"What?" Max asked.
"The tie is missing," Valenti said.
"What tie?" Isabel asked.
"Max said that River Dog told him the spirit manifestations began a few days ago," Valenti said. "Why are the ghosts only now turning up in Roswell?"
"Because the ghosts are migrating," Max said, following the logic.
Valenti smiled mirthlessly. "I prefer the term contamination. Roswell is starting to show signs of contamination from whatever has summoned whatever the ghosts really turn out to be."
Max nodded. Scary as it was, the idea of looking for a physical culprit in the middle of all the confusion was also reassuring.
"But," Valenti said, "there's someone who got contaminated early."
"Who?" Max asked.
"Leroy Wilkins," Valenti answered.
"The guy in the Crashdown?" Kyle asked.
Valenti nodded.
"He was just the first one anyone knew about in Roswell," Kyle said.
"No," Liz put in. "My mom was talking to my deceased grandmother this morning."
"And you can't really say Wilkins was contaminated early," Maria said. "Wilkins came into the Crashdown today spazzing out. Today's when all the ghosts seemed to have showed up."
"Before he showed up in Roswell," Valenti said, "Wilkins took a pickax and a sledgehammer and tore down the basement wall where he'd hidden his partner after murdering him. At his age that would have taken some time. Wilkins had poured that wall to stay. When Michael and I searched the room, we found beer bottles and plates with unfinished meals."
"And a Bible," Michael added, evidently growing more interested in Valenti's story. He reached for another pizza slice.
"Why would Wilkins have a Bible there?" Max asked.
"Do the math on this one, Maxwell," Michael said. "A Bible at the hidden grave of the man Wilkins murdered."
"Wilkins was trying to perform an exorcism," Maria said.
"Yeah," Michael said. "The food that was down there? Been down there for days. Wilkins was haunted long before the rest of Roswell started feeling the affects."
"Where does Wilkins live?" Max asked.
"On the other side of the city from the Mesaliko reservation," Valenti said. "The ghost invasion would have had to skip over Roswell to get to him, then double back. There are other people living out there." He nodded toward the television. "So far, there aren't any reports of anyone else out there being affected."
"Why was Wilkins so special?" Maria asked.
"Exactly," Valenti replied.
Liz looked troubled. "Why didn't the ghost that was haunting Wilkins's basement haunt someone else after you left?"
"Because I grounded it out with the crowbar," Michael reminded her. "The lightning blast destroyed it."
"It's a ghost," Maria said. "How can you kill it again?"
"I don't make up the rules," Michael said. "I just play the game."
"This is so not a game."
Michael shrugged. "Whatever."
"After the lightning blasted the ghost away," Valenti said, reaching into his pocket, "I found this." Light splintered from the small piece of metal he held.
"What is it?" Max asked.
"I don't know," Valenti answered. "Something that didn't belong. That's what most investigations are all about: finding the things that aren't supposed to be there."
Kyle moved forward. "Can I see that?"
Valenti handed the metal piece to his son.
Turning the metal over in his palm, Kyle looked puzzled. "This metal looks a lot like the insect thing I saw in the hospital."
"Cyborg Jiminy Cricket," Michael said.
Kyle took no offense. "Yes."
"That's the thing the lightning blast destroyed," Michael said.
"Maybe it was a button," Isabel suggested.
"Swanson had one metal button," Valenti said. "It was on his jeans. I know because I checked."
"There's no way this could be a coincidence," Maria said. "Is there?"
"If you can put together odds like that," Valenti said, "we're going to Vegas."
"Already been," Michael said. "Didn't even bother to pick up the T-shirt."
"The tie to the Mesaliko reservation is Wilkins," Liz said. "The Mesaliko chased him off tribal lands a few times."
"Right," Valenti said. "I had to escort Wilkins off private property a few times myself." He shook his head. "But I keep thinking about how Wilkins must have been these past few days. With all the food and beer in that basement room, Wilkins sat there for a long time trying to get the nerve up to break into that basement wall. Why?"
"Because he was haunted," Liz said.
"Yeah, but the ghost didn't follow Wilkins into Roswell," Valenti said. "That thing… whatever it was… waited for Michael and me today."
Liz rubbed her upper arms as if suddenly chilled. "That's totally creepy."
Valenti nodded in agreement. "So the ghost didn't follow Wilkins into town."
"Something did," Michael said. "I saw Swanson."
"Another ghost picked Wilkins up when he entered town," Valenti said. "That can be the only answer."
"You think these things communicate?" Kyle asked.
"They have to," Max said. "They carry the same message, and they operate in the same fashion." He paused, realizing where Valenti was headed. "What we need to know is how Wilkins came to get his own ghost ahead of the people of Roswell."
"Exactly," Valenti said.
"The bit of metal you recovered could be some kind of transceiver," Isabel suggested.
"Figured that too," Valenti said. "But it crawled… moved under its own steam… out of Swanson's clothes. And he's been dead more than thirty years."
"You think whatever that was," Max said, "was locked up behind the stone wall."
Valenti nodded. "That's exactly what I think." He reached into his pocket and took out a leather pouch. Shoving a finger inside the pouch, he showed the ripped side. "I found this around the neck of Swanson's corpse."
"What was inside it?" Maria asked.
"I don't know," Valenti said. "A small keepsake, maybe. Whatever it was, it escaped."
"What do you mean, it escaped?" Max asked.
Valenti wiggled his finger, showing the ragged edges of the hole. "Whatever was in here," he said, "cut its way out."
16
"This is not a good idea."
Isabel studied Max's face as he spoke to her. Apprehension showed in his eyes and the set of his mouth. He's always been too serious, she decided. Taking Max's hand, Isabel said, "You know I have to do this. There is no other way."
"It's too dangerous." Max looked over his shoulder, obviously hoping someone else would back his argument. "We know that Wilkins is a murderer. You don't know what he'll do when he sees her in his dreams."
Valenti met Max's gaze, then looked at Isabel. "If you can do it," Valenti said, "it will help to know."
Isabel nodded. "I can do this."
"Isabel," Max said, "you've never dreamwalked anyone like this. Wilkins is still in the hospital ICU, still on the critical list."
"I'll be all right."
Max fell silent, and with that silence came the full bore of his reproach at her chosen course of action.
"We need to know what Wilkins knows," Isabel said.
"There's another way," Max insisted. "We'll find another way."
"No," Isabel said with the finality she knew her brother would recognize. "Max, I'm going to do this. Because I can, and because it's the only way I can see for us to learn enough to figure out what we're supposed to do." If anything. There still remained the chance that they'd be just as helpless as anyone else.
"Come back," Max said. "Just make sure you come back."
"I will," Isabel promised. Sliding back on Michael's couch, she laid her head back and closed her eyes. In seconds, she was asleep, and in her dreams she reached for Leroy Wilkins, prospector and murderer.