David felt the weight of his dead grandfather's gaze on him, like a slight pressure on his forehead.

The apparition removed the pipe from his lips and spoke, the mellow voice unmistakeably clear.

"The time is coming, son. "

"What?" David broke his paralysis and stepped into the room. Fear had been replaced by intense curiosity. "What do you mean, Granddad?"

"You've got to fu fill your responsibility to the family. The Hunters' legacy. "

"I ... I don't understand," David said. "What responsibility?"

"Stay strong, son ... stay stong.. .

The apparition began to fade.

"Wait!" David rushed forward. "Don't go!"

Big Daddy vanished. David's hands grasped empty air.

With a cry of frustration, he collapsed into the chair. He pounded the armrest with his fist.

Big Daddy had been telling him something important, something absolutely critical, and he could not figure out what he meant. The time was coming for him to fulfill his responsibility to his family? The Hunters' legacy? None of it meant anything to him.

But it meant everything to his grandfather.

He had no doubt that he had seen a genuine ghost. A few days ago, when Nia had related her own story of spirits she'd seen at the Mason place, he had been skeptical. Not anymore.

Indeed, the rocking chair itself was cold; touching the wood sent a chill through his fingers.

David believed, fully. There was nothing like seeing a specter with your own eyes, and feeling the remnants of its presence with your own hands, to erase every figment of disbelief.

A floorboard creaked in the hallway. David's head snapped up.

King's familiar canine figure regarded him from the doorway. The dog chuffed, tentatively.

"Come here, boy," David said. The dog trotted inside and pressed against him. David stroked King's furry neck, and the dog licked his fingers. Ordinarily David hated for King to lick his hands, but he didn't rebuke the dog this time. King's presence rea.s.sured him.

David looked out the window, at the crescent moon in the deep night sky.

Something major was about to happen in his life. Only a fool would choose to ignore the obvious signs.

But what was going to happen, and what was he supposed to do about it?

He would have to discover answers. Soon. He had the feeling that his life depended on it.

Thursday, Nia was on the floor of her bedroom, working through her last set of abdominal crunches, when the telephone rang.

She squeezed out another rep, then hopped to her feet and answered the phone.

"h.e.l.lo?" she said, breathing hard, trying to catch her breath.

Flat silence came from the earpiece.

"h.e.l.lo?" she said again.

More silence ... then, husky breathing. Like a man who was s.e.xually aroused.

A blade of ice lanced Nia's spine.

The beguiling, handsome face of Colin Morgan, the teacher who had stalked her in Houston, flashed like a red siren in her mind. She didn't know for sure whether he had called; the Caller ID display said "Unavailable." But her bone-deep intuition told her that he was the culprit.

Had he been paroled from prison already? If so, how had he gotten her phone number?

"Who is this?" she said, one final time.

The caller responded with heavy breathing.

Nia slammed down the phone. She stared at the telephone, as though willing it not to ring again.

But it rang. Again, the Caller ID display stated, "Unavailable."

She picked it up. "h.e.l.lo?"

Quick, excited panting. Like a hungry wolf on the prowl.

She smashed the handset into the cradle with enough force to rock the table.

Hugging herself to ward off the numbing chill that had seeped into her body, she glared at the phone.

It did not ring again.

But her relief was short-lived. What if the caller really had been Mr. Morgan? What if he had been released from jail?

What if he was coming to get her?

"Don't get carried away," she cautioned herself.

She ordered herself to put it out of mind. The caller was surely some harmless loser with nothing better to do than randomly dial numbers and hope that a woman answered. It wasn't worth worrying about. She should relax.

But she suddenly had so much nervous energy that she worked through an extra two hundred reps of crunches.

David spent Friday at home, determined to learn more about his family.

His encounter with the ghost and the growing mystery of his father's death convinced him that vital clues lay within the house. The challenge was to sort through everything, separate the items that seemed important, and figure out how they fit into the overall puzzle.

Nevertheless, he felt that he was slowly being drawn into something that went deeper than anything he had seen so far. He had only traced the surface. Intuition told him that more awaited him.

He only had to be patient. And alert.

While he was in the living room, flipping through the magazines spread across the coffee table, the doorbell rang.

It was Franklin Bennett. David had spoken with Franklin a couple of times in pa.s.sing since they'd met last week, but he hadn't gotten the opportunity to sit down and have a prolonged discussion with the man.

"You look quite busy," Franklin said. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you"

"I can chat for a few," David said. "Want to have a seat on the porch, there? I can bring you some ice water, or a soda. Which would you like?"

"Water would be fine, thank you" Franklin settled into a lawn chair.

David was glad that Franklin had visited. Perhaps the retired professor could share some insights that would help him figure out some things about his family.

David got tall gla.s.ses of ice water for both of them. When he came back to the veranda, he found King pressed against Franklin's legs, demanding attention. Franklin stroked the dog's back, but King was eager for more.

"Chill out, King," David said. "Let Mr. Bennett relax, will you?"

King appeared to stick out his tongue at David. Franklin chuckled.

"Sorry, the mutt has no manners," David said. He sat next to Franklin and put the water on the table between them.

"How are you adjusting to life in our fine town?" Franklin said.

"To be honest, I like it," David said. "It's a lot slower than Atlanta, but I like the change of pace. The people I've met have been nice, too"

"I'm pleased to hear that, David. Your father was private, but highly esteemed. In a town like Dark Corner your family's reputation precedes you"

"No kidding. Dad knew everyone"

"How is the Richard Hunter exploration going, if you don't mind me asking?" Franklin casually took a sip of water, but his eyes were keen.

David rubbed his hands together. "So far, I have more questions than answers. But I've just gotten started. I'm not giving up anytime soon, not until I'm satisfied."

Franklin frowned. "Can I be frank for a moment, David?"

"Sure"

"You seem to be a stable, successful young man. You've built a business on your own, you're well-spoken, and intelligent. I'm certain that your family is very proud of you. However, I sense that you aren't completely happy with the life you've built for yourself."

"I don't know, maybe," David said. He looked into the depths of his gla.s.s. "I feel kind of ... incomplete. Like there's this emptiness in me that I have to fill."

"Because you grew up without your father?"

David nodded. "Maybe, yeah. I tried not to think about it too much when I was a kid. But you know, the older I got, I really started paying attention to some of my buddies who were close to their dads, and they had something special. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother and she raised me well, gave me just about everything I could ask for. Still ... something was missing. That father-son connection."

"It's important," Franklin agreed. "I'm close to my son, and I was close to my father as well. Both relationships have deeply enriched my life."

"You know what I mean, then," David said. "For example, a few days before I moved here, I went to the barbershop. I was sitting in the chair, getting my hair trimmed, and in walks this guy and his son, the kid's maybe five years old. You see this all the time at the barbershop, a father and son going together. But that day, it hit me: my father had never taken me to get a haircut. My mother always took me.

"I almost broke down and cried, right there in the chair. It was a small thing ... but I missed it. All that father-son stuff. I never had it, and I guess I never will, now. But it eats at me. I feel like half a man or something."

"Half a man? Come now, you shouldn't feel that way, David. Don't be so hard on yourself. You did the best you can given your circ.u.mstances. You've been blessed."

"I know, you're right," David said. "I tell myself the same things all the time. But it doesn't change how I feel."

Almost savagely, David tipped the gla.s.s and downed most of the water in a few gulps, the rush of iciness punishing his throat. Then he set the gla.s.s back on the table so loudly that King jumped.

"Let's change the subject," David said.

"Of course," Franklin said. "I shouldn't have pried. I apologize."

"No, it's no problem," David said. His hands were clammy. He blotted his palms on his shorts. "But I have a question for you. I'm hoping you can help me out since you have a background in history."

"Proceed"

"Okay, if I want to learn more about my family's history, what should I look for?"

Franklin's eyes brightened. "I'm pleased that you've asked. I suggest beginning with photographs. Find as many as you can, gather them together, and review them, to piece together the family story."

"Okay, pictures. Got it."

"But that is only a start. Every family has heirlooms and items that have been pa.s.sed down from one generation to the next. Jewelry, artwork, antiques, journals, letters, legal doc.u.ments. And books, yes, including Bibles."

"Bibles?"

"Indeed," Franklin said. "Bibles were sometimes used to record information about the family. They may include genealogical data, and in some cases, accounts of which relative married, died, did this or that and when, that sort of thing."

"Okay, you're right. I think I've heard of that before"

"Researching your family history can be enlightening, but it can also be a challenge, David. The oral tradition runs quite strong in the African-American community. The best way to learn about your family is to sit at the feet of an elder and absorb his stories. Unfortunately, you don't have that luxury."

"Yeah," David said. "There were my grandparents on my father's side, but my grandmother died before I was born, and my granddad ... well, I saw him only twice, and the last time was over twenty years ago"

David didn't mention that he'd seen his granddad's ghost. Franklin would think he was crazy.

"And Richard did not have any siblings," Franklin said.

"He's always had a small family," David said. "I don't have a lot of resources to draw on for this stuff."

"You'll do fine," Franklin said. He patted David's hand. "Please don't hesitate to ask for my a.s.sistance, at any time. The study of history is my pa.s.sion."

"I'll remember that," David said. "Thanks"

"We'll have to make good on our plans for dinner, sometime soon. My wife is concerned that you're getting by on sardines and crackers"

David laughed. "Definitely, let's do dinner soon"

"How about tomorrow evening?"

"That works for me. Can I bring a guest?"