Caroline Mackenzie stood at the staff lounge window, sipping sweet white coffee and gazing past her reflection at the winter-cloaked grounds of the old hospital. The lounge was deserted, and she welcomed the rare peace after a busy Thanksgiving morning.

Something of winter's gentle melancholy permeated her being as she contemplated the future. She felt weary in mind, but not physically tired. I'll not miss this place, she thought. The whole atmosphere is just... wrong. There's been so much suffering here, both physical and mental; so much cruelty.

After 135 years, the Daniels LaRoche Center for Mental Health Care would soon be nothing more than a footnote in the annals of Indianapolis public health. Those few out-patients who remained on the books would be transferred to other locations by the New Year; the staff would be reassigned to other facilities. Even so, there was still plenty of work for a junior nurse to do.

Her gaze turned toward what the staff half-jokingly called the ”Field of Dreams.” The old baseball pitch occupied a spot close to the tree-lined bank of the White River, a couple of hundred yards from the block where she stood. A bright splash of red amongst the trees caught her eye, the color standing clear against the grays, whites, and browns. When the last resident patients had departed, the hospital authorities had screened off the old buildings. The boundary fence along the river had been removed sometime earlier that year, the piled rolls of chain link fencing left at the edge of the old baseball field, ready for disposal.

A kid was walking there now, a small figure wrapped up well against the cold, kicking the snow with booted feet. With the security presence diminished to near zero, local people had taken to using the grounds as a park. It wasn't strictly legal, but everyone turned a blind eye. Caroline watched idly for a while, then drank the last of her coffee and turned away, ready to go back on duty.

Something made her pause and turn back. The child was no longer alone. A figure in white had appeared not far ahead of the child; a figure of a fair woman in a long flimsy white dress.

Caroline was moving before she was aware of doing so, driven by an instinctive sense of danger. Quickly, she ran into the passageway and clattered down the stairs to the fire-escape door and out onto the snow-packed path alongside the building. The alarm began to whoop behind her as the system detected the open door, and she was glad; it would draw attention to the emergency. Once out in the clear air, the cold immediately began to bite through her uniform, but she ignored it and searched the tree line. White, and a patch of red moved through the trees toward the river; the child following the woman.

Shouting to attract their attention, Caroline ran clumsily toward them through the deeper snow of the lawn, her sensible indoor shoes soon filling with bone-chilling slush. Someone called out to her, and she turned briefly to see another nurse huddling out of the cold in the shelter of the smoking point up near the main entrance, cigarette in hand.

"Sue, I think a patient's heading for the river!" Caroline shouted. "There's a child with her!"

Sue gaped at her. "What? But the patients are all indoors!"

But Caroline was already on her way. By the time she reached the baseball field, the figures had vanished. She looked around, picked up the trail of small footprints in the snow--and paused. Two figures, but only one set of prints?

Unnerved, Caroline began to follow the tracks. They headed like an arrow toward the frozen river. Quickening her pace, she soon reached the crumbling top of the steep, muddy bank, a red-lettered notice nailed to a tree warning of the danger. Panting, she scanned the expanse of grey and white ice between the sandbars below. A patch of black open water became horribly clear, just feet from the bank. A scrap of bright red showed there momentarily, and then vanished.

Sliding frantically on snow and frozen mud, Caroline gripped overhanging branches as she descended to stop herself from skidding out onto the ice. Reaching the edge, she threw herself flat on her stomach and slid cautiously out onto the ice. The surface gave little warning groans and pops beneath her as she moved. A louder crack made her freeze for a second of indecision, until desperation forced her on.

Agonizing moments passed before she reached the hole, the surface already turning gelid with the intense cold. A small, pale face stared back at her from beneath the surface, the features waxen, as frozen as the river. Gasping with effort, she edged out further and further. The ice creaked and then cracked sharply. Caroline looked around for any kind of help and saw a root protruding from the soil behind her and to one side. Hooking her foot through it, she tested it and found it enough to hold her light weight. Taking a deep breath, she plunged her arms into the water.

Shocking cold, instant numbness--and then her fingers found clothing and gripped desperately. She pulled hard. Like a dream balloon, the child floated to the surface, then became a dead weight as the buoyancy left him. Grunting and gasping with effort, she pulled harder, her anchored foot burning with pain as it took their combined weight.

Somehow she dragged him from the hole, but not before the ice finally cracked, dropping her face-first into the river. Soaked to the waist, spitting filthy water, she clung to the edge with fierce determination, her breath burning in her lungs. Little by little, limbs screaming with strain, she drew the child up and onto the remaining ice; it held. She continued to pull him, further up and back, over firmer ice, sobbing, panting, until with a gasp she rolled him onto land.

Freezing and wet as she was, her nurse’s training took over, and she felt the child's neck for a pulse. None. Clearing the airway, she began resuscitation.

Eons seemed to pass, until a spluttering cough announced the return of life. At the same instant a shout came from above her on the bank, heralding welcome assistance. Many feet scuffed and scrabbled; dislodged ice and mud rolled by, some clods splashing into the dark water. Then firm hands relieved her of her burden and draped a foil blanket around her shoulders. Someone began to rub her limbs vigorously to restore circulation.

Caroline watched, feeling cold and groggy and sick as her colleagues placed the child on a stretcher.

His eyes opened, rolled in bewilderment for a second, then fixed on her. "The white lady," he gasped. "Where's the white lady?"

Chapter One

Claudia negotiated an intersection, and then glanced at Martin. "So what do you think of Indy?"

"Nice!" Martin smiled, peering out at the strip malls and the huge bulks of the major chain stores, the clumps of dark woodland between the commercial blocks. "It's a lot different than what I'm used to."

"Nice? Different?" Her lips twitched. "Is that all?"

"Oh, it's much more than nice." He grinned.

She laughed as she glanced in the mirror and flicked her dark copper hair over her ears. "Darling, your typical Brit reserve is showing again,"

"Sorry, but it's a bit overwhelming, shopping in those huge stores. I feel like someone from the old Soviet Union, coming to the West for the first time."

"Hey, I understand." She peered up at the road signs as they neared another intersection. "Look, the Mug n' Bun's not far from here. It's one of my favorite places. Let's go eat. I'll treat you to a root beer and a Coney dog."

"What's a Coney dog?"

"You'll see!"

* * * *

"Mmm!" Martin wiped a dribble of beef sauce from his chin with the napkin, then reached for his iced mug of root beer. "This is good!"

"I'm glad you like it." Claudia smiled. She gestured through the windshield. "Mug n' Bun's been here forever. I used to come here all the time with my girlfriends after school and college. My parents used to come here; my grandparents used to come here, back in the early sixties. There used to be quite a few of these places; now this one's all that's left. It's sad."

Martin sipped his wonderfully refreshing beer and regarded the establishment.

Mug n' Bun was a simple, blocky building with a gray wood-shingled roof, a canopy around two sides and a covered fair-weather eating area at one end. A bewildering range of drinks and foodstuffs was printed on menu boards fixed to the wall. Customers would pull up under the canopy, flash their lights for service, then wind down the window and give their orders to a server who came out to their vehicle. The teenage girl or boy would fetch the order on a metal tray with lugs attached and fix it to the door, and then take payment when the meal was finished. It was simple, effective, and typically American. Martin loved it.

He squeezed her thigh and she stroked his hand. "What's on the schedule for today?" he asked.

"Shed-yule?" She poked her tongue out at him.

"Sked-yule, then." He responded in kind.

Claudia chewed a French fry and thought briefly. "Well, I’ve got to go see the folks at Emerson Realtors this afternoon and reactivate my license."

"Will that be difficult?"

"Nope. When I phoned John Kaminski from New York, he said he couldn't see me soon enough. He was glad I arranged to go in today before he heads out of town for Thanksgiving."

Martin watched as she dipped a fry in the little pot of ketchup and popped it into her mouth. Her lips moved sensuously as she ate, and he ached to kiss her. She must have sensed his mood as she looked at him and winked.

"Oh, I'll have some paperwork to fill in," she went on. "I can't get away from that. But basically once it's reactivated, I'll hang my license on the office wall at Emerson and be open to trade property. That's what counts, lover. The desk is there waiting for me. I'll start next Monday."

"It works out nicely."

"Don't it just?" She hesitated. "Marty, I was going to raise this with you later, but this is as good a time as any. Honey, I'll be earning serious bucks in real estate here in Indiana. With my contacts here and in New York commerce, I can move property like few other brokers in this state." She shrugged. "It's the main reason John wants to see me back so soon. I'll be bringing big money into the business."

Color rose in her cheeks, and she reached over and squeezed his hand. "Marty, what I'm basically saying is you could come live here with me."

Martin stared at her, so surprised he couldn't react at first. She flushed a deeper shade of red and looked at him anxiously. "That's... a lot to swallow all at once," he eventually managed to say, his mind whirling. "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Yeppers. Ever since I knew I was coming back to Indy." Her grasp on his hand tightened, and she looked at him with imploring eyes. "Marty, do say yes! I love you!" she said fervently. "I can see us being together from now on. I can commit if you can."

She looked apprehensive, as if afraid of what he might say. Joy rose in his heart and he clasped both her hands. "I can, and it's what I want more than anything else in the world! I love you, Claudia!" He breathed deeply, let his breath out slowly, and leaned across to embrace and kiss her. "Sorry if I seemed hesitant, but I was so overwhelmed I couldn't think straight for a moment. It's just wonderful to know you feel the same about me!"

She stroked his cheek and gazed at him fondly. "Did you ever doubt it? Even though we've only been together a few weeks, I know I want to spend my life with you. All we've done together, the experiences we've shared and will share; it makes me feel complete for the first time in my life. Even if you don't want to live here, I'll be happy to be with you wherever we are in the world."

"I feel the same, my love," he said softly. "I never realized quite how empty I was without you in my life."

They kissed, long and slow and warm, and only became aware of the ordinary world when a discreet cough came from outside the car. The smiling waitress asked if they wanted anything else, and Claudia blushed and ordered two more root beers.

"So," she said when the girl had brought the order and departed, "with the realtor job, the kind of money I'll earn will give me lots of flexibility. I only need work six months of the year if I choose. The rest of the time I can take off when I please, so long as I clear my work load." She clasped his hand. "We can find someplace of our own to live, and fix the matter of a permanent visa for you; there's an office for that here in Indy. Marty, you can quit the tax office back in England and take up paranormal investigation full time, if you want. We’ve got more than enough ghosts and spirits here in the US to keep you busy for a lifetime." She smiled. "Why break your heart in government service when you can follow your calling? Suits?"

Martin nodded emphatically and kissed her again. "Suits me!"

She stroked his cheek. "I'm going to make a Hoosier out of you, Mr. Grey!"

"I'd be totally delighted--if I knew what that means."

"We're a friendly bunch around here. We take an interest in the folks we meet and want to know all about them." She grinned. "Hoosier mommy? Hoosier daddy?"

He laughed around a groan. "Oh, dear me!"

* * * *

After lunch they headed for the Seacombe Field short-let apartments on the outskirts of Chapel Hill, where a realtor friend of Claudia's had found them a pied a' terre. Once inside, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a long, lingering kiss. "You go ahead and get comfortable. I need to take a shower and get ready to go see John."

"Will do."

He made a cup of tea in the small kitchen and took it into the sitting room to drink on the sofa. With a contented sigh, he stretched out and picked up a book on paranormal research he'd bought earlier at Barnes and Noble. In the bathroom Claudia was running lustily through her Madonna impression, and he grinned.

After some time the water stopped running, and a few seconds later he looked up to see her watching him from the doorway as she brushed out her wet coppery hair. Tall, lissome, curvy in all the right places, those curves temporarily hidden by a large, fluffy white bath-towel, wrapped around her with the ends tucked high between her breasts, Claudia looked as sexy as she'd ever done.

Her lips twitched. "At least I've distracted you from thinking about damn ghosts!"

"You'd distract a Trappist monk, my dear!"

She grinned, took the book away, and cuddled him. "I'm content just to distract you for now."

He kissed her neck and stroked her back through the towel. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Oh, I think I know you well enough by now, Martin Grey," she said, turning her head and kissing him full on the lips.

He drew her closer, and she sighed with contentment as they kissed. Everything around them seemed to fade into nothing as they kissed until, many moments later, Claudia sighed again and drew away.

"Marty, I'm going to find some creative ways of ravishing you tonight," she said, in a husky voice. "So stay put and relax. For now, I’ve got to go see a man about a job." She kissed him briefly, then rose and went to the bedroom to change. "Don't forget we're going to my folks for Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night," she called.

"How could I forget that?" he replied with a laugh and settled back on the sofa.

He drank his cooling tea and let his quickened emotions settle. A small nub of trepidation remained that would not go away, like a pocket of trapped wind.

For the following night, Martin Grey was going to meet the parents...