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part of a Confederate soldier. He’s pretty
authentic, if I do say so myself, but no way does he makes the tips
that I do. Anyway, I’d like to get a track scholarship to college,
help my parents out with the expenses. If I’m good enough.”
    “You will be,” offered T.J.
    “You’re sweet, Cuz, but it’s gonna take a lot
of work and I’m gonna have to lay off the partying. Man, at my
school it’s like every Saturday there’s a kegger somewhere. You’ll
see when you get to high school.”
    For some reason that remark made T.J. feel
terribly young, and LouAnne, sensing his discomfort, quickly
righted the ship. “But I bet you’re a good runner. I can tell by
your legs. I can see your thighs and calves are cut up right
through your jeans .” Which embarrassed him even more . What
was it with this girl? Even when she was being friendly she made
him feel so off-balance.
    “So, you wanna run tomorrow morning?” she
said with one eyebrow raised.
    “Okay. Like, seven o’clock?”
    “Too hot. Make it six. You’ll end up thanking
me. And here we are.”
    T.J. looked up, amazed. They were back at
Uncle Mike’s house. Had they really covered all that distance? It
had flown by.
    “I was about to come looking for you guys.”
Mike pushed open the front door, concern etched upon his face.
    “Oh, Daddy, puh-leese,” said LouAnne,
disarming her father with a peck on the cheek. “I had T.J. to
protect me. And, guess what? He’s doing cross country, too! We’re
running the battlefield tomorrow morning.”
    “That’s fine, as long as you stay to the
paved surfaces. But let’s lay off the night runs for a while.”
    “How come?”
    “Well,” said Darcy, measuring his words,
“there’s been some mischief going on lately in the woods.”
    “I knew it!” cried LouAnne.
    “No, you don’t,” cautioned Mike. “Not the
half of it. So, I want you to lay low for a while. Get your track
work in during the morning, before it gets hot. And, T.J., watch
out for your cousin. She talks a good game, but she sometimes
suffers from overconfidence.” Then his frown melted into a smile.
“I have no idea where she gets it.”
    “Me neither, Maddog ,” said LouAnne,
and with a toss of her hair she was off to her room down the hall
from T.J.’s.
    Watching her leave, the elder Darcy turned to
his nephew and, placing a meaty hand on his shoulder, whispered,
“Don’t ever have girls.”
    As T.J lay in the dark guestroom, serenaded
by an army of crickets outside his window, he reviewed the events
of the day and concluded that perhaps this trip to Gettysburg might
not be so boring after all.
     

Chapter Seven

    “Okay, let’s go over this one more time,”
said a weary Al Warren as he sat across from the abject figure
slumped in an office chair before him. “You want a cup of
coffee?”
    “Not strong enough,” murmured the thirtyish
man dressed all in black. His short, spiky hair was styled in the
popular “just rolled out of bed” coiffure and his toned arms bulged
from the two-sizes-two-small tee shirt with the letters GGC
stenciled across the front in a ghostly silver scroll.
    “And how do we know you haven’t just been
drinking? The patrolman whose car you almost ran into said you were
babbling like a crazy man.”
    “So breathalyze me.” His eyes glowed with
disdain.
    “Okay, okay,” soothed Warren, palms held
outward. “From the top, Mr. Weinstein. You’re in Gettysburg...”
    “To film a show. It’s called Gonzo Ghost
Chasers . On the Adventure Channel. I lead a team of four on an
exploration of a haunted site. We film over the course of a week
and then our editors back in LA put the show together. This is our
second year, and it’s a popular series.”
    “So where’s your production crew? I mean, I
can’t tell you how many supposed ghost hunters and paranormal
experts have passed through here the past few years, and they all
have some kind of entourage with them.”
    “Yeah, well, see, that’s