“No,” Maria said, “although they might look twice, wondering who the crazy guy is wearing sunglasses at night.”
“Not me,” Adam laughed. “I’m not crazy.”
Maria bit her tongue as they walked out the door.
Levi said nothing.
They climbed into Maria’s car. Levi took the passenger seat again. Adam crawled into the back and flipped open Maria’s newspaper, which he’d appropriated from her porch step.
“I’ve been gone too long,” he mused, scanning the local section. “I need to catch up on what’s been happening.”
Maria glanced at Levi, but he stared straight ahead, still silent.
“Okay, guys,” she said, trying to sound brave. “Next stop, the Ghost Walk!”
The sun sank lower as they drove away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“But we’re not even open yet!”
“I don’t care,” Ken said, trying to refrain from shouting at the older man—Bill Goytre, a volunteer from the Lions Club. “Take a look out there in the road.”
“But it ain’t even dark. We don’t open until dark.”
“Tell that to the people who are showing up already, Bill. If we don’t have volunteers parking cars, it’s gonna be chaos. Now get your crew together and get over there in that field and start directing traffic. Please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Bill ran off to muster his forces. Ken stared at the road in amazement. The number of cars already turning into the field was stunning—a creeping, unbroken line that stretched from the parking area to the road and beyond. Drivers wound their way through the field without direction, parking anywhere they chose.
“Jesus Christ…”
Ken hadn’t been this nervous since the night he’d proposed to Deena.
Greg Lineberger, one of the farmers who was in charge of the hayrides, approached him, leaning on a faded wooden cane. His cheek bulged with chewing tobacco.
“Looks like we’re gonna be swamped, Ken.”
“Yeah. Holy shit, they’re still coming.”
“Want us to open the trail early?”
Ken thought it over. “No, let’s stay on schedule. Wait until dusk, at least.”
“All right.” Greg looked up at the sky. “Reckon that will be soon enough anyway. The sun ain’t even set yet, but it’s already getting dark. Especially down there in the woods. Hope that doesn’t mean there’s a storm coming.”
“That’s all we need,” Ken agreed. “But no, I went online with my cell phone this afternoon and checked the weather. It’s not supposed to rain tonight.”
“Well, I’ll head on back to my tractor. You let us know when you’re ready.”
“Will do. And thanks again for your help.”
The old farmer gazed out at the snaking line of automobiles and spat tobacco juice in the grass. “Sure is an awful lot of people.”
After the old man left, Ken found that he had a rare moment of solitude. Seeing that the public was beginning to show up, most of the volunteers had gone into action. Ken massaged the back of his neck and sighed. He had a headache. He needed a beer. And there was still a lot to do. He had things to check on and phone calls to return. He’d been playing phone tag all morning with the cop investigating Sam and Rhonda’s disappearance. When they’d finally connected, the cop had assured him it was just a few routine questions. Supposedly, the detective was going to show up tonight, take the Ghost Walk, and then quickly interview him.
Ken surveyed the crowd. How the hell was the detective even going to find him with all these people? Ken couldn’t find anybody and he was the own er.
Walking back to the midway, Ken grabbed a battery-powered bullhorn and made an announcement.
“Folks, can I have your attention, please? Listen up! Can I have your attention?”
He waited for them to quiet down and focus on him.
“As you can see, we’ve got some early arrivals.”
The crowd cheered. A thunderous wave of applause rolled over him. Grinning, Ken waited for it to die down and then continued.
“We’re not opening the Ghost Walk until it’s dark enough in the woods. Shouldn’t be much longer, judging by the sky. But until then, people can buy their tickets and get in line. They can also walk the midway and check out your stands and booths. So consider this your five-minute warning. Get ready. We’ll open for business in five minutes.”
Another round of applause greeted this, along with cheers and whistles. Ken switched off the bullhorn and steeled himself.
He hoped that somewhere, somehow, Deena was watching. And if so, he hoped she was proud.
