Ellie went to the kitchen and turned on the water to wash her hands. She felt Mac’s agitation as he hovered nearby.
“I don’t know about you,” Mac said, “but I could use a drink.”
Ellie pointed to the refrigerator. “There’s some white zinfandel in there. Pour us each a glass.”
It was a good idea. As Mac pulled out the wine, he kept an eye on Ellie. She seemed far less upset about the evening then he did.
“You seem cool, calm and collected,” he muttered, pouring the wine into two crystal goblets.
With the towel, she patted her palms dry. “Mac, this is a world I’m used to. You’re not, so it shakes you up. Sit down.”
He sat and she joined him.
She raised her glass. “Here’s to your indoctrination into metaphysics.”
With a snort, he gently touched her goblet with his. “I know what I saw. I just don’t want to believe it.”
“I know it’s a shock to you,” Ellie said wryly, sipping the cool, sweet wine.
With a shake of his head, Mac said, “It’s not my world.”
Setting the goblet aside, Ellie gave him a compassionate look. “Let me explain what I think happened. It’s a professional guess, but I really won’t know for sure until I go back in there and check it out in my altered state.”
“Okay,” Mac said. “What do you think is going down?” He worried about his crews, who would be coming in that morning at 0600. What if another screwdriver was thrown at them? His mind raced with more questions than he had answers for.
“I believe there is a discarnate spirit living in your hangar.”
“That’s a spirit that’s died but hasn’t gone to heaven?”
“Yes, so to speak. There is a place where most spirits go after they’ve left the physical body after death. Some spirits stay behind because they miss a loved one, or because they miss something as simple as a favorite food, smoking or drinking. I once was asked to investigate a spirit who had been seen in an orchard, and when I journeyed and talked to him, I found out it was the owner who had originally planted that orchard. He loved his fruit trees so much, and was so worried that the present owner of the place wouldn’t take care of them, that he chose to stay and guard them himself.” She saw the disbelief on Mac’s face. “I know this all sounds crazy to you, but it’s the truth.”
“Go on,” Mac said unhappily.
“I was able to talk to that spirit and convince him that the present owner of the house would take good care of his trees, that they’d be well cared for. Once the spirit was convinced, he left, went on into what we call the light world, or heaven.”
“And you think that what is in the corner of Hangar 13 is one of these spirits?”
“I think so.” Ellie shrugged. “But there’s a danger to this, whatever it is.”
“No kidding.” Shaking his head, Mac put is glass aside. “I saw the screwdriver just hanging there in midair, Ellie. At first I didn’t believe it, but then this feeling came over me, and I knew it was going to be thrown at you.”
“So you reacted on a feeling,” Ellie said, pleased. “You were making decisions based upon your intuition, not your logic.” He didn’t seem quite so happy about it. Reaching out, she briefly touched his hand. “Usually, your world and my world don’t overlap, Mac. But you’ve got something out in your hangar that isn’t physical. What it’s doing is physical, though, and we have to do something about it. And fast.”
Mac liked the firm, warm touch of Ellie’s hand on his. “What’s really got me going is the fact that there are never any tools left around the hangar. Each crew member has his own set and they’re put away at the end of the day. You saw how clean and empty the hangar floor was. There weren’t any tools lying around.”
“If a spirit is powerful enough, Mac, it can literally create what it wants and manifest it into this third dimension. I’m sure it manifested that screwdriver.”
Exasperated, he glanced at her. “What would you do about this?”
“Let’s go back tomorrow night, providing no one is working in there. You can beat the drum for me, and I’ll go into an altered state and find out more about what is in that corner.”
Mac thought about what would happen if anyone on base found him beating a drum in the darkened hangar. It would be embarrassing, at the very least. But he couldn’t ignore the sincerity in Ellie’s eyes. With a sigh, he smiled slightly and said, “The last crew leaves at 2100—I mean, nine p.m. How about if I come over and pick you up to be there around midnight? Everyone should be gone by that time, and it will be quiet.”
“Good, because if the drumming is interrupted, Mac, it puts me in danger.”
“How?”
“The drum is like a road, a passage for me,” Ellie said. “The beat, the vibration, provides a path to and from my altered state. Shamans can get into real big trouble if they get ‘stuck’ in what we term nonordinary reality.”
“You mean, if I quit beating the drum, you could be stuck?”
“Yes.”
“What would happen then?”
“I’d be in either an unconscious or a semiconscious state, and nothing on this earth could bring me out of it.”
“Except the drumbeat?” Mac guessed.
“Yes.” Ellie smiled. “You catch on fast. The other alternative would be to have another shaman journey on my behalf, to help me come out of that state and back into this reality.”
“How long do I beat this drum of yours?”
“I’m fairly fast at journeying, so usually no more than fifteen minutes. Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to beat the drum. It’s not hard.”
“Good,” Mac said. He reached over and gently held her hands.
Mac’s touch was galvanizing, and Ellie felt the strength and the warmth of his fingers. Her heart speeding up, she pulled her hand from his. There was such magnetism between them! But it was wrong, all wrong…. Her lifestyle was a threat to him.
“I guess I’d better get going,” Mac said, slowly rising. “It’s been a long day and a real interesting night.”
Ellie nodded and stood. “It’s probably going to get more interesting tomorrow night.”
At the front door, Mac hesitated. The lamplight from the living room bathed Ellie’s oval face and high cheekbones in a radiant glow. He found himself wanting to tunnel his fingers through her thick, black hair. But he knew he had no business doing that. Ellie’s profession was a part of her, and Mac didn’t know how to deal with that—at least not yet. He gave her a warm look. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night at eleven.”
Ellie felt his inspection, felt the heat flowing through her as he appraised her with those hazel eyes so alive with intelligence. She wished she had met Mac under different circumstances. Sadness flowed through her. It was obvious he was wrestling with her life-style. Unless he was able to accept it—not necessarily embrace it, but at least respect it—Ellie knew it was pointless to hope for any kind of personal relationship with him.
After Mac said good-night and disappeared into the darkness, Ellie closed the door quietly. She liked his steadiness, his intelligence and obvious warmth. If only… Ellie shook away her thoughts and headed for the bathroom to run a tub of water.
But the sadness returned as she added lilac-scented bath salts to the warm water. She couldn’t get Mac out of her mind, and she laughed softly. Look at them—she a shamaness, he a military officer. Could they be any more opposite? She knew that some men were drawn to her unusual life-style, but their interest had never extended to the person Ellie was inside. What made her think Mac would be any different?
Sitting on the edge of the pink tub, she moved her hand gently through the warm water to dissolve the bath crystals. What did Mac really think of her? Did he see only her profession? Was that the focus of his interest in her? Or did he see beyond what she did for a living, to the person she was? Ellie wasn’t sure at all.
At the moment, though, they had more pressing issues to deal with. Whether or not Mac believed in spirits, there was one in Hangar 13, and it posed a real threat to the people who worked there. Ellie hoped that she could find more answers tomorrow night—before anyone else got hurt.
“Are you ready?” Mac’s voice echoed eerily throughout the gloomy depths of Hangar 13. It was a little past midnight, and he had just brought out two chairs from his office for them to sit on. Ellie was dressed in a white cotton skirt and a soft pink shell, and had a beautifully crocheted dark pink shawl draped around her proud shoulders. Tonight she wore her hair loose and free, and Mac was having trouble keeping his attention—and his hands—off her and on the situation.
“Yes.” Ellie took one of the chairs and sat down, facing the corner furthest from the one where she’d sensed the agitation, anger and hatred. This was the safest place for her to commence her journey. She planted her sandaled feet firmly on the concrete floor of the hangar. All was quiet—almost too quiet. Glancing up, she saw Mac standing nervously a few feet away. She beckoned for him to join her.
Mac took the other folding chair and sat down about two feet away from her, the drum in one hand, the drumstick in the other. “I feel kind of silly,” he admitted.
Ellie smiled. “No one is going to come by and catch you playing a drum, Mac, so relax.” She couldn’t blame him for his nervousness. She was a bit tense herself. And with Mac sitting so close, she was finding it a little hard to concentrate. He was dressed in formfitting jeans that revealed his long legs and a red polo shirt that outlined his upper body to perfection. But Ellie had to focus on what was before them.
He tested the drum, creating a steady, sonorous beat that echoed and reechoed throughout the hangar. Looking up, he saw her nod.
“That’s a good, steady beat. Just keep doing it until I tell you to stop.”
“Okay.” It was a round drum and fairly heavy, and the twelve elk-skin thongs converged in the center so that Mac could easily hold it in his hand. He watched with curiosity as Ellie folded her hands in her lap, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. What would she find? What would she see? Mac had no idea what to expect, but he was watchful of that corner where he’d seen the screwdriver suspended last night. The hangar was shadowy and gloomy, the lights overhead throwing dark, distorted shapes here and there. If he wasn’t careful, he would start seeing things in those shapes….
Ellie began to breathe deeply and evenly. The drum’s resonance was at once soothing and focusing. She could feel the vibration begin to permeate her. Mac’s presence was disconcerting, and she had to hone in and concentrate even more to achieve the proper state.
Suddenly, Ellie could feel herself switching from the left hemisphere of her brain to the right. The viewing screen in front of her closed eyes instantly brightened, and a moment later, her spirit guide, an Indian woman known as Yona, which meant “bear” in Cherokee, appeared to her. She was dressed in a soft deerskin dress, her braids thick and black.
“It is good to see you again, my friend,” Yona greeted.
Ellie saw herself approaching her guide, who was not only her mentor, but her friend as well. “Osiyo,” Ellie said, which meant hello in Eastern Cherokee. She embraced Yona and felt an instant warmth and unending love surround her. As she stepped back, Ellie said, “I would like permission to journey on behalf of Major Mac Stanford.”
Yona nodded gravely. “You have our permission, Iya.”
Ellie nodded. Her given Eastern Cherokee name was Iya, which meant “pumpkin.” To an ordinary person, it was a funny name that always drew a smile. But it symbolized something much deeper. A pumpkin held seeds of possibility, and her mother had always told her she was a woman of many skills and talents. A pumpkin was close to Mother Earth, one of her vegetables, rounded and pregnant looking. Her mother had always said, that Ellie was filled with many brain children or ideas.
“Is there anything I need to know going into this journey?” she asked Yona.
“It will be dangerous, but your spirit-guide animals will protect you. Go carefully, my sister.”
Ellie thanked her. She found herself flanked with a number of animals that existed in the spirit realm of the fourth dimension. A shamaness had no defenses of her own, so had to rely upon a vanguard of soldiers, who took the shape of animals, to be her protectors. Ellie saw her gray wolf and leaned over and patted the animal, who wagged her tail in joyful acknowledgment. A golden eagle sat nearby, her yellow eyes fierce, and Ellie went over and patted her lovingly on the head.
Her third friend and protector was a mountain lion, who rubbed and purred against her legs. Ellie thanked Yona and asked her spirit guides to take her to the corner of Hangar 13. Ellie would never undertake a journey without direct permission; to do otherwise indicated disrespect for the situation.
It was easy to move in the fourth dimension. In the blink of an eye, she was standing in the corner of the hangar, far above the floor. Ellie looked around. She could see herself sitting in the chair, and she could see Mac beating the drum. Hearing the growl of her mountain lion, Ellie turned, startled. Her heart began beating harder. In the corner, she saw a dark, churning cloud, looking like an approaching thunderstorm. The roiling black-and-gray cloud wove in and out, like hundreds of snakes slithering quickly in and around one another. The sensation was one of pure danger. Instantly, the cougar placed herself between Ellie and the approaching menace.
“Stop,” Ellie shouted, and threw up her hand. The cloud was at least ten feet high and twenty feet wide. She felt the anger and hatred and shock. The storm stopped. The cougar growled warningly.
“Whoever you are, come out of hiding. I’m Iya, and I’ve come to speak to you. I mean you no harm.”
She stood there, feeling the wolf on her left and the eagle on her right. Out of the thick, moving clouds, she saw a dark shape emerge. It hung there, only partly visible.
“I come in peace,” Ellie told the spirit, which took the vague shape of a human.
“Go away!”
The voice, deep and furious, buffeted Ellie. She took a step back, feeling scorched by the spirit. “I can’t. I need to find out why you’re here in this hangar. Why are you throwing tools at the people who work here? They are innocent. What can I do to help you and them?”
The dark shape moved out of the clouds, drifting to the left. Ellie tried to see its face, but there was none to see. She sensed it was male. “Will you speak with me?” she pleaded.
“No! Get out of here! This is my place! You have no business coming here! If you don’t go, I’ll kill you!”
“I’ve only come to help you if I can.”
“Help me?” roared the spirit. “Find my killer!”
Stunned, Ellie stood there, feeling the spirit’s utter fury. “You were murdered? By whom? Can you tell me what happened?”
“Bah!”
“First, you must promise me you will leave these people alone. Will you?” She felt his malevolent glare. “Well?” she goaded.
“Yes! I will not harm them while you hunt for my murderer.”
The spirit slipped back into the roiling clouds.
Ellie stood there for a long time. The cougar remained crouched, her tail twitching, and she knew it was a sign that the spirit was capable of attacking her.
“Spirit, can you tell me your name?”
There was no response. Ellie turned to her spirit guides. “Will he come out and talk to me?”
The eagle shook her head. “He thinks you are coming to take his territory from him. He’s dangerous. Let us go from here.”
Ellie always listened to her spirit guides; they possessed wisdom she did not and were there to help her understand the sometimes-confusing energy found in the fourth dimension.
“Okay. Thanks, gang. I’ll see you later.” She patted each one of them and saw herself coming back to where she was sitting in the chair. Ellie saw herself slipping back into her physical body, and as she did, she felt heavier. Gradually, as she returned to the third dimension, the beating of the drum became louder. The feeling of heaviness remained, and she knew she was back to the here and now. Lifting her lashes, she raised her hand and signaled to Mac to stop drumming.
Mac stopped and set the drum aside. He studied Ellie’s eyes. They were out of focus, but within a minute they became sharp and lively looking once again. He stopped himself from demanding to know what had gone on—if anything.
Ellie sat up in the chair, rubbed her hands along her thighs and took a long, deep breath of air. “The spirit promised to stop hurting people if we did one thing for him.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you know if someone was murdered here in Hangar 13?”
The question caught Mac completely off guard. “Murdered?”
“Yes.” Ellie motioned toward the corner. “Mac, this spirit is male. He wouldn’t let me see his face. All I saw was a dark shape of a man. He’s very angry, and he’s dangerous. When I asked what happened, he said, ‘Find my murderer.”’ She tilted her head and saw the shock in his expression. “How long has Hangar 13 been here?”
“It was built six months ago. It’s the newest hangar on Luke.” Mac shook his head. “Murder? I don’t know what I expected, Ellie, but not that.”
She stood up and stretched. “Sometimes when a person is killed suddenly and without warning, his spirit remains in the spot where his life was taken.” She looked around the hangar. “Do you know of any murders that took place on base?”
“No…”
“Are you sure? How about an accidental death?” Ellie walked over and picked up the drum. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be murder.”
Mac got up and folded both chairs. He carried them back to the office where he’d gotten them. Ellie followed along silently. Inside the office, he placed the chairs in the corner and turned to her. His expression was thoughtful.
“I guess I can give the provost marshal a call tomorrow and check it out.”
“Okay.” Ellie could see him struggling with the information. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more from the spirit, Mac.”
He shrugged and cupped her elbow. Guiding her out of the office, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
“A little lightheaded, but that’s normal after coming back,” Ellie assured him.
“Does it last long?”
“Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. I don’t drive during that time, believe me.”
“Sort of like taking eight or nine g’s,” he murmured, opening the outer door of the hangar for her. “Those are units of gravity a pilot is often exposed to taking off in a high-speed aircraft.”
“Oh?” Ellie enjoyed walking beside him. The peaceful night seemed such a contrast to the turmoil she had just witnessed. The sky overhead was dark and sparkling with stars. She heard a couple of jets taking off in the distance, the silence broken by their ominous, powerful rumble.
“I ought to take you up in my bird someday soon,” he said. “You could get a taste of my world.” Grinning, he added, “I won’t make you take eight or nine g’s, though.”
“I’ve never flown except in a commercial jet,” Ellie admitted. She saw the light in Mac’s eyes, a light of joy.
He led her to the car and opened the door for her. “Would you?”
Ellie halted at the door and looked up into his darkly shadowed features. “What?”
“Fly with me?”
“Well…”
“We’re always flying media types for public relations purposes. Just last week we had the Thunderbird flying team in here. How about it? I’d like to show you a little of what I do.” Never had Mac wanted a woman to say yes more than now. He saw the wariness come back into Ellie’s eyes. Was she comparing him to her ex-husband? His hand tightened on the door, and he unconsciously held his breath.
“I don’t know….”
“Is this reverse prejudice?”
Ellie shrugged. “Maybe you’re right. I’m still jumpy about Brian—about men in general, I guess.”
“Look, even if you’re wrong about what you saw in there tonight, it doesn’t make any difference to me.”
Was Mac telling her the truth? She probed his warm, dark eyes. A yearning started, low and deep within her, and it caught Ellie by surprise.
Mac tried to remain patient. “How about it? I’ll trade you a ride in my jet for what you did for me tonight?”
“Is that just another form of a date?”
Mac grinned. “Maybe it is.”
She felt heat climb into her cheeks. “If I didn’t know any better, Major Stanford, I’d say you’re an ace at handing out lines.”
“Thank you, ma’am. So, will you fly with me?”
How could she say no? Ellie murmured, “All right.”
“Great.” Mac felt ten pounds drop off his shoulders. As he watched Ellie sit down and arrange the folds of her white cotton skirt, he was again drawn to her simple honesty, the way she lived her life. Shutting the door, he dug the keys out of his pocket, whistling softly. Tomorrow he’d drop over to the provost marshal’s office, and then he’d arrange a flight for this lady who had the warmth of the earth in her.
Mac picked up the phone in his office. It was nearly 1700, quitting time for the day. Glancing out his window toward Hangar 13, he dialed Ellie’s number.
“Hello?”
“Ellie, this is Mac.”
“Hi.”
He smiled and relaxed back into his chair. Cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder, he said, “I thought you’d like to know that I was over at the provost marshal’s office this morning.”
“Really? What did you find out?”
He heard the wariness in her voice. “Nothing yet. But an interesting fact came up. Five years ago a Sergeant Tim Olson disappeared from the base. At first, he was considered AWOL, but they left the case open, because Olson never showed up at his home in Nebraska, or anywhere else.”
“Why would you pinpoint Olson?”
“An interesting coincidence, Ellie. Olson used to work in a small building on the very site that Hangar 13 was later built upon.”
“Oh…”
“What do you think?”
“Well, could Olson have been murdered here where the hangar was built?”
“You tell me.”
“I really don’t know. The spirit wouldn’t give his name.”
Mac sat up straight. “I think it’s an interesting piece of evidence…. How are you doing today?”
“Fine. I’ve done four journeys for clients and I’m getting ready to call it quits for the day.”
He smiled, liking Ellie’s laughter. “How would you like to meet for dinner? There’s a nice little Italian restaurant about halfway between your home and mine. What do you say?” Mac held his breath, hoping she would finally say yes.
“I can’t, Mac. I’m sorry, I have a speaking engagement tonight….”
He heard the apology in her tone. “If you didn’t have this talk, would you have said yes?” he teased.
“I don’t think you take no for an answer, Major Stanford.”
With a smile, he said, “You’re right.”
“Is this kind of behavior intrinsic to military men? Or just you?”
It was his turn to laugh. Mac had missed Ellie acutely throughout the day. He had known her just a few days, but already she seemed an integral part of his life. “I think it’s kind of endemic with our breed, Ms. O’Gentry. Once you get to know us, though, we’re not a bad lot.”
“That’s your viewpoint, Major. I think I’d like a second opinion.”
“You can have one. Just say you’ll go to dinner with me sometime this coming week.”
“I think you should have been an attorney.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Maybe…”
He flipped open his appointment book. “Mark down May 15.”
“Why?”
“That’s when you get to fly with me.”
“Really?”
Mac liked the excitement he heard in her voice. “That’s a roger.”
“What time?”
“Oh-seven hundred. We’ll fly in the early morning when the air is smoother. I don’t want you getting airsick on me.”
With a laugh, Ellie said, “Okay, May 15. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” Mac felt the tension draining out of him. “Listen, getting serious here for a minute, I’m going to snoop around some more on this Olson angle.”
“Even if you don’t believe in ghosts?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you, Ellie, about your beliefs. And I remembered when I was a kid, I would get these thoughts. A few minutes later, my mother would say what I’d just thought.”
“Mental telepathy. I’m impressed.”
“You ought to be. The point is, I’ve been racking my brain for other instances of mysterious, unexplained behavior.”
“Besides something throwing wrenches at your people and a screwdriver at me.”
He liked her ability to tease; Ellie gave as well as she got. “I think I had that coming. I’m willing to concede that there are some unexplained phenomena in this world.”
“My heart be still!”
Mac laughed. He didn’t want to get off the phone, but he had to. “If I find anything more on Olson, I’ll give you a call.”
“Okay, but Mac?”
“Yes?”
“Just be careful in that corner of the hangar.”
“I’ve already rearranged the work areas in the hangar. That corner is now liberated from any activity.” He grimaced, glancing out onto the floor of the hangar, where several crews were working on the jets. “We’re a little crowded in this end, and my people are grumbling about the tight quarters, but I don’t care.”
“Have any of them guessed what is happening?”
“No, only my master sergeant. He knows I’ve contacted you, but we haven’t discussed it.”
“I think I should try to journey again and see if I can get some more information from the spirit. Maybe if we tell him we know about Tim Olson, that might help. He was acting as if he expected me to know a lot more than I did.”
“Then,” Mac said lightly, “I’ll do some more snooping around at the PM’s office and see what I can find.”