Last Ghost at Gettysburg (20 page)

“Well, it appears they’re researching a
Confederate cavalryman who fought in the battle.”

Darcy felt his stomach flip. “Did they have a
name for this guy?”

“Oh my, yes. Major Crosby Hilliard of the
Army of Northern Virginia, under the command of Wade Hampton.”

Mike closed his eyes and counted to five, his
way of calming himself down.
What on earth were those kids up
to?

“Something wrong, Mike?”

“Nah, Mary Ellen, just a summer allergy
headache.” He managed a smile. “Did they find what they were
looking for?”

“Yes and no. The trail went cold in our
resource room, but I put them in touch with a friend of mine in
Charleston who’s trying to help them.”

“I see.”

“Oh my, have I spoken out of turn? I assumed
you were aware of the kids’ research project.”

“Don’t worry, Mary Ellen, I know they’re
working on something. Thanks for helping them.”

She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Oh,
Michael,” she cooed, “you know I’m always here to help. Just give a
holler.” With that she grabbed the cart and eased off down the
hallway, whistling through her teeth.

So that’s what’s going on,
he thought.
It all made sense now. The visit to Carlton Elway. Bruce Morrison
questioning him and giving him funny looks.
They know
. But
how did they find out? And how did they manage to ascertain the
horseman’s identity? Most importantly, why hadn’t they confided in
him? Darcy and his daughter had never kept secrets. He and Terri
had even disclosed all the details of LouAnne’s adoption while she
was still a child. Why the secrecy now? And were those kids
putting themselves at risk somehow?

Darcy was in a quandary as to how to get them
to come clean with him. He had never used the heavy-handed approach
when he was teaching and didn’t want to start now. On the other
hand, he didn’t want the kids getting in over their heads to the
point where he couldn’t help them.

As Mike mounted the tour bus for his
afternoon presentation he decided to wait for that evening’s dinner
gathering to see if the teens would be forthcoming or if he’d have
to pry it out of them, which he had been quite good at in his
teaching days. One way or another, he had to get to the bottom of
this.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“This is some amazing goulash,” said
Bortnicker as he crammed a forkful of dripping noodles into his
mouth. “All that digging out back has made me ravenous.”

“Yeah. Great eats, Aunt Terri,” agreed
T.J.

“You boys worked hard out there,” said Terri,
“so eat as much as your heart desires.”

“Pass the rolls, please,” said Mike, eyeing
the teens. He cleared his throat. “So, you guys do anything
exciting today? Besides digging in the yard, that is.”

All three simultaneously stopped chewing.
LouAnne, trying desperately not to be caught in a lie, ventured,
“Um, Daddy, we were at the museum today, doing a little
research.”

“Really? On what?” said Darcy, nonchalantly
twirling some egg noodles on his fork.

“Well,” volunteered Bortnicker, “I’ve always
been kinda fascinated by the role of cavalry in the Civil War, and
since Jeb Stuart is blamed a lot for losing the battle, we were,
you know, looking into that angle.”

“Uh-huh. Any names in particular jump out at
you?”

All three stared at their dinner plates.

“Would somebody please tell me what’s going
on?” said Terri.

“Shall I begin?” said Mike. “We’ve got a
situation here that I believe involves these kids. One where
everyone involved is guilty of not sharing information. Am I right
so far?”

Silence fell over the table like a damp
cloud. The Darcys’ grandfather clock ticked in the living room.

Mike sighed impatiently. “T.J.? Bortnicker?
If I don’t start getting some answers you two coconuts are going to
be on the next bus to Connecticut.”

Bortnicker was about to open his mouth when
LouAnne cut in. “Daddy? What did you mean exactly when you said
everyone
involved was guilty? Does that mean you’re
included?”

Terri looked at her husband. “Mike, I’m still
in the dark here. What is this all about?”

Darcy ran his hand over his face, searching
for the words. “All right. Starting a month or so ago, there have
been some shootings in the Battlefield Park.”

“Shootings?” Terri gasped in horror.

“Yeah. First there were a couple kids from
the college who were drinking in the cemetery late at night. Then
there was this relic hunter who, again, was on the battlefield
illegally in the early morning hours.

“Both victims were killed with a Civil War
era pistol, similar to the one I have. Then there was—”

“Weinstein,” cut in T.J.

“Who’s he?” said Aunt Terri.

“This guy from the T.V. show
Gonzo Ghost
Chasers
. He almost became victim number three, but apparently
the shooter’s gun jammed.”

“And who told you this?” said Mike.

“Weinstein was staying at the Charney Inn,
Daddy,” explained LouAnne. “One night he got really bombed and told
T.J. and me all about it.”

“So that’s how you got involved in this?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” said Bortnicker. “That’s
when T.J. asked me to come down, because I’m pretty good on Civil
War history.”

“So, how did that lead you to Major Crosby
Hilliard?” said Mike.

LouAnne frowned. “Well, er, Dr.
Landon...”

“That’s what I figured. Now answer my
question. How do you know the name of the horseman?”

“Horseman?” said Aunt Terri. “This guy has a
horse
?”

“He’s a Confederate cavalryman, Mom,” said
LouAnne.

“A real one?”

“No,” said T.J., “a dead one.”

“What
?” said Mike.

“He’s a ghost, Uncle Mike,” said T.J. with a
shrug. “It’s that simple.”

“But how do you know?” said Terri.

“Mrs. D., we
met
him,” said
Bortnicker.

“Met him? Where?”

“On the battlefield,” whispered LouAnne.

“And when was this?” said Mike, his anger
rising.

“The other night,” confessed T.J. “We snuck
out after the Phillies game.”

“After I expressly told you to stay out of
there at night? Are you all crazy?” By the looks on their faces,
Darcy had a good idea his face had turned an interesting shade of
purple.

“Honey, please calm down before you have a
coronary,” said Terri. She turned to her daughter. “LouAnne, what
is the reason for all this? Why are you three putting yourselves at
risk?”

“We want to help him, Aunt Terri,” said
T.J.

“How?” said Mike incredulously.

“Daddy,” said LouAnne calmly, “it’s like he’s
stuck between this world and, well, whatever comes after it. We’re
trying to help him leave this place. Maybe if he does, the
shootings will stop.”

Mike threw his napkin on the top of his
half-eaten dinner, his appetite lost. “I’m afraid to ask, but
what’s your next step?”

“Well,” said Bortnicker leaning forward
excitedly, “we’re awaiting some information on Hilliard from
Charleston, which was his hometown. It might be useful in getting
him out of here.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” said Mike,
wagging a finger in their faces. “You don’t think for a minute I’m
gonna let you go out there again, do you?”

“Uncle Mike,” pleaded T.J., “the way we see
it, we have to resolve this situation as soon as possible. We have
a feeling something bad might happen, and pretty soon.”

“Listen, T.J.—”

“He’s right, Daddy,” broke in LouAnne. “We
all have this feeling. It’s hard to explain, but when we met him he
was like, so sad, and confused. Daddy, you always told me to help
others, to put other people before myself. Well, now we have the
opportunity to send this man home, hopefully before he hurts
someone else in his misguided way.” She started to cry. “I’ve never
been so serious about something in my life. You have to let us
try.”

“But he killed—”

“He trusts us, Daddy. I think he knows we
want to help. Besides, he thinks T.J. is Stonewall Jackson’s son or
something. He could never bring himself to hurt him.”

At that moment Bortnicker suddenly bolted
from his seat towards the kitchen.

“What the—” said Mike, exasperated.

Just as quickly the boy bounded back into the
room, a Kleenex in hand, apparently, for LouAnne. However, in his
haste he caught his foot on the edge of the dining room sideboard
and went head over heels, coming to rest at the foot of LouAnne’s
chair, where he simply stuck up his hand with the tissue held
aloft. Even Mike had to chuckle as his daughter plucked it from the
boy’s fingers.

“Listen, you guys,” said Darcy, softening, “I
know your hearts are in the right place, but this is dangerous
ground you’re on.”

“Do you think anyone else knows what you’re
doing?” said Terri.

“Well,” said Bortnicker, “Mr. Darcy’s boss
acts a little suspicious, and the other night Carlton Elway was
tailing us, I think. But a police car picked him up. It looked like
the Chief’s car.”

“Great,” moaned Mike.

“And then there’s always Dr. Landon,” said
LouAnne.

“She’s
in on this, too?” said Terri,
“Mary Ellen Landon with her big mouth?”

“She only knows we’re researching the guy,
Mrs. D.,” said Bortnicker. “I take it you’re not one of her
greatest fans.”

“But she’s one of
yours
, Daddy,”
teased LouAnne.

“We’re getting off topic,” said Darcy
impatiently. “What do you see as your next move, guys?”

“Well,” said T.J., “Bortnicker and I have to
be in Landon’s office at ten tomorrow morning to take a call from
Charleston with any additional info on Hilliard. Then, I guess it’s
back to the battlefield for another meeting.”

“Not without me, there isn’t,” said Mike,
shaking his head.

“Dad, that won’t work!” said LouAnne
emphatically. “The last thing we need is you getting shot. You have
to let us do this ourselves.”

“Mr. Darcy,” said Bortnicker diplomatically,
“let me offer a compromise. Maybe if we could fix it so you’re
kinda in the area, there but not really there?”

“And how will we do that, Bortnicker?”

“Let me think it over. I’ll come up with
something.”

“Omigod! I’m gonna be late for work!” blurted
LouAnne. Indeed, the time had gotten away from them.

“I’ll run you over there, honey,” said Mike.
“Let me grab my keys. T.J. and Bortnicker, you stay put. Watch
CSI
or something. And LouAnne, you are
not
to walk
home alone tonight. You call me as soon as you’re done and I’ll
come get you. Understood?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she said sheepishly.

* * * *

The rest of the evening passed rather
uneventfully, everyone watching TV silently while lost in their
thoughts.

When they were back in the guestroom T.J.
asked, “You think Uncle Mike is gonna help us or hurt us in all
this?”

“Can’t tell. Of course, he doesn’t want us to
get killed, but if he tries to take over the operation there could
by a negative reaction by our friend. It seems Major Hilliard has a
problem with adults on his turf.”

“Yeah, but it’s comforting to know we’ve got
‘Maddog Mike’ on our side.”

“I guess.”

“Bortnicker, I—”

“T.J.,” he said slowly, removing and
polishing his glasses deliberately, “let’s just get through this
and put everything else aside. And then it will all be over and we
can go home to our normal lives.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that things are different now. But
I know
I’m
not going to let anyone down while I’m
here.”

“Me neither.”

“Okay then. Goodnight.” And with that he
reached over and flipped off the light switch.

T.J. lay in the darkness, despairing. A
couple times he almost said something to his friend, but the words
just wouldn’t come. Then his eyes began to water, and he felt even
more miserable.

What have I done?

Chapter Twenty-Five

T.J.,

Sorry, Cuz, but I’m a little under the
weather this morning (I don’t think I need to go into detail) so
you’re on your own. Don’t you dare punk out and go back to
sleep!

Have a good run.

LouAnne xxx

T.J. crumpled up the note his cousin had left
on the floor outside his room, sighed, and ventured outside into
the sunlight. “I think I’ll take the route we tried my first day,”
he said to himself. “Except I’ll
finish
it this time.” After
a few quick stretches he was off down Seminary Ridge.

The morning air was cool on his face as he
got into an easy rhythm. Seminary Avenue led onto Confederate, and
then he was on the battlefield proper, heading in the general
direction of Little Round Top. It was when he was passing Devil’s
Den, the scene of Mike Weinstein’s near-death experience, that the
idea hit him like a Miniè-ball to the forehead.

“Why didn’t I think of this before?” he
practically screamed, and took off for the Visitor Center to find
his uncle.

* * * *

Meanwhile, Bortnicker was loading the Mr.
Coffee machine, singing to himself about a girl who could be having
a change of heart when LouAnne padded downstairs.

“ ‘
Rikki Don’t Lose That Number!’ ” she
cried, causing the boy to do a double-take, spilling coffee grounds
all over the granite countertop. Even having just rolled out of
bed, she was so stunning in the morning light that his voice caught
in his throat.

“D-don’t do that!” he managed. “You almost
gave me a heart attack.” He paused to get his bearings, then shot
her a look with a squinted eye. “I have two questions. First, how
can you possibly know every Steely Dan song?”

“Okay, I’ll fess up,” she said. “My dad has
all the albums. Plays them incessantly in the garage when he’s
working out. Reminds him of his ‘70s days at Michigan State, I
guess.”