Haunting Danielle 27 The Ghost and the Mountain Man by Bobbi Holmes (great novels to read TXT) 📕

Evan studied the ghost for a moment, remembering how the ghost was supposedly someone who knew Walt’s parents.

“Do you know how old Walt is?” Evan asked.

The ghost shrugged. “Five, maybe six. You don’t know? I thought you were one of his friends.”

“Walt’s a friend of mine,” Evan said proudly.

“My business is with Walt’s dad. Have you seen him?”

“Why do you want to talk to him?” Evan asked.

“I don’t really think it’s something you need to get involved with. But why did you say Walt went to the cemetery to see me?”

Evan didn’t answer immediately. Finally, he said, “I think I meant Walt’s dad, not Walt.”

The ghost frowned. “That woman in the house said Walt’s mom was at the cemetery. Do you know why they would be down there?”

“I don’t know. But I bet if you go there, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

The ghost did not respond. Instead, he stared at Evan and then disappeared.

Startled by the spirit’s abrupt departure, Evan glanced around. Pleased with himself for how he had handled the ghost on his own, he grinned and rang the doorbell.

Walt stood at the foot of his grave, reading the inscription on his headstone. How many men could look down at the grave holding the remains of their body? Only a spirit of a man, he told himself. Yet here he, a living, breathing man, looked down at his own grave. He glanced briefly at the horseshoe scar along his wrist, thinking how Clint’s body hadn’t had that scar. It had been a scar on his original body—the body buried in the grave he stood before.

Shaking his head at the thought, he looked over to Angela’s gravesite and wondered what happened to her after finally moving to the other side. He glanced around, seeing no living people or any spirits in sight. He had already walked through the cemetery once, and if the mountain man had come here, perhaps he had since moved on.

With a sigh, Walt left his graveside and walked to the Marlow crypt. Standing before it a moment later, he reached out and gently brushed his fingertips over the inscription. He remembered when his parents had been laid to rest here.

When his grandmother had passed away, her viewing had been in the library at Marlow House prior to the funeral. There had not been a similar viewing for his parents. Theirs had been closed caskets. At the time he hadn’t understood, and he wanted his grandfather to open the caskets so he could say goodbye. After all, he had been with his friend George Hemming at George’s aunt’s viewing to say goodbye. Yet the real reason Walt wanted his grandfather to open the caskets, he refused to believe his parents were really inside.

For several years Walt held onto that misguided notion, fueled by guilt that the tantrum he had thrown the last time he saw his mother was the reason for his parents leaving him. Yet as he grew older, he came to understand the true reason for the closed caskets—the fire.

“Alex, you’re here,” a voice said from behind him.

Walt turned around abruptly and came face-to-face with the mountain man. Like the first time Walt had seen him, he held a rifle.

“Are you planning to shoot me?” Walt asked calmly.

“I should,” he retorted. “Where is Anna?”

“We need to talk,” Walt said calmly. “Please, no matter what I say, don’t leave.”

“Now you want to talk?” he snapped.

“I’m not Alex,” Walt began.

The ghost raised his rifle and pointed it at Walt. “I am tired of your games.”

“You want to know where Anna is? She’s here. With Alex.” Walt turned around and touched the face of the crypt. He then stepped aside so the ghost could see the inscription. “Go ahead, read it. You can read, can’t you?”

“Of course I can!” the ghost snapped and then moved closer to the crypt and began reading just the names. His hand holding the rifle fell to his side, but he continued to clutch the weapon. Frowning in confusion, he looked from the names engraved in stone to Walt. “What is this?”

“My name is Walt Marlow. Alex and Anna were my parents. They have been dead a very long time.”

“You can’t be Walt. Walt is a little boy.”

“That little boy grew up,” Walt said.

The spirit shook his head. “No. That is impossible. You’re Alex. You’re just trying to confuse me.”

“Then look around at the other graves. When asked what year it is, you said it was 1904. Pay attention to the dates, especially in the newer section of the cemetery. But please, after you look around, don’t leave. I need to know why you are looking for my parents. Why you are so angry with my parents.”

The ghost scowled at Walt. “I’m not angry with Anna. But she deserves to know the truth.”

“What truth?” Walt asked.

Instead of answering the question, the ghost moved to a nearby headstone. He read it and then moved to another and then another. Walt followed him. But when the ghost stopped in front of Walt’s grave, he froze. Looking from the headstone to Walt, he said, “I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t consider that,” Walt muttered under his breath.

“What’s going on?” the ghost demanded.

“I think you know part of it,” Walt said.

The ghost shook his head in confusion.

“I know… shoot me,” Walt suggested.

“What?”

“Go ahead, shoot me. But after you do, don’t leave,” Walt said.

Taking Walt up on his offer, the frustrated spirit raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. Bullets flew from the rifle and moved through Walt and then disappeared.

Still staring at Walt, he lowered the rifle and said, “You’re a ghost? They’re all dead. That’s what you are trying to tell me.”

“Drop the rifle,” Walt said in a calm voice. “And watch it. See what happens.”

The ghost let go of the rifle and looked down. It fell to the ground and disappeared.

“Tarnation, I’m dead too,” the ghost muttered.

“Be honest with yourself. Part of you always knew, didn’t you?” Walt asked. “You’re