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  The hairs rose on the back of her neck as she got near enough to see that the hasp had been torn from the door. It hung crookedly from its fastenings in the stone wall, the padlock still secured. Who did this? She thought it had to be the work of transients or kids.

  Nervously, she peered inside, wondering if she should call out before she shoved the door shut. If there were still kids in there, she should, but what if it was some old bum? She sure didn't want to attract his attention. Staring at the geometric spiral of sun and shadow within, she decided it would be best to do nothing except go back to the house and tell her father.

  The black metal stairs clanked slightly as a cool easterly breeze washed in through the windows and out the entryway and, simultaneously, something scuttled behind the half-open door. Staring at the floor, she told herself it was nothing but a rat, though she instinctively stepped backward, fighting down the mindless urge to turn and run.

  Suddenly she noticed a black boot tip sticking out from behind the threshold Stunned into immobility, she knew it hadn't been there a second before--she would have seen it. She heard a scraping noise and a second boot appeared. Frozen, she let her gaze travel upward, seeing dark blue trousers, a long-fingered hand, then--

  He stepped out from behind the entryway and in one unending second, she saw the navy jacket with its gold piping, saw the blood, shiny and fresh, that stained the uniform blouse and jacket lapels. It had spattered the little ribbons and medals affixed to the jacket. Incredulously, she saw the ragged bloody flesh and a flash of bone at the neck as the headless thing stepped closer, its pale, well-manicured hand rising, as if it wanted to touch her.

  Paralysis broke and she stumbled backward, then turned and ran as fast as she could, heading for the house. As she neared the front steps, heart walloping against her ribcage and sides aching, she saw the beige automobile pulling to a stop just ahead of her. Theo Pelinore's stupid car.

  She stopped running and crossed her arms against her stomach trying to catch her breath as Pelinore stepped out of the Volvo and quickly walked toward her. Amber glanced back at the lighthouse and saw nothing. The monster hadn't followed her.

  "Amber, dear," Theo gushed, trying unsuccessfully to put her arm around Amber's waist. "What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost!"

  She's smarter than she looks. Amber took in Pelinore's form-fitting royal blue dress and the amethyst and quartz crystal amulet that hung between her prominent breasts.

  "Nothing's wrong," she said, making a major effort not to sound too out of breath. "I was jogging." She tried to smile innocently. "It's pretty out there by the lighthouse. You'd like it." The thought of the headless thing grabbing Pelinore's pair of pride-and-joy's nibbled away at Amber's lingering fear.

  "What a nice thought," the woman said with a patronizing smile. "I came by to talk to David and there's no reason we can't talk and walk at the same time. Thank you, dear, for the lovely idea."

  Anger, black and unbidden, rose in Amber. Barracuda! She glanced at her Swatch. "He's working right now."

  Pelinore put one foot on the bottom step. "I know he'll want to see me."

  "He doesn't see anyone while he's working. He doesn't even answer his phone unless it's New York." She paused, considering. "Or unless it's Melanie."

  One of Pelinore's elegantly plucked eyebrows shot up like an exclamation point. "Melanie?" she asked sweetly.

  "His fiancée."

  "Dear, he doesn't see her anymore. Didn't you know that?" she asked in a voice that dripped with condescension.

  "I think they might get back together."

  "And I think I might know a little more about that than you, dear." Pelinore's smile barely masked controlled anger. "Now, would you please tell him I'm here?"

  You goddamned bitch! "He works until six o'clock. Then he returns phone calls. He probably won't come out of his office before six-thirty or seven. Then we're going out to dinner," Amber retorted smugly.

  "Dear, he'll want to see me. Please tell him I'm here."

  Pelinore's eyebrow came up again, this time in a calculating way. "I have something for him."

  "You can either wait or leave it with me."

  The eyebrow stayed in arched mode. "Very well." Pelinore smiled like Cruella de Ville and pulled a small white paper bag out of her purse. "Would you give this to him, dear?"

  Don't call me dear. Amber took the bag. "No problem."

  "Tell him I'll call later."

  "Sure." Without saying goodbye, Amber turned and walked up the steps and let herself in the house, closing the door firmly behind her. She watched through the sidelight until Pelinore drove away. "Good riddance," she muttered, glancing around to make sure that her dad wasn’t out and about before unfolding the top of the small bag.

  She saw a pair of navy blue socks, neatly rolled, and, beneath them, a pair of pale blue men's briefs. "Oh, no," she whispered, her stomach knotting. "Oh, no." That bitch had already gotten to him. Pelinore's words I think I know more about that than you, dear, took on new meaning. Shit!

  A door opened nearby, then her father's voice called, "Amber? Is that you?"

  She finished refolding the top of the bag just before he entered the room. "Hi, Dad," she said without enthusiasm. "Are you done working already?"

  He nodded. "I'm having a tough time concentrating today." He saw the bag. "What's that?"

  "That real estate agent dropped it off. She said to give it to you."

  "Theo? When was she here?" he asked, extending his hand.

  "A while ago."

  He took the bag. "What is it?"

  She gave it to him. "I don't know."

  He looked inside and the color drained from his face. He closed it quickly.

  "What is it, Dad?" she asked dryly.

  "Nothing important." He tried vainly to stuff the packet in his jeans pocket. "Did you and Kelly find your costumes?"

  "Yes."

  He stared hard at her. "What's wrong, kiddo?"

  "Nothing." She wasn't mad at him, she was mad at that bitch vampire. Her dad was Pelinore's victim, she knew that and she wasn't mad at him, not exactly, but she just couldn't force herself to act normally.

  "When did Kelly leave?"

  "An hour ago."

  "Amber, what's--" He paused and glanced at the bag in his hand, perhaps worried that she really had looked inside. "What have you been up to for the last hour?"

  "I took a walk..." God, I'm losing my mind! She'd been so pissed at Pelinore that she'd forgotten the thing in the lighthouse.

  "Come on," he said, taking her elbow and guiding her to the couch. "Talk to me."

  "The lighthouse. The door was open."

  "It wasn't locked? You didn't go in there, did you, kiddo? I told you it's very dangerous-- "

  She jumped to her feet, "No, Daddy!" she exploded. "I didn't go in the stupid lighthouse!"

  "Amber--"

  "The hasp was pulled off the door," she continued. "And as soon as I saw it I was going to come back here and tell you, then I saw the shoes."

  Her father rose too. "There was someone in there?" he asked, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Amber, are you all right?"

  She nodded. Her lower lip had started trembling and she tried vainly to stop it. "It wasn't a someone. It was a something."

  He waited.

  "I saw it, Daddy."

  "Saw what, honey?"

  "The sea captain. Like... like the doll." Suddenly, all the earlier terror hit her like a dead weight. "It wa-walked out from behind the d-d-door and it reached for me." She felt tears streaming down her face. "It was all bloody and it didn't have a head. It's neck was... was all torn up and-and there was th-this b-b-bone sticking out."

  He pulled her against him and she allowed herself to sob against his shoulder. Finally, when she was cried out, he led her into his office and sat her down in his big desk chair, then picked up the phone. "Eric has seen it, too, kiddo," he told her as he punched in a number. "I think he might be helpful."r />
  She doubted that. But, already, she felt a little better. I'm Amber Masters and I'm not afraid of anything. She'd been telling herself that since she was five years old and saw a candlestick float across a room in one of her dad's investigations. And it was true, a ghost couldn't hurt her, she knew that, but this one was just so... so gross! She attempted to smile at her dad as he waited for someone to answer at Eric's mother's house. She couldn't let him worry about her or he might insist on sending her away. And then he'd really be lost to Theo Pelinore. "It just startled me, Daddy. It was like something from a horror movie, you know?" Her voice sounded stronger. "I'm fine. I don't need any help."

  "Well, at least let's get Eric to describe how he sees the ghost. And I want to know if he thinks a manifestation like that could break the hasp. I have a feeling that a human did that."

  "Are you going to call the cops?"

  "I wanted to talk to Chief Swenson anyway. This might be the right time." He paused. "Hi, Mrs. Swenson? This is David Masters. Is Eric around?" He listened, then jotted down a number, said thanks, and broke the connection. "Eric's at his uncle's," he told Amber as he dialed again. "Yes, hello. Chief Swenson? Hi, this is David Masters. May I speak to Eric?"

  "Hi, Eric," he said a moment later, then proceeded to tell the young man about her experience at the lighthouse. It didn't sound like Eric was saying much and Amber figured that he didn't want to talk in front of Uncle Policeman. Finally, her dad hung up.

  "So?" she asked

  "Eric says he's seen the same thing as you and he sounded really surprised that you saw it. Anyway, he and his uncle were just going out, so they're going to stop by here first. Eric told him about the broken lock and he wants to take a look."

  "Does his uncle believe in ghosts?"

  "Nope." He gave her a sly smile. "Judging by your story, though, he may soon."

  The phone rang, the personal line, and they waited for the machine to screen the call.

  "David? This is Theo. I know you're working now, but--"

  Amber cringed as David picked up the receiver and said hello.

  "Yes," he continued a moment later. "Sure, urn hmm. That sounds great, but let me check with Amber first. No, she's sitting right here. No, she hates surprises!"

  The bitch is up to something!

  "Theo would like to take us out to dinner tonight, down to McClinton's in Shell Beach. She says they have the best ribs anywhere."

  "She wants to take us, huh?" Amber asked dryly.

  Her dad put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Yes, us."

  "That's only because she knows you won't leave me here alone."

  "Amber--"

  The doorbell chimed, stopping her from saying something she would have regretted.

  "Theo? Can' I call you back about dinner?" He chuckled. "Well, you know how it is. I'll call within the hour. 'Bye."

  He looked at Amber. "Why don't you like Theo?"

  "We need to answer the door, Dad."

  He rose. "I know. But be honest--why don't you like her?"

  "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

  "Give me a try," he said as the bell rang again.

  She walked into the hall, then turned and looked at him.

  "She's a hunter, Dad. And you're a trophy."

  To her surprise, he didn't argue, just nodded slightly, as if considering the idea. "Let's get that door."

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Body House: 4:45 P.M.

  "Amber," Eric Swenson said as he seated himself on the front steps. "Have you ever seen any of the other ghosts?" He watched Uncle Craig and David as they walked slowly toward the lighthouse. They were gesturing a little while they talked and he could tell they'd hit it off, despite their wariness of one another. He wasn't too surprised. David was a likable man, and so was his uncle.

  "How do you mean, 'seen'?" Amber handed him a Pepsi, then sat down next to him and pulled the tab on her own soda. "I know there's a nice ghost in my room."

  Eric nodded. "Do you see her?"

  "No. Sometimes I smell lavender. And the room feels friendly... if that makes any sense."

  "It makes lots of sense."

  "I've heard the piano play, smelled the flowers, and felt the cold spots," Amber added. "But if you mean have I seen anything else with my eyes, then, no."

  "I wonder why you'd see the captain, then." He didn't understand why the echo of the murdered man was suddenly strong enough for her to see: no one else ever saw anything more than a sort of black fog, if they saw anything at all, and he didn't feel that Amber Masters was particularly psychic in any way. On the contrary, she was very similar to her father, in that she also possessed a groundedness that wouldn't let them pick up on certain things.

  "Is he dangerous?" she asked.

  "He never has been," Eric replied slowly. "But I guess I need to take a look at him before I say no, just to be safe. He's just a leftover ghost. He's not really there."

  Amber nodded. "My dad calls them 'reruns,' but it's the same thing. It was really creepy, though. He reached for me. Right for me."

  "A person is like a flame and a leftover is like a moth. They're attracted to your energy, so sometimes it seems like they know you're there."

  "Yeah. If it had touched me, would it have been cold?"

  "Probably. Or sometimes they can feel exactly like real people, if they're really strong."

  "There was a haunting my dad checked out once where this woman kept getting slapped and pinched, all over her body. She was covered with bruises and bite marks. Dad said it was a poltergeist and revenant combination thing," she added.

  "Mostly, all that's in Body House are leftovers. I don't know what your dad would call them."

  "Mostly?" Amber probed. "What about the ghost in my room? And the other nasty one that got in there with Daddy and you? Are they leftovers?"

  "He told you about that?" Eric asked in surprise.

  "Yesterday."

  "Well, I think maybe they're not leftovers, at least not like the others. They might be, but with more direction."

  "That makes them revenants."

  "Can you explain that to me?"

  "Revenants are reruns--leftovers," she amended, "that are directed by a human being, sometimes subconsciously, sometimes on purpose."

  "Then they're not revenants. I felt Miss Lizzie when I walked into that room the first time and nobody was here to direct her. Same with the other."

  "Christabel."

  "I don't feel good about saying her name, not even out here. The moth to the flame thing goes double with things like that: if you think about them, you feed them and they get stronger. I think it's good to think about Miss Lizzie, but never about the other one."

  They sat in silence for a long moment, watching David and Craig standing near the lighthouse door. A moment later, the two men disappeared inside.

  "I wonder why you saw the captain..." That question kept eating away at him.

  "The doll, maybe?" Amber suggested.

  "The doll of Lizzie?" he asked, confused.

  "No. The captain doll..." Her eyes opened wider. "Oh, you weren't here. You don't know what happened." And with that, she launched into a story about dolls and blood in the laundry room that shocked him and made him wish he understood the implications of her tale.

  "Eric?" she asked when he didn't make any comment

  "Amber," he forced himself to say, "Can I see the doll?"

  "It's locked up in my dad's desk. When they come back you can." She gave him an apologetic smile. "But if Dad doesn't bring it up in front of your uncle, don't say anything. He gets really paranoid about stuff. I'll make sure you see it tomorrow if that happens."

  In addition to seeing ghosts, Eric had always been able to sense things with his hands, so he wanted to touch the dolls. When he was little, he liked to close his eyes and feel colors with his fingertips. It was almost like a guessing game. He nearly always knew what they were and it wasn't because he saw them in his mind or anything. His
fingers could feel the colors; red felt like hot liquid mercury, orange like a friendly sun. He could detect other things with his hands too, good things and bad, and touching the dolls might be very important.

  "Look!" Amber pointed at the lighthouse.

  David Masters was already back outside and as Eric watched, his uncle raced out, gun drawn. Both men turned to stare at the structure. Something moved into the doorway, blocking the beams of light that had shone through, and for Amber's sake, Eric was glad they were too distant to see any details.

  Craig yelled something, then fired his gun once, twice. The darkness in the doorway dissipated all at once. After a moment, the two men straightened and slowly began walking back, casting glances over their shoulders every few seconds.

  "Come on," Amber said, rising. "Let's go find out what happened."

  "They're coming. Let's wait."

  "Why?" she asked impatiently.

  "Well, Uncle Craig just tried to shoot a headless ghost. He's probably really mixed up about that right now. Let them talk so they can calm down a little."

  "I guess that's the smart thing to do."

  Her words made Eric feel good.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Body House: 5:10P.M.

  "I don't believe it," Craig Swenson said as he planted his broad-shouldered body on the couch. "I just don't believe that I saw it."

  David slid into the cushiony chair across the coffee table from him. "Neither do I." He shook his head.

  "Did you think I made it up, Daddy?" Amber asked, her indignation obvious. "Did you think Eric made it up?"

  David shook his head. "No, kiddo. I believed you both. It's just that seeing it for yourself is... well, it's shocking."

  "Tell me about it," Amber said dryly.

  Craig Swenson nodded and looked at his nephew. "Eric, I owe you an apology.”

  "That's okay," Eric said, sitting down on the piano bench.

  Swenson looked at David. "When Eric was younger, he told people about seeing things like that--that thing out there. Nobody believed him."

  "They thought I was tetched in the head," Eric explained.

  "I guess I'd rather think I'm tetched too, than believe my own eyes," Craig Swenson said. "When I felt that hand on my shoulder…”