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  Clay stopped to consider his son’s words which held more weight than Zander’s. He was somehow impressed by Tanner’s sincerity. “Well, I don’t see how I can help them, but I have to admit, I am curious about what happened. I guess I’ll give it a try, but don’t expect too much. Tell that Erika Payne lady that I’ll go caving if it’s okay with her.”

  “Great!” Zander said enthusiastically. “I’ll tell Lydia to make arrangements. I have a good feeling about all of this.”

  ***

  “Hello.” Erika Payne looked at her watch as she held the phone to her ear. She’d had trouble getting Logan out of bed and now she was running late for work.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Payne. This is Dr. Lydia Frauss. I was hoping to catch you before you headed to work.”

  “Morning. I’m running a bit late, but is there something wrong?”

  “No, nothing like that. I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “Sure, Dr. Frauss. What is it?”

  “Well, my husband is a neuroscientist at the University of Michigan. He has a friend who’s been going through a tough time after the death of his wife. I’ve told my husband about how you’re a caving guide and how you give faith lessons. He seems to think that you’re just the person to help him snap out of his doldrums. Do you think I could schedule a caving expedition with you? Zander’s friend has agreed to meet with you and take one of your tours.”

  “Well, I’m interested. Sure. But I don’t know if I can just take off for the day with a complete stranger. Could you give me his name?”

  “His name is Clay Thomas.”

  Erika got immediate goose bumps. She knew a Clay Thomas. What had it been? Twenty-five years? Her pulse was racing and she nearly dropped the phone. “Um, okay, what can you tell me about him?”

  “Zander says he’s never met a more trustworthy man. He’s a baseball coach. Fortyish. Tall and handsome. Came from the Lansing area—Haslett, I believe. Now he lives in Flint while coaching the University of Michigan baseball team.”

  Erika felt excitement that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She had grown up in Haslett, and she knew Clay Thomas. “Okay, Dr. Frauss, I’ll do it. I need to get Logan to school and get to work. You can call me there, and we can exchange information. There are some things he’ll need to bring to be prepared.”

  “Sure, Erika, I’ll set everything up. Thanks. I’ll talk to you later today.”

  Chapter 4

  Roberto Gomez was standing in his living room with his youngest daughter in his arms. He was watching his tall, long-legged, sexy, blond wife, Stacy, jog down the street. He was waiting for her return so he could head to work. Roberto had been given his job by Adrian Payne, who hired Stacy for her looks, and then hired Roberto to impress her with his generosity. Roberto hated Adrian Payne just as much as everyone else did, probably more, but since his disappearance, the job he’d provided had supported the Gomez family. Stacy had quit sometime after she had her first child, and Marshall Mortonson, Payne’s partner, had given the job to Erika so that she and her son could survive without her husband. Stacy and Roberto had been bringing meals to Erika ever since the train wreck. He often wondered if Erika was as happy that her husband was missing as everyone else was.

  When Stacy entered the house, Roberto, a very handsome Hispanic man, who was three inches shorter than his wife, quickly handed over the child, grabbed up his keys and phone, and said, “Morty called. There’s some kind of problem at the railroad that needs my attention. Something about brake work. Gotta run.”

  “I need to do some grocery shopping today, so I can make dinner,” Stacy informed her husband.

  “Are we going to see Logan?” Anna, their seven-year-old daughter asked.

  “No, we take them meals on Thursdays. Not tonight, Honey.”

  Roberto gave each of the girls a hug. Stacy gave a soft kiss and ran her fingers through his long, dark hair—he loved her more than anything and would do anything to help her, provide for her, and protect her.

  “Have a nice day, Robbie!” said Stacy. “Call me if you’re coming home for lunch.”

  “I love you, Stacy. Adios.”

  ***

  When Roberto arrived, Marshall Mortonson greeted him outside the depot. Police lights were flashing and the train yard was in a moderate state of confusion. Police Chief Luke Hopper was standing outside of his vehicle talking to Officer Dan Duncan on the police radio. A cargo train was just finishing a turn on the wye track at the end of the yard where it would come to rest on the repair track. Marshall was only in his early forties, but he appeared much older because of graying, balding, and a paunchy mid-section. He explained to Roberto that his brake repair expertise was needed on the slowly moving train engine.

  “Lemme get my tools, Mr. Mortonson, an’ I’ll get right on it. Why’s ‘Copper’ here?” Roberto asked, using the nickname that always annoyed the Police Chief.

  “Another break-in at the depot. I called it in, but it’s no use. There’s never anything missing and never a clue left behind.”

  “You still don’t believe the ghost stories, do ya?”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts, Robbie, but if there was such a thing, my ghost is one major pain in the butt.”

  Chief Hopper signaled that he was off his radio and ready to take a look inside the building, so Roberto headed for his tools and Mortonson turned to lead the way.

  Hopper was maybe six feet four inches tall and built kind of lean and wiry. He had curly, copper-colored hair, light blue-green eyes, and even some freckles, giving him a “can’t-take-you-very-seriously” look. Because people tended to not take him very seriously, he learned to hate being called “Copper” and usually demanded that he be called a proper name. “Sorry for the wait, Morty. Dan stopped a semi-truck that we were keepin’ an eye out for. He made an arrest and impounded the truck. Anyway, we can head to your offices now. Same as before?” What Hopper was alluding to was that he’d investigated over a dozen break-ins the past six years or so. There was always an appearance of a break-in but never anything missing. There was never any evidence as to how the vandal broke in either, nor was there any physical evidence left behind. Whoever it was seemed impossible to catch and whatever he or she was looking for obviously still hadn’t been found. Chief Hopper tended to side with Roberto on this particular case. The best explanation was a ghost. It was kind of tough to write that up in a police report, however, so once again he was prepared to go through the motions of making an investigation and filling out the paperwork. Every cop in Durand would’ve volunteered to do the fruitless work at the depot just to get a glimpse of Erika Payne, but Hopper was the boss and he pulled rank and made the “ghost break-ins” his personal case.

  Walking into Marshall Mortonson’s office was like déjà vu. Every “break-in” was eerily similar. Mortonson’s desk nameplate was always turned face down. Desk drawers and file cabinet drawers were always open and papers were always scattered on the desk and floor, giving the appearance that the intruder was looking for something in particular, but Mortonson could never discern that anything was actually missing. The break-ins simply made him feel violated; they were an invasion of his privacy. The desk and furniture were always rearranged in the same general disorderly way. When Marshall worked, he would sit at his desk with his back to the window and face the doorway, but after the break-ins, the desk was always turned the opposite way so that the desk chair had a view of the railroad tracks through the office window.

  The strangest but most consistent change was that a silver shovel would always be found lying on top of the desk. When the depot broke new ground, laying some new track and building a couple of new buildings on the grounds about nine years earlier, two silver shovels were purchased and used by Marshall and Adrian Payne to officially make the first two ground-breaking scoops. Marshall’s shovel, no matter where he stored it or hid it, always ended up lying on top of his desk.

  While Chief Hopper was going through the motions, once again, of f
iling the report, Erika Payne poked her head into the office. “Hey, Morty. Hi, Copper,” she said with a flirty smile.

  “Chief Hopper, Erika.”

  “Ooh, you must be on duty. No funny business this morning?” Then she noticed the office in its state of disarray. “Is it another break-in?” As she asked the question, the hair on her arms rose. Every time Marshall’s office was invaded, so was hers.

  “Erika, look around. Does any of this mean anything to you?” asked Hopper. “Everything is always so similar.”

  “I don’t know. The thief must’ve liked the way Adrian decorated his office because the furniture is always moved like Adrian liked it.” She smiled, but the break-ins really weren’t funny.

  As she started to head for her own office, she nearly ran into Officer Duncan. “Whoa, excuse me, Erika.” He stared at her speechlessly for a second, just as nearly everyone did, but then he regained his composure and asked Chief Hopper, “Is there anything I can do?”

  “What’re you doing here, Dan? I thought you were impounding the truck you just seized.”

  “Yeah, I was driving it over to the impound lot, but wanted to check things out here too.” He had several reasons for driving the truck to the depot. Like everyone else, he was hoping to run into Erika, which he literally almost just did, and he also was more than curious about the ghost that was rumored to haunt the depot offices. In addition, Dan happened to be the kind of person that liked to show off by driving anything that was not his own. He possessed every kind of license—boat, motorcycle, operator, commercial, taxi—so he drove the truck to the depot just so people could see him drive it.

  He followed Erika into her office, and observed her perfect figure with curiosity as she repositioned a picture of Logan and her that had been tipped over. The family picture on her wall had been removed and was face down on the floor. Erika replaced it. Duncan was a short, stocky, barrel-chested man. His thick neck, shoulders, arms, and chest were ample proof of a lot of time working out in the gym. But except for his obvious crush on Erika, Duncan was a hard man to figure. He acted the part of the tough guy with precision—cockiness, vanity, and all—but he was a bird watcher and a frequent community service volunteer who was always looking for ways to relieve the constant stress he felt. He used to play softball at a very competitive level, but after Adrian Payne disappeared, he began coaching instead and took a lot of interest in Logan Payne—he always made sure Logan was on any team he coached, and that included the high school team. He was a decent police officer, who sometimes wore his badge a bit too proudly, but he seemed to actually have more interest in big trucks, fast cars, and dirt bikes than in his career. Many years earlier, his tobacco chewing led to some lip cancer, so most times over the last decade, he could be seen chewing huge wads of gum or, even more regularly, handfuls of sunflower seeds. Duncan had some seeds to spit, so he headed for Erika’s wastebasket where he noticed a couple of woodcarvings had been tossed. After considering spitting the seeds anyway, he wisely grabbed a disposable plastic cup instead. Erika noticed the “trash” and removed it. After expertly spitting his shells, he asked, “Why would a thief throw your son’s carvings away?”

  Erika seemed a little agitated when she answered, “I don’t know, Dan, but every time there’s one of these break-ins, I find some personal items of Logan’s—usually the carvings since he’s started doing them—thrown in the wastebasket. I don’t understand.”

  “What if it really is a ghost?”

  Erika felt a chill of cold air on her skin before she answered. “Still wouldn’t explain what it has against my son’s personal things.”

  As Chief Hopper arrived to finish his investigation, Dan excused himself and Erika’s phone rang. It was Lydia Frauss with the arrangements they had discussed earlier in the morning. Erika left instructions for Clay Thomas. She was told that he would pick her up so they could drive together to the cave in Indiana.

  Chapter 5

  Erika drove Logan to school earlier in the morning and was waiting nervously for the arrival of Clay Thomas. She knew Clay from Haslett, Michigan, where she went to high school before moving to Durand her senior year. After twenty-five years, he certainly would have changed, but she couldn’t keep herself from being excited to see him. Marshall Mortonson would pick up Logan after early season basketball practice at school. He would take her son to get something to eat and then drop him off at Dan Duncan’s when his shift ended, where they would play video games and watch some college basketball. Erika was grateful for help from her friends because she was unwilling to leave Logan home alone. His depression was such a concern that she worried he might do something desperate.

  Clay was a few minutes late, so she gathered her gear in a pile and then headed for the bathroom to touch up her makeup again. As she was perfecting her blue eye shadow, the doorbell rang and her pulse started racing. She walked to the doorway as casually as she could and excitedly opened the door. Clay Thomas had barely changed from high school. “Hi, I’m Clay. Sorry I’m a few minutes late, but I was stopped by a train.” Same grin. Same smiling eyes. Erika was a year older than Clay, which meant he was forty-one years old, yet he was as fit looking as ever. His brown hair showed no signs of graying or balding. His dark brown eyes were just as she remembered. He was tall and athletic looking, but what she remembered most about him was that he was nice—somewhat shy, but always nice.

  “Happens all the time around here. I’m Erika,” she replied politely, nervous that he might not remember her as fondly as she remembered him.

  Clay’s smiling eyes turned curious, and then he recalled how he knew Erika from his past. “Erika? Erika Baring…Payne? Baring-Payne? Now there’s an interesting married name.”

  “Great…I haven’t seen you for twenty-five years and the first thing you do is make fun of my name? I’ve heard it before, Clay.” She smiled.

  Clay thought it was a wonderful smile. She was just as beautiful as he remembered her from high school. The smile was the same; the gorgeous blue eyes sparkled just the same; the good humor was just as evident. Her hair was shorter and not quite as curly, but it was the same deep, nearly white blond that captured his attention in school. She was stunning, and it made Clay instantly sad. Erika noticed the sadness immediately, but she knew they had a twelve-hour round trip to get reacquainted. Her goal was to help him along his road to recovery from the loss of his wife and to help him snap out of the “doldrums” that Lydia Frauss expressed. She reverted to small talk as they loaded Clay’s car with her gear and she closed up her house for the day. It was going to be an interesting trip.

  ***

  Logan Payne’s first hour class was the only class he actually enjoyed and it was probably the only reason that his mother was able to get him out of bed in the morning. It was a woodshop class. Logan’s latest project was a small storage chest. He was attaching the hinges when his teacher, Mr. Jorgenson, stopped to look at his work. Mr. Jorgenson’s jaw dropped as he looked at the cover that was lying on Logan’s worktable. On it was a remarkable carving of a horse. The detail was exquisite. The horse was lying on the ground next to some railroad tracks, apparently lifeless but nonetheless beautiful. “You did this?” he asked in amazement.

  “Yes.” That was all that Logan said while he continued to work.

  “How? When?”

  “Knife. Home.”

  “You’re kidding. You carved it with your jackknife?”

  “Yes.” Logan was well known for his monosyllabic answers.

  “This is amazing. Do you have other carvings?”

  “Yes.”

  “Could I see them?”

  Shrug of the shoulders.

  “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d love to see some of them. You’re really talented, Logan.”

  Another shrug of the shoulders. His hair was hanging over his eyes and he never even gave his favorite teacher any eye contact. “Thanks.”

  ***

  After Erika meticulously checked her supplies a
nd loaded the car, the two old friends drove off and did a little catching up. Erika’s father took a job at J & R Machinery Engineers and moved the family to Durand for her senior year. When he retired, her parents moved to Tampa, Florida. After high school, Erika headed off to Michigan State University to be a cheerleader. First she got mono, and then she had an emergency appendectomy. She managed to catch up on one semester, but dropped out and headed home during semester two. She never finished college and eventually married Adrian Payne, who was on a fast track, no pun intended, to success in the train business. His best friend, Marshall Mortonson, and Adrian partnered to take over the Durand Depot and Railway. It wasn’t long and he’d finagled business contracts with various shipping companies, putting a local trucking company out of business.

  “Maybe this is too much information, but he was a terrible husband and a worse father. When he disappeared after the train wreck in 2003, my life improved drastically, simply because he wasn’t in it.” After she explained about the train wreck and her husband’s mysterious disappearance, she went on to explain that Adrian and Mortonson had a partnership contract. The partners had voting shares in the company that did not pass to heirs upon a death of a partner. The heirs would be able to own part of the business, but they’d have no say in how it was run. So even if Adrian was declared dead, which he had never been because there had never been any evidence of his passing, she would have no control over the business. Their partnership agreement did stipulate, however, that if a partner passed away or decided to sell, the other partner either had to purchase his partner’s shares or agree to sell as well. Because Adrian wasn’t declared dead, Mortonson kept the company and had complete control of it as well. Erika was left out in the cold, except that Marshall Mortonson hired her as an employee and she’d earned small capital gains over the years. She had no other work experience, education, or training. Her son, Logan, was only ten years old when the accident occurred. Erika was trapped in Durand with no other real options, as far as she could see.