“This is our ghost,” Nate said. He stood at the other end of the house, aiming the spotlight at them. He was holding the other end of the heavy rope that was looped around the girl’s foot. The ground was strewn with tools, more rope, and the nylon netting they used to cover loads in the back of the truck.

“What’s all this rope and netting?” Helen asked.

“I knew someone was coming and messing with our stuff,” Nate explained, “and that it sure as hell wasn’t any ghost. So I set a trap. I laid some snares out. And the netting. Put a pile of tools right in the center of the floor. Then I hid and waited. This girl shows up, all dressed in white, and starts a freaking fire in the middle of our house. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!”

Helen leaned down and untied her. The girl was shaking like a frightened animal.

Nate came forward, standing next to the pile of smoldering rags that lay in a metal pot on the floor. “She was trying to burn our house down!”

“I wasn’t,” the girl said, her chin shaking as she struggled not to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m calling the cops,” Nate said, voice crackling as he tried to contain his fury. “Arson is a crime.” He turned to Helen. “Do you have your phone on you?”

“No,” Helen said. “I didn’t…I thought…” She gestured lamely at the scene before her.

“Go get it,” Nate said. “Get it and call the state police. Tell them we caught a kid vandalizing our new house. I’ll keep her here.”

“Wait,” the girl said. “Please, you don’t understand. Let me explain.” She looked so young, so genuinely scared.

“You have about twenty seconds and then my wife goes down to call 911,” Nate barked.

Helen stepped between them. “Let’s all just slow down,” she said. “Nate, let’s hear what she has to say.”

“I just wanted to scare you,” the girl said. “See, I built the fire in a pot so it wouldn’t burn anything else. I thought if you saw the flames, if you saw me dressed like this, you’d think I was Hattie. And you’d be freaked out and…leave.”

Helen saw the girl was right. The fire, nearly out now, had been burning in a cast-iron Dutch oven, like a mini-cauldron. The fire wasn’t actually very big at all, just bright in the dark night.

“Are you the one who’s been taking our things?” Helen said, understanding slowly dawning.

“Of course she is,” Nate answered.

At first, the girl said nothing.

“Yes,” the girl admitted. “Okay, you’re right. It was me. It was all me.”

“Our tools? Our money?” Helen said.

“My cell phone?” Nate asked.

“Yes,” the girl said, looking down at the ground. “All of it. But I’ll give it back!”