MOON FALL by Tamara Thorne

He cocked his head like a chicken. ''You look kinda familiar."
    "I lived here about ten years ago," she told him as they began walking.
    He nodded. "Most girls leave here, they never come back." He stopped in front of a yellowed door. "Here 'tis."
    Sara hesitated, realizing that the nun who'd greeted her downstairs hadn't given her a key.
    Evidently, the old man could read minds. ''No locks on these old doors," he told her, gripping the knob. He turned it and the door creaked open. "Ladies first."
    ''I think I remember you, too," she said as they entered the room.
    "Basil-Bob Boullan," he told her. "Been the caretaker here for almost forty years." He flipped the light switch.
    Setting her luggage down, Sara stared around the room, relief flooding her. Though windowless, the room was reasonably sized, light and airy, and freshly painted, the oak floor gleaming around a large braided rug, old and worn, but clean. At one end was a twin bed, neatly made with a light blue quilted bedspread. A simple pine nightstand with a hurricane lamp sat beside it. There was also a very old vanity, dark wood, ornate, but scarred, that cradled a dented copper basin. Sara glanced around, half expecting to see a chamber pot , but the only other furnishings were a small pine table and two matching chairs, a chest of drawers, a faded easy chair with a side table and lamp, and a half-filled bookcase. A narrow door hid a dinky closet.
    ''There's a fridge in the corner, there." Basil-Bob pointed at a squat white refrigerator behind the table. "And you've got a hot plate and a few dishes there, in the bureau." He glanced behind him. ''And that's a real nice bed. Got a new mattress and everything. Old one got spoilt."
    She nodded uncomfortably as Boullan crossed to the bed and placed her luggage beside it. "There's no bathroom?" she asked, glancing around in hopes of seeing a door she'd missed.
    Boullan cackled. ''That'll be last door at the end of the hall."
    If I were smart, /' d leave right now. Even though she knew the students had communal baths, she'd assumed that the teachers' rooms had private facilities. Wondering if she could afford a room in town, she smiled at the caretaker. "Thank you, Mr. Boullan."
    "Basil-Bob'll do." His eyes crawled over her body. "You got yerself any more questions?"
    Only about a million of them, but I won't be asking you . "I'm supposed to meet with the Mother Superior in half an hour. I'm sure she'll tell me everything I need to know." She tried to smile, but her discomfort at having this man in her room was growing by the second.
    ''You want me to show you to her office?"
    "Urn, no thanks. Unless it's moved, I know the way."
    He showed no signs of leaving, so she went to the door and held it open for him. ''Thanks for your help. I need to freshen up now."
    He shambled over to her and stood in the doorway. He looked like he ought to be dirty and malodorous, but his dark green work clothes were as immaculate as his jo lt ingly white running shoes. "You need anything, you come and see me."
    ''Thanks."
    He started out the door, then paused, turning to face her again. "Don't let the funny noises at night bother you none."
    "Funny noises?"
    "At night. It's just the ghost."
    ''The ghost? I never heard any ghost stories concerning the dormitory." Despite her immediate skepticism, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled up.
    Boullan nodded. ''Got us another lady in white. She wanders all over the place and likes to walk along this here hallway sometimes. Why, the last teacher who had this room, Miss Tynan, she was so afraid to go out to the bathroom at night, she got herself a piss infection, laid her up for a couple weeks."
    ''Did she leave because of the ghost?" Sara asked, trying not to smile.
    Boullan 's expression turned somber. ''Maybe she did. Maybe she just did, now." His beady eyes bored into hers, raising real goosebumps this time. "Killed herself, she did. That means you get to go straight to Hell, do not pass