“I can still smell the cigarettes,” Ian said.
“Did you smell smoke when you were out here?” she asked.
Sean shook his head. “No. Look at those beer cans. How many of them are there?”
“Let’s count them. One, two, three—”
“Eight,” Ian said. “There are eight!”
Owen walked on the dark path behind them, shifting into a steady rhythm. He’d hiked in Acadia with Linc Cooper earlier that day, but Linc had gone inside himself, trudging along a mountain trail, preoccupied and unwilling—perhaps unable—to explain what was on his mind. To be twenty and that caught up in his own demons didn’t seem right to Owen. But if he’d skipped the hike, he might have been less preoccupied and caught the boys sneaking out the window, sparing Abigail a trek out to investigate a ghost.
He stood behind her, noticing the shape of her back, hips. She kept herself in good physical condition. He said, “Seems someone had himself a party out here.”
“More than one party, I’d say.” She gestured into the shadows with her flashlight. “There are more butts and beer cans over there.”
“That’s what we heard?” Sean snorted in disgust. “Some drunk?”
“We don’t know whoever it was got drunk,” Abigail said. “It’s tempting to jump to conclusions, but we don’t have all the facts. Anyone you know smoke Marlboros and drink Budweiser?”
Mattie Young.
Owen could see Abigail had already considered Mattie as a possibility, if not a likelihood. The boys shook their heads. They knew Mattie, who’d grown up with their parents, as well as anyone, but they wouldn’t pay attention to what he smoked and drank.
Without warning, Abigail put her hand on Owen’s upper arm and smiled at him. “I’m not taking any chances of falling in front of you again,” she said as she stepped back from the chimney, then jumped lightly back onto the path, in no more need of a steadying hand than he was. She returned her focus to the boys. “What night did you first think you heard this ghost of yours?”
Owen answered, coming up behind her. “It was Sunday night.”
She nodded. “Do you think whoever was out here heard you? Were you talking to each other, making noise playing on the rocks or anything?”
“Oh,” Sean said, as if just figuring out what she was asking. “Well—yeah, we made noise. But when we heard someone up here, we tried to be quiet.”
“What about tonight? Do you think our partier realized you were out here? Were you trying to be quiet and sneak up on him?”
“We were trying, but it didn’t work.”
Sean was calmer, Abigail’s steady, pragmatic questions having what Owen suspected was their intended effect—to get information and, at the same time, to help the boys to see the scene from her point of view.
“Maybe whoever it was just didn’t want to be seen,” Abigail continued. “Even if it was someone you know.”
“Like who?” Sean asked.
“Talk to your dad. See what he says.” She brushed at a mosquito in front of her face. “This is a beautiful spot, but I’d bring my bug spray next time.”
“The mosquitoes are bothering me, too,” Ian said.
“I’m finished here. You guys need me to walk you back? You can borrow my flashlight—”
“I have one,” Owen said, producing a small flashlight from his back pocket.
She grinned at him. “Always prepared.”
“Let us walk you back. You’re the one out here alone.”
“That’s not necessary.” But she tilted her head back, studying him in the near-darkness. “All right. You guys can all walk me home. Let’s get moving before I lose another pint of blood to these mosquitoes.”
Since she was the one with the gun, Owen wasn’t sure who was escorting whom, but his flashlight was more efficient than hers, and he knew the rocks better than she did.
She let them take her as far as the pine trees where she’d caught Sean and Ian hiding.
“We’re sorry, Mrs. Browning,” Sean mumbled, not waiting to be asked.
“Sorry for what? I like having company. Next time you’ll definitely have to come in for hot chocolate. And it’s Abigail. Not Ab, either. Or Abbie. Just Abigail.” She winked at both boys, adding in a conspiratorial whisper, “But you might want to apologize to Owen about the bedsheet thing.”
They’d all but forgotten that one and turned to him, wide-eyed. “Are you going to tell Dad?” Ian asked.
Owen grinned. “Depends how much work I can get out of you two before he shows up. Of course, you could always read those books—”
“We’ll read,” Sean said.
His brother nodded. “We’ll read all night!”
Abigail laughed, and as she started into the trees, Owen called to her, “If you need us, give a yell.”
“I will.” She glanced back at him. “And the same here. If you need me, give a yell.”
They were, after all, neighbors.