faced
our house. Jac walked around the other side.
“Here!” she said.
I moved to where Jac stood, and bent down to examine the mailbox. There were no letters there now, but an outline of the letters
that had once been there, and presumably peeled off, were legible.
“V-A-N,” I read, squinting.
“H . . . is that an E?” Jac asked.
“Yeah, E-C-M . . .”
“I think that’s an H.” Jac rubbed several fingers over the surface of the mailbox to wipe the water away.
“Okay, H, and the last letter is T.”
“Van Hecht,” said Jac. “There was a conductor named van Hecht, I think.”
“It’s a pretty distinctive name,” I said. “Can’t imagine there are too many van Hecht families in this neck of the woods.
So it might actually be easy to trace. Let’s go back to my house. I’m getting soaked. My socks are wet.”
“Hang on,” Jac said. She was peering at the front door of the house.
“Jac . . .”
“I just want to go up and touch the door.”
“Jac, that’s stupid. It’s probably locked.”
“I just want to touch it,” Jac said. “It’s my first haunted house!”
I was getting wetter by the second, and I was beginning to feel chilly, too. But there was no dissuading Jac from an idea
once she had it. The fastest thing would be to just let her do her thing so we could get inside.
“Okay, then. Come on.”
Jac clapped her hands together like a kid trying to prove she still believes in fairies.
I shook my head, but inwardly I was amused. Jac was turning into a regular junior ghost hunter. I liked the idea of having
her as my sidekick.
We reached the door, and I put my hand on it.
“Well, there it is. A regular door. Have a touch, and let’s go!”
Jac placed her hand on the door, palm flat and fingers spread, just below a brass door knocker.
“Spirit vibes,” she said, eyes wide.
“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” I said. “Can we go now?”
Jac pulled her hand off the door, but then she grabbed the door knocker and rapped it loudly.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “There’s no one in there, Jac.”
She turned to me, her face shining.
“Maybe the house will let us in,” she said.
I sighed. I waited. Nothing happened.
“It doesn’t work that way. Nobody’s home,” I said. “Come on. Are you ready?”
Jac looked wistfully at the door, then turned to me.
“Okay. Yeah. Let’s go.”
We were three or four steps down the walkway when we both stopped in our tracks.
The red flag on the mailbox had been raised.
The flag that moved by itself was apparently enough of a brush with the supernatural for Jac for the time being. She beat
a hasty retreat, speeding back up the walkway to my house and yanking open the front door. By the time I’d gotten my coat
off, Jac was already halfway up the stairs to the second floor.
When I got to my room, Jac was taking a seat by the computer.
“I thought you wanted to encounter spirit vibes,” I said reproachfully.
Jac turned to look at me. Her face was shining.
“Are you kidding? I totally did. That was
awesome
! Tank might not be able to speak to you, Kit Kat, but something is certainly trying to get your attention.”
“Then why did you zip back to my room at the speed of light? I thought you must have gotten freaked out.”
Jac shook her head firmly.
“I’m looking for the family,” she said, her fingers tapping on the keys.
“You’re just going to Google van Hecht?”
“Lexis Nexis,” Jac replied. “Practically every newspaper and magazine in the country is linked through this. If a child died
in that house, it probably made the local newspapers, right? I’m telling it to search this town, the name van Hecht, and giving
it a time parameter of the last five years.”
Jac seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and I was happy to let her take the lead. I walked to the window and looked
outside. The rain had stopped abruptly and the sun shone through a break
our house. Jac walked around the other side.
“Here!” she said.
I moved to where Jac stood, and bent down to examine the mailbox. There were no letters there now, but an outline of the letters
that had once been there, and presumably peeled off, were legible.
“V-A-N,” I read, squinting.
“H . . . is that an E?” Jac asked.
“Yeah, E-C-M . . .”
“I think that’s an H.” Jac rubbed several fingers over the surface of the mailbox to wipe the water away.
“Okay, H, and the last letter is T.”
“Van Hecht,” said Jac. “There was a conductor named van Hecht, I think.”
“It’s a pretty distinctive name,” I said. “Can’t imagine there are too many van Hecht families in this neck of the woods.
So it might actually be easy to trace. Let’s go back to my house. I’m getting soaked. My socks are wet.”
“Hang on,” Jac said. She was peering at the front door of the house.
“Jac . . .”
“I just want to go up and touch the door.”
“Jac, that’s stupid. It’s probably locked.”
“I just want to touch it,” Jac said. “It’s my first haunted house!”
I was getting wetter by the second, and I was beginning to feel chilly, too. But there was no dissuading Jac from an idea
once she had it. The fastest thing would be to just let her do her thing so we could get inside.
“Okay, then. Come on.”
Jac clapped her hands together like a kid trying to prove she still believes in fairies.
I shook my head, but inwardly I was amused. Jac was turning into a regular junior ghost hunter. I liked the idea of having
her as my sidekick.
We reached the door, and I put my hand on it.
“Well, there it is. A regular door. Have a touch, and let’s go!”
Jac placed her hand on the door, palm flat and fingers spread, just below a brass door knocker.
“Spirit vibes,” she said, eyes wide.
“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit,” I said. “Can we go now?”
Jac pulled her hand off the door, but then she grabbed the door knocker and rapped it loudly.
Bam. Bam. Bam.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “There’s no one in there, Jac.”
She turned to me, her face shining.
“Maybe the house will let us in,” she said.
I sighed. I waited. Nothing happened.
“It doesn’t work that way. Nobody’s home,” I said. “Come on. Are you ready?”
Jac looked wistfully at the door, then turned to me.
“Okay. Yeah. Let’s go.”
We were three or four steps down the walkway when we both stopped in our tracks.
The red flag on the mailbox had been raised.
The flag that moved by itself was apparently enough of a brush with the supernatural for Jac for the time being. She beat
a hasty retreat, speeding back up the walkway to my house and yanking open the front door. By the time I’d gotten my coat
off, Jac was already halfway up the stairs to the second floor.
When I got to my room, Jac was taking a seat by the computer.
“I thought you wanted to encounter spirit vibes,” I said reproachfully.
Jac turned to look at me. Her face was shining.
“Are you kidding? I totally did. That was
awesome
! Tank might not be able to speak to you, Kit Kat, but something is certainly trying to get your attention.”
“Then why did you zip back to my room at the speed of light? I thought you must have gotten freaked out.”
Jac shook her head firmly.
“I’m looking for the family,” she said, her fingers tapping on the keys.
“You’re just going to Google van Hecht?”
“Lexis Nexis,” Jac replied. “Practically every newspaper and magazine in the country is linked through this. If a child died
in that house, it probably made the local newspapers, right? I’m telling it to search this town, the name van Hecht, and giving
it a time parameter of the last five years.”
Jac seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and I was happy to let her take the lead. I walked to the window and looked
outside. The rain had stopped abruptly and the sun shone through a break
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