He was glad that Frank and Megan had decided to leave; it was obvious that Frank wasn’t feeling well. What was that whole business about, anyway, Frank insisting that he’d seen a ghost who’d tried to kill him? We were raised better than that! he thought. Frank doesn’t believe in ghosts. I know I don’t believe in ghosts! Frank’s sick, that’s all – he’s sick, and he hallucinated the whole thing!

That didn’t really make him feel any better, Joe conceded to himself. He didn’t like the idea of his brother – his level-headed, super-intelligent older brother – hallucinating about ghosts. No! That didn’t sound much like Frank, even if he was sick. The flu made people cough, or gave them headaches, or made them throw up. What kind of virus would make a person see something that sounded so…whacked-out?

Still wrestling with his troubled thoughts, Joe continued to hold Vanessa in his arms, taking some comfort in her nearness. As they were temporarily left alone, he backed her into a dark corner for a few moments of serious kissing, hoping to take his mind off his worries about Frank.

When he halted the kiss, Joe stared into Vanessa’s blue-gray eyes and smiled. "Maybe we’ll have to come out here alone some time, babe. There’s something romantic about being at a lighthouse, don’t you think?" He sincerely hoped Vanessa didn’t recall that they had just discovered human bones there, a distinctly UN-romantic idea!

Before she could reply, the sound of hurried footsteps interrupted them, and they parted, hastily returning to the living room. Matt jogged up the porch steps and entered the cottage, camera in hand.

"Dudes! Did you guys really find a skeleton in the closet?" Matt’s green-hazel eyes were sparkling with incredulous delight.

Joe chuckled, and shook his head. "No, Eckersley, we did not find a skeleton in the closet. That would be too much of a cliché. Megan and Frank and Cherise found bones in a fireplace!" He watched Matt’s reaction; the other man showed some conflicting emotions. There was excitement there…and there was also some apprehension. Evidently Matt wasn’t quite sure which way to jump, on this.

"Do you know who the skeleton is?"

"No. No idea." Joe shook his head. "At this point we don’t know anything at all about it."

"It’s probably pretty old," Vanessa observed. "I doubt that any of us know who it is; it could be anyone at all."

"You gonna include this in your project?" Matt wanted to know. He grinned hopefully. "I can take pictures…."

Joe and Vanessa exchanged looks for a moment, before Joe shrugged and replied. "I guess it depends on how it ties into the history of Stone Point, Matt. If we can figure that part out, I mean. But I’m not sure you’d be allowed to take photos. That would be up to the police. It might make things more interesting, though," he added, more to Vanessa than to Matt.

She rolled her eyes, but laughed indulgently. "It’s very possible we’ll include the mystery in the research paper; after all, we did find the skeleton, didn’t we? Well, WE didn’t, but you know what I mean."

"Cool!" Matt looked around, and spotted Cherise, who was standing forlornly off to one side of the room, looking very upset and shaken still. He walked over to her, setting the camera down on a nearby table. He slipped an arm about her shoulders and gave her a gentle hug. "Hey, you okay, Cherise? You look pretty weirded out. I’m new to finding this kind of stuff too…. No sense in going through it alone, right?"

Startled, Cherise stepped back a pace or two. "Matt, I – I’ve got a steady boyfriend—"

"And I’ve got a steady girl in London," Matt interrupted. "You just looked like you could use a friend right now," he went on, soothingly. "I didn’t mean to spook you…I didn’t mean anything by it. Friends, that’s all – okay?"

The girl nodded, reassured, and moved back into the comforting arms. "You’re right. Thanks, Matt – this was a shock. I’ve been coming here for years and years…and knowing that…THAT’S…been there all the time…." She shivered, and Matt hugged her a little closer.

"Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay…."

He glanced at Joe and Vanessa over Cherise’s shoulder, and grinned and winked. They could both see why Cherise had been surprised; after all, she barely knew Matt! – but they also both knew that this was merely Matt’s personality and desire to help, coming through. He meant nothing more than friendship and sympathy – Matt had no ulterior motives!

"Let’s go see if we can get an idea how long the police are going to be here," Joe suggested. The four moved towards the door, when a sudden shout reached them:

"FRANK!" And then – "Joe! JOE!" It was Megan’s voice, raised to a desperate yell.

Joe burst out of the cottage door, sprinting across the yard to the lighthouse entrance, where Megan stood, gesturing wildly at him. Behind him, Joe was vaguely aware of Matt, Vanessa and Cherise hurrying in pursuit. "What – I thought you’d gone home! What’s wrong?" Joe skidded to a stop in front of her.

"Frank…its Frank…" Megan pointed inside the lighthouse.

Joe dashed in, spotted his brother lying at the bottom of the spiral stairs, and dropped to his knees beside him. "Frank!" He’s breathing…. He pressed two fingers to Frank’s wrist, and sighed with relief when he found his pulse to be strong and steady. But his concern increased when he took a good look at Frank, for there was a large knot on the side of his head, and a gash on his forehead which was bleeding profusely.

Joe whistled softly through his teeth, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to hold against the injury. "Frank – come on, wake up, here," he encouraged. "Megan, what happened?"

"I don’t know," the girl replied in a shaken voice. "Frank came back to the lighthouse to get my purse; I’d left it up there." She gestured upwards, indicating the lens room. "I waited for over five minutes for him to come back. When he didn’t, I came looking for him – and found him here!" She stared down at Frank, her turquoise eyes wide with terror that he might be seriously hurt.

"It’ll be okay, honey." Vanessa was there now, hugging Megan reassuringly. Cherise and Matt added their reassurances to hers, and Megan began to look a little calmer.

"Red, take it easy; he’s got a hard head." Joe gave her a quick grin.

A moment later, Frank groaned, and moved a hand towards his head. "Ow!…shoot…."

Joe caught his wrist. "Don’t touch," he commanded. "Lie still. Matt, go ask the police to send an ambulance around, would you?"

"Sure thing, man." Matt nodded and departed hastily.

"I don’t want an ambulance," Frank said in a weak voice, "and I don’t need one, either." He opened one eye, then the other, and peered up at his brother. "Just help me up."

"Not a chance," Joe denied the request firmly. "In this case, Big Brother Frank is not going to win the argument we’re about to have. You’re going to at least be checked out by a paramedic, because if I drive you home instead, we’re going straight to the hospital. At this point, you get a choice."

"I’m old enough to make my own decisions about whether I need medical treatment," Frank grumbled, attempting to lever himself up to his elbows.

Joe pushed against his chest, holding him immobile. "You can make your own decisions when you’re not lying on the ground bleeding from a head wound!"

Making an exasperated noise, Frank subsided. Megan squeezed herself between the wall and Frank’s right side, kneeling down beside him. She replaced Joe’s fingers on the folded handkerchief with her own, and pressed it gently against Frank’s head.

Joe smiled at her, and let her take his place. "Attagirl, Red," he murmured.

"Doggone it, Joe, I’m fine; I just want to go home." Frank argued again. "I don’t need an ambulance, I don’t need paramedics, I don’t—"

"It’s a head wound and you were unconscious," Joe replied obstinately. "I’m not taking any chances, so you might just as well stop squawking about it."

Frank sighed, a deep, reproachful, resigned sigh.

"Glad you decided to quit arguing." Joe grinned in satisfaction. "But – while we’re waiting for the EMT’s to show up, I’d like to know what happened. How did you manage to fall down the stairs? At least, I assume you fell…?"

Frank blinked at him a time or two, and then closed his eyes…a sure sign, Joe knew, that he didn’t want to discuss it.

"Did you trip or something?" Joe pressed.

"I don’t know." Frank didn’t open his eyes. "I was just walking down the stairs, and it felt like something – or someone – shoved me down the steps. I can’t describe it very well….Maybe I was just imagining it, and I just tripped, or something, and lost my balance." He opened his eyes and squinted up at Joe. "Whatever it was, my head is killing me! I just want to go home!"

The ambulance arrived shortly, and Frank submitted to the medics’ probing and questions, meekly letting them take his vitals, check his eyes, and clean and bandage the cut. He did not, however, agree to let them take him to the hospital!

"All right, if you won’t, you won’t." Exasperated, the paramedic turned to Joe. "Keep an eye on him tonight. Wake him every two hours, and if he’s dizzy, or disoriented, or starts to feel worse, get him to the hospital right away!"

"I’ll watch him like a hawk!" Joe vowed – and the look he gave Frank promised his older brother that he would do just that.

The medics took their leave, and the police investigators returned to their tasks. Joe helped a shaky Frank get to his feet, and walked him slowly towards the parked cars.

"You sure you’re okay? You’re not going to try to drive, are you?"

"He is not," Megan stated firmly, and took her boyfriend’s arm in a no-nonsense grip. "I’ll drive him home, Joe, and pick up my car. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets there safely."

"I know you will, Red." Joe gave her a conspiratorial smile as they tucked Frank into the Saturn’s front passenger seat. "I can always count on you."

*****

"Dude, you like, saw a ghost?" Matt was so excited he could barely sit still. The young man watched Frank with keen interest, green eyes flashing as he regarded the older Hardy. "Wonder if I could get a picture of one…suppose I could? Wouldn’t that be something to show editors and publishers, though? I could show absolute proof of the existence of the paranormal, man! I’d be…I’d be just like…like Mulder, man!"

"You’d be more like Bill Murray or Dan Ackroyd in Ghostbusters," Frank muttered caustically. He held his hands up in half-surrender, half an attempt to stem Matt’s enthusiastic torrent of words. "Anyway, I’m not really sure if I saw a ghost or not, so cool your jets, Matt. My subconscious was probably playing tricks on me anyway. For one thing, I don’t BELIEVE in ghosts!"

"If there wasn’t a ghost there, then why did you feel so cold, or feel a cold wind push you down the stairs?" Matt demanded.

"I think it was the wind, Matt. It came from the open door. I probably didn’t get it latched tight, when I went in…and it blew open as I was coming down the stairs. No reason to think it was a ghost, for Pete’s sake!"

Matt didn’t look convinced. The thought of ghosts was more intriguing than the mundane ‘the door blew open’ excuse Frank was trying to push. "If the wind blew the door open, it would have gone up the stairs, not pushed you down, man! And if it was just the wind, why did you hear a voice, then?" he pressed. "Why would you imagine someone calling you a murderer, if it was the wind? Hey, dude, I’ll bet it was the ghost of whoever that skeleton you found is…was…whatever! I’ll bet it IS that girl, that you found—"

Frank shook his head vigorously, then winced and hastily stopped the movement. "Ouch!….No, Matt, there’s no way it can be something like that! There’s just no such thing as ghosts – ever. No such thing!"

Matt eyed the elder Hardy skeptically, wondering if Frank was as convinced of his words as he sounded. He could see something in Frank’s eyes…granted, he didn’t know Frank all that well, but…but…he could see it, just the same. Something that said Frank was no longer all that sure of his convictions about the existence of ghosts!

"Okay, man, okay. Chill. I’m not arguing it." Matt leaned back and took a sip from the can of soda he’d gotten himself earlier. He watched Frank carefully as the younger man gingerly touched the bandage covering the cut on his forehead. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself that it really happened, Matt thought. Or is he trying to make himself believe that he really just imagined the…the whatever-it-was? He says he doesn’t believe in ghosts, but…. Matt wasn’t so sure he believed Frank’s vehement declaration that there wasn’t any such thing as ghosts.

He took another drink of soda and glanced at Joe, who was engrossed in the day’s college football scores being shown on TV. The younger Hardy brother was commenting vociferously on each score, either cheering or lamenting, depending on the outcome of the game. Frank caught Matt’s attention and rolled his eyes theatrically at Joe’s antics. Matt grinned, wondering to himself if this was what it would have been like to have brothers!

Seeing Joe was completely focused on the sports news, Matt finally spoke quietly again to Frank. "Frank…dude…so you really think it wasn’t a ghost, then? It was just the wind?"

Frank gazed somberly for a moment down into the cup of hot chocolate he held in his hands, then slowly his eyes tracked up to meet Matt’s. "I think so," the elder Hardy stated – but then his eyes slid away from Matt’s. "Except…"

Matt could clearly see the uncertainty in the depths of Frank’s troubled brown eyes. "Except?" he prompted softly, even more convinced of Frank’s inability to dismiss this as mere coincidence.

"Except," Frank said, just as softly, "there was no wind blowing tonight…."