Should they try to explain that Emily didn’t really exist – that what Frank had been experiencing – well heck, what they’d all been experiencing! – in the past few days had to have some sort of logical explanation…or was it something else? Something supernatural, with a supernatural explanation, not a logical one?

Frank was willing to admit he’d seen Emily. He’d seen her; he’d felt her, he’d heard her speak. And what had happened in that airplane hadn’t been…natural. Nope, not at all.

"You know," Joe began, as if reading his brother’s mind, "if she’s a ghost, she’s supernatural…magic, right? Well, maybe that means that she can’t be photographed. Her image can’t be captured on film. Maybe it’s like vampires – you know, how they can’t be seen in a mirror? Maybe she can’t be seen in a picture. She was there, you saw her, you took the pictures and you know she was in them…but now she’s not there. Does that make sense?"

Matt stared up at Joe, evidently wondering if he should believe the younger man’s words or not. "Maybe…" he said at last.

Frank could see Matt wanted to believe Joe’s theory, but he could also see that Matt was upset. Disappointed – practically heartbroken at the disappearance of the mysterious girl from his photographs. He’d very much wanted to prove to them that he’d seen her.

"Matt, these are great!" Frank turned his attention to the remaining photos strung along the line. He could see why Matt was a professional photographer; his pictures had depth to them, things that an amateur usually didn’t pick up. Like just the right shading of light, or just the right angle, or just the right lens and focus. Anyone might get lucky occasionally and hit one just right – but all of Matt’s held that elusive quality. "Joe, look at these!"

"I’m looking, I’m looking." Joe added his praise to Frank’s, and Matt’s face lost its disappointed cast and gained a pleased blush, instead. "I know we’re gonna get an ‘A’ on the project with this kind of photography! The pictures themselves will get an ‘A’ no matter what Vanessa and I might write!"

Matt blushed even redder.

"But speaking of the lighthouse," Joe continued more seriously, "we have a crime to investigate! There’s definitely something going on out there."

"Which crime?" Matt demanded, immediately intrigued. When Joe related Vanessa’s mishap, Matt scowled. He had developed a fondness for Joe’s willowy girlfriend, and didn’t like the idea of someone hurting her.

"It might be worth staking the place out ourselves," Frank mused. "Obviously there’s been a boat hanging around – Matt’s got pictures of it, see, Joe?" He indicated the photos. "This is the same one we saw on Sunday afternoon."

Joe examined them closely. One had a clear shot of a man holding binoculars up to his face. Dark hair, short beard – not much else was visible, due to the binoculars’ presence. "That’s not the guy I saw," he murmured. "At least, I’m pretty sure it’s not. I didn’t get a good front view, but I did get a pretty good look at his back. This fellow in the picture looks stockier than the one I saw. So let’s suppose they’re partners, just for the sake of argument. And then there’s the lady who wants to have the wedding at the lighthouse – she might be involved, too!"

"You might be stretching it a point, there," Frank cautioned.

Joe shrugged. "It’s worth checking, anyway. I could ask Cherise if anyone’s talked to her about holding a wedding there…if not, then, well, we’ll know."

"It’s not quite that easy," his brother reminded him, and Joe stuck his tongue out, grinning.

"Sure it is."

They shut off the lights in the darkroom and tromped back upstairs, where they raided the kitchen for a snack of chips and sodas. Seated around the kitchen table, they formulated a game plan for the following day.

"Okay, after classes we go out to Stone Point and check out the lighthouse again," Joe proposed. "And this time we’re going to be more thorough about it."

"I’m going to take a fingerprint kit with me," Frank said thoughtfully. "I realize it wouldn’t necessarily mean anything if there were other visitors there, but it’s just one way of gathering additional information. And we can ask the caretaker about people who’ve been there lately. Besides us, I mean."

"I’ll give Cherise a call and see what I can find out about weddings," Joe offered. "And somewhere along the way we need to get Van her jeep back. It’s parked over at the library on campus. She thought she’d be at school tomorrow, but I don’t believe that for a minute!"

"I’ll be glad to do that, man – if you don’t mind trusting me with the Jeep." Matt lifted a finger to indicate his willingness to volunteer.

"That’s fine – I’ve got a spare set of keys," Joe replied.

"Megan’s got some open spots in her schedule; she could probably follow you out and bring you back, Matt. I’ll call her," Frank suggested. "I was going to call her anyway," he added, smiling.

Matt nodded agreement. "And the next time I take a picture of that ghost, it’s going to stay IN THE SHOT! I’m not finished with that yet, not at all!" he vowed.

Frank and Joe exchanged amused glances, and then, unable to hold out any longer, both burst into laughter.

*****

Classes always drag on when there’s an interesting case that needs investigating, Joe thought as he listened with half an ear to the teacher – who was droning on and on about the exciting [exciting? Yeah, right!] government laws being debated by the current state legislature. He wished Dr. Penigruff had taken a few classes in oral dissertation…this man is so boring, he could curdle milk in five minutes flat!

Joe rubbed absently at his sore leg, and wished he’d had the sense to take it a little easier at practice that morning. Of course, if he had taken it easier, it probably would have stiffened up more. Either way, he was stuck with a sore calf! At least he could still get around on it….Poor Vanessa, she’s going to be laid up for four or five days with that ankle, I’ll bet!

The ending buzzer finally sounded, and Joe made his way to the parking lot. Following the now-familiar route, he was soon at Stone Point. He noticed that Frank’s car was in the parking lot; they’d beaten him there.

Frank was skulking around the front of the lighthouse, fingerprint kit in hand; evidently dusting prints from the doorway. Matt hovered nearby, watching with absorption. He’d seen Frank do this before, but it still fascinated him.

"Mr. Carter says the place gets dusted and polished once a week, whether it needs it or not," he reported, as Joe neared them. "So any fingerprints Frank finds would be fairly recent." He flashed his engaging grin. "Dude, I get the distinct feeling that Mr. Carter is something of a neat-freak – although you’d never know it to look at him! I’ll bet he cleans whether anything needs cleaned, and I’ll bet he does it more than once a week! I might be wrong, of course – but if I’m right, that makes our job – well, Frank’s job – easier, doesn’t it?"

"Possibly," Joe smiled. "Might make it easier, might make it harder."

"I’ve got a few prints," Frank announced. "But of course, with five of us, Mr. Carter, and Cherise all having been here, I’m not sure they’ll do any good." He frowned thoughtfully. "It might be better just to stake out the place and see if anyone shows up!"

"I couldn’t get hold of Cherise all day," Joe said, his frown matching his brother’s. "The secretary at the Historical Society said she’d been called out of town unexpectedly. Seems her brother was in a car accident, or something like that."

"Hey, that’s too bad!" Matt sympathized. "Hope he’s okay."

"I did ask the secretary about weddings being scheduled for here," Joe continued his report. "She didn’t want to confirm names for me, but she did say that there were three booked for the lighthouse for next summer – two in July and one in August. Do people always book so far ahead?" he added, with some disbelief.

"Oh, you have no idea, dude!" Matt assured him. "A year in advance isn’t unusual, believe me!"

"That’s right; you’d know, wouldn’t you? Well, anyway, we won’t be able to find out if our mystery woman is one of those booked weddings until Cherise gets back in town," Joe went on, "and it may be too late by then. The crooks may strike before she gets back!"

As he talked, Joe started circling the lighthouse, searching for signs of anything out of place, looking to see if the grass looked disturbed, or crushed. So far as he could tell, everything looked normal; nothing seemed mashed down. Evidently no one had been back here behind the structure except him, in recent days. Yet…he could see tracks, not his own, leading toward the roadway. Obviously….Joe stopped, mid-thought, and stared down at the ground. Why does that grass look different…? Then he knelt and ran his fingers along a particular section of grass, gently reaching through the damp greenery to pull at a section of turf….

"FRANK! MATT!" Joe yelled for the others as he kept tugging the grass upwards. Beneath it, he found a square piece of plywood underneath the grass – complete with a small latch that he could pull upward.

Matt and Frank arrived at a fast jog, and peered with great interest at Joe’s discovery.

"Wow, I had no idea this was here – did you?" Frank leaned over his brother’s shoulder to examine the find.

Joe shook his head as he started lifting the board. "Not a clue. I was just walking along here, and I noticed the dirt felt different – more solid. At first I thought it was rock underneath, but it felt more…I dunno…it sort of gave, ya know? Just look at that!" Joe nodded towards the short ladder that descended into what appeared to be some sort of shaft.

"You found it, bro, you get the honor of leading the way!" Frank gestured towards the hole.

"Gee, thanks; I feel so special!" Joe took out his penlight and flicked it on before he began clambering down the ladder. Frank motioned for Matt to go next, putting him between himself and Joe, and finally he followed the other two, feeling a little like Alice diving down a rabbit hole to Wonderland.

"It’s not too deep," came Joe’s voice, and the next moment they found themselves on another dirt floor perhaps ten feet below the ground. A crude doorway led into a cramped corridor, which even Matt had to stoop to traverse, which led in turn to a small room, possibly eight-by-eight, paneled in wood.

"Wow," Joe murmured reverently as he looked around. The small room wasn’t exactly furnished, but it wasn’t quite empty, either. It contained a single chair, an armoire, and a large, extremely fascinating, grand-looking trunk.

"Do you suppose this was some sort of storm cellar, or something like that?" Joe queried. "It looks like nobody’s been down here for years and years – maybe longer than that!" Indeed, it felt musty and unused, it smelled old, and Joe felt his eyes watering slightly from the dust. Still…he liked it here. He liked it a lot! It was exciting!

"I’ll go get a bigger flashlight," Frank offered now, and turned to retrace his steps to the ladder.

"I want to get my camera!" Matt chimed in, wheeling about to follow Frank. "I’ve GOT to get pictures of this, man! It’s like, RADICAL, ya know? It’s like finding a whole new piece of history!" They hurried out, leaving Joe to guard and investigate the room further.

This is so cool, he exulted, bending over to lever open the old trunk. What a find! Inside, he discovered items of clothing, old-fashioned clothing; mostly girls’ dresses. Carefully, he laid them aside and turned again to further investigate the trunk’s contents.

"Those are MINE!" a voice hissed from behind him.

Gulping down a yelp of surprise, Joe spun about – and somehow, was not terribly surprised to see Emily standing there, watching him with an expression of extreme hatred. Instinctively, the younger Hardy extended a hand, as if to ward her off.

"I’m not hurting them," he said, in the most conciliatory tone he could muster. "I was just looking around. I promise I’ll put them back."

"You’re protecting HIM!" the girl…ghost?…hissed malevolently at him.

Joe swallowed. "Of course I’m protecting him – he’s my brother. He didn’t kill you, Emily – or your friend. He wasn’t even alive back then. Don’t you know how long it’s been?"

"LIAR!" she screamed – a chilling banshee-wail of sound. "Liar! Just like him! Deceiver! Foul-sorcerer!"

Joe felt the air begin to dissipate around him, and he gasped, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. He stumbled backwards, attempting to put more distance between himself and this threatening creature.

"Die…" Emily whispered – and her whisper was even more chilling than the scream had been. "You have to die, for protecting him. He’s a murderer, and if you protect him, you deserve the same fate!"

The strange wind picked up, sending dust flying, swirling about Joe and making him feel as if he was suffocating. It pushed at him, making him move farther back. He encountered the trunk, feeling his knees impact against it – and Joe stumbled and tripped, then fell backwards…right into the open chest!