Ghost Messages Read Free Page A

differently now. She caught a whiff of oil and the bite of metal. She must already be aboard the ship, which meant it was time to find Rufus Dalton and the treasure. Struggling to her knees, Ailish reached over her head and pushed on the lid.
    It wouldn’t move.
    She pushed again, but still the stubborn wood refused to budge.
    Fear prickled her scalp as she looked up. No splinter of light showed through the rough-hewn boards. Furtively searching, she found an empty knothole in the side of the crate. Pressing her eye to the opening, Ailish peered out.
    She was indeed in the Great Eastern ’s cavernous hold surrounded by stacks of boxes in all sizes and shapes. But if there was no light coming through the lid, that could mean only one thing – another crate was piled on top of hers.
    She was trapped!
    Should she call out? Who would hear? And if they did rescue her, she knew they’d send her back to shore before she had a chance to find what she’d come for. The thought of Dalton getting away made her hold her tongue. She’d wait a while at least, and hope someone came to move the top crate and free her from this wooden prison.
    Time crawled painfully past while she listened to the clangs and bangs as the ship was loaded.
    Finally, Ailish could wait no longer. She had to use the privy and that meant getting out of her wooden nest before she had a mortifying accident. If she had to give herself away, so be it. At that moment, she heard footsteps loudly clomping down metal stairs and then coming toward her across the iron floor. Panic seized her. Was it Dalton? After what he’d done to her father, she knew he was capable of terrible violence.
    Carefully, she put her eye to the knothole, afraid of whom she’d discover on the other side.
    Relief bubbled up like soapsuds. It was the same kind sailor from the dock. Ailish scrunched her eyes and reached out with her mind. She felt no darkness, no shadows from this man which was a very good thing as there was no choice. She had to call to him for help.
    Ailish wasn’t sure how she’d explain being bunged up in that crate, but something would come to her. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to yell, when a bone-racking shiver sliced down her back, freezing the air in her lungs.
    Another set of footsteps was approaching.
    “Well, if it isn’t Paddy Whelan. I’ve been lookin’ for you.”
    The growl was unmistakable. This time, it was Rufus Dalton.
    Ailish peeked through her spy hole. The man Dalton addressed was her rescuer. Paddy Whelan, a fine Irish name! She felt as if they were friends already.
    “Who told you to come down here?” the Englishman asked tersely.
    “That’s a good question,” Paddy replied. “I received a message, an unsigned note telling me to go below and stow this more securely.” He stepped forward; there was a scraping sound and a shaft of light slid through the crack in the lid of Ailish’s hideaway. “Someone was worried it would fall over and smash if we hit rough water. They must not know much about this ship.” Paddy set the crate he was holding into an empty corner, then started back toward the stairs.
    “Wait right there, sailor.” Dalton took one long stride, reached out a meaty hand and spun Paddy around. “I’m cable crew chief and I’ll tell you when you can go.”
    From her secret vantage point, Ailish saw Paddy’s jaw muscles tighten in a very distinct way. If the man had hackles, they would have been up.
    “I found out a couple of interesting things about you.” Dalton’s fleshy lips sneered. “You brought a lot of money on board this ship, eighty pounds, to be precise.”
    Ailish sucked in her breath. Eighty pounds! Besides Uncle Peter, this made Paddy Whelan the richest Irishman she’d ever met. If she and her da had that kind of money, they could have gone to Newfoundland and lived like kings, or maybe a king and a princess.
    Paddy’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “How do you know that?”
    Dalton