The Ghost Who Stayed Home Page 17
Chris was unable to hear what Heather was telling Brian, yet he was fairly certain that’s who was on the phone with him. He just hoped Brian would take the call seriously.
When Brian hung up a few minutes later, he picked up the phone again and made a call.
“This is Brian Henderson from the Frederickport Police Department. I have a lead on the missing plane…no, not at the location where the witness claimed it went down, but outside Seligman, Arizona…Yes, you heard me right. Seligman.”
Chris continued to listen to Brian’s side of the phone conversation. When he was confident they were going to investigate the area where he remembered the plane landing, Chris stood up and disappeared.
A few minutes later, Chris reappeared in Marlow House. He found Walt still in the attic, looking out the spotting scope.
Turning from the window to face Chris, Walt asked, “Well?”
“She called him. At first, I didn’t think he was going to listen to her, but she must have said something to change his mind. As soon as he got off the phone with her, he called someone else and gave them the location of the airstrip and Quonset hut.”
“But will they be able to find Danielle and the rest?”
FROM A DISTANCE SAM spied the dust cloud; it barreled up the lonely dirt road leading to Shafer’s property. Bringing the quad to a stop, Sam took out a compact binocular set from his coat pocket. Unfolding the pair, he put them to his eyes for a closer look. The vehicle kicking up the dust was an SUV. Adjusting the binoculars for a clearer view, he caught a glimpse of the logo along the side of the car. It wasn’t just any SUV—it was a Yavapai Sheriff’s Department vehicle.
“I wonder why the sheriff’s heading up to Shafer’s place?” Sam muttered as he shoved his binoculars back in his pocket.
TWENTY-SIX
Opening her eyes, Danielle stared into a blazing fire. It was not a fire of destruction but of comfort. Blinking, she brought the scene into focus and found herself looking at the fireplace in her bedroom at Marlow House—she was home!
“Danielle?” came Walt’s soft inquiry.
Turning to her right, Danielle realized she was sitting on her bedroom sofa next to Walt. Without thought she threw her arms around him. He held her tightly as she started to cry.
Stroking her back reassuringly, Walt whispered, “Please stop crying. You’ll wake up, and we may not get another chance to talk tonight.”
With a sniffle, Danielle stopped crying. She sat up and wiped off the tears with the back of her hand, her face damp.
“That’s better,” Walt said with a warm smile. He leaned to her and briefly kissed her lips.
Blinking away the tears, Danielle studied Walt. “Why is it I can actually feel you hold me—kiss me—during a dream hop?”
“I suppose that’s because when we dream, anything is possible.”
Danielle’s solemn expression broke into a grin. “I’ve heard that before, but I have a feeling whoever originally said it, didn’t mean it in quite the same way. Damn, I’ve missed you.”
“So tell me where you are so we can get you home. And Lily, is Lily okay? And the others?”
Danielle took hold of Walt’s hand and held it as she leaned back against the sofa’s arm and studied his face. “Chris’s the only one who is hurt. I’m worried about him.”
“Chris is alive—but he is here. He’s like Lily was.”
Danielle glanced around and then looked back at Walt, still holding his hand. “Chris is here?”
“Well, not here exactly. Not in the dream hop. But he’s back at Marlow House. He showed up there on Saturday night. Like Lily, he was a little confused at first, but his memory is returning.”
“Has he looked in a mirror?”
Walt nodded. “Yes. He has a faint reflection. But we need to find you—find Chris’s body—get him to a hospital.”
Danielle’s grin widened. “Aww, you do care about Chris!”
Walt rolled his eyes and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on Danielle’s lips. “I care more about you, but I suppose he isn’t a bad guy, and I sure don’t want him moving over to my side permanently. At least not yet.”
Danielle cocked her head and smiled at Walt. “You just kissed me again. You kissed me twice, in fact. You don’t normally do that.”
“I’ve been worried sick about you. You have no idea how happy I am to be talking to you right now.”
Danielle blushed and squeezed Walt’s hand.
“We don’t have any time to lose,” Walt told her. “Have you figured out where you are yet?”
Danielle shook her head. “No. Ian thinks we’re somewhere in the desert, because of the weather. They’re holding us in this big old metal building, like a warehouse. There doesn’t appear to be any electricity on in the building. They never turn the lights on, and we never hear any air or heating turn on or off. But it’s fairly comfortable, even at night. Gets a little warm during the day.”
“Ian is probably right. You’re probably somewhere in the Arizona desert.”
“Arizona? Why do you say that?”
“Chris remembers leaving his body. His body was unconscious on the ground while two of the kidnappers argued. He remembers a motorhome parked nearby and a trailer. There was a dirt airstrip and the plane was parked under a…Quonset hut.”
“Are you telling me they landed a jet on a dirt airstrip?”
“Apparently.”
“I guess the pilot really thought he was going to score big if he was willing to risk his jet,” Danielle murmured.
“The owner of the plane was not involved—at least the authorities don’t think so. They found him tied up in the basement of Chris’s new business office. Apparently the kidnappers lured him over there. He thought he was going to talk to Chris.”
“Is he okay?”
Walt nodded. “From what I understand.”
“Just how are you getting all this information? From the television?”
“Listening to what people say.”
“I guess that means people have been coming over to Marlow House,” Danielle murmured.
“By the way, the authorities have found the plane. After Chris wandered off from the landing site, he found himself on a highway outside of Seligman, Arizona. We were able to get that information to Brian, and he in turn got it to the right people. I’m hoping this leads to finding you.”
“How in the world did you get that information to Brian?” Danielle’s eyes widened. “Heather?”
“Long story. I’ll explain later. But first, is there anything you can tell me that can help them find you? Anything you remember or noticed?”
“Well…I met another ghost.”
“The place is haunted?”
Danielle considered the question a moment and then shook her head. “No. But now that I think about it, knowing the plane went down in Seligman, Arizona, makes me feel a lot better.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I was starting to wonder if the kidnappers took us to England. But unless they changed planes—which I seriously doubt—it sounds like we’re still in the US.”
“Why would you think you were in England?” Walt asked.
“My ghost. He’s very British. And he’s probably old enough to be your grandfather.”
“What’s he doing in the Arizona desert?” Walt asked.
“I have no idea. This is, of course, assuming the kidnappers are still in the general area of the airplane. After they took us off the plane, we were put in some sort of vehicle. It might have been a van.”
“Chris noticed a motorhome parked near the plane,” Walt told her.
Danielle shrugged. “It could have been a motorhome. We were blindfolded, and right after I sat down, someone shoved a needle in my arm. They sat someone next to me, but I didn’t know who it was. We weren’t allowed to talk. I think it was some sort of bench seat, so it may have been a motorhome. I remember the engine turning on, and we were driving down a bumpy road.”
“A dirt road,” Walt noted.
“Sounds about right. But after that, everything went black.”
“They must have drugged you.”
“Yes. They also drugged us on the plane.”
“Back to the British guy. Can’t he help you?”
Danielle shook her head. “Not really. He doesn’t seem to have any powers. I think it’s because he just wanders around, not really haunting any specific place.”
“Can’t he at least tell you where you are?”
“That sounds easier than it is. Percival tends to be rather cryptic.”
Walt arched his brows. “Percival?”
“Percival Clint. Apparently he was murdered on some bridge over in London.”
“So what’s he doing in Arizona?” Walt asked.
“He said—” Danielle’s eyes widened. “I know where we are!”
“Where?”
“Lake Havasu City, Arizona. That has to be it! The kidnappers have us somewhere in Havasu!” Excitedly, Danielle leapt from the sofa, dropping hold of Walt’s hand. Anxiously, she began pacing back and forth between the sofa and lit fireplace.
“Where is Lake Havasu City? I’ve never heard of it,” Walt asked.
“It wasn’t around in your day. Relatively speaking, it’s a fairly new town located on Lake Havasu.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Lake Havasu.” Walt leaned back on the sofa and watched Danielle pace.
“Lake Havasu is actually a portion of the Colorado River, made after the dams were built. The lake itself is located on the border between California and Arizona,” Danielle explained.
“I don’t understand. Why is it you think they have you there? Is it next to Seligman?”
Danielle shook her head. “I don’t think so. From what I remember, I think Seligman is a couple hours from Havasu.”
“So why Havasu?” Walt asked again.
Danielle was just about to answer his question when she vanished.
Walt stood abruptly. “Danielle!”
WALT FOUND Chris sitting alone in the kitchen.
“When did you get back?” Walt asked.
“A few minutes ago. I’ll go back down to the police station in the morning, see what’s going on now that they’ve found the plane.”
“I saw Danielle,” Walt told Chris as he took a seat at the table.
Chris straightened in the chair and focused his entire attention on Walt. “And? Is she okay?”
“For now. She thinks they’re being kept someplace called Lake Havasu City, Arizona.” Walt then went on to tell Chris about the dream hop—omitting the part about him kissing Danielle—twice.
“The ghost was British?” Chris murmured. “And he was murdered on a bridge in London?”
“That’s what he told Danielle. But I still don’t understand why she’s now convinced they’re in Lake Havasu City. I just wish she hadn’t woken up when she did.”
Chris smiled knowingly and leaned back in his chair. “Well, I know why.”
“Why?”
“The London Bridge,” Chris told him.
“What are you talking about?”
“The London Bridge. Back in the late 1960s the founder of Lake Havasu City bought the London Bridge as some huge publicity stunt for his new town. They dismantled it, shipped it over to the US, and reassembled it in the middle of the desert.”
“You’re kidding me?”
Chris shook his head. “No. From what I understand, it’s quite the spring break attraction.”
“What’s spring break?” Walt asked.
“I don’t know if you had it when you went to school—Christmas break, Easter break, when school gets out for a week or so for vacation. These days Easter break has been turned into spring break, and it takes place over a number of weeks. One school might have one week off, while another has a different week. Havasu’s been one of the places where the students like to flock to. Rather a party spot.”
“Interesting…” Walt murmured.
“It would explain a British ghost. There are stories the London Bridge is haunted—that some of the spirits attached to the site came over with the bridge when they reassembled it in Arizona. If this Percival dude was murdered on the bridge back in his day, it is possible he traveled with it to its new home.”
“I would assume this means the kidnappers have Danielle and the others near the bridge,” Walt speculated. “I suppose we need Heather’s help again?”
“She was able to get them to go check on the plane. If she calls Brian again and he recognizes her voice, then I think he’ll take her tip seriously, especially now, since they found the plane.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“I can’t believe it was really there,” Brian muttered for the hundredth time. Or perhaps it hadn’t actually been that many, it just seemed that way to Chris, who had spent much of the previous evening—and now Monday morning—in the company of Brian Henderson. Chris had left several times, once to update Walt and tell him the plane had been found, and another to check in, right after Walt had returned from his dream hop with Danielle. But he had returned again to see if there was any news about his friends—and his own unconscious body.
Brian had just welcomed Special Agents Thomas and Wilson from the FBI into the office. From what Chris managed to overhear, the property where the plane was found was owned by longtime Frederickport resident Herman Shafer.
“I just can’t see Herman being involved in any of this,” Brian told Thomas and Wilson as they each took a seat.
“What do you know about Shafer?” Thomas asked.
“He used to be the bank manager before Steve Klein. He’s been retired for a number of years. His wife died about a year ago. She was pretty sick, in and out of the hospital for over a year. I ran into Herman about two months before his wife died, and he sounded pretty optimistic about her recovery, but then a month later their only child was killed in a car accident and I think she just gave up. She died not long after their son was killed.”
“Doesn’t sound like a man who has much to lose,” Thomas noted.
Brian shrugged. “Maybe not, but he really doesn’t need the money. I remember seeing him once, a few months after his wife died, and he said something about how some people think he was lucky that they had good medical insurance, but that it really didn’t matter to him, since he had lost both his wife and son. From what I understand, he had a pretty good retirement from the bank, he lives in a nice home, and I just don’t see him doing something like this for the money.”
Thomas flipped open a small notebook and read a page and then looked up at Brian. “I assume James Shafer was his son?”
Brian nodded. “Yes. I remember Jim; he grew up in Frederickport. After college he moved to Southern California and got a job. Can’t recall what he did, from what I heard about him back then, I got the idea he did pretty well.”
“The property where we found the plane used to belong to James Shafer. His parents inherited it after he died, along with some other real estate he owned.”
The desk phone rang and the men stopped talking. Brian answered it, said a few words to the caller, and then hung up.
“Herman is here. They’ve shown him to the interrogation room. You can talk to him there,” Brian told them.
When Agent Thomas walked alone into the interrogation room a few minutes later, he found Herman Shafer waiting for him. Thomas knew the man was nearing his eighties, yet he looked closer to late sixties, with a thick head of snow white hair and a slight hunch to his back.
Using his cane to help him stand, Shafer managed to shake the agent’s hand during the brief introduction. When he sat back down again, he let the cane drop to the floor by his feet. If the elderly man was annoyed at being called down to the local police department for questioning, he didn’t show it.
“So what is this all about?” Herman asked curiously.
“I understand you own property in Seligman, Arizona,” Thomas began.
“Happened? What do you imagine might have happened to your property there?”
“This is about an airplane, isn’t it?”
Thomas arched his brow and leaned back in the chair. “Yes. Yes, it is. Why don’t you tell me what you know about the airplane.”
Herman raised a fist and angrily slammed it on the desktop while shouting, “Gall-dammit. I knew I should have sold that property. Or at least removed the damned wind sock. Was anyone killed?”
“Killed?”
“In the plane crash. Was anyone killed?” Herman asked.
“There was no plane crash.”
Herman frowned. “I don’t understand. Then why are you here? You said this had to do with a plane and the Seligman property.”
“I assume you’ve heard about the hijacked plane—”
“You mean the one with Chief MacDonald on it?” Herman finished for him.
Thomas nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, sure. That’s all everyone in town is talking about. But what does that have to do with the Seligman property?”
“We found the plane. It was parked under the Quonset hut on your property.”
Herman frowned. “Nahh. No way would that plane—I read about what kind it was in the paper—would fit under some Quonset hut. And what would it be doing there? I heard it went down in the mountains.”
“That’s a pretty large Quonset hut,” Thomas said.
Herman shrugged. “Must be.”
“Mr. Shafer, have you ever been to the property before?”
“No. It belonged to my boy, Jimmy. He planned to build a cabin up there. Something about living off the grid.” Herman shook his head sadly. “He learned to fly and always talked about getting his own plane. When he found the property, he got all excited because it had its own airstrip. I had no idea it was big enough to land that size plane.”
“If you’ve never been up there, do you have anyone who is watching the property?”
Herman started to answer but then paused, considering something. With a frown he asked, “Are you telling me that airplane that was hijacked—the one that had the police chief on it and all those other people—ended up on my property in Seligman?”