Part One

Regan tried to shake the water off his raincoat as he stood in the shelter of the small porch outside Manor House’s kitchen door. Heavy rain had been falling for hours now and looked set to continue all night, whipped around now and then by cold winds. The leaves on the trees were still green, but if the weather continued this cool, they would soon change. Light shone through the glazed panels on either side of the door, inviting him in from the filthy weather, but he hesitated.

The door opened and Celia peeked out.

“What are you doing out there still?” she chastised, smiling. “Don’t worry about getting things wet; it’s wet in here already.”

He nodded and accepted the invitation. After the cold, wet darkness, the warmth and light of the service entryway was a welcome relief. Just inside the door was a place to hang his wet things. Celia took the coat from him while he toed off his boots. The water had gotten inside and soaked parts of his socks as well. He eyed them for a moment, then decided to keep them on.

“Come and have something warm to drink,” Celia urged, guiding him into the kitchen. “Maggie?”

“Coming right up,” the cook replied. “Coffee?”

Regan nodded. “Thanks.”

In a minute, Celia had installed him in the seat closest to the big oven, which was radiating both welcome heat and delicious smells, a cup of hot coffee in his hands. She bustled off through one of the doorways as he took his first sip, promising to bring him a towel.

Almost as soon as she disappeared, Tom arrived, rubbing his own hair with a towel.

“No sign of anything at the stables?” Tom asked, taking a seat and drawing close to where Regan sat.

“None. I don’t think anyone’s been there.”

Tom shook his head. “The whole thing was a mare’s nest. Why did we even go out there?”

His friend and colleague lifted one shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. “Seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

The family and Miss Trask were away, but due back in the morning, leaving the four of them as the only residents. An hour earlier, as they shared a meal, an eerie sound had echoed around outside, startling all of them. Tom and Regan insisted on investigating. They had set off together, but when it became clear that there was nothing to be seen had split up and to make one last re-check of the areas of their own responsibility. Meanwhile, Celia had occupied herself in the house and Maggie had gotten on with some baking.

“I can’t imagine what would make a sound like that,” Celia added. “I can’t decide if it was human, or an animal, or something else altogether.”

“It sounded like metal on metal, if you ask me. We’ll find out in the morning that it was those Belden boys, up to some kind of mischief,” Maggie predicted, while pulling trays of cookies out of the oven. “They’ve gotten into some kind of rusty, old machinery, you mark my words.”

“Except that Brian, Mart and Trixie are away,” Tom pointed out, snitching a cookie off the hot tray and juggling it as it cooled. Still soft, it broke in half, trailing crumbs onto the floor.

“If you’d just wait two minutes… .” Celia rolled her eyes.

“You spooked yourselves, telling those stories earlier,” Maggie continued. She slid more trays into the oven and shut the door. “Gossip! That’s all it is.”

Tom nodded. “I’d have to agree with that. I’ve lived in Sleepyside all my life and, until this last week, I’d never heard of a haunting by a lady in white. Sarah Sligo, yes, but this is something completely new.”

“A new ghost?” Celia shivered. “It makes me wonder if there was… I don’t know, maybe a car wreck that no one noticed. Maybe, if you follow her, she might lead you to her body.”

Regan picked up one of the cookies, but found it still too hot to bite into. “More likely there’s a real, live woman wandering around here somewhere. Someone would notice a crash site, even if the car was hidden.”

“Well, alive or dead, I don’t think you should be out there above the garage by yourself, Regan.” Celia shook her head to emphasise her point. “I’ll make you up a bed in one of the spare rooms.”

He thought for a moment of the cosy apartment, the sound of rain on the roof and his own things.

“Thanks, but no. I’d rather be closer to the stables.” He ate the cookie and drained his coffee cup. “I think I’ll head off that way now, before it gets any later. Good night, all.”

They replied in kind and not even Celia protested.

The cold, wet boots were unpleasant to put on, but better than nothing. Once he was dressed for the outside again, he opened the door and stepped out into a gust of wind. Raindrops stung his face, in spite of the porch roof’s overhang. Taking a breath, he strode out into the rain, determined to make this trip as quick as possible.

He rounded the corner of the house and squelched along a path that was running with water. Instead of taking the shortest way, he skirted around the edge of a large puddle. As he crossed the drive, with the garage stairs in plain sight, a flash of something caught his eye.

Regan stopped dead in the middle of the drive, peering through the rain to something pale that flickered in and out of sight. Whatever he was seeing, it must be beyond the row of new plantings at the bottom of the drive. The movement stopped and his jaw dropped.

“Holy crap!”

The pale shape resolved itself into the figure of a woman. She turned to face him, seemed to stare for a few moments, and then disappeared in an instant.

He stood, staring at the place she had been, but caught no other glimpse of her. After a time, he became aware of the rain beating down on him, of the cold trickles that ran across his exposed skin. He shook himself and continued the journey to his apartment.

Regan’s hands shook a little as he pulled off his wet clothes and hung them in the bathroom. He willed them to steady while he dried himself, donned pyjamas and tucked himself into bed. The soothing patter of rain on the roof took some time to lull him to sleep.

He awoke to a beautiful blue-sky day. The dramas of the night before seemed to belong to another existence. Regan put the whole episode out of his mind as he dressed and shaved. He didn’t mention it in the kitchen when he encountered Celia.

After breakfast, he headed for the stables. The Bob-Whites – not to mention Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler – would be back in an hour or two. Doubtless, someone would want to ride.

As he inspected his charges, it became clear that he would need to take Jupiter out for at least a short ride. The rest would wait happily enough for whoever decided to turn up, but the big, black gelding was already stomping with impatience.

“Okay, I get the idea,” Regan told the horse, as he went to get the saddle. “I don’t know where I’m going to find ground dry enough for you, but we’ll give it a try.”

A short time later, he swung into the saddle and let the horse move off. Jupiter set off at a brisk pace, but Regan reined him in almost at once. The normally sound path, which could handle a fair bit of rain, was slippery with mud that had washed across it. He guided Jupiter to the most promising trail and let the horse set his own pace.

The steep and rather rocky path was not what he would normally choose; Jupiter in this mood preferred somewhere grassy where he could canter. Under the circumstances, there was not a lot of choice. They made a detour every now and again as the path deteriorated to the point where the horse had to walk. Jupe’s coat was soon spattered with mud and Regan sighed, thinking of the job he faced of grooming the spirited animal afterwards.

They came to a place where water was flowing across a wide stretch of the path. Regan pulled the horse up and considered his options for a moment. It was a long way back to the last fork in the path. While the water did not look deep from here, there was no telling what was just around the bend. Jupiter shifted, impatient to keep going.

“We’ll chance it, then?” Regan asked the horse. “I thought you’d think so.”

As they crossed the temporary stream, Regan kept an eye out for potential problems. Once they emerged on the other side, something on the ground caught his attention. He dismounted and went to take a closer look. Jupiter let out a snort, which sounded exactly like one of disgust.

“Now, what’s this?” Regan wondered, poking at the item with the toe of his riding boot. “How did a twisted piece of metal get stuck in here?”

From just the other side of some nearby bushes came the sound of a car, with a flash of its red paintwork visible as it passed. In their meanderings, they must have strayed nearly as far as Glen Road. Regan frowned, thinking of Celia and her hidden car crash theory. The jagged edges of the piece seemed torn, though the metal was too thick to do that in ordinary circumstances. Regan kicked at it a little more, but it was deeply embedded. He carefully led the horse past it before remounting.

“I’ll have to come back later for that,” he mused. “Could cause a nasty injury.”

He went on his way, circling around towards home after checking for landmarks to find his way back to the same spot. By the time he reached the house, a car was pulled up in the drive and the distant sound of young voices made the house seem lived-in once again. The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. It seemed that everyone wanted to ride. The condition of the trails meant a lot of work whenever a horse came back.

At dusk, Regan set off on foot to remove the hunk of metal. He had warned all of the riders about it. Jim and Brian had stopped and tried to take it out, but without success.

He carried a bucket of tools to help him in his task. Having thought the matter over, he had decided that the quickest way there would be to walk along Glen Road and take the nearest path. He was approaching the place when movement up ahead caught his eye. The light was fading fast, now, making it hard to see details, but surely that was a woman on the side of the road. She wore a long, white dress, which blended with her long, white-blonde hair.

Regan stopped and peered into the gloom. The woman glanced in his direction, then seemed to just disappear. Hand tightening on the handle of his bucket, Regan began to stride in that direction. He reached the place where he thought she had been, but could see no path she could have taken. He rummaged in the bucket and pulled out a flashlight. Retracing his steps a short distance, he played the light here and there, looking for a path, or a sign that someone had been there.

In spite of the damp ground, he could find few footmarks. Most of those looked too large for a woman. Soggy fallen leaves covered much of the bare ground and showed no marks. Regan shone the light onto the bushes at the side of the road. He saw a broken branch here and there, but nothing out of the ordinary.

After walking the stretch of road twice, he was no nearer to a solution. The undergrowth was thick enough to make uncomfortable walking and there was no path to be seen. Frowning in puzzlement, he gave up the search and set off again on his journey.

He reached the path he intended to take and followed it to the spot where he’d found the embedded metal that morning. An uneasy feeling told him that he must be very close to the place where the woman had been. Pushing that thought away with an effort, he dropped his bucket and set to work. Ten minutes of digging and a certain amount of grunting and swearing later, the piece let go its grip on the earth and he dropped it into the bucket. He stamped the earth down a few times, trying to fill in the resultant hole.

“Home,” he muttered, gathering his tools and getting to his feet.

He shone the light around to check that he had left nothing behind. Off the path to one side, it caught on some shiny object. Regan pushed aside the branches of the nearest bush and tried to find out what it was, but without success.

“In the morning,” he promised himself. “I can’t see a thing right now.”

He glanced around, half-expecting to see a ghostly shape. Nothing. Shaking himself, he set off home and arrived there without incident. He tucked the bucket into a corner of the garage to be dealt with in the morning before breakfast. The task had taken a good deal longer than he had intended.

Regan rose early the next morning and went down to the garage to deal with the previous night’s mess. He was surprised to see Tom already up and about.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, nodding towards the bucket.

“This?” Regan pulled out the piece of metal. “Dug it out of one of the bridle paths yesterday evening.”

Tom took it from him and turned it over in his hand. A crease formed between his brows. “You know, I’ve got kind of a bad feeling about this. Where was the trail?”

Regan described the spot as best he could.

“Ah. So quite close to the place people keep saying there’s a ghost.” Tom’s expression turned grim. “I think we’d better go and take another look in daylight.”

They walked down to the road together in silence. Regan debated with himself whether to say anything about the woman he had twice seen, but in the end chose not to speak. When they came to the place on the side of the road where he had searched the night before, he called a halt.

“Wait a minute. I thought I saw something near here last night, but it was too dark.”

Tom nodded. “Where are we, in relation to where you found that thing?”

Regan shrugged. “Near as I can tell, it was fairly close. Through there, somewhere, but the path doesn’t lead there directly.”

In the light of day, it was easy enough to find a place where the undergrowth was damaged. Pushing through it, however, told them nothing. The land sloped down steeply and the lower branches of the nearby trees came right down to the ground.

“Let’s keep going,” Tom suggested. Regan nodded agreement.

They followed the road a little longer, then turned onto the path. The going was much easier in daylight and it did not take long to reach the right spot. Regan pointed out the disturbed earth, complete with his boot-prints.

“It was in pretty deep. Took me a while to dig it out.”

Tom frowned some more. “How far to the road?”

Regan shrugged. “Not far. Ten or twenty yards, I’d say. If a car passes, you can see the movement.”

Tom started to search for a way through towards the road. The land dropped away sharply just beyond the trail, into what must be a narrow gully. He disappeared between the bushes almost at once, but Regan could see parts of him every now and again. Before following, he spent a few moments looking for the shiny object he had seen the night before. He found it quickly and picked it up. By the looks of it, it was a fragment of safety glass.

“I think I’ve found something,” Tom called. “Come down and help me.”

Regan dropped the piece into his pocket and started in that direction, soon scrambling down the steep slope between thick vegetation.

Something crunched underfoot, but gravity did not allow him to stop where he was. Catching his balance, he turned back and looked to see what it had been. He soon found part of a pair of sunglasses, one lens missing and the frame snapped off part-way across where it had been.

As he tried to find Tom, he encountered what seemed to be an excess of rubbish. The parts of the Preserve that were close to the road often gathered stray papers, drink cans and debris, but this seemed more than usual. He stumbled around the trunk of a particularly gnarled tree and found Tom staring down at a car’s broken wing mirror, still attached to its mount.

“That’s not how they normally break off,” Tom explained. “The break should be here, not where it is. I think we need to check whether there’s a car here somewhere.”

Regan looked around. From here, there were trees in every direction. A trickle of water still ran along the bottom of the gully, which was only a few feet away from where they stood. He felt in his pocket and pulled out the fragment of glass.

“I found this back by the path. And I trod on half a pair of sunglasses.”

Tom nodded.

A car passed on Glen Road and the wind it produced caused the branches to sway. Regan caught a glimpse of something a little distance away.

“Let’s try over there,” he suggested.

They pushed through the undergrowth, finding more objects as they went: a plastic comb, some chunks of polished wood, and incongruously, a broken plate. Some of the other things Tom identified as car parts. As they moved, something blue began to appear. Regan pushed aside one last branch and the site of the wreck was revealed – or, at least part of it was revealed.

What remained of the car rested against a tree. All of the panels on one side had been ripped off, presumably as it passed a previous obstacle. No surface anywhere seemed to be intact. The crumple zone at the front was fully compacted and even the roof showed the signs of impacts.

Tom swore and stumbled forward. He peered in through the gaping hole in the side.

“I can’t see anyone here,” he told Regan. “Do you think they might have been thrown clear?”

“I think we’d better see if we can get some help,” Regan answered. “Maybe the people walked out of here and no one’s bothered to drag the wreck out.”

Tom gave a half-strangled laugh. “You think someone walked out of this? I think we should be looking for a body.”

Regan frowned. “How long do you suppose it’s been here? If that metal I found came from it, the crash must have been before, say, eight a.m. yesterday, when I first saw it.”

“What’s your point?” By this time, Tom had circled around to the other side.

He hesitated, wondering how to phrase his thought. “I was thinking… about the smell.”

“I don’t smell anything,” the other man replied, absently.

“Exactly. If someone died here more than a day ago… .”

Tom blanched. “Okay, I see what you mean.”

“Come on. If we climb up the other side of this thing, we should be right near the road.” He looked around. “If they’re dead, we can’t help them. If they’re alive and conscious, they should have called out for help by now. If they’re not conscious, we can’t find them by ourselves in this.”

After one last look, Tom nodded and they scrambled up the slope together. Tom fished in his pocket for a rag, which he tied to a tree as a marker. They set off at a fast walk back towards Manor House, but soon a car pulled over next to them.

“Where are the two of you off to at this hour?” Frank Lytell demanded. “You look like you’ve been crawling through the undergrowth.”

“Can you give us a lift back to the house?” Tom asked, politely. “We’ve just found a crashed car and we want to call the authorities.”

“Climb in,” the old man offered.

Regan took the front seat and Tom got in the back. A moment later, they took off. Lytell’s driving was rather erratic and Regan could just picture Tom’s clenched jaw.

“Now, what’s this you say about a crash?” Lytell asked, as he wove back and forth across the road. He decelerated suddenly, then picked up speed again. “Just where I found you, was it?”

“A little further back,” Regan answered.

“Anyone from around here?” the old man persisted.

“I didn’t recognise the car,” Tom replied. “Not that there’s a lot left to recognise. I’m not even sure of the make and model, though I suspect it was a Ford. They used that shade of blue about fifteen years ago.”

“A fifteen-year-old blue Ford? I can’t say it rings a bell.” He grunted. “How many people there?”

“None that we could see,” Regan admitted, though grudgingly.

“We wanted to call it in, just in case,” Tom added.

The car brushed against the hedge as it entered the drive. The engine laboured as they travelled up the steepest section.

“Just as well, just as well,” Lytell muttered. “Damn car. Never was much good at hills.”

He managed to screech to a halt at the top, in spite of the slowness of the trip. Regan threw open the door and thanked the man. Without waiting to see him off, he jogged up the stairs to his apartment and opened the door.

Tom followed him inside while he was checking the number for the police station. He dialled the number and waited for it to be picked up. In a few short sentences, he described what they had found.

“No, we haven’t had any reports,” the dispatcher replied. “We’ll check it out.”

“Where have you two been?” Celia demanded as they entered the kitchen. “You’ve missed breakfast and Mr. Wheeler’s wondering if you’re going to be ready to take him in… less than ten minutes, now. And Regan, the kids will be at the stables in about five, if I know them at all.”

The two men shared a look, then Tom spoke.

“Something came up suddenly, that we needed to take care of. I’ll explain the whole thing later, but first I need something to eat.” He turned to the cook. “You wouldn’t happen to have something I could stick between a couple of hunks of bread, would you?”

She smiled. “Your wife might not want to take care of you, but I know my work.”

Grabbing a pot-holder, she pulled two plates out of the oven. Each held a hearty breakfast sandwich, wrapped in foil and ready to go.

“Maggie, you’re a gem,” Regan told her, kissing her cheek. “Thank you.”

She shooed him out of her kitchen, smiling. Taking up his sandwich, he retreated to the stables, where he found Jim and Brian already saddling horses.

“Morning, Regan,” Jim greeted. “Is it okay if we take the horses out this morning?”

“Sure.” He hesitated a moment. “I think you’d better avoid that spot I told you about yesterday. Most of the trails should be dry enough by now. Why don’t you head away from there?”

Brian nodded. “That fits right in with what we were planning.”

“Is that your breakfast?” Jim asked, pointing to the foil package he still held in his hand, two bites missing. “We’ll be fine here, and the girls will be here in a minute. You go and eat and we’ll take care of everything.”

“We’ll be careful. We’ll check Lady’s cinch. We’ll put the horses’ welfare ahead of our own,” Brian recited. “We know our job.”

Regan nodded. “Yes, I’ll admit that.”

He was so hungry that it was amazing that his stomach wasn’t grumbling. Still, he watched the two for a minute before retreating to his office and taking another big bite. His eyes shut for a moment in satisfaction. Maggie sure did know how to cook.

Footsteps approached from the direction of the house and a low voice could be heard, somewhere just outside his office door. Regan recognised the owner of the voice, after only a moment, as being Trixie.

“… tell them we need to go back for some reason,” she was saying. “They won’t let us, otherwise.”

“I don’t want to lie to them,” Honey answered. “We’ll need to think of a real reason. And, if that doesn’t work, we’ll just have to walk there.”

With a longing look at his sandwich, Regan set it down and loomed through the doorway at the unsuspecting pair.

“You two aren’t up to something, are you?”

Guilt flashed across both their faces.

“Of course not,” Honey answered, “except in a general, non-suspicious sense, where we’re not up to anything wrong, but just up to things generally, if you know what I mean.”

Regan nodded. “I see. By the way, I’ve just given Jim and Brian some instructions on where you’re allowed and not allowed to ride today. No going near Glen Road. Understand?”

He knew his vague suspicions were justified when he saw the disappointment on both their faces.

“If you say so, Regan,” Trixie replied. “But we were careful yesterday, and I don’t think any of the horses came to any harm, did they?”

He shook his head. “No, they’re all fine. You didn’t do anything wrong yesterday. I just don’t want you going that way today. Okay? Not even later, on foot.”

“Yes, Regan,” they chorused, then exchanged a downcast look.

He watched them enter the stables and begin work, chatting away to the other two. They were joined a moment later by Mart. Returning to his office, he finished his sandwich in peace, just in time to inspect the horses and riders before they left. Before he could start on anything else, however, the office phone rang. By the ring pattern, he could tell that it was a call from somewhere else on the property.

“Regan here,” he answered, after picking it up.

“Can you come up to the main house, please?” Marge asked him. “The police are here to see you.”

“Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.” In spite of her lack of noticeable curiosity, he felt he owed the estate manager some sort of explanation. “It’ll be about the car wreck that Tom and I found this morning, I’d guess.”

“So it seems,” she replied, then ended the call.

With a glance around, he saw that nothing was out of place. His steps were quick as he followed the path to the house. He bounded up the stairs and through the open door. Sergeant Molinson and another officer stood in the entranceway, looking serious.

“You wanted me?” he asked, coming to a sudden halt.

Molinson nodded. “We need to ask you some questions about what you found and why you went looking for it.”

Regan nodded. “Ask whatever you want.”

“First, when did you notice anything suspicious in the vicinity?”

For the next several minutes, he went over everything that had happened, but he omitted any mention of the woman he thought he had seen until he was asked a question that could not be truthfully answered without mentioning her.

“And have you seen any strangers around lately?”

Regan hesitated. “Not to recognise again. The night of the storm, I saw a figure at the bottom of the drive; a woman, I thought. Then, yesterday evening, I thought I saw her again on the side of Glen Road.”

“What did she look like?”

Again, he hesitated. “Long, fair hair. Fair skin, too. And she wore white.”

“You can’t make a more detailed description?”

He gave a terse shade of the head. “The first time, it was dark and the second nearly dark. Both times she was a fair distance away. I wasn’t sure I was seeing a person at all, but she disappeared both times, so she wasn’t… I don’t know… a tree trunk or anything.”

“Ghost!” a female voice squeaked, from around a corner.

Regan strode forward. “Celia!”

“I’m dusting!” She held up her duster as proof. “I have to finish this whole floor while the family is out. I couldn’t help but overhear.”

He waved away her explanation, turning back to the two officers. “Anything else?”

“Yes. We’d like the piece of metal you retrieved from the path.”

Regan frowned. “I’m not sure where it is. Last I saw, Tom had it. He won’t be back for a few hours. But I can look for it. It’s probably in the garage.”

He led the way in that direction and they soon found where Tom had put it.

“You’re sure this is it?” Molinson asked.

Regan nodded. “Certain.”

“That’s all for now,” the sergeant replied, while the other officer bagged the evidence. “Do you want a receipt for this?”

Regan shook his head and they parted ways. He was tempted to just go back to his work and see whether Celia came out to see him, in spite of her earlier excuse. Something prompted him to take up the matter right away. With that in mind, he entered the house once more.

“Eavesdropping?” he accused, as soon as he saw her. “I wouldn’t have thought that of you.”

She huffed a breath, looking indignant. “As I already explained, I was dusting.”

“And of all the rooms on this floor, you just happened to be lurking around the corner from where I was.” He shook his head. “You don’t need to lie about it.”

“Fine. I choose that place on purpose. But you can’t blame me for it; neither you nor Tom has said a word about what you found.”

He shook his head. “Those teenagers are having a bad effect on us.”

Celia laughed. “Yes, I suppose they are.” She turned serious. “But you’re avoiding the issue. When were you planning on telling us you’d seen the ghost?”

Regan turned on his heels. “Nice talking to you, Celia. You’d better get on with that dusting.”

She grabbed his arm. “Now, hold on a minute, mister.”

He gave her a long, cool look. “I haven’t seen any ghosts, Celia, so you can get that notion out of your head. Okay?”

“Men!” she growled, before flouncing away.

With a victorious smile, Regan returned to his domain.

Continue to part two.