"WHOA!" Joe scrambled out of the Aztek and started towards the cliff, only to halt in amazement as the mysterious figure suddenly swept into view once more, temporarily buoyed upwards by a parachute. "Wow! BASE-jumping?" He stared, transfixed, as the jumper disappeared once again, dropping towards the sea.

The sudden realization that this person, whoever it was, had probably encountered Vanessa, made Joe turn his attention once more to the lighthouse. Running to it, heedless of his sore leg, he found his girlfriend huddled at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing her ankle. She turned a shocked face to Joe as he dropped down beside her.

"Babe! Are you all right? What happened, anyway?" Joe wrapped an arm about her shoulders, pulling her tight against him.

"I was going up the stairs," Vanessa explained, "when some creep came barreling down, and pushed past. He knocked me down the steps. And he didn’t even stop to see if I was okay!"

"He jumped off the cliff," Joe informed her brusquely.

"He WHAT?" Vanessa’s blue-gray eyes opened wide at this revelation.

"He had a parachute," Joe elaborated. "Like the ones BASE jumpers use."

"Why in the world…?"

"…would anyone BASE jump into Barmet Bay? You got me. I hope," Joe added, a bit spitefully, "he got a dunking and gets hypothermia." Tenderly, he smoothed Vanessa’s hair. "Are you hurt, babe?"

"I think I did something to my ankle," she admitted. "it’s really throbbing."

"Let’s see…." Very gently, Joe loosened the ties of Vanessa’s running shoe, and examined her ankle. "It’s starting to swell; you’d better stay off of it. Come on, let’s get you to the car. Lean on my shoulder, babe."

With Vanessa’s arm draped across his shoulders and his arm securely about her waist, Joe helped his girlfriend hobble to the Aztek and seat herself. He wished he hadn’t sent Matt home; he could have used the other man’s assistance at the moment. After making sure Vanessa was situated comfortably, he went to tell Mr. Carter what had occurred, and that he needed to take Vanessa back to town to have her ankle examined.

"I don’t need to go to a doctor, Joe," Vanessa protested, when Joe informed her of his intentions. "I’m sure it’s not broken. I’d rather just go home; Mom can take care of it okay."

"Aw babe, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea."

"It’ll be fine, trust me. Only – darn, what about my car?"

"We can pick up your Jeep at school tomorrow; we’ll work something out." Deciding that Andrea might have better luck getting Vanessa to a hospital than he would, if she thought it necessary, Joe let himself be convinced, and headed for the Benders’ farmhouse.

"Heavens, kiddo, what happened to you?" Andrea, in the midst of preparing dinner, stood shocked as Joe half-carried her daughter into the house. "Did you decide to try out for the football team after all?"

"Fell halfway down the lighthouse steps," Vanessa said grimly. "Couch, slave," she directed Joe, who obeyed, chuckling. He eased her down on the family room sofa and arranged a pillow beneath her foot.

"I hate this," Vanessa fretted. "I don’t have time for this, I have too much to do!"

"Shhh," Joe soothed her. "I’ll get your assignments from your teachers; you need to take care of yourself. Nothing’s more important than that. And I’ll come visit you lots."

She scowled. "What’s this ‘I’ll come to visit you’ stuff? Who says I’m not going to be at school? It’ll be fine by tomorrow, you’ll see!"

"Uh-huh." Joe sounded unconvinced. "But I’ll check with your profs, just in case it’s not." He bent and kissed her gently. "I promise to keep you in the loop, Van! And I’m also going to find that creep who knocked you down, and make him pay, big-time!"

"Ah, my hero!" Vanessa smiled, and stroked Joe’s cheek, then added fiercely, "You’d better not keep me out of the loop, lover-boy, or I’ll kick your butt!"

"What a lovely little lady my daughter is," Andrea observed dryly as she entered the family room carrying several Ziploc bags of ice and some kitchen towels. She efficiently packed them around Vanessa’s ankle, supporting them with more pillows. "There you go, kiddo, all set. I’ll bring you some dinner."

Vanessa suddenly looked up at Joe with eyes full of sadness. "We didn’t get our pizza!"

"Hey, beautiful, we can get pizza some other time." Joe kissed her again. "I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? And we’ll bring your jeep by – not sure who I can get; Frank or Megan, probably."

"Whoever it is, I’ll be glad to see them – unless I’m at school already!" Vanessa replied, still sticking to her hopeful theory that she would be back on her feet the next day. She raised her face for one final kiss. "Goodnight, Joe!"

*****

"Hey, little brother!" Frank smiled a welcome from one of the recliner chairs, as Joe entered the family room. "You missed dinner, but there’re leftovers in the fridge, I think. Or did you eat with Vanessa?" The smile faded at Joe’s wordless growl. "What’s wrong?"

"Vanessa got hurt," the younger Hardy said angrily. "Some idiot knocked her halfway down the stairs of the lighthouse, and she twisted her ankle."

"Oh, jeez! What a rotten thing to happen!" his brother commiserated. "Who was it that knocked her down, anyway?"

"I don’t know; it was really weird." Now that he thought about it, the weirder it seemed to Joe. "He knocked her down and then ran out and jumped over the cliff, Frank; he was wearing one of those BASE-jumping types of parachutes!"

"Now that’s weird," Frank agreed. He could see Joe was more than a little upset at the incident, and didn’t blame him; Joe was as protective of Vanessa as Frank was of Megan. "You know, maybe there’s really something going on out there at the lighthouse; maybe we should start treating this as a real investigation, instead of just going on with your research project and saying ‘oh, isn’t that strange!’ when all this stuff happens."

"Might not be a bad idea," Joe conceded. He shot a shrewd look at Frank. "If you think you can handle the ghost aspect, that is."

Frank made a face at that. "Speaking of our ghost, Matt came home with a wild tale of getting a shot of her on film – you think he really did?"

"He thinks he did." Joe didn’t offer a further opinion.

"I’m not all that sure I want to see a picture of an apparition that’s trying her best to kill me," Frank confessed with a wry grin. "And I’m not sure what it would mean if Matt did get pictures of her. But I didn’t want to discourage him – he was too jazzed about it. I’d have felt like I was kicking a puppy."

Joe grinned, and Frank knew Joe understood exactly what he meant. Despite Matt’s being older than either of them, and out on his own, his naiveté and enthusiasm in regard to detective work made him seem younger at times.

"Right now," Joe said, "I’m not too worried about ghostly appearances – despite the fact that she seems to have a homicidal bent towards you, bro; I figure you can cope with it! I’m more concerned about finding the jerk who knocked Van down, and dealing a little justice. Bad enough that we have a ghost trying to hurt you; when some guy dumps Vanessa down a flight of stairs, that’s just too much!"

Love your priorities, Joe! Frank smiled, but didn’t make the comment aloud. "Fortunately, I didn’t have any ectoplasmic visitations today," he said. "I found something I’d forgotten about, though – that coin on the chain I picked up in the fireplace where we found the skeleton! I’d stuck it in my pocket and brought it home…well, anyway, I took it down to give to Con Riley." Frank grimaced at the memory. "Con was not very happy about it – I mean, he was glad to get it, but he didn’t like the fact that I’d essentially been withholding evidence from the police! But he had to admit it was just as well…it isn’t like they can be pursuing the murder of a hundred-year-old skeleton, after all."

"They confirmed the age, then?"

"Uh-huh," Frank nodded. "Forensics determined the age of the bones – about one hundred and ten years, give or take a decade or so. Con said he doubts that they’ll do much more about it, given that whoever did it would be long dead too."

Joe gave his brother a long look – one which Frank recognized.

"That’s right," the older Hardy said with an answering smile, "that means that we can investigate to our hearts’ content. Strictly to keep in practice, of course."

"Of course." Joe leaned against the back of the couch, staring thoughtfully at the floor. "Frank…that coin. Do you suppose there could be anything with the coin….I mean, what if Emily’s appearances are tied to the coin? You gave the coin to Con, and she hasn’t been back all day…." He looked up at Frank. "You suppose CON’S seen her?"

Frank reached for the lever that controlled the footrest, and elevated it. He stretched his long legs out comfortably, considering Joe’s idea with care. Finally, he shrugged. "If he has, that’s Con’s problem, not ours. As long as Emily stays away from me, I’m happy. I still don’t understand why she seems to think I killed her or her boyfriend. Why the heck would she latch onto me as a murderer?"

"You mean other than your obviously sadistic, murderous nature showing through?" his brother teased. "It’s the coin!" Joe insisted. "She’s connecting the coin with the murder, and you had the coin!"

Frank was about to pursue the subject further, and demand why Joe was so positive about this, when they heard footsteps coming up the basement stairs. In a moment, Matt joined them, looking both sheepish and forlorn.

"Hey, Matt – how’re the pictures of the ghost coming along?" Frank asked with a smile.

Matt grimaced, and Joe tried to hide a smile. "Come on down to the darkroom," the young photographer invited, "and take a look for yourselves."

"Okay, I’m game. C’mon, Joe." Frank extricated himself from the recliner and the Hardys followed their friend back down the basement stairs to the little darkroom. A line was strung across the room, with several pictures clipped to it, drying.

"I like this – doing it the traditional way," Matt commented. "Rather do it the hard way than have some one-hour developer make a mess of my negatives! Well, anyway, look here. These are the pictures I took of the girl – the ghost girl."

Matt indicated several of the photos attached to the line. "I swear, guys – I swear she was here. Right here!" He pointed to the spot on the picture. But there was no sign of Emily-the-ghost. There was nothing there, save the cliff edge and the expanse of blue-gray water beyond.