nothing more than a strip of steep slate roof. Still, the window had broken inward, the glass scattering on the floor rather than on the roof outside.
I dare you to show yourself, Ashley,' I whispered.
In the thin moonlight I caught the reflection of a rounded piece of glass. The framed picture of my father-and hers-lay as my doll had among the rubble.
I didn't clock it, but I would say that ninety seconds after Patrick was due downstairs, dressed for school, Mrs. Hopewell arrived outside his room to inquire why he wasn't. I was waiting for her by the door and told her that Patrick hadn't felt well during the night, so I was letting him sleep. I also informed her that my window had been broken. She asked how and why I had broken it-as if people routinely break their own bedroom windows in the middle of freezing winter nights. Twenty minutes after she departed, Emily tiptoed in to see the sleeping Patrick. Adrian showed up more than an hour after that, when the others were downstairs at breakfast. I left Patrick in his room getting dressed and accompanied Adrian to my room so that he could inspect the window.
'How is Patrick doing?' he asked, closing my door behind us.
'Physically, all right, I think.'
'And emotionally?'
'Not well at all.' I quickly told him what I hadn't told the others, where I had found Patrick last night and what he was doing.
Adrian paced my room, and for the first time I saw the color of barely repressed anger in his face. 'Someone is planting these ideas in his head.' He kicked at the shards of glass. 'And someone is playing pranks. I'm going to find out who.' He took a deep breath. 'I suppose you know there was some opposition to hiring you.'
'Yes. I overheard Mrs. Hopewell and Mrs. Caulfield talking the day I was interviewed.'
'Trent wasn't happy about it either. As for my grandson, while he has never objected to you, I believe he has a double major in partying and pranks. It is a terrible thing to say about one's own household, but any of them could have done it.'
Including Ashley, I thought. I found it odd, the way the glass broke inward,' I ventured aloud.
'What do you mean?'
'Well, it would be easy to knock it out and onto the roof, but-' Adrian walked over to the window and looked out. 'I see what you're saying.' After studying the shattered upper half of the window, he lifted the lower half a few inches and slid his arm under the sash. 'I suppose any number of objects could be adapted to break the top inward, something like a pole with a hook at the end. A golf club.'
Or a hockey stick, I thought. We had left one with the snowman and the other in Patrick's playroom. I should have thought of it last night.
He withdrew his arm. 'Obviously, by scattering glass on your floor, someone meant to be nasty. I have given Mrs. Hopewell orders to vacuum several times, then wash the floor. We'll get you a new rug. In the meantime, don't go barefoot.'
'Adrian, would it be possible to turn on the alarm system at night? It's too easy and too dangerous for Patrick to slip out alone. Can't the others come in and reset the alarm?'
'Brook doesn't know the code.' In response to the surprise on my face, Adrian smiled a little. 'No, I don't trust him, but you are right, I need to set the alarm. Brook will have to abide by a curfew until this nonsense is over.'
He started toward the door, then stopped. 'You know how grateful I am to you, Kate. You also know I could hardly blame you if you decided to find a less
… dysfunctional family to work for.'
'I'm not leaving Patrick.'
He opened the door, a grim smile on his face. 'I always seem to like the ones who aren't my own,' he said, then descended the steps to talk with Patrick.
I drove Patrick to school about 10:15. He was willing to go, and I thought it better for him to spend time away from his family. I walked him to the office and, when he had departed for his classroom, asked if I could meet with his school counselor. I was told that, as caretaker rather than family member, I had to have his parents' written permission to discuss him with her. Adrian had already made it clear that he did not want the counselor's involvement Frustrated, I headed for High Street, hoping to catch Joseph at the store.
'Shop's closed,' I greeted Joseph as I entered.
He looked up from behind the counter and smiled, then got a curious look on his face. 'Don't take this personally, Katie, but you look wretched.'
'I haven't slept much lately.'
'Pull up a piece of antique and tell me what's been going on,' he invited.
I lugged an old chair over to the counter. Joseph picked up the tarnished necklace he had been examining and poked through a case of jeweler's tools.
He worked on the clasp while I filled him in on the events at Mason's Choice.
'I don't know what to do, Joseph,' I said at the end. 'How can I protect Patrick if I don't know where the danger is coming from, if I can't even decide if it is human or not?'
I waited for him to respond. So far, he had shown no reaction to my idea that there might be something other than flesh and blood haunting Patrick.
'I can discuss only half of my fears with Adrian,' I went on. 'He would think I am mad, talking about a ghost Sam is already convinced of it I myself think I'm going mad, and yet…' I stopped and shrugged my shoulders.
'And yet?' Joseph prompted, setting down a tool.
'Ashley seems so real to me. Go ahead, you have my permission to laugh.'
'I wish I could, but I find what you have told me too disturbing. I'm sure the family does, too, even if they don't admit it. There's nothing like guilt to make you worry there might be a hereafter.'
I laughed out loud, though the idea was sobering. 'So you think Ashley might have been murdered.'
I don't know, Katie. I've spent the last twelve years believing that Adrian acted stupid and mean when he tried to blame someone for an unfortunate accident. It's a struggle now for me to admit he may have been right.'
'I'm going to the college library today to see if I can find a book about ghosts, the kind that takes seriously the paranormal, if they have anything like that.
I don't know what else to do,' I said, sounding defensive. 'I asked to talk to the counselor at Patrick's school, hoping she could help me understand what Patrick is feeling. She can't see me without permission from his parents.'
Joseph gazed at me thoughtfully, 'I think I can help you,' he said, then set down the necklace and rummaged beneath the counter. At last he pulled out a ragged looking phone directory. 'Obviously, Mother believed that when you own an antique shop, it's in poor taste to have anything current. Still, this old book may do. James wasn't the type to move around.' He paged through the directory, wrote a number on a store receipt, then searched some more and scribbled another one.
''Dr. James Parker,'' I read aloud, when Joseph handed me the paper.
'He's an old friend of mine-we went to college together. He works at the high school as a psychologist, so he must know about family problems. But he has a hobby-at least he used to-paranormal psyche. Two for the price of one, Katie, and I believe he is discreet. Why don't you give him a call? He's probably at the school now, the first number there.'
I called from the store, then left my cell phone number. I was on my way to the college campus when Dr. Parker returned the call. I told him that Joseph Oakley had referred me and described some of the problems Patrick was having with his family; he said he could see me next week. Then I told him about Ashley; he suddenly had a free period that afternoon and gave me directions to the high school.
It was a brick building with two stories of long windows. Inside, the lockers and speckled floor looked new, but the beige tiled walls definitely were not. A big sign advertising the hockey team's championship game hung in the lobby.
