right behind her. At the top of the steps he grabbed her hand, and they jumped off the porch together.
âAround the back,â Uncle Ralph panted. âHead for the car.â
Chris felt as if she were running through a swamp that sucked at her feet and held her back. âCanâtâcanât run!â she gasped.
Uncle Ralph pulled her along. âYes you can,â he said. âJust make sure you hang on to that envelope, sport.â
They reached the car. Uncle Ralph swung open thedoor on the driverâs side and threw Chris across the seat. Then he jumped in after her and slammed the door. The keys were in the ignition. There was a heart-stopping moment when the motor stuttered, quit, then roared to life.
âThatâs my good old baby,â Uncle Ralph muttered. âThatâs my girl!â
He swung the car around so that the headlights rested full on the house. Curtains and draperies billowed furiously at every window. Lights flicked on and off, all over the house. Then the back door flew open, and the towering figure of the attic ghost was silhouetted in the headlightsâ beam.
âHeâs coming!â Chris screamed. âHeâs coming after us!â
Uncle Ralph pulled hard on the wheel, and the car shot into the narrow, winding road that led to the highway. The trees formed a tunnel around them, and as the car bounced through it, the branches ahead seemed to bend down. Something struck the roof a sharp blow.
âHeâs trying to stop us,â Chris cried. âWhat are we going to do?â
Uncle Ralph clutched the steering wheel like a race-car driver. âHang on, sport,â he said through clenched teeth. âThis is still Dixonâs territory. Do you have that envelope?â
Chris held up the strip of glassine.
âGood. Donât wrinkle it.â
âWrinkle it!â Chris exclaimed. âI can hardly hold it, Iâm shaking so hard.â
âThen put it in the glove compartment, and go ahead and shake,â Uncle Ralph snapped. He winced as a branch scraped across the windshield. âWeâre almost back to civilization.â
As he said it, they shot out onto the highway. A semitrailer truck swerved around them with startled blasts of the horn.
âCool it, bub,â Uncle Ralph said. He raced after the truck. Other cars were coming toward them now, their lights reassuring in the forest dark. Far ahead, the lights of a woodland motel twinkled.
âWeâre okay!â Uncle Ralph said. âWeâve made it!â But Chris noticed that he didnât slow down. Not until the gas stations, bait shops, and small shingled houses of Clearwater began flying past did he take his foot off the gas.
âThereâs a little coffee shop right smack in the middle of town,â he said. âWeâll go there.â
Good
, Chris thought. Ghosts didnât show themselves in coffee shops, did they?
When they parked in front of the little restaurant, Chris discovered that her knees were still trembling. She shook as she removed the envelope from the glove compartment, followed Uncle Ralph into the restaurantand settled in a high-backed booth. She laid the glassine envelope in the middle of the table and stared at it.
Across from her, Uncle Ralph wiped his face with his handkerchief. He took deep breaths, like a swimmer coming up for air. âYou want to open that thing, Christina?â he asked. âYou deserve to. Youâre the one who got it away fromâfrom
him
.â
Chris shuddered. She glanced out at the street, where tourists strolled, eating ice-cream cones and enjoying the soft summer night. She would have liked to be one of them. Walking down Clearwaterâs main street eating an ice-cream cone was all the adventure sheâd ever want again.
âWeâll do that tomorrow,â Uncle Ralph said, once again seeming to read her mind. âOpen that envelope, will you?â
Chris