Part Two

“Rumour has it that you’ve been consorting with spooks,” Maggie teased, when Regan entered the kitchen that evening. To soften her words, she set down a heaped plateful of food in front of him. “You don’t look like it, though, if you’ll excuse my saying so.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” he replied, referring to the food. “You can say of me what you like, as you well know.”

“If I’d seen the ghost, you would have heard me from here,” Celia noted, as she expertly carried the Wheelers’ evening meal through the swing door.

Regan eyed what she was carrying, then turned in appreciation to the plain food in front of him. No amount of money would be compensation for having to live that way, he considered. He chewed thoughtfully, focussing into the middle distance.

“She’s frightened, you know,” Maggie confided, her voice breaking into his reverie. “She’s trying to hide it, but the whole business is terrifying to her.”

He swallowed his mouthful and began cutting another. “She has nothing to be frightened of. There’s no ghost.”

“But you found the car wreck, just like she predicted.” Maggie checked the time, then slid a tray into the oven. “And the police aren’t saying what they found out there.”

“I still think the people walked away and abandoned their car.” He pushed a piece of meat across his plate to gather up some of the gravy. “There doesn’t have to be a big mystery about it.”

“But then, why did no one know about it?” she wondered. “It’s walking distance from here! You walked it yourself. And we’re the nearest house. And there’s always someone here.”

“If they walked in the other direction… .” He shook his head. “They were probably drag racing and their friends in the other car picked them up. They just didn’t want to get into trouble.”

“That’s as may be, but it doesn’t change what Celia feels. She’s really very unsettled.”

He nodded and kept eating. Some time later, Celia came back into the kitchen, her dining room duties complete for the moment.

“Even the Wheelers are discussing the ghost,” she told them. “Mrs. Wheeler thinks they should leave the house until this is all settled! In fact, she’s thinking of selling the house.”

“She’s thought of selling the house plenty of times before,” Regan pointed out. “Mr. Wheeler loves it here – and he’s grateful for the way it’s helped Honey.”

Celia leaned against the counter, rolling her eyes heavenward. “You just want to believe it will be okay. You didn’t hear her. She’s going to overrule him this time and then where will be all be?”

Maggie humphed. “I know where I’ll be: in possession of a mighty good reference.”

“True, that.” Regan smiled at her. “Mrs. Wheeler is even considering learning your name, I think. As for us on the staff, you know that we appreciate you. None of the other cooks have liked having us hang out in their kitchens – or have been so willing to feed us.”

“I’m used to having people about,” she answered, with a smile. “I get lonely if my kitchen is empty. And there’s not much challenge in cooking for three or four people.”

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” Celia put in, rather abruptly, “but we all live in. If they sell up, we lose our homes, as well as our jobs.”

Regan set down his cutlery in order to emphasise his point. “Celia, I’m telling you there’s no ghost. Mr. Wheeler isn’t going to lose his head over a silly rumour. It would be bad business to sell now, when there’s something unexplained around here.”

“He can afford it!”

A bell chimed, its tone sweet and undemanding. At once, Celia stopped slouching and stood up straight.

“What have I done wrong now?” she wondered, on her way through the door. “It’s too early to clear.”

Regan shrugged and went back to his meal. Only a moment later, Celia returned.

“You’ve been summoned,” she told him, pertly. “Take your plate with you; you’re dining at the main table tonight.”

He struggled for a moment between dismay and alarm, then did as he was told. As he entered the dining room, Matthew Wheeler waved him to a seat.

“There’s something we’d like to talk to you about, and I thought this would be the most comfortable way,” Mr. Wheeler explained. “I hear you’ve actually seen the so-called ghost.”

“I’ve twice seen a woman,” Regan admitted, with considerable reluctance. “I wouldn’t say that she was a ghost.”

“That’s your impression, is it?” his boss asked, while eyeing Regan’s plate of food. “That looks delicious, by the way.”

Regan glanced down. “It is. Maggie’s a great cook.”

“That’s beside the point, Matthew,” Mrs. Wheeler chided, with a tinkling laugh. “You have quite enough food of your own, without lusting after other people’s.”

“It reminds me of my college days.” His eyes twinkled as he glanced over at his children. “College was a real eye-opener for me, as to how the other half lived. I think you two might have a rather broader experience of life already.”

Honey smiled. “That’s one of the best things about moving here – other than meeting Trixie and finding Jim and forming our club and – well, everything that’s happened because of those things, and oh, Regan, please tell us about the ghost because I don’t want to have to leave, not when there’s still so many things I want to do here.”

He frowned for a moment, gathering his words. “I didn’t see her all that clearly, either time, but… well, this is going to sound crazy, but I didn’t think that she was a ghost, only that she looked like a ghost.”

“She looked like the ghost you were expecting to see, because of the stories?” Jim asked.

Regan’s face cleared. “Yes, I think that’s it. The first time, I was startled. It was stormy. And we’d been talking about it in the kitchen.”

“Where was she?” Mr. Wheeler asked.

“On the side of Glen Road, I’d guess.” He thought about it for a moment. “I was standing not far from the garage. I saw her in between the new plantings at the bottom of the drive.”

“And it was quite dark, but you could still see her? No moon, or anything?”

Regan shook his head. “It was pouring with rain. But there must have been some light somewhere. She wasn’t glowing, or anything like that.”

“Are ghosts known for going out in the pouring rain?” Jim wondered, grinning. “I agree with Dad: it’s just someone wandering around in the dark and being mistaken for a ghost.”

“How, then, do you explain the disappearing?” Mrs. Wheeler made a soft interrogative noise. “Real women don’t vanish into thin air.”

As everyone was looking at him, Regan felt compelled to answer. “I don’t think she disappeared. I just think I couldn’t see her any more.”

“Either she stepped behind some obstacle,” Jim suggested, “or the light source was taken away and you couldn’t see her, even though she was still there.”

“Yes,” Regan agreed, relieved at not having to explain further.

“What about the second time you saw her?” Mrs. Wheeler asked.

He considered for a moment how much to reveal. “She was near the place where Tom and I found the car. When I saw her, I tried to go to her, but she disappeared somewhere. I couldn’t find where she’d been, or where she went.”

“She left no footprints?” Honey gasped. “Oh, no! But I don’t want it to be a real ghost!”

“The side of the road there would hardly take a footprint,” he explained, in his most reassuring tone. “And I didn’t see that a car had come off the road there. If I can’t see tyre-marks, why should I see a little footprint or two?”

“I suppose not.” A thought seemed to occur to her. “But you knew by the time that we were saddling up this morning that something was wrong there, and that’s why you made us agree that we wouldn’t go that way, even without the horses.”

Mr. Wheeler shot Regan a quick look of respect.

“Yes, I did.”

Jim looked at his sister with open speculation. “Then, that’s why you didn’t run off by yourselves to investigate. Regan, you should tell them what to do more often; it’s the only thing that’s worked, so far.”

“It wasn’t just that Regan told us not to,” Honey objected, “but also that, when we thought about it, we thought that maybe it would be better not to investigate, seeing as there might be things that we didn’t want to see.”

Her father frowned. “I didn’t think you knew about the car crash at the time. Who told you?”

A blush tinged Honey’s cheeks. “It was an accident, honest!”

“What happened?” Mr. Wheeler sounded resigned. “You overheard someone talking?”

Honey nodded, still abashed. “We didn’t mean to listen, but, well, Trixie and I had to go back to my room so that I could change my jeans, because I found a tear in the first pair, and we were just about to go back down to the stables when we heard someone – well, it was Celia, actually – talking just outside the door. And she said that there was a crashed car and a dead woman in it and that explained why there was a ghost. And then Miss Trask said something about not being silly and Celia said something else and then we couldn’t hear them any more and so we went down to the stables.”

Mr. Wheeler glanced at Regan, a question in his eyes.

“Celia didn’t know. Not then.” He hesitated a moment. “But she’s been talking about a car crash that no one noticed for days, now. She believes in the ghost, no matter what anyone says.”

“Celia predicted you’d find a crash?” Mr. Wheeler’s eyebrows rose.

Regan shook his head. “Not exactly. But I think it’s part of the reason why Tom and I went looking.”

Mr. Wheeler nodded. “Now, I want to make one thing absolutely clear.” He glanced at his daughter. “Regan, was there, or was there not, a body in the wreck?”

“No.” He looked straight at Honey. “No body. No sign of one nearby. That part of it is completely from Celia’s imagination.”

Honey breathed a tiny sigh of relief. “I’m glad of that, at least. When we heard, later, that you and Tom had actually found it, we were imagining all kinds of horrible things, like–”

“Not at the dinner table, please, Honey,” her mother interrupted.

Honey’s knife and fork clattered to her plate and her hand flew to cover her mouth. “Sorry!”

“You just got a little carried away.” Her father seemed amused. “So, can we consider the matter settled? There is no ghost. It’s all a big mistake and the identity of the woman who keeps wandering around in the dark will be revealed in good time.”

“But what happened to the people from the car?” Honey wanted to know, her concern written large on her face.

“We’ll leave that to the police to find out,” Mr. Wheeler directed. “They can do that much more easily than we ever could.”

“I suppose so,” she answered. “But will they tell us when they know?”

“You’ll have to read about it in the newspaper, like everyone else,” he suggested.

At that moment, Celia entered the room to clear the table. Regan sat still, feeling more and more uncomfortable. His boss must have noticed this.

“You can go, now, if you’d prefer, Regan. I think that’s all satisfactorily explained, now.”

“Thanks,” Regan replied, picking up his empty plate.

“I’ll take that,” Celia told him, giving him a funny look.

He shrugged and retreated to the safety of the kitchen. Since he had left it, Tom had arrived.

“I hear you’ve gone up in the world,” he noted, grinning. “A meal with the family!”

“I like it better in the kitchen,” Regan admitted.

“They’re upset about our finding the crash site?” Tom asked, grimacing.

Regan shrugged. “Mrs. Wheeler thinks the ghost is real. Honey doesn’t want to think the ghost is real, but is worried that someone was hurt in the crash. Mr. Wheeler doesn’t seem to be concerned about any of it. Jim is just worried about keeping his sister out of trouble.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Tom noted. “So, none of us is in trouble, provided the whole thing blows over?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He turned to Celia as she entered the room. “Trixie and Honey overheard you talking to Marge this morning.”

She stopped short. “What?”

“They heard you speculating about a crashed car with a dead body in it,” he went on, relentlessly. “They were going to go looking for it, before I warned them off.”

“Oh, no,” she moaned. “I’m going to hear about this from Marge; I can just tell.”

She dumped everything she carried next to the dishwasher, then turned to Maggie.

“Is the next course ready?”

“Naturally,” that lady answered. “Off you go, my girl, and you can deal with this minor disaster later.”

Once Celia had passed through the swing door, Maggie added, “Poor girl. That’s the last thing she needs right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tom demanded.

Maggie met his angry gaze with endless calm. “That young woman is at the end of her rope. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll support her in any way you can. She’s the one likely to bear the brunt of any consequences, in spite of it having been the two of you who stirred up the hornet’s nest.”

“He was the one who found that bit of metal in the first place.”

Regan shrugged. “You were the one who thought it came from a car. I never gave a thought as to what it was.”

“This is just what I was saying: it was the two of you, together.”

Tom frowned. “I guess so. But Celia should never have said something like that where the girls could hear her.”

“If you ask me,” Maggie added, “she did it because the two of you wouldn’t listen to her. You left her with very little choice.”

The swing door opened and Celia came in, looking glum. “So, you’re all talking about me, are you? I’m going to lose this job and they’ll make us both leave.”

Tom did not seem to know what to say, so Regan stepped in. “I don’t think it’s that bad. Those girls could find trouble inside a locked room and Mr. Wheeler knows it.”

“But I’m not supposed to encourage them to find trouble! They might have gone out and found the body!”

Regan and Tom shared a glance, but it was Regan who spoke. “I don’t think there’s really a body. It would have left… evidence.”

“It has left evidence,” she argued. “The ghost!”

“Regan meant a more physical kind of evidence, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, Thomas Delanoy!”

“There’s a local paper tomorrow. Maybe the news will be in there,” Tom suggested.

Celia sniffed. “Only if they found it.”

“If there really is a ghost,” Regan began, taking the war into her own camp, “when do you suppose the person died?”

She frowned. “Well… I guess it must have been at least four days ago. That’s when Mr. Lytell saw her first.”

“And if she’s been lying out there, dead, for the last four days…” he trailed off, waiting for her to draw the inference.

Horror dawned on her face. “I didn’t think of that. But it doesn’t make a difference. Maybe she died years ago and has only just started haunting now, for some reason. Maybe she died in that very same place and the car disturbed her rest.”

“If she did, then I’d guess that they’ll find her when they investigate the scene.” Tom shuddered. “I wish you’d stop imagining these things, Celia. You’ll give us all nightmares.”

In the morning, Regan followed his usual routine. When he entered the kitchen, Tom, Celia and Maggie were crowded around the newspaper, while Tom read aloud. Maggie glanced up and waved Regan to his breakfast, which was ready and waiting for him in the warming oven.

He sat down at the table and dug in, paying little attention to the other three.

“Give me the summary,” he directed, when Tom had finished reading. “I don’t need to hear the whole thing.”

“No body.” Tom enumerated the points on his fingers. “No record in any of the hospitals. No sign of the owner of the vehicle, which is registered in Croton. No clues as to when it got there, other than that someone thought they’d seen it two or three weeks ago.”

“And no skeletons, either?”

“They won’t find her skeleton until they haul the car out, which won’t be until tomorrow,” Celia told him, frowning. “I don’t know why you think this is so funny.”

He stared at her. “Funny? When did I laugh? Or even smile?”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Everything with you is under the surface. We don’t know what you’re thinking!”

“Well, I’m not thinking this is funny, that’s for sure.”

“Men!” Celia muttered, pushing through the swing door.

“I’m really glad I’m not married,” he noted. “Life is complicated enough already.”

Tom shot him a dirty look and left the room.

Maggie smiled and got on with some food preparation. “It’s early days for them, yet. There’s a lot of adjusting to do when you get married. They still have to sort out some things.”

“It’s been nearly a year,” he answered, outraged. “How long does it take?”

“Oh, at least a year, I’d say. More like two, for some couples.”

“I’d be happy if they sorted out a way to stop talking about ghosts all the time. The resolution to this can’t come soon enough for me.”

“You know, don’t you, that if they don’t find a body, she’ll come up with another theory to explain why there’s a ghost.”

He sighed, putting down his knife and fork. “The sooner we find out who that woman is, the better I’ll like it.” He got up. “Those girls aren’t the only ones who can play detective. Thanks for breakfast, Maggie.”

She smiled and gave him a nod.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, all but one of the horses had been exercised. As none of the family were expected to return that afternoon, Regan saddled up Strawberry and set off. The trail he chose took him close to the area where the car had been found, but not to the exact place. Once he thought he was near the same area, he slowed the horse to a walk.

“Somewhere near here,” he muttered, peering into the undergrowth as they went. “Unless it’s the other side of Glen Road?”

Unbidden, the horse stopped. Strawberry snorted and edged away from one side of the path. Regan frowned. Holding his breath, he listened hard. He sniffed the air, wondering if he was imagining a faint difference to the usual forest smells. He looked down at the path, across into the surrounding woods, then up at the treetops above.

“Hello?” he called. “Is someone there?”

He waited, but there was no answer. Strawberry shifted some more, seeming to want to go backwards. Noting the horse’s uncharacteristic behaviour, he made a decision.

“This is no place for you, it seems. Let’s go another way.”

He turned the horse and allowed him to choose his own pace. When they came to a cross path, Regan guided the horse onto it, then pulled him up when they reached Glen Road. While they waited for a car to pass, Regan peered along the side of the road. In daylight, it was about the most unmysterious stretch of road you could hope to find.

The way clear, he urged the horse across and they re-entered the woods. To Regan, the way was cool and pleasant, but it soon became clear that Strawberry held another opinion. He planted his feet and no amount of urging would cause him to take one step more.

“This isn’t like you,” he pointed out, as he turned around once more. “But if you’re not happy, then we won’t go that way.”

The rest of the ride passed in peace, but he could sense Strawberry’s continuing disquietude. More than anything that had happened so far, that circumstance made him wonder exactly what was going on. Horses were not prone to imagining things, so far as he knew. Whatever was out there, it was not the figment of an over-active imagination.

He was met by Tom when he entered the stable yard.

“I’ve been wondering where you’d gotten to,” Tom greeted, following him inside. “There’s been another development.”

Regan swung down from the saddle and secured Strawberry. He gestured for Tom to continue, as he set about his work.

“The police have traced the owner of the car. They’re in the Bahamas. They’ve been there six weeks and the car was supposed to be in their garage in Croton the whole time.”

“Stolen, then.” Regan nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. No one would be fool enough to front up at hospital after crashing a stolen car, unless they really had to.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, but yeah, that’s the idea.” Tom shook his head. “Except that there’s supposed to also be someone minding the house and she’s not there.”

Regan sighed. “Let me guess. She looks exactly like the description of the ghost.”

“It would fit in neatly if she did, but no. She’s tall, full-figured, olive-skinned and dark-haired. Pretty much the opposite of what you said this girl looks like.” He smiled. “Of course, if you ask Celia, it’s not the person who crashed the car that’s doing the haunting, so I don’t suppose that matters.”

“You know I don’t believe in the haunting,” Regan grumbled. “Except…”

“What?”

He considered whether to hold his tongue, but in the end came to the conclusion that he needed the help. “I just tried to take Strawberry out near there and he wouldn’t go. It’s not like him to be nervous and fidgety. And I couldn’t see, hear or smell anything for him to be afraid of.”

“Snake, maybe?” Tom suggested.

“In two different places?”

Tom shook his head. “It doesn’t sound like it. But you know me; I know more about dogs.”

“Maybe I should borrow a dog from somewhere. Might make it easier to find whatever it is that had Strawberry hot and bothered.”

“You’re not going out there again, are you?” Tom wondered, looking concerned. “Cause, actually, there was more to what I was telling you. Apparently, the police think there’s something fishy about the whole business and they want us all to avoid the area of the crash. They were kind of annoyed that you were out, and that I didn’t know where you were.”

Regan scowled at this interruption to his plans. “Figures. The day I resolve to go and settle this once and for all, the very first minute I have to myself to try and get anywhere and someone tells me to stop.”

Tom grinned. “That’s probably how those girls feel all the time.”

“Yeah. They probably do.” He shook his head. “But there has to be another way around this. I know that woman isn’t a ghost. So, where does she go?”

They were both silent as they considered the question.

“There’s no buildings in that area.” Tom’s brow creased as he thought. “I know that section of woods well. This side of the road’s full of little hills and gullies – never would have been good for building on. And the other side isn’t much better.”

“This side’s perfect for hiding things, though,” Regan added. “And what if she just passes through there?”

“Why should she? Where would she be coming from? Where would she be going?”

Regan tried to tie the area to his mental map of the neighbourhood.

“Unless…” Tom gazed out of the stable door. “Isn’t there a derelict house off Louis Road? Do you think, if you were going from there to, say, the Glen Road Inn, you might pass through that point? Especially if you were on foot and trying to avoid being seen.”

“You’d have to cross Glen Road somewhere,” Regan confirmed. “That’s as quiet a spot as any. It’s not overlooked by any houses.”

“Exactly. It wouldn’t have to be the Glen Road Inn, either. Just somewhere in that general direction.”

Regan shrugged. “The police will have thought of that for themselves, by now.”

“In that case, there’s no harm in our taking a look at that house,” Tom replied. “Hurry up and finish and we’ll go for a little drive.”

“What about Celia?”

Tom shrugged, looking only slightly guilty. “She’s busy with her duties at the moment. And she doesn’t want the ghost disproved anyway.”

Despite Tom’s hurry, it still took Regan more than twenty minutes to put everything into a state he would be proud to have inspected – which was his aim for the stables at all times. Tom, in the meantime, had gotten bored and returned to the garage. Once everything was in order, Regan joined him there.

“Finally. Get in and I’ll drive.”

Regan nodded and did as he was told. His hand clenched on the edge of the seat in as unobtrusive a way as possible, but Tom still noticed. He edged the car out of its parking space and down the long drive. At the bottom, he turned onto Glen Road and travelled at an easy pace.

“Keep an eye out along the way,” he suggested, while he kept his eyes on the road. “You never know what you might see, if you’re actually looking.”

It only took a few minutes to reach the turn off and in that time Regan noticed nothing out of the ordinary. He was unsurprised; the land in that area was rough and wild, showing little of the human impact upon it.

As they left Glen Road, Tom slowed to a crawl. Louis Road did not attract much traffic and it was in a state of extreme neglect. The rough surface gave no indication of whether it had been used lately. The shoulders were overgrown and littered with discarded odds and ends, most of which must have blown there from elsewhere.

When they reached the old house, Tom pulled up and shut off the engine.

“I guess we’ll have to go on foot from here,” he decided. “I’m sure not going to trying driving through there.”

Two huge old fence posts showed the boundaries of the drive. A pile of tangled boards may once have been a gate that had been left standing open. Beyond, nature was reclaiming everything. A young tree grew up between the wheel-marks of long-gone vehicles.

“It doesn’t look habitable,” Tom mused, frowning at the building. “But maybe it’s better than it looks from here.”

Regan narrowed his eyes, considering. “I think the house is probably sound enough. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it’s not about to fall down.”

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in years.”

Regan looked at the ground as they walked towards the house and found that he did not agree with his friend’s assessment. It was clear that no vehicle had travelled this path in many years, but the same could not be said for foot traffic. Both sides of the track were clear of the larger kind of weed. Those that grew there were of a hardy nature, that would not show evidence of having been trampled underfoot.

About halfway there, Regan stopped and pointed. “This is a low point. The water must have pooled here and made it muddy.”

“Footprints!”

Regan nodded once. “And a hoof-print.”

Tom got down on his knees. “Dog, too, I think. And some smaller animal.” He poked at the hoof-print. “You ever ride this way?”

Regan shook his head. “I don’t allow the teenagers to, either.”

“One of the Wheelers, then? Or old Lytell?”

He shrugged. “There’s a few others nearby it could be.”

“Anything you can tell from the print?”

Once more, Regan shrugged. “Smaller than Jupe. Close to the size of Lady’s hoof, I’d say.”

“Mrs. Wheeler wouldn’t ride out here,” Tom asserted.

“No. She wouldn’t.”

He continued towards the house, not waiting for Tom to get up and join him. Behind him, he could hear Tom scrambling to catch up, but something had caught his attention and he needed to check it out. He stopped a short distance from it and stared at the upper windows. One pane was broken and a shredded curtain waved in the afternoon breeze.

“What’s up there?” Tom asked, in a low voice, right behind him.

Regan did not flinch. “I thought I saw something move. Maybe it was just the curtain.”

Tom slowly shook his head. “There’s something there. I can’t quite make it out.”

They stood for several minutes, watching, waiting.

“Let’s see if there’s a way in,” Tom suggested, at last. “If someone’s there, they can out-wait us. I have to get back before Celia has a chance to know that I’m missing.”

Regan nodded agreement and strode up to the door. He pulled on each of the boards nailed into it and found them to be secure. The handle protruded between two of them. He rattled it, finding it locked. Meanwhile, Tom was trying the boards on the windows.

“Everything seems secure here,” he noted. “Let’s try around the side.”

They had soon circumnavigated the house without finding any way in. All of the lower windows and doors were barricaded. Many of them were obviously unopened in recent years, for a variety of reasons. The upper windows were all out of their reach and nothing presented itself as a way to climb up.

“Unless you can fly, or go through solid walls, I don’t think anyone is getting in there,” Tom decided when they got back to their starting point. “Let’s face it: we must have been wrong about this place.”

Regan frowned. “Someone’s been walking up to it lately.”

“I can’t see why they should.” He looked at his watch and shook his head. “We need to get back, but maybe we could drive by the Glen Road Inn and just check out that end a little.”

Regan nodded agreement and they walked back to the car. Just as they reached the footprints, he turned sharply, as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. Through the broken window, he could have sworn he saw a woman’s silhouette. Before he could call Tom’s attention to it, it was gone. He turned resolutely back in the direction they were going, telling himself with each step that it was only his imagination.

“What’s up?” Tom asked, as he started the engine.

“Nothing. Place just gives me the creeps.”

His friend nodded. “Let’s get out of here. You keep a lookout along the sides of the road, especially when we get close to the Inn. Then, I’ll get us turned around and back to Manor House before we’re missed.”

“Before you’re missed,” Regan corrected, with a smirk. “I’m of no account.”

“Celia would notice if you were absent for an extended period. Believe me. Especially with all this going on.”

Regan grunted in reply. He didn’t like people keeping tabs on him.

“What’s that?” Tom asked, slowing down. “Can you see something through the trees?”

He pulled right over and they both peered through the leaves.

“There might be something there,” Regan conceded, “but I don’t think so.”

Tom checked his mirror and began to pull back onto the road. A fraction of a second later, he slammed on the brakes as another car rounded the bend just ahead of them on the wrong side of the road and at excessive speed. The wing mirrors of the two cars barely grazed each other. The other driver made no reaction.

“Phew! That was close.” Tom looked over his shoulder. “And it wasn’t even Grandpa Crimper. What’s Glen Road coming to, these days?”

“Did you get a look at the driver?” Regan asked, frowning.

Tom shook his head. He checked even more carefully and pulled out. “Should I have?”

“It was a woman. With long, blonde hair and fair skin.”

“The ghost?”

“I’m telling you, there is no ghost.”

“You know what I mean.” Once more Tom slowed. “Should I go any further, or is this far enough?”

“Something tells me going further won’t help us,” Regan answered. “Let’s go back. I’m looking forward to seeing what Maggie puts on my plate this evening.”

“Mmm,” Tom agreed. “That’s a good point. If no other crazy drivers are coming, I’ll just turn around and we can be back in two minutes.”

The road remained clear for long enough for Tom to make the manoeuvre. As they travelled back, Regan watched the side of the road once more, trying to keep his mind on that task and not on speculating about the strange woman. The glimpse had been so brief – and the other occasions not conducive to seeing fine detail – that he could not be sure she was the same woman. But she was certainly not from the local area. They knew the inhabitants of all the other nearby houses.

As they pulled into the drive, Regan called a halt. “Look. There.”

Tom hopped out and walked over to the gatepost, which bore a faint mark. He bent to examine it, then returned to the car. Instead of getting in, he looked at the wing mirror.

“Same red.” He got in and shut the door. “But if she drives like that all the time, she’s sure to hit things often.”

“It would suggest that she’s been here before,” Regan pointed out. “Recently, too. Those posts were painted two weeks ago.”

Tom shrugged and pulled into the garage. “If she’s the ghost, we already knew that. You saw her yourself.”

“Yes,” Regan answered, “but sometimes I wish I hadn’t.”

Continue to part three.