A/N: Please forgive me for the delay. I should know better than to start a story right around the holidays. Thank you to those who left a review. I intend for this to be a short story and, something a little lighter, before I launch into my next story which will be a Frank/Nancy story.

Chapter Two

The next morning dawned cold and sunny. The world was wet and dewy thanks to the previous night's rain. Callie and Frank sat in the dining room of the Walnut Creek Bed and Breakfast having breakfast. Their table was by the window and they had a clear view of the creek. It was flowing rapidly.

Just like the morning after Elizabeth Lancaster's disappearance, Callie thought. The creek water had been high and fast moving that day. Callie brought her hot tea to her lips and sipped. After breakfast she and Frank were going to explore the creek and those trails Sheila Donahue had mentioned. Callie wanted to look for footprints the ghost might have left behind. But more importantly, she wanted to see that white cross, the one that marked the spot where Elizabeth's clothes had been found fifteen years ago.

In the afternoon, Callie had an appointment to see Rose Schmidt, Elizabeth's sister. Rose had sounded reluctant to meet Callie. She had given excuses why today – or any day – wasn't a good time for her to see Callie. Just a few questions, Callie had said on the phone. I promise not to take up too much of your time. Finally, Rose had consented. Callie and Frank could drop by at one o'clock.

"Your food is getting cold," Frank said.

Callie snapped out of her thoughts, glanced at her food, and then her husband. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking about Rose Schmidt and the questions I want to ask her."

"I understand." Frank grinned. "I know all about the mental prep before an interview."

Callie placed her teacup on the table and gave Frank a sweet smile. "Honestly, I hadn't realized how much prep there is. But having you here with me – as part of this – is a big comfort. This is my first stab at investigative journalism," she blushed slightly, "and I feel a little out of my league. All my other stories were about the founding fathers and families of Evertville. I didn't have to interview anyone. I just did research and wrote down the facts."

Frank gathered Callie's hand in his and squeezed gently. "From what I've seen so far, you're a natural as a journalist. You'll be fine when you interview Rose and if by some remote chance you forget a question, or need help, I'll be there. I can step in at any time and save the day."

Callie laughed at Frank's droll sense of humor. Yet, she knew he was serious, too. "Thank you, husband dear. It's nice to know that if I get a little muddled, or in a bind, you'll be there to rescue me."

"Always," Frank said and Callie knew he meant it.

An hour later they were outside, standing by the creek, dressed in hiking boots, jackets, and thick sweaters. Birdsong and the sound of rushing water filled the chilly air. Callie held a map in her hands. Sheila Donohue had given it to her a few minutes ago. The map was locally produced for the Bed and Breakfast and showed all the trails running along the creek. Sheila had marked the one that led directly to the cross.

Callie had asked Sheila, "Do you think it's the trail Elizabeth took the night she disappeared?"

Sheila had given the question due consideration before answering. "Hmm, well, I don't rightly know to tell you the truth. I never really thought about it before. Best I can say is, it's the shortest and easiest route to the white cross, especially if you were walking at night. All the other trails veer off into the woods before circling back to the creek and eventually leading back to our place."

Frank nudged Callie's shoulder, bringing her back to the present. "There's the bridge Sheila told us to take." He pointed downstream at a lovely wooden bridge arching gracefully over the creek.

Callie nodded and said, "Let's go." She folded the map and stuffed it in her jacket pocket.

They walked along a soggy path, still damp from the rain, and onto the bridge.

Callie paused at the railing and took a moment to peer at the rushing water. "If anyone fell into today they'd be swept away," she said, her voice and expression grim.

Frank studied the water, noted the rapids and eddies. "If Elizabeth Lancaster fell in the creek that night she never had a chance. She would have been carried away and drowned."

Callie looked at her husband. "Unless she was able to grab onto something. Maybe a tree root?"

"Maybe," Frank conceded. "If she was lucky."

"The creek is beautiful, but deadly," Callie said quietly.

Frank nodded and looked at the other end of the bridge. "I see the signs for the trailheads."

"Good," Callie said, "we want Trail Number Three. The map said it's a one mile hike to the cross and back."

The couple found the trail and started down the path. It was narrow in places and forced them to walk single file at times. The trail stayed close to the creek and the walking was easy.

Frank was in the lead and examined the ground as he walked.

Callie and Frank were the only people out this early. Callie didn't think anyone else had walked this path this morning. "See any footprints?" she asked.

"I do." Frank went down on one knee. "Here." He pointed to a place where weeds and grass met the path. "It appears our ghost tried to run in the weeds as much as possible to avoid leaving footprints on the trail."

"Very clever of her," Callie said, taking a knee beside Frank. She watched as Frank took out his phone and snapped a few pictures. A heel impression here, a toe impression there. Callie grinned at her husband. He was always the detective, always gathering evidence even if he wasn't actually working a case. Who knew, maybe his pictures would one day solve the mystery of Elizabeth Lancaster.

"Tennis shoes most likely," Frank said, standing and tucking his phone back in his jacket pocket. "Good for running. Our ghost came prepared."

Callie rose to her feet and looked at the trail that lay ahead, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. "Yes, she was moving very fast last night."

Frank surveyed the path. "Our ghost has to know this trail extremely well. No one would dare run here at night with only the light of a lantern if they didn't know the path. It's too easy to twist an ankle on a rock." Frank kicked a loose rock aside as if to emphasis the point. "Or stumble over a tree root and go sliding down into the creek. If the ghost were to hurt herself she could easily be caught."

"True," Callie said a slight frown wrinkling her forehead. "And, I just realized something. The ghost was coming from the direction of the cross. I wonder if she was visiting it."

Frank stared at his wife for a second mildly surprised at her astute observation, although he shouldn't have been. "Maybe that's what she wants people to think, that she was visiting the cross."

"Or," Callie said, "she wants people to think she's the ghost of Elizabeth Lancaster."

Frank and Callie started walking again at a quicker pace. The desire to get to the cross had increased.

Callie broached the subject she had wanted to pursue since leaving the Bed and Breakfast. "So, what did you think of Sheila's response when I asked her about the ghost?"

Frank, in the lead again, spoke over his shoulder, "That she hadn't heard it?"

"Yes," Callie said. "How could she not have heard it? The shrieks and cries woke both you and me out of a sound sleep."

Frank nodded agreement as he faced forward. He remembered the long plaintive shriek that had jolted him awake. More shrieks had followed, but strangely, as the ghost neared the Bed and Breakfast the shrieks had faded and died out.

Frank, ever logical, said, "Well, we know other people at the Bed and Breakfast heard the shrieks. I heard other guests talking about it at breakfast."

"Yes, I did, too." Callie stepped over a large rock jutting up in the middle of the path. Callie noted that this was a particularly rocky section of the trail. A person would have to run carefully through here be it night or day.

Frank was talking over his shoulder again, "I head the older couple to the right of us say they had seen the ghost from their window just like we had."

"I heard them talking, too," Callie said. "The wife sounded excited about seeing the ghost. The husband, not so much."

"Maybe the husband's like me and doesn't like to be awakened in the middle of the night." Frank smiled at Callie, so she would know he was teasing.

# # # #

Ten minutes later they reached the cross. It was nothing special. Just two rectangular pieces of wood painted white and nailed together. However, a small bouquet of autumn flowers lay on the ground in front of the cross.

Callie looked around, half expecting to see someone lurking in the bushes or behind a tree. She knelt before the cross and examined the flowers. They were bound together by a strip of plant material. The flowers themselves were roughly cut as though picked from someone's garden.

Frank remained standing and alert as he asked, "What do you think? Were those flowers placed here last night?"

"Yes, I think so." Callie withdrew her phone and took several pictures. These would be great accompaniments to her newspaper article. The scene of the crime .. um, disappearance.

Callie heard a twig snap and bolted to her feet. "What was that?"

Frank was scanning their surroundings, trying to spot anything amiss. "I don't know." He looked at Callie and laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Probably just a squirrel or chipmunk."

Callie frowned at Frank. "A squirrel or chipmunk? That sounded like something much bigger, like a fox. Are there foxes in these woods?"

"I imagine there are." Frank put a finger to his lips and they listened to the woods.

Callie and Frank stood perfectly still. Wind rustled the dry leaves and sent them dropping like soft snowflakes. Birds chattered loudly in the canopy and the creek roared.

Finally, Frank shrugged. "Whatever it was, it's gone now."

Callie glanced cautiously over her shoulder. "So it seems."

"Did you see any footprints near the cross?" Frank asked and eyed the ground.

"No," Callie said, "I was more interested in the flowers." How could she have forgotten to look for footprints? Well, Frank was doing a good job of looking now. "See anything?"

"Yes, here." Frank pointed at the ground. "Our ghost did the same as before. She stayed in the grass and weeds as much as possible." Frank spotted a heel print and took a picture with his phone. "I'm sure this print will match the other ones, the ones at the start of the trail. I'll take a closer look when we're back at the Bed and Breakfast."

Callie read the time on her phone. "Speaking of which, we need to be getting back. I want to write down my notes from this morning and text my boss. I want to let Mr. Calabrese know that we saw the ghost last night and that I have an interview with Rose Schmidt this afternoon. I think he'll be happy to hear how well my investigation is going."

Frank glanced around quickly. "Okay, looks like we're finished here. You can lead the way back."

Callie slid her phone in her pocket and led Frank along the path in the direction of the Bed and Breakfast. She was quite pleased with her progress. Seeing the ghost had been an unexpected surprise. Had the ghost appeared just for Callie? No, that would be ridiculous. How could the ghost know that Callie was here and searching for answers?

The ghost hovered in the bushes, watching and listening. They have come, she thought and hope blossomed in her heart. After all these years, they had come. Truth seekers. A young couple genuinely interested in the truth. The woman was of special interest to the ghost. She had watched the woman lightly touch the flowers and take pictures of them.

The ghost felt a strong connection to the blonde woman with the bright blue eyes. I can sense your heart, the ghost thought. Your heart is true and just. Perhaps, you are the one who will finally tell my story.

But now, it was time to go. To flee. The ghost darted through the woods, her feet barely touching the ground. She needed hardly to look where she put her feet as she knew the woods so well .. so very,very well.