Hangman's Curse Read Online Free Page A

counselor named Tom Gessner from the high school. . . .”
    Shortly afterward, Nate read from his notes, sharing the potential new assignment with his family as they stood in the now-empty kitchen.
    Sarah was intrigued. “There’s definitely a spiritual aspect to it.”
    Elijah looked a little “iffy” about it. “Yeah, but I’ll bet it means going to school again.”
    Elisha wrinkled her nose. “Another school case?”
    â€œEhh, so whatza matta?” Nate asked, his East Coast accent returning. “You got somethin’ against school?”
    â€œOh, Dad, pull-eeezzz!”

2

the ghost and
the angel

N ate Springfield was tall but not imposing, strong but not brutish, the kind of man who could have played the part of a quiet but intense town marshal in an old western movie—he even wore the jeans, lamb-collared coat, and Stetson hat to convey the image. He loved his family and loved being home, and he counted it fortunate that, when the unusual work of The Veritas Project required a bit of traveling, the whole family traveled together. Yesterday, they had helped the police crack open a drug ring in Montague, Oregon—and examined whether or not the police and the community had an antidrug program that really worked. Today, he had an appointment with a competent but somewhat anxious high school counselor in the town of Baker, Washington—and exactly what The Project was about to encounter, he could only guess.
    He was clean-shaven and recently showered—no more of the “Lou” image, at least for now—as he stepped out of his car and quietly surveyed the Baker High School campus, as old as Baker itself but recently rebuilt. What was once an old brick and lap-sided schoolhouse was now a modern structure with computerized classrooms, wide open hallways, a vast cafeteria and commons, covered walkways, hedges, planting beds, and a marvelous gym and athletic facility. Classes were in session, so the campus was quiet, with hardly a body visible except through some of the classroom windows. The place looked orderly and peaceful, just as most high schools in most small towns did.
    Which raised the question: Did most high schools in most small towns have a metal detector just inside the front door? Nate had to remove his belt and car keys before the metal detector would let him through without beeping. It was a cruel reminder of a new reality in public schools. Parents all over town still trusted this to be a safe place for their kids to learn and challenge life. Unfortunately— and so hard to face!—this was also a place where bizarre and dangerous things were not supposed to happen, but could .
    To hear Tom Gessner tell it, bizarre and dangerous things were happening all right—things the metal detectors were powerless to prevent.
    Nate got his belt and keys back from the student attendant and entered the main hall, a long, echoing passage with poster-plastered bulletin boards announcing anything and everything in loud, eye-catching colors and a voluminous trophy case proudly displaying the glories and awards of many a winning team over the years. Down the hall in both directions were numbered classroom doors and lockers, lockers, lockers. Beyond that, the start of more halls, more posters, more lockers. A newcomer might get lost in here. The glassed-in school office was right across the hall from the main doors. He went inside, signed in, and got directions to Gessner’s office.
    â€œNate Springfield!” Tom Gessner, a young man with close-cropped hair and beard, got up from his desk and offered his hand.
    Nate shook his hand and admired Gessner’s cozy little office. Gessner was new on the faculty this year, but it wasn’t hard to see he was well qualified and experienced. The informal snapshots, funny little gifts from students, mementos from other jobs in other places—not to mention several degrees displayed on the