Haunting Danielle 27 The Ghost and the Mountain Man

by Bobbi Holmes

  Kelly rolled her eyes and turned on the engine. “Was Beverly Klein the last woman Brian dated? If that’s true, we really need to get him out there again. Ginny would be perfect for him, and no, she did not murder her husband.”

  “Not that you know, anyway.” Joe snickered.

  Seven

  “You think he’s coming back today?” Chris asked.

  “I wish he would, and if he does, I’d like him to stay around long enough to explain his accusations against my father,” Walt said.

  “It’s always a little nerve-racking when they decide to pop in and out, and you don’t know why. Ultimately, the goal is to help them move on,” Danielle said.

  “He can move on after he tells me what I want to know,” Walt said.

  “He probably headed to the cemetery,” Chris said. “After all, that’s where Danielle told him your mother was.”

  “It was kind of the truth. But now that I think about it, I probably should have said something else, especially if we want him to come back,” Danielle said.

  “Why do you say that?” Walt asked.

  “If he goes to the cemetery and starts reading the headstones, he’s going to figure out it’s no longer 1904,” Danielle said.

  “And he might decide to move on?” Walt asked.

  “Not necessarily,” Chris said. “He’ll still be confused, and he obviously assumes you’re your father.”

  “I should go to him,” Walt suggested.

  “To the cemetery?” Danielle asked.

  “Yes, if that’s where he is. I see no reason to draw this out. If he’s looking for my mother, he might be ready to talk to me as opposed to making demands and then disappearing,” Walt said.

  “He has a point,” Chris said. “And like you suggested, reading those headstones will help anchor him in the here and now, which might make him more amendable.”

  “And I should go alone.” Walt stood up.

  “Why?” Danielle asked.

  “Because he might be less distracted if it’s just me,” Walt said. “And less likely to disappear before he tells me what I want to know.”

  After Walt left for the cemetery, Danielle called Lily and told her she could send Evan back over to Marlow House if she wanted. Danielle didn’t think the ghost would be returning. Since Connor was ready for a nap, Lily agreed it was probably a good time for Evan to go back to Walt and Danielle’s.

  “Did he show up?” Evan asked Lily as he prepared to go to Marlow House.

  “Yes, only briefly. But they want to talk to him some more, so Walt left for the cemetery,” Lily explained.

  “Why did he go to the cemetery?” Evan asked.

  “I guess after he left Marlow House, he headed down there. Isn’t that where ghosts often go?” Lily asked.

  “Oh gee, so I probably won’t see him again,” Evan grumbled.

  “You want to see him again?” Lily asked with a grin.

  Evan shrugged. “Kinda. Ghosts don’t really scare me anymore. Eva said they can’t really hurt me. The universe wouldn’t let them.”

  Lily’s grin broadened. “Well, that’s good to know. I’m going to watch you cross the street, okay?”

  “Sheesh, Lily, I’m not a baby anymore,” Evan reminded her.

  Lily laughed. “Yeah, I know. But humor me.”

  Evan stood on the sidewalk across the street and waved goodbye to Lily. A moment later he entered the front gate to Marlow House. When he looked back across the street, he saw Lily had gone into her house. He continued to the front door, and just as he was about to ring the doorbell, the mountain man’s apparition appeared.

  “Are you one of Walt’s friends?” the ghost asked.

  Evan’s eyes widened as he took in the sight.

  “I saw you here earlier. You were with that police officer.”

  “That’s my dad,” Evan said.

  The ghost looked Evan up and down and then asked, “Aren’t you a little old to be playing with Walt?”

  Evan giggled.

  “What’s so funny?” the ghost asked.

  “I thought you were at the cemetery.”

  “Why did you think that?” the ghost asked, his voice less friendly.

  Evan shrugged. “Lily said Walt went down there to talk to you.”

  “Why would Walt want to talk to me? I don’t want to get him involved in this. It’s not his fault. He’s just a little boy.”

  Evan studied the ghost for a moment, remembering how the ghost was supposedly someone who knew Walt’s parents.

  “Do you know how old Walt is?” Evan asked.

  The ghost shrugged. “Five, maybe six. You don’t know? I thought you were one of his friends.”

  “Walt’s a friend of mine,” Evan said proudly.

  “My business is with Walt’s dad. Have you seen him?”

  “Why do you want to talk to him?” Evan asked.

  “I don’t really think it’s something you need to get involved with. But why did you say Walt went to the cemetery to see me?”

  Evan didn’t answer immediately. Finally, he said, “I think I meant Walt’s dad, not Walt.”

  The ghost frowned. “That woman in the house said Walt’s mom was at the cemetery. Do you know why they would be down there?”

  “I don’t know. But I bet if you go there, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

  The ghost did not respond. Instead, he stared at Evan and then disappeared.

  Startled by the spirit’s abrupt departure, Evan glanced around. Pleased with himself for how he had handled the ghost on his own, he grinned and rang the doorbell.

  Walt stood at the foot of his grave, reading the inscription on his headstone. How many men could look down at the grave holding the remains of their body? Only a spirit of a man, he told himself. Yet here he, a living, breathing man, looked down at his own grave. He glanced briefly at the horseshoe scar along his wrist, thinking how Clint’s body hadn’t had that scar. It had been a scar on his original body—the body buried in the grave he stood before.

  Shaking his head at the thought, he looked over to Angela’s gravesite and wondered what happened to her after finally moving to the other side. He glanced around, seeing no living people or any spirits in sight. He had already walked through the cemetery once, and if the mountain man had come here, perhaps he had since moved on.

  With a sigh, Walt left his graveside and walked to the Marlow crypt. Standing before it a moment later, he reached out and gently brushed his fingertips over the inscription. He remembered when his parents had been laid to rest here.

  When his grandmother had passed away, her viewing had been in the library at Marlow House prior to the funeral. There had not been a similar viewing for his parents. Theirs had been closed caskets. At the time he hadn’t understood, and he wanted his grandfather to open the caskets so he could say goodbye. After all, he had been with his friend George Hemming at George’s aunt’s viewing to say goodbye. Yet the real reason Walt wanted his grandfather to open the caskets, he refused to believe his parents were really inside.

  For several years Walt held onto that misguided notion, fueled by guilt that the tantrum he had thrown the last time he saw his mother was the reason for his parents leaving him. Yet as he grew older, he came to understand the true reason for the closed caskets—the fire.

  “Alex, you’re here,” a voice said from behind him.

  Walt turned around abruptly and came face-to-face with the mountain man. Like the first time Walt had seen him, he held a rifle.

  “Are you planning to shoot me?” Walt asked calmly.

  “I should,” he retorted. “Where is Anna?”

  “We need to talk,” Walt said calmly. “Please, no matter what I say, don’t leave.”

  “Now you want to talk?” he snapped.

  “I’m not Alex,” Walt began.

  The ghost raised his rifle and pointed it at Walt. “I am tired of your games.”

  “You want to know where Anna is? She’s here. W
ith Alex.” Walt turned around and touched the face of the crypt. He then stepped aside so the ghost could see the inscription. “Go ahead, read it. You can read, can’t you?”

  “Of course I can!” the ghost snapped and then moved closer to the crypt and began reading just the names. His hand holding the rifle fell to his side, but he continued to clutch the weapon. Frowning in confusion, he looked from the names engraved in stone to Walt. “What is this?”

  “My name is Walt Marlow. Alex and Anna were my parents. They have been dead a very long time.”

  “You can’t be Walt. Walt is a little boy.”

  “That little boy grew up,” Walt said.

  The spirit shook his head. “No. That is impossible. You’re Alex. You’re just trying to confuse me.”

  “Then look around at the other graves. When asked what year it is, you said it was 1904. Pay attention to the dates, especially in the newer section of the cemetery. But please, after you look around, don’t leave. I need to know why you are looking for my parents. Why you are so angry with my parents.”

  The ghost scowled at Walt. “I’m not angry with Anna. But she deserves to know the truth.”

  “What truth?” Walt asked.

  Instead of answering the question, the ghost moved to a nearby headstone. He read it and then moved to another and then another. Walt followed him. But when the ghost stopped in front of Walt’s grave, he froze. Looking from the headstone to Walt, he said, “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t consider that,” Walt muttered under his breath.

  “What’s going on?” the ghost demanded.

  “I think you know part of it,” Walt said.

  The ghost shook his head in confusion.

  “I know… shoot me,” Walt suggested.

  “What?”

  “Go ahead, shoot me. But after you do, don’t leave,” Walt said.

  Taking Walt up on his offer, the frustrated spirit raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. Bullets flew from the rifle and moved through Walt and then disappeared.

  Still staring at Walt, he lowered the rifle and said, “You’re a ghost? They’re all dead. That’s what you are trying to tell me.”

  “Drop the rifle,” Walt said in a calm voice. “And watch it. See what happens.”

  The ghost let go of the rifle and looked down. It fell to the ground and disappeared.

  “Tarnation, I’m dead too,” the ghost muttered.

  “Be honest with yourself. Part of you always knew, didn’t you?” Walt asked. “You’re not really that surprised, are you?”

  The ghost looked up to Walt. “Are you really Walt Marlow?”

  “Yes. Now tell me, why are you so angry with my father?”

  “You were such a bright boy. Your father was so proud of you,” the ghost said. “It’s why I never understood how he could do something like that. Not the way he loved you. And the way I thought he loved Anna.”

  “What did my father do?” Walt asked.

  The ghost stared at Walt for a moment and then laughed.

  Startled by the laughter, Walt frowned. “What is so funny?”

  “You asked what your father did? Apparently more than I realized. He succeeded. All this time I thought he’d failed, but he didn’t, did he?”

  “What are you talking about?” Walt asked.

  “Your father. He killed me. See, here’s the proof!” The ghost gave a slight bow before disappearing.

  “No!” Walt cried out. “Come back!”

  Eight

  “Sounds like Evan had an eventful day,” the chief said. He had arrived at Marlow House fifteen minutes earlier to pick up his son, only to find the boy had fallen asleep in the living room while watching television. They let Evan sleep while they sat in the parlor. Danielle had just finished recapping their day for the chief.

  “Times like this I really regret that fire downtown,” Danielle said, referring to a fire that had taken place almost eighty years earlier and had burned down the offices of the local newspaper, along with its back issues.

  “Why do you say that?” the chief asked.

  “There’s a good chance the ghost has moved on. And if we can’t figure out who he is, I don’t think we’ll ever know why he believes Walt’s dad is responsible for his death.”

  “My father isn’t responsible,” Walt insisted.

  “But if we could go through old newspapers during that period, we might figure out who he is. Or what was going on in 1904. I suppose we could check out back issues of other Oregon newspapers, but I feel we’d have better luck looking at back copies of the local paper. And the museum’s collection of newspapers prior to 1940 is limited,” Danielle said.

  “I guess you didn’t hear about Ginny Thomas’s recent donation to the museum,” the chief said.

  “Who?” Danielle frowned.

  “Ginny Thomas. I imagine Walt knew her ancestors.” The chief paused a moment and flashed Walt a grin.

  “Thomas?” Walt frowned.

  “Actually, Thomas was Ginny’s husband’s name. Neither of them ever lived in Frederickport, but her cousin lived in a house she inherited from their grandparents. And Ginny recently inherited it from her cousin. She’s a widow, and she moved into the house not long ago,” the chief explained.

  “What about a donation to the museum?” Danielle asked.

  “When going through the attic of the house she inherited, she found stacks and stacks of back issues of the Frederickport Press, going back to the very first edition.”

  “Wow, seriously?” Danielle asked.

  “She wanted to clean out the attic, and when she realized how old they were, she donated them to the museum. I guess you don’t listen to Kelly’s podcast.”

  “What does Kelly’s podcast have to do with her?” Danielle asked.

  “She interviewed Ginny. It was an interesting podcast. You should listen to it,” the chief suggested.

  “Are the newspapers at the museum already?” Walt asked.

  “I would assume so. According to the interview, this donation means the museum will finally have a complete collection of all past issues of the Frederickport Press,” the chief explained.

  “I imagine they’ll get them bound first,” Danielle said. “Like all the other ones they have.”

  “Oh yes, they said something about that,” the chief said.

  Danielle looked at Walt. “The museum is open in the afternoon tomorrow; you want to stop by? It’s possible the newspapers are there.”

  He hadn’t lied to Kelly. Brian intended to stay home tonight and watch television after picking up some take-out food from Beach Taco. But now, as he sat in his car in front of the restaurant, about to place his order, the idea of eating alone did not sound appealing. Instead of opening his car door, he picked up his cellphone and placed a call.

  “Brian?” came the now familiar voice on the other side of the call.

  Leaning back in the car seat with the cellphone to his ear and a new smile on his face, Brian asked, “What are you doing?”

  “Gee, I expected you to ask what I’m wearing.”

  Brian laughed. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No, I haven’t even thought about it. I’ve been on the computer for the last hour doing some online sleuthing.”

  “What’s up?” Brian asked.

  “Remember that ghost who shot at us in the mountains?” Heather asked.

  “I remember you telling me about him shooting at us. I couldn’t actually see him.”

  “He’s here.”

  “What do you mean he’s here?” Brian asked.

  “Seriously? You can’t understand a simple two-word sentence: he’s here.”

  “He’s in your house?” Brian asked.

  “Really, Brian? No, he’s here in Frederickport. I ran into him while jogging.”

  “That is your thing,” he snarked.

  “A ghost is not the same thing as a dead body. But yeah, I see what you mean.”

  “Why is he
here?” Brian asked. “Is that a normal thing for a ghost? Is he following you?”

  “It’s sort of a long story.”

  “Do you want tacos?” Brian asked.

  “Tacos?”

  “I’m parked in front of Beach Taco, about to get something to eat,” Brian began.

  “And you just decided to call me?”

  “I thought maybe you’d want some tacos.”

  “Were you just planning to drop them off and leave?” she asked.

  Brian laughed. “Not exactly.”

  “Tacos sound kind of good. I’ll tell you about the ghost while we eat.”

  Kelly and Joe intended to eat at home on Saturday night, since they had gone out to eat at Pearl Cove the night before. But when Lily called Kelly to tell her they had found her checkbook in the hallway—it had obviously fallen out of her purse when she had been at their house that afternoon—Joe offered to drive Kelly over to pick it up, and since they were going out anyway, they might as well get some takeout.

  Kelly thought tacos sounded good, and since they both wanted to beat the Saturday night rush at Beach Taco, they picked up their food before stopping by Lily and Ian’s. They drove up to the restaurant just as Brian pulled out of the parking lot.

  “I guess Brian had the same idea as us,” Joe said.

  “I wonder where he’s going,” Kelly asked, craning her neck to see Brian as Joe pulled into the parking lot. While they had spotted Brian, it didn’t look as if he had seen them.

  Joe shrugged. “I would assume home.”

  “But he’s going the wrong way,” Kelly muttered.

  Twenty minutes later, as they drove up Beach Drive on their way to Lily and Ian’s, Kelly shouted, “Stop!”

  Startled by Kelly’s outburst, Joe slammed on the brakes. Now parked in the middle of the street, he glared at Kelly. “Why did you do that?”

  “You missed it,” Kelly said, staring across the street at Heather’s house.

  Joe looked across the street. “Missed what?”

  “Brian, he’s at Heather’s. I saw him in the window just before someone closed the blinds.”