Ghost Hunt 2: MORE Chilling Tales of the Unknown (12 page)

Lyssa walked into the Sandstrom living room and gasped. “The chair—it’s gone!”

“What chair?” Joyce Sandstrom asked. Her face was pale and set. She appeared to be fighting back tears. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Sandstrom,” Grant said. “Lyssa’s talking about something that happened during our investigation last night. How about if the whole family comes into the living room? We can talk about what we found.”

“Let’s all listen to the audio evidence from the living room,” Jason said. He set Jen’s laptop down on the coffee table and powered it up. “I think that will help to clear things up.”

Once again, Lyssa listened to the events in the living room. She watched the Sandstrom family as they listened, too.

“Wow!” Dave said when the audio was over. “That was
awesome
!”

“We totally agree,” Jason told him.

“Do you think the guy actually sat down?” Ron asked.

“What do
you
think?” Lyssa asked.

“I say
yes,
” Ron answered. “Because, when Mom moved the chair this morning…”

“He had to walk around all day!” Dave shouted. “He didn’t have anyplace to sit down.”

“So
that’s
what you meant when you said the chair was gone,” Joyce Sandstrom said. “I never even thought about it. I just put it back where it always goes when I straightened up the room.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyssa said. “I probably should have told you what I’d done. But even we had no idea how important it was.”

“So,” Grant said. “We think we gathered some pretty interesting information. The question is, what happens now?”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Dave Sandstrom raised his hand.

“Go ahead, Dave,” Jason said. “Tell us what you think.”

“I think somebody should put the chair back,” Dave said. “That way, the ghost will have a place to sit down.”

“
I
think that’s an excellent idea,” Grant replied. “Who do you think those
somebodies
should be?”

Dave and Ron looked at each other. And smiled.

“Hey, check this out, you guys,” Lyssa said.

She waved a large envelope in the air. It was several weeks later, after the TAPS team went to the Sandstroms’ home.

“It’s from the Sandstrom brothers. They sent a final case report.”

The team gathered around. Ron and Dave had put their findings in a folder, the same way the TAPS team did. There was a label on the front of the report.

Lyssa flipped open the folder. Right on top was a sketch of the living room. The drawing clearly showed a chair, sitting to one side of the fireplace. It was circled in red. Underneath it was the report itself.

“Ever since we put the chair by the fireplace, the footsteps have stopped,”
Lyssa read aloud.
“We don’t see or hear the limping man anymore.

“We all talked it over and decided to leave the chair right where it
is for as long as we live in the house. And if we move out, we’ll leave a note for the new people, explaining that the ghost needs a place to rest his leg.”

“Oh, man,” Mike said. “That is so cool.”

“Thank you very much for helping us figure out what was going on. If you come to New York State, we hope you will visit us. This ends our report.”

Lyssa smiled. “It’s signed Ron and Dave Sandstrom.”

“Wait a minute,” Jen suddenly said. “I think there’s some writing on the other side of the page.”

Lyssa turned the page over.

“P.S.,”
she read.
“We’re sorry you never got to see the ghost.”

“So am I,” Grant said. “So am I.”

“
M
om, I don’t need a babysitter! I’m almost old enough to
be
a babysitter. Why can’t I just stay by myself?” Charlie Hazelton glared at her mother. “I’m twelve,” she said. “I mean, come
on.
”

“Charlie, this is a new place. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone,” Charlie’s mother said.

From the way she said it, Charlie could tell that her mother hadn’t made up her mind. Charlie still had a chance if she could talk fast enough.

“All you’re going to do is run some errands, right? It’s not like you’ll be gone all that long.”

“Most of the afternoon,” Mrs. Hazelton said. “Which is long enough. I have to buy all the food for the housewarming party
on Sunday. And it takes a while to get into town.” Mrs. Hazelton sighed. “Sometimes I wonder what your father and I were thinking, moving way out into the country like this.”

All of a sudden, her expression brightened. “Hey, maybe you should come along. You know, a shopping trip. Just you and me. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Mom,” Charlie said. “You’re going to the
grocery store,
not the mall.”

“Oh, all right.” Her mother abruptly gave in. “I guess you can stay here by yourself. On one condition: stay away from the lake.”

Charlie rolled her eyes.

“I really mean it, Charlie,” her mother said. “You’ve lived in apartments your whole life. You didn’t even learn to swim until last year. And we don’t know how deep the lake is. I’m just not comfortable with you going down there on your own.”

“I got my junior lifesaving certificate,” Charlie reminded her. “Mom, I’m
twelve.
You know—almost a teenager.” How many times did she have to say it before her mother got the point?

“There are stories about that lake,” Mrs. Hazelton went on. Clearly, she wasn’t really listening to Charlie at all.

“What kind of stories?” Charlie asked.

“I don’t know,” her mother said impatiently. “I’ve just heard that no one swims there. It’s not safe. Now, either you promise not to go near the lake or you come with me.”

“Oh, all right,” Charlie said. “Honestly.”

If I ever have kids, I won’t treat them like babies,
she thought.
It’s embarrassing sometimes.

Forget that. It’s embarrassing
all
the time.

“Promise me,” her mother said.

“Mom.”

“
Promise
me,” her mother insisted.

Charlie sighed. “I promise not to go near the lake,” she said. “There! Okay?”

She meant to keep her promise. She honestly did. But her mom never said she had to stay inside. Right?

Right,
Charlie thought. She stepped onto the front porch and closed the door behind her. She had lived here for exactly one week. Her parents dragged her away from her friends, her school… everything! So Charlie figured that she had a right to go exploring.

She walked down the porch steps and turned left. Her sneakers made soft swooshing sounds as she crossed the lawn. It was smooth and green, like a carpet. Charlie thought it was fake the first time she saw it.

She went around the corner of the house and headed for the orchard. It was pretty—if you liked rows and rows of apple
trees. After the orchard came the meadow. It was on a hill, sloping down. At the bottom of the meadow was the lake.

The one that she was supposed to stay away from.

“I don’t know what Mom’s so worried about,” Charlie muttered to herself. She stomped through the orchard. “It’s not even a real lake. More like a pond. It’s probably not even deep.”

Still, to play it safe, Charlie stopped at the top of the hill. She could see the lake from there. Which was definitely
not
the same as breaking her promise. Mom never said that Charlie couldn’t
look
at the lake.

The water looked quiet and peaceful in the summer sunshine.

Okay. It probably
is
big enough to be called a lake,
Charlie thought. It even looked deep. But it didn’t look dangerous.

The lake curved around in a funny shape, like an enormous kidney bean. The water was green and clear. The biggest willow tree Charlie had ever seen stood on the far shore. The tree’s long, skinny branches draped down like a pale green curtain. Some of the tree’s roots were actually underwater.

Charlie couldn’t see the roots from where she stood. But her dad had told her about them.

A breeze came up. It ruffled the surface of the water, making it sparkle in the sun. Then there was a quick, blinding flash of light. Charlie cried out in surprise and covered her eyes.

When she uncovered them, she saw the little boy.

He looked as if he was about five years old. He wore a red
T-shirt and baggy jeans. He was standing about halfway down the hill, staring at the lake.

Who is he? What’s he doing out here all by himself?
Charlie wondered.
Does he live around here?

No,
she answered her own question. No one lived around here. The nearest neighbors lived over a mile away. And they didn’t have kids.

“Hey!” she called.

The boy turned his head to look at her.

“What’s your name?” Charlie yelled. “What are you doing around here?”

The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he began to run.

He ran down the slope, toward the water.

“Wait up!” Charlie called. “I didn’t mean to sound mad. I just…”

For such a little kid, he was running really fast. He ran down a steep, skinny path. He nearly tripped. But he kept running.

“Hey, watch out!” Charlie called. “Watch where you’re going—or at least slow down!”

But the boy didn’t slow down. He ran even faster, straight toward the lake. It was almost as if something was chasing him—or as if he couldn’t stop.

Charlie didn’t know why exactly, but something felt bad. The boy was so little. What if he couldn’t swim? What if the lake was seriously deep? What if it really
was
dangerous?

What if he
was
being chased—by something she couldn’t see?