Ghost Hunt 2: MORE Chilling Tales of the Unknown (4 page)

“That might give Mark a place to start at the historical
society,” Grant said. “Lots of ships sailed from England, I know, but not all of them.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed. “Still cuts down the number of ships we have to investigate.”

“Let us do it!” Tom burst out. “Me and Grandpa George. I like investigating stuff. Ask Grandpa. He’ll tell you.”

“It’s true,” Grandpa George said slowly. Lyssa thought she could almost see the older man thinking over his grandson’s suggestion. “Tom’s like me that way. I’ve spent a fair amount of time over at the historical society, and I’m familiar with the collection. Maybe we
could
help. If you tell us what we’re looking for.”

“I’ve got a theory,” Mark said. “This whole thing started the year Tom turned nine, right? Why don’t you try looking for a ship with a nine-year-old on board? Ship records should show things like that.”

“Why would somebody that young be on a ship?” Jen asked.

“Several reasons.” It was Grandpa George who replied. “He could have been a cabin boy or even a stowaway. Or maybe the captain’s son. Perhaps the ship was carrying settlers, like the
Mayflower.
Whole families came on ships like that. A baby was even born on the
Mayflower.
”

“Oh, man, this is going to be totally awesome!” Tom exclaimed.

Grant smiled. “Sounds like you two are the perfect pair to take this on.”

“Hey, check this out,” Lyssa said a couple of weeks later. “It’s a letter from George and Tom Kelly. I wonder what they discovered, if anything.”

Grant grinned. “Only one way to find out. Go ahead.”

Lyssa opened the letter. There was Tom’s big, neat handwriting, just like before.

“Read it, Lyssa,” Jason said.

“Dear TAPS,”
Lyssa read aloud.

“This sounds good,” Mark commented.

Lyssa looked up at Mark with a smile and continued to read the letter.

“Oh, man,” Mark said. “Can I just say this? I really like these guys.”

“I think we all feel the same way,” Jason said. “Is that all?”

“Pretty much,” Lyssa said.

“Great! We could all use a little rest,” Grant said.

RING RING RING…

Mark picked up the phone, and Lyssa heard him say, “TAPS,
how can we help you?” She watched as he then frantically grabbed a pen and starting writing.

“Hey, guys, you gotta hear this,” Mark said as he hung up the phone.

“I know that expression,” Grant said. “It looks like we’re not getting a rest after all.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Jason said. “It looks like it’s all hands on deck right now!”

S
queak.

The strange, high-pitched sound wormed its way into Joe Hensick’s brain. He groaned and pulled a pillow over his head to block out the sound. Joe didn’t want to wake up. All he wanted to do was sleep.

Squeak.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeeeeak.

Joe rolled over.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

SQUEAK. SQUEEEEEEEAK!

“Ralph!” Joe bellowed. “For crying out loud!”

The dog didn’t answer, but the squeaking stopped.

Joe rolled over once again—and fell off the couch with a
thump.
He landed flat on his face, right onto the hardwood floor. Joe was definitely wide awake now. He sat up, the blanket tangled around his legs.

I can’t believe this is happening,
he thought. For the third time in one week, he’d fallen asleep on the couch.
Too much studying.
That’s what it was. He’d been sitting on the couch, reading his history book. And the next thing he knew, that squeaking was wrecking his sleep. Again!

“Ralph!” he called out. “Where are you, you lazy mutt? C’mere, boy.”

Joe heard the click of nails on the wood floor. A moment later, his dog, Ralph, trotted into the room.

Ralph was some crazy, mixed-up combination of all sorts of different breeds. The Hensick family always had mutts when Joe was growing up. Ralph was just the latest in a long line, but he was the first dog Joe had ever had on his own.

He’d picked out Ralph at the animal shelter right before heading off to college. It made finding a place to live a little tougher, but Joe didn’t mind. When it came to Ralph, it was love at first sight.

But the truth was that Ralph was the homeliest dog Joe had seen in his entire life. And he knew some seriously funny-looking dogs. Ralph was black and white, with a black head,
tail, and back. He had a white belly and legs, and four gigantic black paws. One of his ears stood straight up; the other flopped over sideways. His tongue lolled out when he panted and drooled. He did that a lot.

“Hey, Ralph,” Joe said. The dog had stopped halfway across the living room. He sat down, his black tail thumping. There was something in his mouth. “I’m not mad, I promise,” Joe went on. “Come on, boy. Come show me what you’ve got.”

Click. Click. Click.
Ralph padded over to the couch and sat down. Joe squinted at the thing in Ralph’s mouth and sighed.
Not again,
he thought.

“Okay, Ralph,” Joe said. “Show me what you’ve got. Drop it. Drop it, boy.”

Ralph dropped it right in Joe’s lap.

Joe picked up the object by one ear. It was a plush bunny toy. And it was soaked with dog slobber.
Ew.

“Gee, thanks,” Joe said. He scratched Ralph behind his ears. “I guess I asked for it.”

Joe stared at the bunny. When you squeezed—or bit—its middle, it squeaked.

Ralph loved squeaky toys. He couldn’t get enough of them. And his favorite time to chomp on them was in the middle of the night, so Joe put the toys away when he went to sleep. He put them in the hall closet with the door shut tight.

That was the idea, anyhow. But for the third time this week, Ralph had somehow gotten the toys back out of the closet. Joe had no idea how the dog did it.

Joe untangled his legs from the blanket and stood up. Ralph stood up, too, his tail wagging.

“Okay, come on. Let’s go check this out.”

Joe set off toward the hallway with Ralph at his side. The closet was just to the left of the front door. Joe reached it and stopped and stared. Then he switched on the hall light to make sure he wasn’t getting it wrong.

Just like the last three times this had happened, the closet door was closed. Joe was sure that Ralph hadn’t opened the door and closed it again. The door opened out into the hallway, so there was absolutely no way the dog could have opened the door himself—unless he was secretly a werewolf and changed into a human. How else could Ralph use a doorknob?

“What are you, some kind of magic dog?” Joe asked.

Ralph thumped his tail happily.

I don’t think so,
Joe thought.

But at least the idea made him smile. Sort of. Because the truth was, this thing with the squeaky toys was starting to get a little weird. Ralph shouldn’t have been able to get the closet door open. He should
not
have been able to get to those toys.

Okay, let’s say he did,
Joe thought. Suppose there was some
trick to the closet door that only dogs could discover. Suppose Ralph could actually open and close the door on his own…

That still didn’t explain one other extremely strange thing.

Joe had bought three squeaky toys at the pet store. Three and
only
three.

Now there were three plush squeaky toys lying in a heap in front of the closed closet door. And one in Joe’s hand. The soggy one Ralph had been chewing on.

Joe shook his head. The math was too simple to get wrong. That added up to a total of
four
toys.

He looked at Ralph. “Can you explain this? How on earth did you get an extra toy?”

Ralph answered with a
woof.

Joe shrugged and dropped the plush rabbit onto the pile. Instantly, Ralph made a dive for it. He came back up with the stuffed bunny in his mouth.

Squeeeakkkk.

Ralph gave Joe a hopeful look—as if to ask whether it was finally playtime.

Joe laughed. He couldn’t help it. So there were four toys. Maybe Ralph had brought an extra one home from the park or something, and Joe just hadn’t noticed. He might as well get some studying done since he was awake. But first, he decided to play with Ralph for a while. Then he would take a shower and
make himself and Ralph a good breakfast. He planned to forget all about this weirdness.

That’s what he told himself, anyhow.

An hour or so later, Joe was in the shower. Ralph was safely outside the bathroom door. Next to squeaky toys—and food—water was Ralph’s favorite thing. Which was great when it was time to give him a bath, but not so great if Joe was the only one who was
supposed
to be in the shower.

Joe turned off the water. He slid the shower curtain back and reached for the towel on the nearby rod.
Scrambled eggs and bacon,
he thought. Ralph loved bacon.

Joe dried himself off and put on boxers and a T-shirt. With one hand, he hit the wall switch for the fan to help clear away the steam. With the other, he reached for his hairbrush. He glanced into the bathroom mirror.

Joe made a strangled sound. His hand froze in midair. He stared at the mirror, not seeing his face at all, but seeing something else instead.

The surface of the mirror was covered in small handprints. It looked like some wacky kindergarten art project.

He blinked, wondering if he was imagining it.

Nope, they were still there.

This was beyond weird. Who could have covered his mirror in handprints—and why? Was it a joke?

He blinked again. Was it possible that the prints were here yesterday and he hadn’t noticed?