Secrets of the Specter

“C’mon,” I said as I scooped Ms. Cat into my arms. “You’re coming with me.”

I grabbed my keys and cell, then hurried out of the house and back to my car, locking my front door behind me out of habit. It was much easier to do from the outside, at least.

With Ms. Cat and I safely tucked inside my car, I engaged the locks and pulled up the special number I kept programmed into my phone for “just in case” moments. I didn’t need to tie up a 911 line, but I did want an officer to come and check things out.

“Cook County dispatch,” a pleasant voice chimed on the other end of the line.

“Hi, sorry to bother you—” Why did it always feel like an intrusion to call for help? “But I think someone might have been trying to break into my house. I was hoping an officer could come by and check it out.”

It was times like these I wished I had a boyfriend—or at least a roommate. Not that I needed a man to protect me, but it would have been nice to know I wasn’t alone in this.

“Yes, ma’am, we can have an officer right out,” the dispatcher said. “Please go ahead with your address whenever you’re ready.”

I rattled it off and let her know I was waiting in the car out front, then hung up to wait, swinging my gaze between the front of my house and the road.

Hardly three minutes passed before Officer Don pulled into the driveway behind me once again. I jumped out to greet him, leaving Ms. Cat safely behind in the vehicle.

Not that she needed me to take care of her. She was made of stronger stuff, having been able to easily navigate her way across town multiple times before she finally settled into my house with me. Oh, I wish I could bottle that and drink down several big gulps.

Although I did have to admit that my life had gone haywire ever since she first showed up outside my shop. There’s no way it could have been Ms. Cat’s fault, though. Right?

“Hey,” I said sheepishly once Officer Don managed to climb out of his cruiser. “I’m so sorry to make you come back.”

He waved off my concern with an oh-shucks look. “Nah, not a problem at all. Now, tell me, what’s going on here?”

“Someone tried to break in—or maybe even succeeded—I’m sure of it. And after having that truck follow me through town, I’m just on edge.”

“Can you start by showing me what led you to believe there was an attempted forced entry?” he asked. Maybe he thought I was being paranoid, but as soon as I showed him the evidence, he’d be singing a different tune.

We headed inside, and I pointed out the spots along the doorframe where the wood had splintered, then demonstrated the difficulty I’d had with both the door and lock from the inside.

“Stay back,” he said, then unbuttoned the little snap on his gun holster, keeping his hand poised above as he crept deeper into the house.

Me? I shifted from foot to foot, so nervous I could have peed myself. This was really happening. It wasn’t all in my head. Someone was targeting me. But why?

I peered after Officer Don, ready to bolt at the slightest sign of trouble. Not that I didn’t want to have his back, but… I couldn’t even if I tried.

I wasn’t up to tackling a burglar that was able to take down a big, burly police officer like Don. Not to mention, I didn’t have any weapon beyond my signature wit and charisma.

Officer Don swept the downstairs, then proceeded upstairs to do the same. When he returned, he shook his head. “There’s no one inside, but your door was definitely tampered with. I’d like to take some prints if you don’t mind.”

“Please,” I choked out, returning to the driveway behind him. Now that it was safe, I needed to let Ms. Cat out of the car. Something told me she wouldn’t like staying in there a second longer than she had to.

I busied myself taking care of kitty while Don inspected the door.

“Didn’t get any prints,” he told me a short while later. “But come on down to the station tomorrow and sign the official report.”

He stepped closer and looked down into my eyes. “I really recommend you go stay with a friend for the night. Do you want me to wait while you pack?”

I shifted from one foot to the other again, and when I did, my body moved slightly to the left, giving me a clear view of the inside of my living room.

And Margaret McAllister, ghost extraordinaire, hovering beside my coffee table.

I nearly choked on my spit.

“Nope,” I yelped. “I’m good. I’ll pack a bag and take off for my aunt’s house.”

If Officer Don noticed my anxiety suddenly ratchet up, he was too polite to comment on it. He just tipped his hat and headed for his car with his little black print kit in his hands.

As for me, I hightailed it into the house and slammed the door behind me.

Margaret still stood in the middle of my living room, staring solemnly as she waited for my full attention.

I sucked in a deep breath as Ms. Cat wove her way through my legs. “Did you set my store on fire?” I demanded.

Okay, calm down.

This was a ghost, not a person.

She couldn’t have… But she had handed me the letter, which meant she could interact with the physical world. Suddenly, I felt very sure of one thing: Margaret was to blame for my storefront flames.

“You did. Didn’t you?” I spat, placing a hand on each of my hips. “But why?”

The specter continued to stare at me without speaking.

My temper flared. “I’ve been trying to figure out what you need, trying to help.” It took everything I had not to explode with rage. “I’ve been doing research. Were you involved with a man from the spy ring? Did his last name start with an H?”

She blinked rapidly but didn’t speak. In fact, I didn’t think she could speak. Somehow her eyes seemed to sparkle, though.

“Am I on the right track?” I begged. “Am I close?”

The corners of her mouth tipped up.

“Okay,” I muttered. “I’m getting closer. I wish you could just tell me how to get more information.”

As she faded away, her smile broadened.

It didn’t improve my mood.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Come on, Ms. Cat,” I muttered. She followed me to my bedroom, where I quickly packed an overnight bag for myself. Once that was taken care of, I emptied her litter box and slid it into a garbage bag, grabbed the bag of litter and her food, and headed out to the car. I carefully wedged the litter box on the floor of the backseat so it wouldn’t slide around as I drove. I’d dumped it first, of course, but no way I wanted stray litter spilling out in my car. That would be next to impossible to clean up and its scent would probably linger for the entire life of the car.

When I turned back to the house to go fetch kitty, I found her already sitting pretty at the end of the walkway.

“Well, then. I guess you’re ready?” I said with a chuckle.

Despite the addition of my new pet, Aunt Linda was only too happy to have me spend the night. Of course, I didn’t tell her the exact motivation behind it, or she never would have let me go back home.

Still, for the night, it was nice to have another living person around to make me feel safer. If Margaret, Sr., was trying to protect me, she was doing a very poor job of it—between the fire and the break-in.

Nothing beat nights spent in my old childhood bedroom. Ms. Cat seemed comforted, too. She snoozed contentedly at the foot of my bed for the entire night.

The next morning, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with myself. There was no point heading in to work just yet, so after a nice, sit-down breakfast with Aunt Linda and Ms. Cat, I decided to head on over to the community library. It seemed the best place to expand my research, especially since I hoped to find local connections to the events that had happened hundreds of years ago.

The squat building sat mostly empty, but it was only nine in the morning in a small town. Most of the townsfolk probably weren’t even out of bed yet.

“Hey, Kira,” I called to the librarian. She was yet another person I’d known all my life. In fact, she used to babysit for me back in the day. “Just doing some research.”

She sipped her coffee and waved at me. “Let me know if you need anything. You’re my first visitor today.”

I helped myself to the complimentary coffee—which, thanks to Kira, was always perfectly delicious—and got to work. Since I didn’t need a computer, I set my purse on a table beside one of the thick club chairs and went to collect some books on the Revolutionary War.

I could sit here and flip through the pages all day long. In fact, I might do just that. The library even had a small café that sold sandwiches and chips, so I had lunch covered for whenever the need arose. Surely a ghost or its mysterious feline partner in crime wouldn’t bother me here.

The morning ticked by pleasantly enough. I read through book after book, skimming for any information about the Culper spy ring and then scouring it for every detail that might be of use when it came to understanding Margaret’s life and death.

The ring was formed in 1778 by a Major Benjamin Tallmadge and General George Washington. This hidden network was used to feed Washington information on British Army operations. Mostly civilians were employed, seeing as they could blend in and ultimately attract less attention than soldiers.

They even had secret names and code numbers. The whole thing was very James Bond, long before 007 was even a glint in his great-great-grandfather’s eye.

All fascinating stuff, but nothing that mentioned Margaret McAllister or jumped out as being helpful. Maybe I was looking in the wrong books, or maybe the library just didn’t have them.

My stomach let out a pitiful rumble, and I checked my phone. Almost lunch time. I swear, I could set the clock by my stomach.

I wanted to finish the book I was currently working on before heading to the cafe stand to buy a sandwich, though. It would be easier to start fresh after lunch rather than trying to pick up in the middle of my reading.

I adjusted myself in the comfy chair, but I suddenly felt very uncomfortable, indeed. The thin hairs on the back of my neck rose.

Was someone watching me?

Was my ghostly ancestor nearby?

Honestly, I didn’t like either of those options.

I lifted my book, pretending to drag my eyes over its pages as I snuck a glance around the library. I was tucked into the far corner where I’d been all by myself for much of the morning. I’d seen a few people pass through the stacks in front of me from time to time, but no one recently.

Was I just being paranoid, given all that had happened in the past few days? I hated being that person, but I’d hate it even more if I ignored my instincts and came to serious harm because of it.

“Hello?” I called out, not really expecting an answer but knowing that even the silence would help to calm my nerves.

“Hello,” a lyrical voice responded from the stacks.

My heart skipped a beat as the handsome veterinarian stepped out from between the shelves and treated me to the full shine of his dimpled grin.

“Dr. Wes,” I exclaimed with pleasure, genuinely happy to see him. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and looked toward the small sign at the end of the bookshelf. Science Fiction and Fantasy.

“I’m a closet bibliophile,” he explained. “And it’s just Wes. I’m only Dr. Wes when you’re in my clinic.”

“Got it.” I raised my eyebrows. “But a reading habit is nothing to be embarrassed about, so why are you in the closet?”

With a chortle, he walked toward me. “I’m not embarrassed, exactly. But growing up, I tended to get teased whenever I walked around carrying a book with a giant spaceship on it.”

I leaned forward and took the book from his outstretched hands. “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” I read from the cover. “Now there’s a strange question.”

He took the book back lovingly. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ve read it many times before. Unfortunately, it’s going to be hard to ask you to lunch if you’re poking fun at my reading choices.”

I froze and looked up at him, butterflies erupting in my stomach. “Lunch?”

His big grin nearly knocked my socks off, but it was his warm British accent that bowled me over. “If you’d like. I’d love to buy you a sandwich.”

I ducked my head. “I’d love for you to buy me a sandwich. Thank you.”

Wes accompanied me around the history section and helped me put my books back so that Kira wouldn’t have to. “Bit of a history buff, are you?” he asked.

“Eh, not really.” I laughed. “I’m trying to learn more about my family’s heritage. Just a neat little side project.”

Wes didn’t ask anything more about it as we made our way toward the front of the library. When I started to move toward the small café, he breezed past me in pursuit of the door.

I gawked at him in surprise. “I thought we were getting sandwiches?”

He cocked his head and held out his hand. “I think we can do better than refrigerated chicken salad. Let’s go to Stacked.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Otto does make a mean club sandwich.” It was also a very public place to sit and have a meal together. There would be questions from the other shop owners on Historic Row, but Wes was more than worth it.

We stepped out of the library side by side into the pleasant warmth of high noon.

“Shall we walk?” he asked.

I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and nodded. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

Halfway toward the Row, he offered me his arm, which I took. He kept near the street, leaving me to walk inside beside the grassy field. A product of a bygone era, letting the woman walk on the inside to spare her from the unpleasantness or danger of passing cars. How charming.

We made it to Otto’s in short order, the conversation never running dry. I even stopped getting tongue-tied around him during said journey.

“So…” Wes said, drumming his fingers against the table. We’d already ordered and were now sitting to wait for it. “How’s Ms. Cat? Have you come up with a name for her yet?”

I shook my head, then waited as Otto set our sandwiches and drinks in front of us with far too smug a smile on his face.

“Not yet,” I said, ignoring Otto and his tell-tale grin. “I know I’m the worst cat owner ever. But she keeps trying to run away on me, and I’m trying not to get too attached. She still might have another owner out there looking for her.”

“If I was her, I wouldn’t ever leave,” he mumbled, then glanced up from his sandwich with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Smooth,” I said with a laugh. “Do you use that line on all the ladies?”

He burst out laughing, too, which earned him major brownie points when it came to me. A man who could take a good-natured ribbing was a man who was comfortable with himself. Honestly, I found that even more attractive than the accent.

The rest of lunch went much the same, with both of us teasing and flirting with each other in turn.

If I spent much more time around Wes, I’d be sorely tempted to let that flirtation develop into something more. But was I ready for that? Did I really want to make such a big change in my life?

It seemed I’d have to figure that out mighty fast.

After lunch, Wes had to get back to the clinic, so I grabbed my car from the library parking lot and headed home. As much as I’d have liked to continue taking cover at Aunt Linda’s, I couldn’t avoid my place forever.

Better to return now in the broad daylight, then to avoid it all day and come back during the dead of night.

Thankfully, everything about the house seemed perfectly normal, exactly as it was supposed to be—or at least it did, until I got inside and shut the door behind me.

Maggie McAllister stood in the exact same spot she’d faded out of yesterday, waiting for me apparently.

I yelped and dropped my bags. “Seriously? What now?”

She raised her eyebrows, as if questioning if I’d made any progress.

“I didn’t find anything,” I said. “Though not for lack of trying.”

She stayed stock still. Not even her facial expression changed, and still, I knew I’d disappointed her.

“Okay, okay,” I exclaimed in exacerbation. “I’ll keep researching. In fact, I’ll do it right now.”

That seemed to appease her, even though she still hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Bah.” I left her and went upstairs to do just as I’d promised.

More research.

Yippee.

CHAPTER TWELVE

After a swift costume change, I hopped onto the treadmill I kept in my multipurpose room along with various crafting supplies and a daybed with trundle. After setting my phone on the little tray, I set my speed and incline for a quick warmup. Once that was done, I grabbed my phone and settled in for a long hour of high incline and hearty research via my web browser.

For whatever reason, my search bore much more fruit than the last time I’d scoured the Internet. I’d have to bow out early so I could move to my laptop and jot down some notes. My attention couldn’t be divided for this.

I grabbed my laptop and made myself cozy on my bed. As soon as I had done that, Margaret appeared beside me, scaring me out of my skin.

“I’m working on it,” I ground out in frustration. “You scaring me doesn’t make anything go any faster.”

Of course, she didn’t respond. She just stared at me with those soulful eyes, making me feel even more guilty for not figuring anything out yet.

Sweat trickled down my back, and I hated to dirty my sheets, so I decided to run to the bathroom for a super-fast rinse-off.

Margaret, thankfully, did not attempt to join me there. She was, however, waiting at my bedside when I returned, donning my favorite terry cloth bathrobe.

“Okay.” I rubbed my hands together after pulling my laptop onto my crossed legs. “Let me see what I can see.”

Off and on, Margaret flickered in and out in my peripheral vision, and I did my best to ignore her. She wanted me to research her history, so that’s where I kept my focus.

And I made lots of notes.

Lots.

Of.

Notes.

And I must have been on the right track, because at one point, I caught Maggie, Sr., smiling at me.

I pulled my eyes down the page of dense text, and a name popped out at me. Nathan Hale. Hale. H.

Could it be?

“Hey,” I yelled. “Maggie? Ms. Cat?”

I looked up to find both the cat and the ghost standing right beside me. To my credit, I didn’t even jump. I must have been growing accustomed to my own personal haunting. Super.