P.J. Alderman - Ghost Ship

“Nice outfit,” Frank remarked, his tone sardonic.

Jordan whispered to Malachi to stay , then snatched up her sweats to pull on over her tank top and underwear. She tiptoed over to the bedroom door, then stuck her head into the hall, listening.

After a moment, she heard it—screeching on wood, as if someone was opening drawers in the library desk. There was a distinct thump, then low swearing. Whoever it was, he had probably walked into the wing-back chair.

She eased back into the bedroom, moving away from the door.

“Do something,” Frank demanded. “Now is not the time to be cowardly.”

“Now isn’t the time to foolishly confront an intruder who might be armed, either,” she retorted, sotto voce. Charlotte was still flying about the room, screeching. “Get control of Charlotte before she knocks something over,” she told Hattie.

“I heard that,” Charlotte hissed. “The prior owner left a baseball bat in my room. Go get it and hit the thief over the head.”

“I am in agreement,” Frank said. “If you wait for the police to arrive, it will most certainly be too late.”

“I was dropped from the softball team in college because of my low batting average,” Jordan retorted. “I’m sticking with calling the fuzz.”

Moving silently to her nightstand, she picked up her cellphone and hit speed dial. When Darcy answered, she whispered, “There’s someone in the house.”

“Where?” Darcy said, sounding instantly more alert.

“In the library, I think.”

“I’m on my way,” she said, making rustling sounds in the background. “Jordan, do not go down there. Lock your bedroom door and wedge a chair under the doorknob, then get inside your closet and lock it. Wait there until I come get you.”

“But what about the ghosts? I can’t leave them to the mercy of whoever’s down there.”

“Yes, you can. They’re already dead—they can fend for themselves. Put Malachi in the closet with you, and don’t let him bark.” Jordan heard her car door slam. “Don’t hang up. I’m there in three minutes.”

Jordan crept over to the door to close it, heard shuffling, then heard the front door crash against something. “Is that you?” she breathed into the phone.

“No, I’m still a block away. Christ! You’re giving me a heart attack. Close the damn door and get in the closet!”

“He left,” Frank reported, floating back into the room.

Hattie zipped out into the hall, hovering for a second. “Yes, he’s gone,” she confirmed.

“Darcy, the ghosts say he’s left,” Jordan relayed in a normal tone. “Dammit!” She flipped on the hall light and stomped down the stairs, Malachi and the ghosts trailing behind her. “If he stole something valuable, it’s really going to piss me off.”

“ Don’t go downstairs until I get there,” Darcy ordered. “I’m turning the corner.”

“Too late,” Jordan said. She walked through the front door, which had been left standing wide open, just as Darcy pulled up to the curb. She met Darcy on the porch.

“I goddamn hate civilians—you don’t take orders worth shit.” Darcy moved past her, gun drawn. “Stay out here while I check things out,” she ordered.

After a moment, she reappeared, holstering her gun. “The house is clear.”

“We already said that,” Charlotte pointed out, flying around Darcy’s head. “And you told her we said that. Doesn’t she listen?”

“Not real well,” Jordan replied.

“What?” Darcy asked, frowning.

“Never mind.”

“Since you willfully disobeyed my orders, did you at least catch a glimpse of the perp?”

“No.” Jordan went back inside, flipping light switches. She walked into the library, her jaw dropping. Books had been thrown about, lamps and chairs upended. Pictures pulled off the walls and dumped on the floor, their frames broken. Again.

She scrubbed her face and sighed. “I had just realphabetized those books.”

Malachi circled the room sniffing suspiciously and growling low in his throat, then sank down on the Aubusson rug, his expression watchful.

They heard footsteps on the front porch and Darcy whirled around, her gun raised. Jase came through the door, halting when he saw her weapon. His hair was mussed and his shirt unbuttoned, as if he’d hurriedly pulled his clothes on. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

Darcy shook her head and holstered her gun. “Join the party.”

“We had an intruder, but he’s gone,” Jordan told him.

Jase looked around with a grim expression while Darcy carefully studied the room. “Anything missing?” she asked Jordan.

“I don’t think so.” Jordan walked over to set the wing-back chair upright. Again. “You know, this day seriously needs to be rewound. Two assaults and a burglary within twelve hours. That’s got to be some kind of Guinness world record.”

“ Two assaults?” Jase queried. “I only know about one.”

“Long story,” Jordan muttered.

“Where’s that wall safe you were talking about earlier?” Darcy asked her. “Obviously, someone overheard our conversation in the pub.”

“What wall safe?” Jase asked.

“I’ll explain later,” Jordan told him. “Behind that bookcase. Since the bookcase is intact, they didn’t find the safe. Right, Hattie?”

“Yes, of course.”

“The ghosts are here with us?” Darcy asked.

“Sure. Where else would they be?”

“Indeed,” Frank retorted. “She can hardly expect us to vanish, given the events of the evening. It’s not as if we bother the humans who can’t detect us.”

“So what are they saying?” Darcy glanced around the room, as if she might catch a glimpse of something.

“That the safe is fine,” Jordan lied.

Keeping a wary eye on Jase and Darcy, Frank went over to inspect the bookcase more closely. “No sign of damage,” he reported.

“This may be about the papers Walters thinks Jordan stole,” Jase said. “The obvious next step was to break in here and see if you were lying about having taken them.”

“Maybe.” Darcy looked skeptical. “But the most likely scenario is that someone was after the money in the safe, heard you moving about upstairs, Jordan, and decided to hightail it before I arrived.”

“ ‘Hightail it?’ ” Hattie repeated. “What does that mean?”

Frank snorted. “If you and your friends would confine your vocabulary to what can be found in the Oxford English Dictionary , we wouldn’t continually be in need of elucidation.”

Jordan sighed. “I’ll explain later.”

“I don’t need you to explain a thing to me,” Darcy told Jordan, exasperated.

“That’s not—”

“The money is the strongest motive for whatever happened here,” Darcy continued. “And it’s not like people don’t know you and I are friends, or that I live a few blocks from here. Any planned theft would be risky, in terms of my response time if you called me. If I were the burglar, I’d be nervous as hell that you’d wake up while I was here. Therefore, why take the risk for a few old papers?”

“ What money? ” Jase asked in a cranky tone.

Jordan rubbed the bridge of her nose. She needed 180 proof alcohol. In large quantities.

Darcy walked past her into the hall to examine the front door. She straightened, nodding. “Just as I suspected—the door’s been jimmied. You’ll need to get someone out to repair it.” She cocked her head at Jordan. “Why is your hair all wet?”

“Er …” Jordan said.

“Tell them we woke you up!” Charlotte urged. “We saved you!”

“Did you see who it was?” Jordan asked Charlotte.