Free The Pike River Phantom by Betty Ren Wright

room was drenched with sunlight. “It’s okay,” he replied groggily, then discovered Rachel was already at the foot of the bed.
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œNine-thirty.” Her tone suggested that he was the worst sleepyhead she’d ever known. “Grandma said we had to let you sleep. She said you needed time to recover from your terrible experience yesterday. All that lemon oil.”
    Charlie glared at her. “I’ll bet Grandma never mentioned the lemon oil.”
    â€œWhat’s the difference?” Rachel drawled. “The point is, do you?”
    â€œDo I what?”
    â€œNeed more time to get over your terrible experience? Because if you don’t, I think we should get started for the house in the woods right away. I’ve got the list.”
    Charlie looked at the paper she dropped on the bed. “Flashlight,” he read aloud. “Candles. Skeleton keys. Sandwiches.” He rubbed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. “If we go out there this morning, why do we need a flashlight and candles?”
    â€œYou had to search for the old lady last time, didn’t you?” Rachel demanded. “Maybe this time she’ll be in the basement, and we’ll need lights to find her.”
    â€œIf she’s in the basement, she can stay in the basement,” Charlie said firmly. “I’m not going down there to look for her. No way! And there’s something I forgot to tell you last night. She wasn’t an old lady the second time I saw her. Not as old as the first time, I mean. Her hair was different, and her face. And she was thinner.”
    Rachel stared at him in astonishment. “How could you possibly forget to tell me that?” she exclaimed. “Maybe it wasn’t even the same ghost. Maybe it was the first ghost’s daughter.”
    â€œIt was the same—whatever,” Charlie said. He returned to the list. “We won’t need skeleton keys either. The front door will be unlocked, so we can walk right in, or else it’ll be locked up tight the way it was when Grandpa came out there. If it’s locked, we can forget the whole thing. We’re not going to break in.”
    Rachel took back the list. “I’ve already made the sandwiches,” she said coolly, “just in case you were going to say we don’t need them either. I won’t hike out there without taking lunch.”
    â€œGood idea,” Charlie agreed. He discovered he was starving. That should convince Grandma he was over yesterday’s terrible experience, even if the memory of it lingered in his dreams.
    As they trudged along the highway outside of town, Charlie remembered something else he hadn’t told Rachel. “The ghost was sewing when I took her picture,” he said. “She told me she was busy getting ready for the Fourth of July parade.”
    â€œReally?” Rachel narrowed her eyes against the sun. “And the first time you saw her she said to tell Will Hocking hello from the real Sunbonnet Queen.” Her voice rose excitedly. “Those are clues, Charlie! This ghost-person has come back from the dead because of something to do with the parade or with the Sunbonnet Queen contest. If we can find out what the clues mean, we’ll know what the ghost is doing in that house.”
    Charlie supposed she was right. The closer they came to their destination, however, the more he wished they’d stayed home. A ghost—this ghost, anyway—meant trouble. He didn’t know how he knew, but he was sure of it. And now that Rachel believed his story about the woman in the old house, he didn’t have to prove himself to anyone else. He could leave Pike River and let her tell people that they’d been wrong about Charlie Hocking. She was right; they would believe her, even if they hadn’t believed him.
    â€œWhy don’t you like your dad, Charlie?” The unexpected