“Evan, it’s going to be okay. I think you should go home, and we’ll work this all out in a dream hop. Open the door and come out,” Walt told him.
In the next instant Evan pushed open the closet door at the same time Wilson gave it another jerk, sending the special agent flying across the room into the dresser.
TEN
Slender and tall for his age, with delicate features, Evan sat on the parlor sofa, his brown eyes wide as Brian Henderson knelt before him. The two FBI agents hovered in the background, listening. By his side sat Walt, who flashed him reassuring smiles and an occasional wink, telling him everything was going to be okay.
“Why did you come here?” Brian asked for the second time.
Evan glanced at Walt, unsure how to answer.
Walt shrugged. “Tell him you were looking for your dad. You’re six, you can get away with an excuse like that.”
Evan frowned, but he said it anyway. “I was looking for my dad.”
“Why did you think he would be here?” Brian asked.
Again Evan glanced at Walt.
With a wave of his hand Walt summoned a lit cigar. He took a puff and said, “Tell him you dreamt he was here. More believable than the truth.”
“Notice how the kid keeps looking toward the door?” Wilson whispered to his partner as Evan continued to answer Brian’s questions.
“Yeah, I noticed that too,” Thomas whispered back.
Wilson sniffed the air. “I smell it again, cigar smoke. Someone else is here.”
“We already looked through the house. No one else is here,” Thomas said. “Remember, it’s just how this creepy place smells.”
Abruptly, Wilson stepped forward and threw a question at Evan. “Did someone tell you to come here?”
He didn’t need to ask Walt for help on this one. “No. It was my idea.” That was the truth.
“Why were you hiding?” Wilson asked.
Evan shrugged. “I didn’t want to get in trouble.”
“Not a bad answer,” Walt said with a smile as he took another puff.
“My dad’s alive,” Evan blurted out. “I know you think the plane crashed and he’s not coming home. But he’s alive.”
Walt cringed and took another puff.
Wilson asked in a serious tone, “How do you know that?”
Again, Evan glanced over to Walt.
“Stick to the dream story. And if you think about it, you’re actually telling the truth—in a way. But it was Lily’s dream—so to speak—not yours.”
“I dreamt about it.”
“Ask him what they know so far,” Walt told Evan. “I want to know what’s going on with the search—assuming there is one.”
“Are you looking for my dad?”
“Yes.” Wilson smiled.
Brian stood up. “I’m going to take Evan back to his aunt now.”
“Hold your ground, kid. Refuse to budge until they give you some answers,” Walt told him.
Grabbing hold of the sofa’s arm, Evan held on tightly and looked up at Special Agent Wilson. “I’m not going until I find out what you know about my dad,” he said stubbornly.
“You just need to go with Officer Henderson here, and we’ll handle things,” Wilson instructed.
“No!” Evan said stubbornly.
“Tell them you have a right to know,” Walt told him.
“I have a right to know!”
“Whoa, Evan, calm down. Your dad would not like you talking to an adult like that,” Brian chastised.
Evan glared at Brian. “You don’t know what my dad would want.”
Agent Thomas spoke up, his voice calm and soothing. “We think your father’s plane was hijacked.”
Evan looked at Thomas. “Hijacked?”
Thomas walked to Evan and took a place on the sofa—unfortunately it was Walt’s place. Moving from where he had been sitting, Walt grumbled under his breath, but he didn’t retaliate, considering Thomas’s kind tone toward the boy and the fact he seemed to be willing to tell Evan what was going on.
“Do you know what that means?” Thomas asked.
Evan shook his head.
“The pilot they hired wasn’t the one flying the plane that day. And we think whoever was flying the plane took it somewhere else.” Thomas withheld the part about a witness seeing the plane go down.
“Ask them how they know that,” Walt told him.
“How do you know that?” Evan asked.
Thomas glanced over at Brian and Wilson and then back to Evan. “Because we talked to the pilot they hired.”
“From what I understand, the pilot owned the plane,” Walt murmured. “Ask them what the pilot told them.”
“What did the pilot tell you?”
“We found the man who was supposed to be flying the plane, tied up in an abandoned building. He’s okay, so that’s a good sign. We think whoever was flying that plane might have your dad and the rest of them,” Thomas explained.
“Has anyone asked for a ransom?” Walt asked.
Evan looked at Walt, confused.
“Ask him if anyone has asked for money,” Walt restated.
Evan looked back at Thomas. “Has anyone asked for money?”
“No. Not yet. But that’s why we need you to go back to your aunt’s house. We need to keep you safe while we figure this all out. And if a stranger approaches you—or even if someone you know tries to get you to leave with them without your aunt’s permission, you need to tell your aunt immediately,” Thomas told him.
“Go with Officer Henderson, Evan,” Walt said gently. “After you go to sleep tonight, I’ll come see you. I’ll let you know if I find out anything about your dad. But this is a good thing. They’re looking for the plane.”
EVAN WAS JUST about to get into the backseat of Brian’s police car when he looked up to the attic window and saw Walt standing by the spotting scope, looking down at him. Without thought, Evan raised his hand and waved goodbye to Walt.
Brian glanced up to the attic window, half expecting to see Max sitting on the windowsill or Sadie looking down at them. But there was no one at the window. With a frown, he looked down at Evan while opening the car door for him.
“What were you waving at?”
“Walt,” Evan said as he climbed into the car.
Brian glanced back at the attic window. “Walt?”
“I’m hungry. I hope Aunt Sissy will let me have something to eat.”
With a shake of his head, Brian dismissed the boy’s odd comment and slammed the door shut.
WALT STOOD at the window and watched the police car and dark sedan drive away. Alone in Marlow House again save for Max and Sadie, he walked over to the sofa bed and sat down. Closing his eyes, he leaned back and thought of Danielle. Imagining her sleeping, he focused his attention on her—attempting to enter her dream.
After ten minutes with no results, he turned his attention to Lily. Minutes went by—still no results. He then tried Chris, and after Chris, he focused on Evan’s father, Police Chief MacDonald. Finding none of them sleeping—which he assumed must be the case—he decided to work on one of the other passengers. While they would just assume it was a dream, Walt hoped to glean some useful information. He would try Ian first. Between Ian, Joe, and Kelly, it was Ian Walt was most familiar with.
IAN OPENED his eyes and found himself sitting on the sofa in the library at Marlow House. He didn’t remember the sofa being this hard. It felt as if he were sitting on a rock. Danielle needs to get a new couch, Ian thought as he tried to make himself more comfortable.
“Hello, Ian,” Walt greeted him. He stood beside the life-size portraits of himself and his late wife.
Ian turned to the voice and found himself looking at a man who bore an uncanny resemblance to the man in the portrait. “You look just like Walt Marlow!”
“That’s probably because I am Walt Marlow.” Walt smiled and walked to the chair facing the sofa and sat down.
“That’s impossible. Walt Marlow�
��s been dead for almost a hundred years.”
“Not so impossible considering this is a dream.”
Ian frowned and looked around. “This doesn’t feel like a dream.”
“Why don’t you tell me about the trip you’re on. I understand Chris rented a charter plane. But I don’t think you ended up where you were supposed to go, did you?”
Ian groaned. “Damn, this is a dream.” Leaning his head back against the sofa, he closed his eyes. “Why did you have to ask me about the trip? It would have been nice to escape into a dream—at least for a while.”
“What happened?” Walt asked.
“Why doesn’t this feel like a regular dream? Weird.”
“Where did they take you? Is everyone okay?”
Opening his eyes, Ian looked at Walt. “I wish I knew. I really do. I’m worried about Chris.”
“What about Chris?”
“He’s pretty bad. God, I hope he makes it.” Ian closed his eyes again.
“Tell me where you are?” Walt asked.
Ian looked up at Walt and smiled. “I’m in the library at Marlow House.”
“You’re dreaming. We just talked about that. But when you wake up, where will you be?”
Ian shrugged. “Sleeping on a concrete floor in some old warehouse. Which probably explains why this sofa is so damn uncomfortable.”
“Is Chris the only one who’s hurt?”
Ian nodded. “We’re all together—except for Chris. They took him away, along with Carol Ann.”
“Carol Ann? Isn’t that the chief’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah. She’s a nurse, and they’re having her take care of Chris. I don’t know what they plan to do if he dies. I think they intended to use us as hostages to get money out of Chris, but now that he’s unconscious and barely hanging onto life, I’m not sure what that means for us if he dies.”
“How are Danielle and Lily?”
“They’re okay for now. But they have us chained up at opposite ends in a large storage building. No lights on, but during the day it’s not pitch black; a little light comes in through the walls.”
Before Walt could ask another question, Ian disappeared.
THE METAL SHACKLE cutting into the raw abrasion on his ankle woke Ian from his brief nap. Sitting up, he leaned down and repositioned the shackle. He could tell it was still daylight considering the beams of light cutting through some of the ill-fitting wallboards.
“Hey, Danielle,” Ian called out.
“Yeah?” she answered.
“You’ll never guess who I just dreamt about. Walt Marlow. Craziest dream, it felt so real. He kept quizzing me on where we are. I think he’s worried about you.”
ELEVEN
With nightfall came the evening breeze. Its intensity increased, sending the limbs of the taller trees along the north side of Danielle’s property brushing against the eaves of Marlow House. Inside, Walt had abandoned his efforts to hop into another dream. He would wait until later in the evening and try it again. Instead, he made his way downstairs to do some reading.
The moment Walt entered the library, the overhead light turned on. He found Sadie napping on the sofa. She lifted her head and looked at him, her tail wagging. Walt only gave her a smile and shook his head, saying with a chuckle, “It’s a good thing Joanne isn’t here.”
Sadie rested her chin back onto her front paws and closed her eyes. Walt walked to the bookshelf and perused the titles, looking for something to read. Since Danielle had entered his life, he had become something of a TV junkie, yet he hadn’t abandoned his love of reading. After selecting a novel, he sat down on the chair facing the sofa and opened the book.
“What are you reading?” A male’s voice came from the door leading to the hallway.
Walt looked up and to his surprise found Chris standing in the doorway, a cocky grin plastered on his face.
Standing abruptly, Walt’s book fell through his body, landing on the chair. “Chris! Where’s Danielle, Lily?”
Sadie lifted her head and looked at Chris. Her tail now wagging, she leapt off the sofa. But instead of rushing to him, she sat next to Walt and watched.
With a shrug, Chris walked into the room and looked around. “I don’t know. I was hoping I’d find them here.” He wandered over to an empty chair and sat down.
“What do you mean you hoped to find them here?” Walt quizzed.
“This is where they live, isn’t it?” Chris leaned back in the chair and smiled.
Walt studied Chris, whose gaze wandered around the room as if he was unable to focus. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. What had Ian said? Something about Chris possibly dying…
“Chris, look at me!”
Somewhat startled by the harsh demand, Chris looked at Walt and frowned. “What’s your problem?”
“Chris, do you remember going on a trip with Danielle? Do you remember renting a plane?”
Furrowing his brows, he considered Walt’s question, his gaze again wandering off.
“Oh…that’s right.” Chris looked back to Walt. “You weren’t thrilled about that, were you?”
“It doesn’t matter if I was happy about the trip or not. Do you remember going?”
Now frowning, Chris narrowed his eyes, considering the question. “I guess…but…”
“But what?” Walt snapped.
“Hey, why are you getting so crabby? Where’s Danielle?”
Exasperated, Walt waved his hand, sending several dozen books falling from the shelves onto the floor.
Eyes wide, Chris looked from the books now littering the floor to Walt. “Why in the world did you do that? You better hope Danielle doesn’t walk in here and see what you did.”
“I don’t think there’s a risk of that!” Walt fumed.
Chris stood up. “Walt, why are you so worked up?”
“Focus, Chris, focus!”
“Focus on what?”
Letting out a deep breath, Walt closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he said, “Chris, do you remember getting on that airplane to leave for your trip?”
Chris sat back down. “Yeah, now that I think about it…I guess so. Why?”
Walt’s gaze dropped momentarily to the chair he had been sitting in and the book now resting on its cushion. He stepped back from the chair and looked at Chris.
“Chris, maybe you’ll have a better idea of what happened if you pick up that book for me.”
“Pick up the book?” He looked over to the other books scattered on the floor. “What next, do you expect me to pick up all the books you just threw off the shelves? I don’t think so.”
“No. Just this one. Please pick it up for me. You’ll understand why after you do.”
Rolling his eyes, Chris stood up and reluctantly walked to the chair Walt had been sitting in. He leaned down to pick up the book. His fingers moved through it. He tried picking it up a second time and failed. And then a third time.
“Oh crap,” Chris groaned. Combing his fingers through his hair, he shook his head and moaned, “Oh crap, am I dead?”
Walt shrugged. “That appears to be the case.”
Chris considered the possibility and then shook his head in denial. He began pacing the room. “No. I’m not dead! I know it!”
“Well, the only time I saw someone unable to pick something up like that—and the person wasn’t dead—was Lily.”
“That’s right! Danielle told me she initially thought Lily was dead—but she wasn’t!”
Walt sat back down in his chair. “I believe Lily called it an out-of-body experience.”
“I don’t want to be dead.” Chris plopped back down in his chair.
“No one wants to be dead,” Walt reminded him. “I sure as hell didn’t want to be.”
“I’m too young!”
Walt let out a snort. “You’re older than I was when I died.”
“I’ve finally met a woman who I could spend my life with!”
Walt arched his brow and
muttered, “You and me both, chump.”
Chris turned abruptly to Walt. “No, seriously, this can’t be happening. I must be having an out-of-body experience like Lily did!”
Walt shrugged. “There is one way to find out.”
“How’s that?”
“Go look in the mirror. Whereas I have no reflection, Lily had a faint one when she was lurking on—” Walt didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence; Chris dashed out of the room.
Letting out a weary sigh, Walt stood up and followed Chris out to the dark hallway. Assuming Chris would be unable to turn on the light—considering he was either a newly departed spirit with unharnessed powers or a soul experiencing an out-of-body experience, with no powers—Walt glanced at the entry light and watched as it suddenly went on.
When Walt reached Chris, he looked in the mirror. Chris looked visibly relieved—at least the faint reflection in the mirror did.
“Does this mean I’m still alive?” Chris asked.
“I assume so. Do you think you can focus now so we can figure out what happened?”
“Yes. Should we go in the parlor?” Chris asked.
“No.” The overhead light turned off, sending the hallway into darkness. “Not unless you want to sit in the dark. If someone drives by and sees the light on, I imagine we’ll be getting another visit from the police.”
“Another?”
“I’ll explain later.” Walt turned toward the library. “Come on. No one will see the light on in the library unless they climb over the side fence and come in the yard.”
Once in the library, Chris took a seat on the sofa where Sadie had been sitting when he had first arrived. Yet Sadie didn’t stay away for long. She jumped up on the sofa with Chris and insisted on sitting with him.
“Now do you remember what happened?” Walt asked after taking a seat across from Chris.
“I remember now—boarding the plane. I was told the pilot I’d hired had come down with the flu, and he arranged for a substitute.”
“What happened on the flight?”
The Ghost Who Stayed Home Page 7
