Beware the Pirate Ghost Read Free Page A

better of him.”
    Sam paused, and Sean asked, “Well? What happened?”
    Sam looked sorrowful. “Jack was never seen again. Except for his bones, of course, which was all that was left of him.”
    “Don’t think about Sam’s dumb ghost stories,” Brian said to Sean. “Think about how we have to find Lester before we run out of time.”
    Sean glanced at the clock on the stove, and a chill ran up his backbone. “It’s almost eight-forty-five,” he exclaimed.
    “What’s all this about Lester?” Sam asked.
    Brian took a good look at Sam. “It’s … uh … confidential,” he said. “But maybe you can help us. Lester disappeared during the night, and we think he may have gone to the pirate caves.”
    Sam’s eyes shone. “If you want me to come with you, I will,” he said. “Have you got another flashlight?”
    Brian fished out another and gave it to Sam. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
    “Oops, that reminds me,” Sam said. “I came to tell you that Debbie Jean is behind a tree across the street, watching your house.”
    “She thinks she’s following us,” Sean said. “But we’re going to cut out the back way and lose her.”
    Silently, Brian and Sean walked their bikes through a gap in the hedge. When they reached the street behind their house, Sam met them on his bike, and they took off.
    Fifteen minutes later they reached the lower road that led under the cliffs along the shoreline around Hernando Cove. Brian braked to a stop. Sean and Sam pulled up behind him.
    From where they stood they could look down the pile of boulders into the small cove. Dull, gray ocean water reflected the overcast sky. The tide was out, leaving a trail of gleaming brown seaweed. The sandy beach was littered with driftwood, and a battered old shack rested in the shadow near the edge of the tumbled pile of boulders. Damp fingers of mist trailed across the shack and the lower rocks. There were no signs of Lester or his bike.
    “Maybe we guessed wrong,” Sean said. “We can go home now.”
    Brian shook his head. “We need a closer look. Bring your bikes. We’ll park them just a short way down the trail, behind the rocks.”
    As they found a hidden place in which to put their bikes, Sean said, “I don’t see Lester’s bike anywhere.”
    Brian bent over, studying the narrow trail that ran down to the cove. “He may not have come this way. I don’t see footprints or marks from bike tires.” Brian paused. “The road that turns into the cove is about a quarter mile farther on.”
    “Do you think Lester would have used the road instead of this trail?”
    “In the middle of the night? Probably. Let’s go down and find out.”
    They quickly worked their way down the narrow and crooked trail that ran between the boulders.
    As they neared the bottom of the trail, Sean asked, “What if we don’t find any bike tire tracks or footprints?”
    Sam jumped from a low boulder to the sand and pointed toward the shack. “There are plenty of footprints,” he said. “Look.”
    “Those are too big to be Lester’s,” Brian pointed out.
    They all gave a start as a voice suddenly boomed, “Go away! You kids don’t belong here!”
    An elderly man wearing stained khaki trousers and a tattered sweatshirt stood in the doorway of the shack. Ragged wisps of white hair poked out from under his faded baseball cap.
    “We’re looking for someone,” Brian called to the man. He glanced past the shack to the rocks, where the hammering of ocean waves, over countless years, had worn deep caves into the rock cliff. The water level was lower now, and the cliffs were dry. Through the still-clinging morning mists, Brian could barely make out a narrow, dark entrance to the caves.
    “Whoever you’re lookin’ for, he ain’t here!” the man shouted. “No one comes around these parts. The caves are haunted. You know that, don’t you?”
    Brian trudged through the soft sand toward the man. As Sean and Sam followed, the man edged back