“Oh, the hidden treasure. Now that’s a funny thing. I haven’t been visited by Masterson’s spirit since last week and that last dream. I was sure I’d see him again, but so far I haven’t.”

  “Perhaps you won’t,” Abigail said the first thing that came to her mind, “see him again?”

  “Perhaps I won’t.” Glinda waited until Frank returned to the kitchen, promised she’d contact him if she learned anything else which might help with the abducted girls, and then took her leave, reclaimed her bike and rode home as the oncoming night’s shadows chased behind her. She refused to look at or listen to them as they chattered in the woods along the way. There was nothing they would whisper she wanted to hear. She had enough on her plate. Those missing girls were haunting her and they were more important than any buried treasure. People were way more important than money.

  MYRTLE HAD FALLEN ASLEEP before the end of the movie, Ghost Story, and Glinda covered her with a blanket and left her on the couch. Outside in the night she could hear owls calling to each other. Framed in the window was a huge white shining moon.

  Glinda made sure the house was locked up tight and then she retired to her bed. Amadeus snuggled in beside her and by the time his purring had dissipated there were three more cats crowded around her and she slept.

  She was again with Masterson but this time during a violent storm on the ship and the vessel was breaking into pieces on the rocks. She could hear the cries and screams of the drowning sailors as the water swept them away and the undercurrents took them under. The wind howled, the sea churned and there was Bartholomew in the waves fighting for his life. A huge portion of the ship’s wreckage, a section of wood from some part of the ship, collided into him and he grabbed at it and held on, refusing to let the sea take him. Hanging from his arms were two canvas bags. Some of the treasure. He’d somehow saved it from the swirling water. Time spun by fast forward and in the morning there was no longer a ship nor any sailors alive...except Bartholomew Masterson. She saw him sprawled on a ledge of rocks along the shore and at his feet was that piece of the wreckage and the two canvas bags. There were other pieces of the destroyed ship scattered around him. There were bodies. Glinda watched as he woke and gathered the two bags to him and when he was strong enough he dragged himself up further onto the land and slept once more.

  In her dream she followed the man as he searched the island. It wasn’t a very big island but there were small wild animals scurrying about in the underbrush and there was fish in the water. She could feel his desperation to find any more of his shipmates alive. He didn’t. He was alone. All the bodies he found were lifeless and he buried them the best he could in the sand or beneath layers of shrubbery and leaves because he had no tools, no way to dig their graves. Some he let the waves take back. There were too many to bury.

  For a long time, it might have been years Glinda couldn’t be sure, Masterson lived on the island with his salvaged treasure and scavenged the land for food and built his own shelter. It was a hard lonely life and the living, the surviving, of it did something to him. Warped him in some strange way. He morphed into a human animal with a straggly beard and hair and wild eyes. Every once in a while he’d bring out the canvas bags, dump out their contents, and stare at the gems, jewelry and gold coins. He’d touch and caress them and watch them sparkle in the sun. The bags hadn’t held a lot and Glinda wondered what had happened to the rest. Perhaps some of the treasure had escaped the bags and slipped into the ocean before Masterson had snatched them up, but what he’d saved would still be worth a fortune in the outside world–if he ever got back to the outside world. She could see that fantasy in his eyes. At first. Over time she watched as his eyes dimmed and the hope, the dream faded. She could feel his growing despair.

  Then in her dream she saw the new ship coming over the sea’s horizon and Masterson, his clothing now rags, waving his scrawny arms at it. The ship picked him and his bags up, now also stuffed with various objects he’d found on the island as camouflage to hide the treasure inside, and brought him back to civilization, a busy noisy city. He wouldn’t let anyone touch the bags, guarded them day and night like a mad man, and as the dream left her, at port, he exited the ship that had rescued him and was traveling away from the city. But he wasn’t the same man who’d left on the Black Ghost with his brother years before. He had changed. His face was gaunt, his eyes haunted, his body ravished by the time he’d starved and suffered, alone, on the island. Yet he seemed to know where he was going as the dream ended.

  “OH MY,” GLINDA MURMURED as she sat up in bed, “so Masterson was the only survivor of a ship wreck...and he did come back with some of the treasure.” The sun was a bright light in her bedroom, the cats were gone and Myrtle, disheveled and clearly having just woke up herself, stood in the doorway, wearing one of Glinda’s robes, staring at her with a mischievous grin on her wrinkled face.

  “I heard that. Ah ha, I told you so, grandniece.” Myrtle cackled. “Masterson’s treasure really does exist. And there is some buried here somewhere. I’d stake my life on it.”

  With a sigh, Glinda replied, “My dream only told me he had rescued some of it but it doesn’t prove he left any of it here after his death. I didn’t see anything about that.”

  “Not yet. But you will. You will.” Myrtle plopped down on the edge of the bed. “Tell me all about your dream. Don’t leave anything out.” Then the old lady stood up again. “Second thought, tell me about it over breakfast, I’m starved.”

  To that Glinda laughed and got out of bed. “Give me a couple minutes to wake up first, would you? I’ll meet you in the kitchen, you can help me make bacon and eggs and I’ll blab everything.”

  “Okay. I’ll go make coffee.” Myrtle hobbled out of the room, throwing the words back at her.

  “You do that.”

  Over their morning meal Glinda described her dream in meticulous detail. Myrtle gobbled down her eggs and bacon, eyes animated with interest, and soaked in every word.

  “You’ll see more the next time,” Myrtle repeated when Glinda had finished her recounting.

  “I might. I do have the feeling Masterson isn’t through with me yet but I don’t know when I’ll dream of him again. If ever.”

  “Well, you’ve seen enough, I’ve heard enough. The treasure existed, and I believe Masterson left some of it here somewhere. So until he visits your dreams again I’m going to start looking for that buried loot.” Myrtle was grinning, tilting her head back and forth, and waving her fork in the air. She hadn’t bothered to comb her gray hair and it stuck out all around her head like a gray Brillo pad. There was egg yolk around her lips.

  “What! If you think I’m going to let you start digging holes all over my property like a rampaging mole searching for some trinkets which may or may not even exist, you are sadly mistaken. If you do that, before we know it, half the town would be here digging right along with you and the buried treasure stampede would start all over again. No way. You hear me? No way. Don’t you dare do that.”

  “Oh, I don’t plan on digging anything anywhere, not unless I discover something. I’m no fool. Besides I’m too old to be doing that sort of physical labor.” The old woman gently tapped the side of her head. “Ha, I’m using my brain. I’ve ordered one of those metal detector thingies off of the Internet. The best one I could find. Whew, wasn’t cheap either, let me tell you. It should be arriving any day now. I plan on using it to look for the treasure. You said you saw gems, jewelry and golden coins in those chests on the ship in your dream?”

  “I did.”

  “And parts of jewelry, necklaces, rings and such, and golden coins are metal right?”

  “Yes, gold is metal. Why Myrtle you continually surprise me. I guess I can go along with that plan. Using a metal detector to skim along the ground surface. Just do me a favor, if you find something do not dig anywhere until you confirm it with me, and, if you can help it, do not let any of the townsfolks see you running around my land with a metal detector. If you see anyone while you’re out searching...hide the metal detector behind you or drop it to the ground. And don’t tell anyone about what you’re doing. Can you promise me those things?”

  “If I do promise, does that mean you’ll allow me to search for the treasure?” Myrtle’s voice was excited.

  “Do I really have a choice, Auntie? I mean this place once belonged to your sister and you actually have more of a claim to it than I do. It was a great gift you gave it to me. I can’t turn you down.”

  “Nah, I gave the house and the land to you and it’s all yours. I’m no Indian giver. But I really want to locate that treasure. I’ve heard about it most of my life and I’m determined to find it if it’s here to find.”

  “If it exists.”

  Another chuckle. “And I’ll be sneaky all right. I’ll make sure no one else is around when I use that metal detector. It won’t be hard. No one hangs around your place unless they’ve come for a reading and then they are only in the house, not wandering around the grounds. There won’t be anyone to see me.”

  “You got a point there, I guess.”

  “Hey, you going to eat that last piece of toast?” Myrtle pointed at the plate holding it.

  “You can have it.” She pushed the plate towards her aunt.

  Outside dogs were barking somewhere and Glinda, shivers traveling along her skin, had a strange premonition. Something about the missing college girls. Unexpectedly an image flew into her head and out again.

  Grabbing her cell phone, she stood up and moved into the living room, leaving Myrtle behind to eat her toast. She keyed in Frank’s telephone number. “Frank, I have something else on those missing girls.”

  “You do? What have you seen?”

  “I saw what appeared to be a vacant factory embedded in a large fenced in area near what looked like an outside animal, most likely dog, kennel. Both structures seemed abandoned. Also, I hate to tell you this but I also sensed time could be short now.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m so sorry. I...fear one of those girls is going to die soon. I don’t know how, just that she is going to die. I saw a fresh unmarked grave in the woods.”

  Frank said nothing to her pronouncement, but she could almost feel the frustration in his silence.

  “Frank?”

  “I’m still here. Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  She paused, the horrendous images she’d seen replaying in her mind. “Only that the person you’re seeking isn’t one, it’s two. I saw two men. A younger one and an older one. I also sensed they were heartless creatures and they’ve abducted and killed before. They might even be in the system. If you check.”

  “Is that all? Can you describe them?” Frank asked.

  “No. Their faces were blurred, indistinct.”

  “Do you know how much time we have? For the girl who is to die?”

  “I don’t know. But I felt it wasn’t long. I’m going to ask the tarot cards later about all of this and perhaps they’ll give me more. I’ll let you know if they do. Goodbye Frank.”

  She looked up to see Myrtle loitering in the doorway. “What’s going on? Who were you talking to?”

  “No one. A customer.”

  “Uh huh.” Myrtle snickered and went back into the kitchen.

  Glinda followed, wondering how long they could keep the secret of the missing girls from her aunt. Myrtle always seemed to find out things eventually. It was something she was good at.

  THAT AFTERNOON AFTER Myrtle had gone home Glinda took her tarot cards and dealt them out, asking the questions: Where are the missing girls? Who has them? Are they still alive? And laying the cards out on the table face up one by one.

  She did it three times but the cards would say nothing; or nothing that made any sense, that is. It was as if she’d asked totally different questions. So odd.

  With a heavy heart, she tucked the cards away, telling herself she’d try again before she went to bed. But it bothered her they wouldn’t or couldn’t help her. That rarely happened. She didn’t want to dwell on what their contrariness probably meant...that true evil was behind the abductions and the story wasn’t over yet.

  Much later that evening Glinda tried the cards again. And after three more strange readings she understood. One of the girls was no longer alive. One of them was dead. She didn’t know how she’d tell Frank, Abby and Laura. She decided to wait until morning to call them. No sense ruining their night’s sleep. There was nothing any of them could do right then.

  Chapter 11

  MYRTLE WALKED AWAY from Glinda’s house in the shadows of the thick hanging clouds above her. They cloaked the sun and made the earth as gloomy as twilight. She was glad she’d worn her heaviest sweater and her long wool skirt because the morning was chilly. When was it ever going to warm up, she fretted. She dragged her wagon behind her because it was her day for dropping by the nursing home and seeing if any of them needed anything from the stores. It was little enough to do for the sick ones, but they acted as if she’d given them the greatest gift in the world. Running small errands for them.

  She was on the sidewalk in front of Claudia’s book store when she spied the old man in the black fedora shambling down on the other side of the street. She’d seen him before and had once even spoken to him a year or so ago. He’d said he was being treated for cancer. Remembering that she hobbled across the street and stood facing him.

  Merely a town acquaintance, he’d never told her his name and she’d never asked. “Howdy, friend,” she said, bringing her wagon to a stop and meeting his eyes. They were about the same age, she’d guess, give or take a decade, so in that they had something in common. Old people needed to stick together, help each other if they could. It was the Christian thing to do. She was struck by how much more weight he’d lost and how sad his eyes were. “How are you doing these days?”

  At first she didn’t think he was going to respond. He hung his head and tried to go around her, then stopped, and answered, “About as good as can be expected. The cancer has returned.”

  “So sorry about that.” Trying to sound as sympathetic as she could. Since she didn’t know what else to say, she said, “Out getting your exercise, huh?”

  His smile was cynical. “I guess you could call it that.”

  She gently laid a hand on his sleeve. “You seem so down. What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do? Listen, maybe?”

  Then it was as if something broke in him and he began telling her about how ill he’d been and his wife was now unwell also and how he was exhausted caring for her; how afraid he was of losing her. His face was full of fear. In a guilty whisper he confided how much money their combined care was costing and how he didn’t know how he was going to pay for all their needed medicine, doctor co-payments and other expenses since they were on fixed incomes. He wasn’t complaining as much as venting. The way he spoke about his wife it was easy to see he loved her dearly. Myrtle listened and felt so much pity for him. Perhaps she should tell him about the hidden treasure buried on her niece’s land? Nah, if she told one person by evening the town would all know. It was best to keep it to herself for now. When she found it she could help him with money for his problems. Help pay for his and his wife’s medical bills like she’d done for old Lottie before she died. Yeah, that was what she’d do.

  For the moment she did what she could do. “Is there anything I can get you or your wife? I always go to the IGA store today for the folks at the nursing home on Fifth Street and I could pick up something, groceries or whatnot, if you need anything, for you and your wife? If you give me a list and your address I can bring the stuff by later today?”

  The elderly man frowned, his brows dipping beneath the brim of his hat. “I appreciate the offer but I’m,” and here he paused as if unsure how to proceed, “a little short on funds at the moment.”

  Myrtle didn’t know why she fibbed, but seeing the instant shame on the man’s face, she did. “You don’t need no money, friend. My church, St. Paul’s on the other end of Main Street, gives me a stipend every week to buy things for the folks at the nursing home and other needy people. You qualify because both you and your wife are so sick. My pastors would want me to help you. Just give me a list of what you and your wife need, prescriptions at the Walmart even, your address, and I’ll bring everything by later today.”

  The man’s eyes were now rimmed in unshed tears, though he was shaking his head in a negative fashion. “That is so kind of you, but no thank you. We’ll manage. I can’t...I–” And without another word, the man spun on his worn shoes and hurried away, head down and a wrinkled hand holding his fedora tightly on his head. She thought of chasing after him, but knowing what loss of pride did to a person, she just stood there and watched him go down the street and disappear into an alleyway.

  With a sigh, she continued on her journey to the nursing home. At least there were people there who needed what she had to give. She went on her rounds, stopping in the rooms and visiting with the lonely sick and old ones. After running some errands for a few of them, when she was done, she took her empty wagon, and singing at the top of her voice through the woods, she traipsed home, content she’d helped who she could help that day. The thought of supper, toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, drew her on. The day had been long and she was ready to prop up her feet and, after supper, to watch television. She’d recorded some PBS murder mysteries days before and couldn’t wait to see them.

  She was rewarded for her good day’s work when she found a large package on her front porch. “Hot dog,” she cried, lifting it and dragging it into her home, “my metal detector is here!” It was all there, shiny, complicated and very expensive–it was the best. A Vision Pro XJ9 with the detector, with a LCD screen and a nifty carrying case. Unpacking it, she took out the instructions and sat at her kitchen table with the whole apparatus and read how to use it.

 

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