I smiled. “Got it. Thanks, Bob. I’ll let you know if I get any more info.”
“In the meantime I’ll circulate Jack’s sketch and check the older files. Let’s plan on talking tomorrow to bring each other up to speed.”
Muckleroy walked me out, and as I headed to Karen’s Mercedes my cell phone rang. “What’s the word, Gil?” I asked when I answered.
“That Dean Habbernathy is one hell of a cranky man,” he said, his voice telling me he was completely aggravated.
“What happened?”
“Well, I called the number by your bed and got nowhere, so I did a little searching around on my computer and found his residential number.”
“Was it listed?”
“Of course not,” said Gil.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that he was not happy that you had found his home phone number.”
“It’s not like I’m some sort of telemarketer!” Gil exclaimed. “Geez! The guy gave me the third degree. How dare I call him at home!”
“I’m guessing he wasn’t open to our request to speak to his brother, then, huh?”
“The only thing he was receptive to was hanging up on me,” he said.
I sighed as I got into Karen’s car. “Okay,” I said. “Then we’ll have to proceed without his consent and try to talk to Nicholas on our own.”
“Are you heading back here?”
“I was thinking maybe you guys could head this way and we could eat in town.”
“I’m all for it,” said Gil. “But I’m afraid it’s just going to be the two of us.”
“Is Steven tired from his day at the spa?” I asked sarcastically.
“No,” Gil said, then paused.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Steven flew back to Boston about an hour ago.”
“What?” I said, a little too loudly. “Why would he do that?”
“Two reasons: The university called him—the plumbing problem’s been fixed and his class is back on schedule. And two…”
“Yes?”
“He thinks you don’t want him around.”
“What? Why would he think that?”
“He may have overheard you say something about us being ridiculous this afternoon.”
“Hey,” I snapped. “You two were being ridiculous! I mean, Gil, I’ve been the one doing the bulk of the work on this case, and you two have been doing a lot of goofing off.”
“I have not been goofing off, M.J.!” Gilley said defensively. “Who spent all day yesterday in a tiny little room at the county clerk’s, huh? Who?!”
I drew in a deep breath. Gilley was right. He had been pretty good this trip. Steven had been the main detraction. “Maybe it’s for the best that Steven’s gone home,” I said.
“Listen,” Gilley tried, using his calm voice. “I think all Steven really needs is a little direction. He didn’t come to us with a load of experience, and he’s taking a lot of his cues from you. And you’ll have to admit that he’s been playing a lot of third wheel on this job.”
I sat at a traffic light and stared blankly out the windshield. Gilley had a solid point. “Fine,” I said at last. “I’ll call him tomorrow and try to smooth things over.”
“Whether or not you want to admit it, we need him around, toots,” said Gil. “If for nothing else than to help us overcome all those financial obstacles that keep us constantly in the red.”
“I get it, I get it,” I said, really wanting to move on. “Meet me at Goldberries Restaurant on Main Street,” I said, pulling into the restaurant’s parking lot, “and we can discuss our next move.”
Chapter 8
“So, let me get this straight,” Gil said as he cut into his fried chicken. “Tonight your plan is to head to the school and just knock on Nicholas’s window and hope that he won’t come out swinging his bat at you?”
“Do you have a better plan?” I said, leveling a look at him.
Gilley chewed thoughtfully on his food for a moment. “Nope,” he said finally. “As long as I get to stay in the van, then I’m jiggy with whatever you come up with.”
I cut my eyes to my plate, afraid Gil would see the guilty look I had plastered there. If all else failed I had an idea about how to draw out Jack, but with Steven gone I would need Gil’s help, and my plan didn’t include him sitting idly by in the van.
“If Nicholas isn’t the fountain of information that we’re hoping for, I’ve come up with a name that might be of some assistance,” Gil said, seeming to take no note of how I was avoiding his eyes.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked. “Who’s that?”
“William Skolaris,” he said smugly.
I gave Gil a quizzical look. “Who?”
“Bill Skolaris lives two blocks from here. He’s been teaching at Northelm for a whopping thirty-three years.”
“You think he might know about Hatchet Jack?”
“I’m sure of it,” Gil said.
“How can you be?”
“Because he’s the supervising editor of the school’s newspaper. Remember that article that was pulled off the Web so quickly? That man’s gotta know somethin’ ’bout somethin’.”
“Good job, Gil,” I said, patting his hand. “We’ll try to hit Nicholas up for info tonight when we go to the school for another vigil, and tomorrow we’ll drop by Skolaris’s and see if he’s willing to talk to us.”
After dinner Gilley and I drove back to the ski lodge for a power nap before our planned stakeout at the school. I had to admit that I was hoping I would catch a break and Jack would show up without a lot of prompting. If I could follow his energy back to his portal, I knew I could put that particular demon to rest, at least. Helping the boys to cross over would be far easier if he was out of the way.
The lodge felt quiet without Steven, even though Gilley and Doc made enough noise for four people. I thought about what Gilley had said as I lay down on my bed, and figured I owed the good doctor an apology at the very least. Gil and I had been doing this so long that it came as second nature to us, and I forgot that someone just coming into it might not know what to do with such a difficult case.
My alarm went off at ten thirty, and I rolled over on the bed still feeling tired and out of sorts. My internal clock was starting to rebel against the crazy hours we were keeping, and I really hoped that this pace wouldn’t continue much longer.
I got Gilley up, albeit with some difficulty, and we packed our duffel bags and got into the van.
Gil drove blearily along toward Northelm, and I handed him the traveler’s cup of coffee I’d made him before we left Karen’s place. “Thanks,” he said. “I hope it’s strong.”
“It is,” I said, giggling when he made a face after taking a sip.
“Good lord, M.J.!” he said, setting the cup in the cup holder. “That tastes like Mama Dell’s.”
Mama Dell’s was a coffee shop within walking distance of our office. The owner was a spunky little Southern gal who made coffee thick enough to patch pavement. Her shop flourished because of the pastries and sandwiches she sold, and her glorious personality. Mama Dell patrons were a loyal brood. “Thought you might be homesick,” I said.
“Blach,” Gil said, then picked up the cup and took another swig. “You’re just lucky I’m really, really tired.”
We arrived at the school, and after we went through our sound and video-feed checks I moved off to the elementary wing. “Remember,” Gil warned, before I closed the van door, “since Steven’s not here, you’ll have to work the camera and the thermal imager for me so that I can monitor.”
“I used to manage just fine before he came along, ya know,” I said moodily. I was still a little sensitive about Steven’s departure, and I was thankful Gilley let it drop at that.
After unlocking the door I made my way inside the dark school and stood still for a few seconds, getting a bead on the energy in the building. “I’m getting a little blip on the electrostatic gauge,” Gilley said in my ear. “Are you near an outlet???
?
I looked around. “No,” I said into my headset, while pulling out the small gadget from my back pocket. Sure enough it was spiking in little blips.
“It’s too faint for me to be sure it’s spiritual,” said Gilley.
“How’s your radar working?”
I opened up my senses and felt the energy around me. There was the smallest of tugs down the hallway, and I eagerly followed it. “I think I’ve got something,” I whispered.
I moved into a classroom at the very end of the hallway, near the back door of the building and off to the right. As I opened the door it creaked loudly, cutting through the silence and causing me to wince. “Hello?” I said out loud. “Is there an energy here that wishes to communicate with me?”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a flash of shadow, and my eyes darted quickly over in that direction. Nothing noticeable moved. Then there was just the barest hint of energy that tugged at my solar plexus. It felt male, and it felt young, but I knew it wasn’t Eric. “Hernando?” I said, taking a chance.
There was a gasp by my left ear, and it was so unexpected that I jumped and turned around. I could feel the energy building in the room, and I waited to see what would happen next. “What’s going on?” Gilley said softly. “I’ve got electrostatic energy registering, but you’ve got the camera pointed down and I can’t see anything.”
I picked the camera up quickly and pointed it around the room, feeling the very air as I tried to get a placement for Hernando. “Hernando?” I said again. “I’m here to help you, sweetheart. It’s okay; I swear I’m not going to hurt you.”
Again I saw a flash of shadow out of the corner of my eye, and I pointed the camera around to where I thought I’d seen it. “Who’s Hernando?” Gilley whispered.
“Shhhh!” I hissed. He was ruining my concentration.
“Sorry!” he whispered. “I’ll be quiet from now on. I promise. Just tell me when you’re ready. I’ll continue to monitor the screens. But if I get something I’ll try to let you know quietly.”
I clenched my free fist, irritated that he wasn’t shutting up. “Gilley, please be quiet,” I whispered.
“Sorry!”
I took a deep breath and focused on feeling out the little boy with the skittish energy. “Hernando Rodriguez,” I said calmly. “I know you’re here with me. And I want you to know that if you choose to communicate with me, I will be able to hear you.”
I want my mom! his little voice said inside my head.
That tiny plea broke my heart. “I know, sweetheart,” I said. “I’m sure she’s been really worried about you. And your dad too.”
I can’t find them! he said to me. I keep looking, but I can’t find them!
“I can help you with that, Hernando,” I said.
There was another gasp, this time from across the room, and I felt Hernando’s energy fill with fear. He’s coming! he said. The bad man is coming!
“Damn it!” I said under my breath.
“Electrostatic is spiking off the charts, M.J.!” Gilley whispered urgently.
“Jack’s coming,” I said, then focused back on the little boy. “Hernando!” I commanded. “If you want to get away from the bad man you’ve got to listen to me. I need you to look up toward the ceiling!”
He’s coming! He’s coming!
“Focus, Hernando!” I yelled across the room. “Look up at the ceiling! Do you see a bright white light?”
There was a short pause as I felt Hernando hesitate. I knew he was struggling with his own confusion and fear, and he was torn between doing what he’d done every night for the past thirty years—bolting out of the classroom and trying to outrun Hatchet Jack—or listening to me and altering his pattern. It was very, very difficult for a grounded spirit to break out of their pattern once they’d adopted it.
“Please, Hernando! I swear if you listen to me you will never, ever have to deal with that horrible man out there again.”
I see the light! his little voice echoed across my intuition.
I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “Perfect. Now, we don’t have much time, so please listen carefully. I want you to pull that light down from the ceiling. You can do that by just thinking about it coming lower and lower and surrounding you in its glow.”
It’s coming down!
“Thank God,” I said. “Now, we only have a second or two. Hernando, when it surrounds you I need for you to let yourself go into it. It will feel like it’s pulling you somewhere, and it is. It’s pulling you home. Let it take you, Hernando. Let it take you home.”
My mom and dad! he said.
“I’ll tell them you’re okay!” I promised, and in the very next instant Hernando was gone.
“M.J.!” Gilley shouted directly into my ear, and the noise made me double over.
“What?!” I shouted back as I worked to lower the volume on my earpiece.
“He’s in the room!” Gilley squealed in full-blown panic.
“Hatchet Jack is in the room!”
“Where?” And before Gilley could even answer me three of the desks jerked and tumbled as if they’d been picked up and thrown. I staggered backward, trying to get my defenses up, but I was hit in the chest so hard by an unseen force that I flew backward and hit the wall, my head snapping back with a loud thud as it connected with the concrete.
“Get out of there!” Gilley begged. “M.J., get out of there!”
My head lolled on my neck, and the room swam. I felt another blast of energy come right at my head again, and I tried to get my arms up to shield myself, but I was too late. White-hot heat exploded at my hairline, and I yelled out in pain.
“M.J.?!” Gilley screamed into my earpiece, and the sound was like a lightning bolt searing through my mind.
Suddenly I was lifted in the air, and the room swam again as I felt myself floating up off the ground. My impulse was to kick and thrash, but my head hurt so much that the move was little more than a feeble effort.
“M.J.?!” Gilley screamed again. “Talk to me!”
There were crashing sounds but they felt far away, and the floating sensation continued. I tried to pick my head up, but that just made things worse, and then my vision began to close in and darken and I was in too much pain to fight it.
“Set her down over here,” I heard Gilley say, his voice pitched high, like he was excited or upset. “I’ve brought the first-aid kit,” he added. “Jesus, there’s a lot of blood.”
“We should call the ambulance!” someone else said. “I should call the nine-one-one people!”
“No!” Gil said. “Not yet. Let me look at her in the light first, and then we’ll talk about ambulances.” A bright light switched on as I was laid down on a soft cushion. I moaned and put my hand up to shield my eyes.
“M.J.?” Gilley said as he began gently slapping my face.
“Stoooooop,” I wailed as one hell of a headache throbbed against my temples.
“Oh, thank you, God!” Gilley cried.
“Should I call the ambulance?” the other voice in the room asked.
“No, Nicholas,” Gilley said gently. “But thank you.”
My eyelids fluttered as I tried to open them. “The light,” I complained, pushing my hand toward it.
Gilley adjusted the light above my head so that it didn’t glare in my eyes so much. “How’s that?”
“Better,” I said. “What happened?”
“Hatchet Jack,” Nicholas said. “You made him maaaaad!”
I blinked several times as I tried to focus on Nicholas. Vaguely I realized that I recognized the room we were in. It was Nicholas’s apartment in the main building of the school. Gilley had opened the first-aid kit and was soaking several gauze strips with a small bottle of peroxide before gently easing them over my forehead. “Ouch!” I yelped as he stroked close to my hairline.
“You’ve got one hell of a nasty cut, there, girlfriend,” he said. My hand flew up to my head, but Gilley batted it away easily. “Don’t touch
,” he snapped.
I winced for another five minutes as Gil worked on the wound. “In all the years we’ve been doing this, I’ve never seen a ghost actually inflict a wound like this,” he said.
“Jack was maaaaaad!” Nicholas repeated, and he rocked back and forth on his heels.
My eyes cut to him. “Did you see him, Nicholas?” I asked. “Did you see Hatchet Jack?”
“He was maaaaaad!”
Gilley and I shared a look, and I took a deep breath. “Yes, he was. And you were very brave to rescue me.”
“You help Hernando,” Nicholas said easily. “I help you.”
Gilley and I shared another look. “Hernando is safe from now on,” I said. “Jack will never be able to hurt him again.”
Nicholas nodded vigorously. “I know. That’s why Jack was so maaaaaad!”
I sat up a little so that I could get a better look around.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Gilley said, playing nurse for all he was worth.
“Twelve,” I said sarcastically.
“Correct,” Gilley said, undaunted. “And what day is it?”
“Easter Sunday.”
“Correct. And what year is it?”
“It’s 1776.”
Nicholas was watching our byplay intently, and he let out a loud laugh. “It is not!” he said, pointing at us. “It’s Thursday!”
I grinned at him. The guy was like a big teddy bear. “You know, Nicholas? I think you’re right. It is Thursday!”
“It’s Thursday morning,” Nicholas said, pointing to a clock on the wall that read twelve a.m.
“You are a smart guy, my friend,” I said. “And thank you again for coming to my rescue.”
“You help Hernando. I help you,” he replied.
I scooted back on the couch cushion I’d been resting on and sat all the way up, closing my eyes for a moment as the world gave a teeny spin.
“You okay?” Gil said, and his voice had not a hint of mirth in it.
“Fine, fine,” I said, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “But do you have any aspirin?”
I could hear Gilley rummaging around in the first-aid kit. After a moment he said, “No, but I have something much better!”