Giving Up the Ghost (2 page)

Reason told her she'd misunderstood what the voice had said, that it couldn't have been
speaking to her. Which didn't keep her from tossing and turning most of the night. She finally slept
and was awakened by the shrill sound of the old-fashioned alarm.

She showered and dressed quickly, eager to leave the cottage.

Chrissom Harbor High School was an old three-storied brick building, surrounded on
three sides by parking lots, playing fields and courts. A considerable distance beyond were woods,
farms, and what appeared to be a new housing development.

Gabbie parked in a visitor's spot and headed for the Main Office. Lydia Ketchem was
waiting for her. The English chairperson was a sturdy, no-nonsense woman in her mid-fifties, with
short iron-gray hair and a warm smile. Gabbie was grateful to have the job, but sorry Lydia had to
undergo surgery on both rotator cuffs, followed by months of rehabilitation.

"Let's go to the classroom and I'll explain what I've been doing. They're good kids, most
of them. You'll know who the troublemakers are before the first day's over."

The narrow, locker-lined corridor was made more dismal by flickering florescent lights.
Gabbie winced. It seemed like the middle of the night, though outside the sun was shining.

Lydia noticed her wince and laughed. "Dreary, I know. From the looks of things, you'd
think this place dates back to the Puritans. The Board's talking about finally building a new
middle-high school. They'll put it to a vote in May, but I'm afraid most of the old-timers and summer people
will come out and nix it. They don't want their taxes going up."

"Are those new houses beyond the playing fields?" Gabbie said.

"Oh, yes. They're sprouting up all over the place. And new houses mean more kids. So
we'll get a new building one of these years, most likely after I retire." Lydia rubbed her shoulder. No
doubt the torn rotator cuff was causing her pain.

They turned left and continued along another corridor. Gabbie heard raucous laughter
before two boys came into sight. Each wore black pants and a black sweat shirt under a black
trench coat. Their hair, dyed shoe-leather black, hung down their backs in skinny pony tails.

Lydia stepped in their path, her nostrils bristling with fury. "Todd! Barrett! You both
were suspended, which means you're to spend the day in Dr. Jordan's office. And you know the
rules. No black trench coats. Put them in your lockers."

The boys glanced at each other in mock amazement, and brayed with laughter. The
taller boy said, "We told Dr. Jordan we were cold, and he let us get our jackets."

Lydia glared at them. Gabbie felt the intensity of her anger and the effort it cost her to
speak civilly. "Jackets, yes, not trench coats. Or would you like me to extend your suspension?"

The shorter boy shrugged. "So? We don't mind hanging out in the office. Mrs. Green lets
us collate papers."

"Go to your lockers, and don't let me see those trench coats ever again."

They both laughed. The tall one said, his voice soft, almost caressing,"We'll try to
remember not to wear them in school, Ms. Ketchem, but we might when we're riding around. Say,
down Rostoff's Lane, to check out the animals." They shrugged out of their trench coats, tossed
them over their shoulders, and walked on.

Gabbie was glad to see them go. They were an obnoxious, insolent pair. She turned to
ask Lydia a question then stopped when she saw her face was still livid with fury--and fear.

"Bastards," she muttered. "How dare they threaten me."

"What do you mean?"

"I live on Rostoff's Lane with my cats, Tiger and Fluffy. Good thing I've got protection
against the likes of them."

Gabbie shivered. "You mean a gun?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Isn't that a bit...drastic?"

Lydia shook her head decisively, and winced in pain. "Talk to Darren Rollins, our local
lawman. He's pretty sure they caught and shaved a poor little Yorkie he found wandering on the
beach last winter." She grimaced. "Not to mention the kids they torment, kids who attend school
under our jurisdiction and protection."

As they resumed walking, Gabbie said, "Please tell me I don't have either of them in
class."

"Barrett Connelly's in your English Twelve. He's ice cold through and through."

I only have to get through till June. Still, having a student like Barrett Connelly was
unnerving. She suddenly remembered Reese Walters' comment last night, about the school being
lucky to get her. Which brought back in full force his inferences about the cottage and her unsettling
experience in the den. "Lydia, I'd like to ask you something."

"Certainly. That's why I arranged for us to get together this morning."

"I've plenty of questions about the curriculum and the kids, but this is about the cottage
I rented. It belongs to someone named Roland Leeds." She drew a deep breath. "Is there something I
should know that no one's telling me?"

Lydia eyed her speculatively before nodding. "Roland's brother, Cameron, lived in the
cottage. Last May he fell to the beach and broke his neck."

"Oh, how awful!" Gabbie shuddered. As she'd feared, the drop from the bluff was
dangerous.

"I'm sorry to have upset you," Lydia said, "but you asked, and someone would have told
you sooner or later."

"No, I'm glad you told me. It's just so shocking."

"An unfortunate accident."

An accident
, Gabbie told herself, but it didn't explain the vibes she'd
picked up in the den, much less the voice--if that was what she'd heard.

"He didn't die in the house?"

"Not according to the articles in the newspaper. Why?"

Gabbie hesitated, unwilling to appear foolish.

Lydia patted her arm. "Did you sense Cam's presence in the cottage?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure."

"It can happen, you know. After my mother died, I felt her with me for two days."

This, coming from the practical woman Lydia seemed to be, allowed Gabbie to admit, "I
did sense something." Curious, she said, "What kind of man was Cameron Leeds?"

Lydia grinned. "Sexy. Edgy. First cousin to Lucifer himself. Women adored him, and men
liked him, too, as long as they didn't get burned in one of his business schemes. Best friends with
our police chief since they were kids."

"And here we are!" She stopped and unlocked a classroom door and motioned to Gabbie
to enter. "Now, let's get down to business."

For the next hour and a half Gabbie listened, asked questions, and took notes as Lydia
filled her in on the three classes she'd be teaching. Lydia was a pro, no doubt about it. Besides
explaining exactly what she was up to in each class, she gave Gabbie a thorough rundown of every
student: who were the trouble makers, the work-shirkers, the kids with serious problems.

Lydia paused to swallow two pills with a cup of bottled water. "I'll be glad when the
surgery's behind me, and I no longer have to live with this pain. Anyway, on to whom you can count
on for support and help with discipline problems.

"Suzanne Lindstrom, the foreign language chair, is taking over my administrative duties.
If you have an English-type question, talk to Cindy West. I'd steer clear of Tim Jordan, our illustrious
principal. He'll listen intensely to your problem and promise intervention, but he's terrified of
lawsuits and lets most issues 'settle themselves,' as he puts it. Mac Debrowski, the assistant
principal is a screamer. He shouts at the little darlings, and then he lets them go. If you want tough
backup, call on the guidance counselors. Or Dr. Joe Miller, our superintendent, but only if you're at
the end of your rope."

Gabbie pursed her lips. "It sounds ominous."

Lydia waved her hand. "I was talking worst case scenario. Most of the kids are nice
enough. Just a bit spoiled and lazy. We've only a handful like Barrett and Todd. And Todd Ross was
merely a hyper kid who got into the usual mischief until Barrett moved here two years ago."

The bell rang, indicating that Lydia's two free periods were up. At her request, Gabbie
stayed while the third period students piled into the room. Lydia introduced her to the twenty-eight
kids who would be her students starting tomorrow. Gabbie smiled nervously, and then took a seat
in the back of the room.

Lydia led the students in a discussion of the chapter in The Great Gatsby they'd read for
homework. She coaxed, cajoled, scolded, and made every attempt to engage their interest and
deepen their understanding of what they'd read.

Toward the end of the period, Gabbie gathered up the textbooks Lydia had given her,
and left the room as unobtrusively as she could. She returned to the Main Office, where Mrs. Green,
the head secretary, had her fill out forms and gave her an earful of the school's many rules and
regulations.

It was close to twelve noon when Gabbie drove out of the parking field, eager to make
the most of her last day of freedom. She had chapters to read and lesson plans to prepare. Lydia had
made things easy for her by assigning The Great Gatsby to all three classes.

Her schedule was good, too. She'd be teaching periods three, four, and six, and was free
to leave school at twelve-forty.

Main Street in Chrissom Harbor consisted of three long blocks that curved like a fat C.
The stores on both sides of the street appeared to be fifty years behind the times, and weren't very
appealing. The Harbor Diner, with its chrome-colored art deco trim, stood in the middle of the
curve, between a bait shop and a bridal gown shop that displayed two bridesmaid's dresses--one
burnt orange, the other chartreuse--in the window.

Gabbie entered the diner and sat in the only booth whose vinyl seats weren't patched
with duct tape. She ordered a tuna on rye and coffee. When her order arrived, she was pleasantly
surprised to taste white tuna, a trace of mayonnaise, and no celery. The coffee was freshly brewed.
No wonder the place was quickly filling up.

Gabbie turned to Chapter One of The Great Gatsby and started reading. Having studied
the book in college and seen the movie wasn't the same as having the material fresh in her mind so
she could discuss plot, character and symbolism with her students. She paused occasionally to jot
down what she considered pertinent observations.

"Hello, there."

Gabbie looked up, into chocolate-brown eyes.

"I-I didn't hear you." The grinning police officer had slipped into the seat across the
table. She told herself her heart was racing because he'd startled her, not because he looked
downright gorgeous in his brown uniform.

"Glad to know I haven't lost my touch." He thrust forward a hand. "Darren Rollins, police
chief of Chrissom Harbor. And you're Gabriela Meyerson, our new English teacher."

She shook his hand. It was calloused and strong. "News travels fast around here."

"That's because not much happens in CH during the winter. Things get livelier when the
summer people arrive."

She was about to take another bite of her sandwich when he said, "Word has it you've
rented Roland Leeds' cottage."

Gabbie bristled. "I don't appreciate Mary Hanley telling my business to everyone in
town."

His expression turned solemn. "Mary knows I take a personal interest. My good buddy
used to live there."

She was instantly contrite. "I'm sorry. I just found out about Cameron Leeds falling off
the cliff last spring."

"I'm willing to bet Mary didn't offer that bit of information. She's been working like a
demon to rent the place, though Roland said not to bother trying till the spring. But Mary insisted
the sooner someone's living there, the better." He winked. "I hope you got it for a good price. It's
kind of rough in spots."

Gabbie laughed. "You could say that again. But Reese Walters stopped by yesterday.
He'll be fixing up the kitchen."

"The den's the most comfortable room in the cottage. Cam added it on about six years
ago."

Gabbie suppressed a shudder as she considered the room Reese Walters refused to
enter, where she thought she'd heard a male voice, and smelled a man's cologne. Not to mention the
fallen ashtray and the cold draft. Too many incidents to ignore, when you added them up. She
wanted to tell Darren about it, but surely a police officer would be a man of logic and hard facts.
There was no point in making him think she was a ditz.

"Lydia Ketchem told me Cameron Leeds was your best friend," she said instead.

"Yep. Since we were kids." Darren cleared his throat. When he spoke again, his voice
was hoarse with emotion. "It happened eight months ago, and I still find it hard to believe he's gone.
Cam had more life to him than any five people. He was a charmer. Our town Romeo. His animal
magnetism drove the women wild."

Gabbie factored in what he told her, before shaking her head. "What I don't understand
is how he could have fallen from the bluff. I mean, I saw there's no fence, and that line of straggly
trees is hardly a barrier, but he lived there for years. Was it late at night when it happened?"

Darren's expression closed like a shuttered window. "No, the report said it was around
sunset, as a matter of fact." He eased out of the booth in one graceful motion. "Well, time to go. It
was nice meeting you."

She'd offended him with her probing questions. When would she learn to curb her
curiosity and her tongue? "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that the cottage is so isolated in
winter. And then finding out someone died there." She gave a nervous laugh. "You can understand if
I'm uneasy."

Darren paused beside her and seemed to think this over.

Gabbie hadn't been this close to a man in months. Nervously she reached for her pen
and managed to overturn her mug of coffee. Quickly he pulled napkins from the dispenser and
mopped up the liquid before it could damage her books.

"Thanks." She averted her eyes, not wanting to see his exasperation. "I'm sorry. I didn't
get much sleep last night. I'm not usually such a klutz." But when she looked up he was smiling.