, and then cleared her throat. “This is the worst of it.”
I followed her through the other rooms off the hallway. Papers and books were strewn on the floor of the office, but the bulletin boards were untouched. In the bathroom, nothing seemed out of place.
As we moved back down the hallway, I pointed toward the staircase. “Upstairs?”
“Oh, um, no,” Ms. Wilson mumbled.
I frowned. She’d come home to change, but hadn’t made it that far before she’d run. How would she know if there’d been damage or not?
“I’ll check to be sure,” Morgan said, charging up the stairs before she could stop him.
Meanwhile, I entered the kitchen. It smelled sweet. The refrigerator door was open, and some bagged vegetables and a few yogurts had spilled out onto the tile floor. Cabinet doors were opened, a glass smashed in the porcelain farmer sink. To me it almost looked like someone’s idea of a destructive prank. Someone who’d known Ms. Wilson would be away at school that morning.
“Maybe this is how whoever it was got in,” I said, gesturing toward the open kitchen window, the ruffled curtains swaying in the breeze. I turned back to see Ms. Wilson standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself.
“No. I told you. This was a paranormal event,” she said in a shaky voice, pointing at the table. “I have proof.”
I stepped closer, finding the source of the sweet smell—a bag of sugar gutted on the kitchen table. The granules had been spread to create a sand display where someone had scrawled one word:
Scram
“Uh…” My feet moved me back from the table. “Well, that’s freaky.”
“Have you found something?” Morgan called as he approached. “ ‘Scram’?”
“It means ‘Get out,’ ” Ms. Wilson said, rubbing her arms like she was suddenly freezing.
I nodded. “If you were alive, say, in the 1950s.”
“Right.” Morgan peered down at the piles of sugar, studying the finger stroke of the writing.
“Microscopic ghost residue? Don’t you need an electromagnetism meter or something?” I asked, halfway kidding, but Morgan seemed to take me seriously.
“No, love. Wondering if we might call your father on this one. Do you have any security cameras set up, Ms. Wilson?”
“No, I uh… This house isn’t wired for that,” she said.
Morgan stepped back, taking in the whole scene of the kitchen. “Lily’s right—someone could’ve entered through the window. Someone trying to frighten you.”
I nodded. “Dad could pull prints from the frame.”
“But this message sure seems to fit with Millicent.” Ms. Wilson glanced around the kitchen with what seemed like dismay at the mess. The color had come back into her face. She seemed calmer. “Well, maybe I’m supposed to co-exist with a ghost. Maybe this is part of living in this house.”
“But what if it was a break-in? It’s not safe to stay here!” I said.
Ms. Wilson gave out a little laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe I was being silly. I should just clean all this up. I don’t feel as scared now.”
“If someone did break in, we can call my father, have him come by,” I offered again.
“Oh, I don’t want to bother the police with this. I’ll contact my landlord, Frank Williams, ask him about getting a security system installed,” Ms. Wilson said quickly.
“Well, Deputy Mac is his son, so he’s gonna find out about this prank or activity or whatever.”
“Oh, yes. That’s right.” Ms. Wilson sighed, then motioned toward the front of the house. “I should let Butch out of the car
now. Get this place cleaned up so it’s livable again.”
“Wait—so you’re willing to stay here?” Morgan asked.
“I think so.” An embarrassed smile surfaced on Ms. Wilson’s lips. “I was probably just being paranoid. I have Butch to protect me.”
“Sure,” I murmured, shaking my head.
Morgan whispered we should be going. I did have to get to work, so I agreed, even though I felt a little unsettled about Ms. Wilson’s change of heart about the ghost. She thanked us as she showed us out. Then she let Butch out of her car. The corgi jetted right to Morgan, sniffed him for a couple seconds, then barked at me.
Ms. Wilson whistled for him and he rushed up the steps into the house, seeming not to hesitate at all on the threshold. That seemed weird. If I were a dog, I’d probably sense that something odd had happened. But Butch ran right inside, tail wagging and nose in the air.
Morgan and I shared a look. Something wasn’t right about this so-called ghost event. I’d seen the ghost in question, at least in a vision. She’d been murdered in cold blood. If there was unfinished business to complete, it had to be about her death. Making a mess and trying to scare a tenant in a house where she once lived didn’t seem like Millicent’s style. I thought I knew what Millicent would do if she were trying to get someone’s attention. She’d send her ravens.
So maybe someone had broken in. Maybe they were pranking Ms. Wilson, or maybe it was something else. Maybe they wanted to see what was pinned to that board in her office. Or search her house for the missing town records that hadn’t been at the auto shop. Could this have been wolves?
The thought must have occurred to Morgan too. He cleared his throat as we pulled away from Ms. Wilson’s house and asked, “What did you say she dressed as at the Harvest Festival?”
“Little Red Riding Hood,” I said slowly.
Chapter Six
“Hey, there you are. Oh, Morgan! How are you feeling?” Maggie greeted us as we entered Pioneer Perk a little while later.
“Better, dear Maggie, now that I see your smiling face.”
She slid a cup of drip across the counter to him. “On the house for the hero.”
Morgan smiled. “No hero here. I did what anyone would have.”
“I don’t think most folks would’ve raced into a burning building for a near stranger.” Maggie gave him a wink and then grabbed a blueberry scone out of the bakery case and popped it into the toaster oven. “I’ll have this ready for you in a second.”
“I’ll need it to go. I promised Cooper I’d meet him to go over some projects,” Morgan said, accepting the cup of coffee.
“Don’t you think you should take it easy?” I asked him.
“I’m fine, I assure you. Fit for all jobs, including ghost-busting.”
“Ha.” I kissed him on the cheek and went to hang up my coat in the back. Once I was washed up, I tied my red apron over my jeans and sweater and headed out front.
Near the counter, Morgan was surrounded by a small crowd of women. He shot me a look like a drowning man searching for a lifeboat.
“Bob says to thank you,” said a woman in a gray wool coat and striped scarf. “I’m his wife, Flo. He’ll be home in a couple days, thanks to you and the fire department.”
“Glad to hear it,” Morgan said, smiling and nodding.
“Maybe you’d want to stop by the hospital and see him,” she continued. “He’d love to thank you in person.”
“Oh, perhaps.” Morgan sent me another one of those desperate glances.
That was my cue to say, “Hey, ladies. Could I get some drinks started for you?”
A couple of the women stepped toward me to put in their orders.
Meanwhile, Maggie came out from behind the counter with Morgan’s heated-up scone in a paper sack. “Didn’t figure you’d have a fan club,” she whispered as she handed it to him.
“Oh, wait. Let me take care of his bill,” Mrs. Murphy exclaimed.
“It’s already paid,” Maggie said, putting her arm around Mrs. Murphy’s shoulders. “Now, what can I get you, Flo? You had a terrible night, too.”
Morgan still looked super uncomfortable. I paused in my order-taking to beckon him over. Then I leaned across the counter and kissed him on the cheek. “Go see Cooper. I’ll catch up with you later. Remember to take it easy.”
“I will, and please thank your father for the hospitality when you see him,” Morgan said, then kissed me before heading for the door.
I’d tell Dad that, sure. But I was also going to tell him about Ms. Wilson’s supposed ghost activity. If it had been a break-in, maybe the next visitation wasn’t going to be so benign. If someone believed Ms. Wilson was on the side of the hunters, she might end up hurt like Bob, or worse.
***
Waiting for me when I got home that night was some trig homework and a Henry James novel we were reading in A.P. English. But first, I figured I’d take a quick look through the photo file from Alicia while I heated up spaghetti in the microwave.
“Hey, there’s salad, too,” Fawn said, coming into the kitchen. She stretched and yawned, then checked her phone when it dinged with a text. She fired off a response and then pulled a container from the fridge.
“Salad? Spaghetti at nine o’clock already seems weird.”
“You didn’t eat with Morgan?” Dad said, calling out from the hallway.
“No, he was tired and had to go meet Cooper. He texted me that someone in town dropped off a casserole for him at Maggie’s. You want a plate, Dad?”
“Thanks, but I ate at the station,” he said, coming in and leaning over me at the table, looking over my shoulder. When I got up to get my food from the microwave, he took over scrolling through pictures.
“Alicia was the only official newspaper photographer there.” I set the plate on the table and went to the cabinet to get the shaker of dried parmesan.
Fawn squinched up her nose at me as I passed. “You know that’s nothing like actual fresh grated Parmigiano Reggiano.”
“You better start saving your pennies if you want the fancy stuff,” Dad said, looking up to shake his head at Fawn. I stifled a laugh.
“Kidding, geez,” Fawn said and then put the salad container back in the refrigerator.
Lately, Dad had been giving Fawn some of the sass right back. She’d bugged him enough times about getting “authentic” ingredients so she could start experimenting more with her cooking. Sometime soon he’d cave and let the girls get part-time jobs, if for no other reason than for Fawn to know the true cost of truffles and smoked sea salt.
“Where’s Rose?” I asked.
“Upstairs studying.” Fawn’s phone dinged with another text, and she wandered off toward the living room as she read it.
Before I dug into my reheated pasta, I filled Dad in on the day’s events, including Ms. Wilson’s ghostly disturbance and Morgan’s fan club at the coffee shop.
“Bob Murphy’s able to talk now, though he hasn’t given a full statement,” Dad said, clicking through more images.
“I’m glad he’s going to be all right, no matter if he is a hunter.”
“Well, it sure seems like the fire was deliberately set. Fire department had its arson investigator poking around today.” Dad paused on a pet parade crowd shot, zooming in on a few spots, trying to see better detail.
“Maybe Bowman gave Bob the records for safekeeping. Whoever set the fire at the auto shop had to be looking for them.”
“Saving them before the place went up in smoke?” Dad said, connecting my dots.
“Right! A wolf set that fire. Ezra’s pack or that extra muscle he brought in.”
Dad sighed and slid the laptop back toward me. “I’m not sure what Cooper thought he saw in the parking lot, but I’ve been by the bowling alley and through Still Creek earlier today,” he said. “I didn’t see any rough-looking wolves hanging out in town. They might’ve been passing through.”
Dad got up and got a beer from the fridge. He opened it a
nd then sat back down. I took a few more bites of pasta. It tasted pretty good, even without the fancy parmesan.
“The sheriff’s going to be anxious to make an arrest in this arson. But if it was a wolf, I don’t see how I could bring him in without exposing his secret. Imagine being stuck in a jail on the full moon. That’s only a couple weeks off.”
I shuddered. “What about the break-in at Ms. Wilson’s house?”
“So you think it was an actual ghost, Lily?” Dad gave me his cop look—waiting for me to disprove his skepticism.
“Well, she is suggestible. Living in a murder victim’s house, already fascinated by weird stuff. But there is a spirit around. You believe I saw that vision, right?”
“A vision like an imprinted memory, energy trapped in time, is one thing. A full-blown poltergeist is another,” he said, scratching at the label on his beer. “My money would still be on a break-in. Kids or something. ‘Scram’? That’s not exactly hard proof of the afterlife.”
“What if Ezra thought she had something to do with the hunters? Morgan thought that was a possibility. I mean, Ms. Wilson dressed as Little Red Riding Hood…”
Dad nodded. “I remember.”
“You saw her?”
“She’s a pretty gal,” Dad said, adding a little wink. “Hard to miss.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sheesh, Dad. She wasn’t trying to tempt a wolf? Or tell us something?”
“She teaches English. A storybook character isn’t a stretch,” Dad replied, giving a one-shoulder shrug.
“What about the way she’s always dripping in silver jewelry? Protection from wolves and vampires alike.”
Dad set down his beer and scratched at his elbow. “Some people prefer it over gold. You can’t go jumping to conclusions.”
“But the ravens, don’t forget the ravens,” Rose interrupted, strolling into the kitchen with an empty popcorn bowl. “There is something weird with them. I saw them in our yard earlier, even before Lily got home from work.”
A Light So Cruel (Pioneer Falls Book 3) Page 6