Read Online The Ghost of Cutler Creek by Cynthia DeFelice - Free Book Online Page B

shot went in, Dub grabbed the ball and tossed it expertly under the porch.
    Allie told Dub about her latest dream and the poor dog whose name was Belle. They talked about what it might mean and tried to imagine who Belle was, but together they were no more successful than Allie had been on her own.
    When they’d worn out the subject of Belle, Dub pointed next door to James’s house. He said, “So you want to see if he’s home?”
    Allie nodded, and they walked across the yard and knocked on James’s door. James answered, looking first surprised to see them, then troubled.
    â€œWe just want to ask you something,” Allie said quickly.
    James stood stiffly in the doorway. “What?” he asked warily.
    â€œRight after we left the store today, a man came in. Do you remember him?”
    James looked blank.
    â€œYou might have heard a lot of commotion out on the street first. Hoover, the dog that was with me, went kind of crazy on the guy.”
    James’s face cleared. “Oh yeah, I know who you mean.”
    â€œWhat did he want?” Allie asked.
    â€œHe wanted to see the owner. I told him Enid wouldn’t be in until Monday. He said he’d come back.”
    â€œThat’s it?” said Dub.
    James shrugged. “Pretty much. He left a business card.”
    â€œWhat was on the card?” Allie asked.
    â€œI didn’t really look at it,” James answered. “I left it where Enid would see it.” The troubled expression passed over his features again. “Look, why do you guys keep asking me so many questions about the store?”
    Allie responded boldly with a question of her own. “Why don’t you want to tell us anything?”
    â€œWhat makes you think there’s anything to tell?”
    Allie didn’t answer, and Dub remained quiet, too. Finally James looked away.
    The silence grew.
    â€œOkay, I guess we’d better get going,” Allie said. “Thanks, James.”
    â€œSee ya,” said Dub.
    James closed the door without answering.
    When she was sure they were out of earshot, Allie said, “I don’t get it. Something is really bugging him. It’s like he wants to talk about it, but—”
    â€œBut he doesn’t,” Dub finished.
    â€œAs if he’s scared.”
    â€œOf what?”
    It was another question they couldn’t answer. Mentally, Allie added it to her list, a list that was getting longer rather than shorter.
    They decided that Allie would get up early on Monday morning to walk and feed Hoover, and that Dub would come to her house afterward, at around ten o’clock, to make dog biscuits to take to L.J. Then they’d go to his house, but without Hoover. They planned to hide and wait, if they had to, until the gray pick up wasn’t around. They agreed that if stealth and quiet were required, bringing along the rambunctious and unpredictable dog would be a big mistake.

Twelve
    Allie felt almost like a normal person when she went to bed Sunday night. She’d taken care of Hoover and gone fishing with her family, and not one odd, ghostly thing had happened all day long. She slept soundly, with no bad dreams. It was a relief at first, and then became almost a worry. Was she losing her touch?
    When Dub came over in the morning to make dog biscuits, she told him of her concern.
    â€œGhosts are unpredictable,” he said, “judging from the ones you’ve met, anyway. Who knows what a dog ghost is likely to do? I wouldn’t worry about it.”
    â€œI guess you’re right,” said Allie. “Let’s finish this batch and get out to L.J.’s. Maybe we’ll learn something.”
    As soon as the last tray of biscuits had come out of the oven and they’d had a quick lunch, Allie and Dub rode toward L.J.’s house. They turned onto Dundee Road and immediately stashed their bikes in the bushes. Then they crept along through the tangled, scrubby