Faith in the 4th
Heather Graham
Cassie
The night was simply beautiful. A soft breeze was blowing, easing away the heat from the summer day.
And while this area of Northern Virginia wasn’t far from the frantic pace of Washington, DC, it was amazing just how different the world became.
Here there were towering trees, sweet-smelling wildflowers, shrubs, long green grass. . . and there were stars in the sky.
Surrounded by trees.
And wow! The day celebrated two hundred and fifty years for the country. Well, she didn’t remember the exacts, but it was the Treaty of Paris that meant others acknowledged them, but still. A very special 4th of July.
For a moment, she just paused to feel the night.
It was proving to be a hot summer, but this night was simply beautiful.
The breeze had a soft kiss of moisture within it, creating a fabulous feeling as it touched her face.
She’d run down the little path through the trees for walkers, joggers, and runners, and now stood at the edge of the children’s playground, looking to the west of it where the coming events would take place.
She smiled. In a few days it would be pure bedlam because people would come from miles around to celebrate the 4th creating a neighborhood feeling.
Right now, it was nothing but peace and her personal appreciation for the simple beauty of nature.
She frowned suddenly because with the moonlight, even from her distance she saw something near the podium in the grass that looked odd. Something . . . red?
Curious, Cassie hurried forward and bent down to see what it was. A long red stick with a rope or stringlike attachment. She wasn’t up on explosives, but she did watch TV and while the computer age had changed many things . . .
It looked like dynamite.
“Damn!” she heard, the word coming from far too close behind her.
She had thought she was alone in the park. She hadn’t even come across another jogger that night.
She turned.
“Damn! You shouldn’t have seen that!”
“What—” she began.
Too late. The harsh hit to her head sent soaring pain through her skull for just a second.
Then the world was truly night and darkness.
*
Jackson
It was William who came to see them. William Mayberry—or the ghost of the man who had survived the Civil War to make it into his sixties—only to remain behind to watch over his family.
William had learned the way to the Krewe of Hunters headquarters and come himself, even though he had discovered that the minute distribution of DNA that allowed for the “sight” had come to a few of his descendants, as well.
But he had mastered the art of “ghost-hiking” as he called it, and he came to their offices on his own.
That was fine. He knew the techs and the agents—carefully screened by both Adam Harrison, Krewe founder, and Jackson Crow, Special Agent in Charge of their division.
Once upon a time, they’d just been a unit.
But through the years, and careful observation, they’d grown to where they had several non-officially named units within the division, including the original Krewe, the Blackbird team—specializing in foreign affairs—and the Crows, those with a little added something among their talents.
“You must get on this—now!” William told them.
“Cassie—Cassandra Landry—sweetest young lady you ever want to meet, um, okay, I haven’t met her, but I’ve seen her the last few years—just disappeared.
I mean, she was there, she was in the park.
I was off in the playground with Daniel and Roderick, and damn, but those boys like the lounge chairs for the parents there—and we all saw Cassie head on to the path and do her jog thing around, come back, and then just stand in the moonlight, smiling.
She was enjoying the night before going home.
Roderick, Daniel, and I were talking. You know it’s almost the 4th of July, and you know how our good Revolutionary friend likes to talk about history and since he was there for the original 4th of July .
. . well, you can imagine.! There was a strange noise and when we turned around, she was gone, just gone. ”
Jackson had been alone in the conference room with their spirit friend when the door opened; Angela had arrived. She smiled and nodded toward William before speaking.
“We just got a report from Detective Terry Mayberry. Seems the police don’t take a missing person’s report on an adult until they’ve been missing a lot longer, but he knows Cassie Landry.
They’ve been friends since they were kids.
Her boss called him, but he was a little worried to begin with; she never leaves the house with Pogo—her wolfhound—in the yard.
He saw the dog, tried calling, beating on the door—and no Cassie.
He says his instincts are on fire. And her car is in the driveway. And—”
“I’m here with the same story!” the ghost of William Mayberry announced.
“I said that we’d meet him right at the area where she was last seen,” Angela told them both.
“Great plan,” William told them. “Except this time, both Roderick and Daniel were talking with me and we decided that they should keep an eye on the place while I came here. So, yes, let’s go!”
“Our folks all know where we’re going and they’re doing all the research they can, checking with friends, finding out what they can about men from her past who might have a personal grudge against her,” Angela told Jackson as they nodded to the teams on duty at their computers and headed out.
“Men?” he couldn’t help but query, lifting a brow to her.
She leaned back with a soft sigh of exasperation, and he had to grin himself. All these years they’d been together. She could still make him laugh; her blond beauty hadn’t faded in the least, nor had her abilities as an agent. A partner.
“Or women. I know, I know,” Angela said.
“Women can be just as bad as men when it comes to revenge and evil behavior for slights . . . whatever. They’re all on it.
So, from now on, we’ll just use the term ‘humans.’ How’s that?
Anyway, I’m going to call Terry while we’re driving, too.
Get the particulars on the set up at the park there for the 4th of July celebration.
It’s supposed to be a huge deal, especially for a neighborhood park, but, of course, it’s out from the city, so there’s a lot more property here than you might find other places. I mean, land wise, the park is huge.”
She put through the call, spoke very briefly, and looked at him. “Terry is on his way.”
“Very good!” Came a voice from the back. Jackson smiled to himself. He’d almost forgotten the ghost of William Mayberry was with them.
“More of us,” Jackson said. “Always good. And Terry—”
Terry Mayberry had recently discovered his own strange talent.
At first, he had only sensed his antecedent was near, and then he’d quickly come to see and hear the dead.
He’d felt at first that angels had been around them.
And perhaps, of course, that was true. Terry’s son had been found alive and well. And now . . .
Now, he was a regular at the park, happy with his new found friends, even if they were among the dead.
“We’ll take a quick look and see if we can uncover any clues and then I think I’ll call back and get one of our teams out here to help explore.
But no one will be as good as Terry; he knows this place like the back of his hand,” Jackson declared.
“I can’t help but think that if she jogged, if you saw her standing near the set-up for the 4th—”
“If she was there, I would have seen her!” William said.
“Maybe not,” Angela said softly. Her phone was ringing and she quickly answered it. As she did, Jackson drove into the parking lot for the park.
“That was Bruce McCammon. Apparently, Cassie had been seeing a man named Jared Anderson and they recently split up. He works at a packing company not far from here—I have the address, but—”
“Give it to me. We’ll head that way,” Jackson said. “Of course, if he’s kidnapped her—”
“And she’s still alive,” William said miserably from the back.
“He wouldn’t be holding her at a canning company,” Angela finished. “Drop me—”
“And me,” William’s spirit added.
“At the park. I’ll call Bruce and get others out, but we’ll see what we can see while you question Jared Angerson. And Jackson—”
“I’ll know if he’s lying,” Jackson promised.
And he would. Over the years, his sense of truth had grown immeasurably.
It wasn’t a given as was his ability to speak with spirits who remained on earth—and were willing to speak to him—but it was a talent within his set of instincts that had become exceptional.
If he did say so himself. But so far, his instinct was working.
He hesitated at the park. And, of course, as Angela got out of the car she ducked to look back at him before closing the door.
“I’ll be careful; you know it,” she told him softly, smiling.
He smiled in return.
“Right. You are an amazing agent. But let’s keep in touch.”
“Naturally. And remember, Detective Terry Mayberry is headed here, too. Maybe he needs to go by protocol when he’s being official, but the man has also earned plenty of personal time and he’s . . .”
“He’s a hell of a great helper!” Jackson agreed.
Angela smiled and nodded. “And we’re thinking we might be able to steal him away and get him to join the Krewe, right?”
“Yeah. I have mentioned him to Adam.”
“So have I.”
She closed the door and Jackson’s smile faded as he glanced at the address in his messages. True. The canning factory wasn’t far at all.
*
Angela
Angela was still smiling as she stood next to William in the park, first taking a long look at the set-up of the place. The exercise trails where local people came to walk or jog were to the right and beyond while the playground sat before her, to the right as well. The road was to the left.