Ghost of a Chance by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

“Who do you think is threatening you?”
    Cleo leaned toward him and spoke very low. “It’s Jumper,” she said. “It’s Jumper Herman’s ghost.”
    Frank tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. He knew that whatever had knocked him down the night before, it was no ghost.
    â€œYou do believe me, don’t you?” Cleo asked, her voice still low. “I’ve seen him a lot. He hangs around the set, but he stays in the shadows. Once I saw him at the back of the wardrobe trailer, and two days ago, I saw him walking across the road. I know he’s a ghost, but for some reason he doesn’t want the film made. You can find out why, right?”
    â€œAnything’s possible, Cleo, but ’” Frank paused and turned toward the window. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he’d heard something outside. He didn’t want to mention it, because he didn’t want to scare Cleo.
    For a moment it was very still, then dark. The lights had suddenly gone out. The deep forest shadows blocked all sun from the room.
    Cleo’s frightened gasp broke the silence. “The lights,” she whispered. “What happened?”
    â€œStay here,” Frank whispered back. “Don’t say anything.”
    Quietly, Frank got out of the chair. Carefully pacing each step, he walked to the door and listened. He heard nothing outside except the distant muffled sound of people talking.
    Then a fluttering noise from behind him captured his attention. He turned around. He could barely see Cleo in the darkness. She was pushing herself back into her chair as if she were trying to disappear into the upholstery.
    â€œNo,” she said. It was almost like a low moan. “No,” she repeated. “Go away.”
    There was something about her voice that made the hair on Frank’s arms bristle. Although her voice was low, the fear in it made a terrifying sound—far worse than a scream.
    Frank followed her gaze down the long hallway. A dim greenish light filtered through the air as the pale image of Jumper Herman inched slowly toward them.

7
Stop, Thief!

    With a jolt, Frank realized he was holding his breath. The shock of seeing Jumper’s ghost floating toward them in that sickly green light was almost overpowering. With a deep gulp, he forced a rush of air into his lungs.
    Before he could speak, Cleo bolted past him and out the door, her limp almost undetectable. Frank was sure he was seeing an illusion and not Jumper’s ghost. He also knew that anyone clever enough to pull off such a hoax could be a real threat.
    Without turning his back on the image, he stepped outside the RV. Cleo was standing behind a tree, peeking around its trunk, her eyes wide as she stared at him.
    Frank motioned to her to stay put and then crept around the RV to the back. He carefuly scanned the woods but saw no one. Coming back to the RV, he peered into a window at the back. The telltale wires of a stunt harness hung in the dim green light inside. Held in the harness was the figure of the ghost.
    Frank flipped open the doors of several compartments in the outside wall of the RV until he finally found the fuse box. “I thought so,” he muttered as he saw that a fuse was missing. A small box holding spares was attached to the door of the box. He got out a new fuse and screwed it in. Instantly light shone through the windows.
    Cleo, encouraged by seeing the light from inside the RV, came out from behind the tree. “Stay here,” Frank urged. “Let me take a look inside first.”
    Cautiously, Frank stepped back inside the RV. The lights were bright enough to show that the main room of the vehicle was empty. Frank made a quick, careful search of the other rooms and closets and found no one.
    Then he turned his attention to the “ghost.” He discovered a cable strung along the ceiling of the RV. The harness was rigged to travel along the cable.