The bright beam of a flashlight hit me straight on.
“Lizzy?” called a vaguely familiar male voice.
Constable Pete got the light out of my face.
“Let me guess,” he said as he climbed the rest of the way up. “More monster hunting?”
I lowered my gun, felt the adrenaline surge begin to wane. My mouth tasted bright and coppery. I’d bitten my lip.
I nodded.
“You thought Rattling Jane might be up here?” Pete asked.
“I was walking around in the woods and saw the tower. Decided to check it out.”
“And I suppose you didn’t notice the No Trespassing sign?”
I shrugged.
“There’s a reason for it, you know? This tower is in terrible shape. It’s dangerous as hell. In fact, it’s kind of a wonder this floor is holding both of us right now.”
I said nothing. Pete had the beam of the light pointed down, but it was bright enough to light up the whole space. I could see the bowed and rotten floorboards, the crumbling cement walls around us.
“I assume you’ve got a permit for that thing?” Pete said, nodding at the gun I still held.
“Of course. Do you want to see it?”
He shook his head. “Not necessary.” He looked at me a minute, waiting, then said, “But I was kind of hoping you might put it away.”
“Oh yeah. Sorry.”
I took off my backpack and slipped the gun into its holster clipped inside the front pocket, careful not to open the main zippered pocket, where I’d tucked the book and the doll.
“Do you always carry a gun when you’re hunting ghosts and monsters?” he asked.
“Usually,” I said. My hands shook a little as I zipped the front pocket. I hoped he didn’t notice but was sure he had.
“Can you actually shoot a ghost?” he asked.
“It’s not the ghosts I’m worried about,” I told him, shouldering the pack.
He nodded, took a few steps closer. “What were you expecting?”
“I wasn’t expecting anything,” I said. “Like I said, I saw the tower and decided to check it out. I heard you coming up and I guess I just got spooked.”
“Spooked,” he repeated.
I gave a sheepish nod.
“I wouldn’t think you got spooked easily, considering your line of work.”
“I don’t usually,” I admitted.
He looked at me for what felt like a long time.
“What do you say we get out of here before the tower collapses under us and go talk someplace a little more safe? We can get a cup of coffee and some pie—my treat. There’s a diner just off the island that’s open till midnight.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I—” I felt the weight of the backpack, thought of what I had hidden there. I needed to pull myself together, act normal, get him to stop looking at me in that worried, suspicious way. I smiled. “Actually, sure, pie sounds great.”
* * *
THE HAPPY OWL Diner was one of those old-school aluminum trailer diners, complete with long counter and spinning stools covered with sparkling red vinyl.
We were the only two people in the place. The jukebox looked like it had been there since the fifties. And judging from the music coming from it—Bill Haley and His Comets—it had.
Pete and I settled in at one of the booths. I did my best to hold still, refrain from fidgeting even though my skin prickled and my mind raced. I tried not to think about the monster book and the doll and what finding them in the tower might mean; I tried to put them in a little box in the back of my mind, locked away for now.