Free The Guidance by Marley Gibson Page B

glitch up here. I'll comp everyone one game to make up for it."
    "That'll cost him a pretty penny," Celia mutters.
    There's more to it, though. It's not simply a computer glitch. "There's a spirit here," I tell her and Jason.
    His face falls. "Come on, Kendall. Not tonight. You promised."
    I search his eyes, trying to find understanding. "It's not something I can turn off, Jason. I can
feel
him. He's here." I stare down the lane, toward where the pins are swept away. "He's back there."
    Celia's smile hikes to one side. "And me without my ghost-hunting equipment."
    "Are you okay, Kendall?" Mr. McDonough asks. "You didn't fall down, did you?"
    "No, sir," I say. "I just ... Mr. McDonough, do you know if anyone ever died here at the bowling alley?"
    He scratches his head for a moment and then bobs it. "That's right. You're those ghost huntresses everyone's been talking about."
    Celia gives a thumbs-up.
    "You think I got a ghost?" Mr. McDonough asks.
    "Did anyone die here?" I press.
    "Actually, the guy who owned the place before me was killed in a freak accident. Saddest story too. The feller was trying to reset the pins, and he crawled up underneath the mechanism at the end of the alley to work loose the jam. Edgar Moncrief, who works over at the firehouse, told me the machine clicked on and crushed the guy's arm, then ripped it clear out of the socket."
    "Gnarly!" Dragon shouts out. Becca smacks him in the stomach.
    Mr. McDonough finishes up. "Poor bastard died of blood loss before the paramedics could get to him."
    I grip my upper arm, acknowledging the red-hot pain in my joints. "That would explain it." My whole body involuntarily convulses, just thinking of the guy caught up in the pin resetter and losing a limb like that. And he's still here. I know it.
    I ask, "May I take a look?"
    "Well, sure thing, little lady."
    The six of us follow Mr. McDonough down the lane. He crawls into the gutter and slips behind the pins into the rear pathway. I follow him, as does Celia and Taylor. Taylor pulls out her BlackBerry and starts snapping pictures as I walk around getting a feel for the place. I breathe in deeply, smelling the musty dustiness coupled with the dank smell of a cleaning mop. Closing my eyes, I zero in on the spirit that's been teasing me with a
tap, tap, tap
on my brain. I see him clear as a bell. Curly hair. Crooked smile. Small scar between his eyes. An old sailboat injury, when the jib hit him. His name is...
    I look at Mr. McDonough. "Was the man's name Rob Breslin?"
    He chortles. "Damn, you're good! That was his name."
    And just like that, Rob Breslin appears before me, as vivid as Celia, Taylor, and Mr. McDonough. He's wearing dirty khaki pants with a bit of green paint smudged on the left leg. A Grateful Dead T-shirt adorns his chest, and he's missing his right arm. Dried blood is encrusted on the sleeve of the shirt.
    "Do you see my arm?" he asks me. "I can't find it anywhere."
    I flick my eyes over to Celia and nod that the spirit is here. She stretches her hand out to feel for any changes in the temperature. Goose bumps dance up and down her arm as she comes in contact with the area where Rob Breslin is standing. She's found a cold spot! Celia cocks her head to the side, indicating to Taylor that she should take some pictures.
    I focus on Rob though. He can't be over forty. What a disastrous way to die—having a limb jerked from your body.
    "I've got to find my arm," he says.
    "I don't know where it is," I say to him.
    He runs his remaining hand through his hair with great frustration. "I've been looking for it since the accident. It's got to be here. I mean, you don't just leave an arm lying around."
    His smile is heartbreaking, and I want nothing more than to find his limb for him. It's impossible, though. Through my psychic vision, I see that the appendage was so badly damaged by the machinery that there was nothing really to bury with him. I've got to do everything in my power to help him cross into a