The Ghost That Got Away

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

IN THE MORNING, before leaving the hospital, I visit Sadie. Someone has dragged an actual armchair into her room. It’s there that Nigel is curled, a thin hospital blanket tossed over him.

Sadie appears serene, or nearly so. Her mouth isn’t slack, as it would be in sleep, but tight, like she’s worried about something. My gaze drifts to Nigel. I wonder if that something is him.

I ease the bag I’m carrying onto the floor. During my short stay, I have collected an astonishing number of things: tiny lotions, fuzzy socks with sticky tread on the soles, discharge papers, and information on head injuries. In my other hand, I hold the vase and its rose. This I clutch close.

With my free hand, I touch the back of Sadie’s. Her skin is smooth, not too cold, not too warm. Any other time, I’d agree with the doctors. There’s nothing wrong with her.

Except for one extremely nasty ghost.

I step back and jostle the IV stand. I steady it, but it jangles, the noise loud enough that Nigel stirs. The blanket slips from his shoulders, and he sits up. He stares at me, bleary-eyed.

“Katy?”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“No ... no. It’s fine. I want to be awake.” He nods toward Sadie. “I don’t want to miss anything. I really don’t want to miss it if she comes to.”

“I don’t think she has.” I want to explain why, but before I can, his gaze moves from Sadie to my hand—or more precisely, the rose in my hand.

A smile lights Nigel’s weary face. “I’m guessing that one is yours.” He nods at the vase. “Not Sadie’s.”

Her room blooms with plants and flowers. I suspect the lovely fern is from Nigel himself, a replacement for the one her sprites constantly uproot. I glance at my rose. Heat washes across my cheeks, and I nod.

“From your brother,” I say.

“Ah, I see he decided to go with ‘low key and elegant’.”

“There were other options?”

Nigel gives a soft laugh. “Lots of them. We grabbed some coffee in the cafeteria before they closed last night.” He shudders. “Speaking of which, if you get a chance, will you bring me a thermos of yours?”

“Of course,” I say, my mind half on coffee and half on Nigel and Malcolm discussing flowers.

A rap on the door has me turning. There Malcolm stands, pressed and presentable, as always. For a moment he grips the doorframe, not moving, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

“How are you this morning?” he asks, voice quiet.

“Better.” I touch my head. “Still hurts. The doctor said that’s normal.” I hold up the vase, the rose swirling in the glass. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

I should say more. I should tell him about Carter Dupree’s strange late-night visit, and get Malcolm to poke holes in my theory about Sadie’s state of unconsciousness. But at the moment all I can do is gaze at him, and he seems content to do the same.

“I’m fine, too,” Nigel calls out. “So thanks for asking and all.”

Malcolm peers around me and skewers his brother with a look. But when he enters the room, his expression is nothing but concerned.

“Sadie?” Malcolm asks.

Nigel shakes his head. “The same. The doctors have no idea why she won’t wake up.”

“I do,” I say.

I know I shouldn’t blurt it like that. And as expected, my declaration gets attention. Nigel shifts in the chair. Malcolm frowns, touches my elbow.

“Katy, I don’t think—”

“Hear me out,” I say. “Please?”

I focus on Nigel and he gives me a tentative nod.

“I think it’s the ghost in her house. She was unconscious when I found her, but she wasn’t injured, right?” I glance toward Nigel. “The doctor said so.”

He nods.

“But I was. I don’t think the ghost wanted to hurt Sadie so much as to ... have her?” I’m not sure of this last, but it’s odd that I was hurt and Sadie not at all. “I think if we can drain some of its power or even capture the thing, she’ll regain consciousness.”

Nigel’s gaze goes from me to Malcolm and back again.

“It’s a really strong ghost,” Malcolm says at last. “It’s possible that it has some sort of agenda and it’s causing this.” He gestures toward Sadie. “There are cases that back this up.”

“Do you think you can capture it?” Nigel asks. “I was there yesterday. It’s not going to be easy.”

Now Malcolm turns toward me. “I don’t even need to ask, do I?”

“We can try,” I say. “Of course we’re going to try.”

* * * *

We’ll try, but not right away. This is Malcolm’s only stipulation.

“I can’t go in without you,” he says, “and you can’t go in until you’re better.”

This gives us time to plan a massive eradication. I order special beans from the Coffee Depot—the usual Kona blend and their new fair trade holiday blend. Malcolm makes a quick trip to Minneapolis to buy spices from A Taste of Persia, the restaurant and market where he gets all his supplies for tea. For this ghost, we’ll need every trick in our arsenal.

He even sketches a floor plan of Sadie’s house. We pore over it, looking for places a ghost might use to ambush us—and vice versa. We set a date for the Saturday before Christmas. With luck, we’ll eradicate the ghost and be able to clean Sadie’s house all before Christmas Eve.

And maybe she’ll get to come home.