"Sure," Kelli said. "Mr. Wilkins sometimes hires me to do housecleaning and take care of the birds."

"I didn't know that," Valenti admitted.

"Helping Mr. Wilkins is how I earned the money for the motorcycle," Kelli said. "I'm surprised that you remembered the birds. I was on my way down here to take care of them."

"You've got a key to the house?" Michael asked.

Kelli rolled her eyes at him. "There's other ways to get into places than with keys." She glanced at the crowbar along Valenti's leg. "Or crowbars."

"I'm not used to breaking into places," Valenti said. "Usually I've been around to prevent that."

"Well," the girl said, "you stink at it. But you did get the job done."

"Thanks," Valenti said. "I think."

Kelli stopped just inside the garage where the darkness started. "Did you or the hunk think to bring a flashlight?"

"I've got one in the truck."

"It's okay," Kelli said. "We can use mine." She reached into her jacket and brought out a small halogen flash.

Michael was impressed, but didn't let it show on his face.

"Do you see Wilkins on a daily basis?" Valenti asked as they filed by the orange and green spotted Willis jeep.

"More like three times a week," Kelli answered. "Mr. Wilkins doesn't have as much money as a lot of people around here think."

"Yeah," Valenti said. "I knew that."

The girl shone the flashlight over the boxes of ore sample and tools at the back of the garage. "Mr. Wilkins still went prospecting from time to time. I guess you knew that."

"Yeah," Valenti said. "Sometimes I'd catch him out in the desert on that three-wheeler he used to ride, and

sometimes in the jeep, and I'd check on him. Make sure he had enough water and wasn't getting overheated."

"Mr. Wilkins could always take care of himself in the desert," Kelli said. "It was people he didn't trust himself around. He didn't like going into town."

"He came into town today," Michael said. He glanced through the boxes and boxes of rock chunks and soil samples, not seeing at all why someone would be interested in them. They looked all the same to him.

"Wilkins went into Roswell occasionally," Valenti said.

"Yeah." Kelli turned toward the house side of the garage. The flashlight beam tracked across the wall, revealing two doors next to each other.

"Was today one of the scheduled days?"

"No," Kelli replied.

"Are you sure?" Valenti asked.

"Yeah. Mr. Wilkins always had me watch his house while he was gone. I was one of the few people he trusted. During school session, he'd wait till I was home before he'd go into Roswell."

"Then Wilkins either went to Roswell to see someone," Michael said, "or something chased him out of here."

Kelli swung on him, shining the light in his eyes and causing him to raise a hand in defense. "Sorry," she said. "Don't you work at the Crashdown?"

"Yeah," Michael answered. "I do that when I'm not helping Valenti burgle the houses of old rich people."

Kelli grinned and laughed. "I knew you weren't here about the birds."

Valenti looked uncomfortable. "No. That was our cover story."

"So what's the real reason?" Kelli asked.

"Wilkins told people at the Crashdown that he was being chased by a ghost," Valenti said.

"Is that what he told you, brown eyes?" Kelli asked Michael.

"He didn't tell me," Michael replied. "He told a friend of mine. I was standing there when he did."

Kelli's face wrinkled. "Did he say who the ghost belonged to?"

"No," Valenti said.

"Swanson," Michael said, ignoring the glare he got from Valenti.

"The news didn't say anything about that," Kelli said.

"It's protected information," Valenti said.

Kelli's eyebrows raised in understanding. "You mean, in case it turns out someone was trying to scare Mr. Wilkins out of his house and steal his stuff."

Actually Michael hadn't been thinking that far ahead, but the conclusion sounded logical to him and would give them the leverage they needed to keep asking questions. "Yeah," Michael said.

"That still doesn't explain what an ex-sheriff and a short-order cook from the Crashdown is doing here investigating," Kelli observed.

"The new sheriff isn't interested in chasing down ghost stories," Valenti said.

"And you are?" Kelli shot him a doubtful look.

"He's tired of Oprah and Montel," Michael said.

"What about you?" Kelli asked.

"Do you think I want to be a short-order cook all my life?"

"And you're not going to be a short-order cook how?"

Michael smiled at her. "Professional ghostbuster."

Kelli smiled. "Cool."

Valenti grimaced, and Michael figured Valenti wasn't totally enthusiastic about the new cover story.

"Has Wilkins acted any differently lately?" Valenti asked.

"Mr. Wilkins has always acted different," Kelli said. She gestured with the flashlight beam toward the ore samples. "I mean, how many people keep boxes of rocks like this?"

Michael figured the girl had a point.

Nodding to the two doors, Valenti asked, "Where do these doors go?"

Turning her light to the doors, Kelli said, "The door on the left goes upstairs to the house, but the door on the right goes to the workroom."

"What's in the workroom?" Valenti asked.

"I don't know. Mr. Wilkins never let me in there."

"You never let yourself in there?" Michael asked. "I mean, you said you don't need a key to get into places."

Kelli rolled her eyes at Michael in pure disgust. The effort was worthy of something Maria could deliver. Michael figured the ability must be a gender thing.

"No," Kelli said. "1 respected his privacy."

Valenti stepped toward the door. "Somebody didn't. The lock's off the door." He knelt and picked up a padlock from the garage floor. "Let me see that light."

Kelli stepped closer and handed the flashlight over.

Lifting the padlock, Valenti shone the flashlight beam over the mechanism. "Doesn't appear to have been forced."

"Maybe Wilkins forgot to lock it behind him," Michael suggested.

"Mr. Wilkins never forgot something like that," Kelli said. "Whatever was in the workroom was important."

"Was?" Michael asked.

"If the door is open," Kelli said with major exasperation, "you can bet that whatever was in there is gone now."

"We'll see," Valenti said. He kept the flashlight and took a fresh grip on the crowbar. Then he glanced at Michael. "Keep her safe."

Michael nodded, catching the young girl by the elbow and pulling her back. She fought against him, but he kept her moving toward the garage opening, not stopping till she was behind the Willis jeep.

"What do you think you're doing?" Kelli protested. She balled up her fists and shoved them into Michael's chest.

"Calm down," Michael told her, grabbing her wrists so she couldn't hurt him.

"You can't just take my flashlight!" Kelli yelled.

Terrific, Michael thought. I could have stayed at the Crashdown for this. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Valenti entered the workroom. The flashlight cut through the darkness.

"Hey," Michael called, "you want to go ahead and blow the all-clear before I get my brains beaten in?"

The light stayed in one spot for a time, then Valenti turned back toward the open doorway. "You gotta see this to believe it."

Before Michael could respond, he sensed the buildup of static electricity charging the air. A savage wind whipped out of nowhere, amping up the atmospheric disturbance.

Dust and grit whirled up from the garage's paved floor and stung his eyes.

Kelli screamed. No longer intent on freeing herself, she reached for Michael, grabbing his shirt and pulling herself into him.

Through the blinding haze, Michael saw the monstrous shape rise in the basement space behind Valenti.