Page 4

Ray

Walking down the worn sidewalks of Marshall after all these years wasn’t as emotionally grueling as Ray first thought it would be. The sun was high, and the sky was blue; shops were open and busy, and people were waving hello as he, Elias, Fletcher, Brick, and Roman walked by. More than one person did a double take at Ray, and several recognized him rather quickly, considering he was the spitting image of his father, the former sheriff.

“Ray Sommers, it’s good to see you back in town.”

Or “Is that you, Ray? Where the hell have you been?”

Or better yet, “Look what the damn cat dragged in.” And “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Any way you cut it, the word was spreading like damn wildfire that Ray Sommers was back in town, and by the time they reached the bar, he almost pulled the door off its hinges with how fast he opened it and bolted inside. He could use a beer or two.

His friends watched closely but had yet to come out and ask what was going on with him. That would take more than a couple more beers to fully explain his history with the town.

“Hey, guys, what can I get you?”

the bartender asked as they pulled up to the bar.

“Hey, Gator. This is my buddy Ray from Seattle,”

Elias explained. “We’ll take a round of beers and hot wings.”

“Yeah, the detective I’ve been hearing about,”

Gator said as he reached out his hand over the shiny bar top. “Good to finally meet you, man.”

“Gator, the infamous alligator wrestler,”

Ray said as he shook the man’s offered hand. “Pleasures all mine.”

They sidled to the bar, and Ray easily downed half his beer bottle in one swig when it was set down in front of him.

“Take it easy. I’m not carrying your seven-foot ass back to the truck if you get shit-faced.”

Elias chuckled before downing his own beer in the same measure.

“Shut up. It would take a hell of a lot more than half a beer to knock me on my ass.”

“You gonna explain the situation about this town, or will I have to wait you out?”

Elias asked.

“Not yet.”

“Understood. I’m a patient man. After lunch, we’ll swing by the station, pick up a few boxes we dug out of the old storage shed, and take them back to the lake house. Julia, Gunner, and Stryker are bringing out the boxes Sophia had stored in the house and the one that the prison sent over with Father Jones’s belongings after his death.”

“There are records dating back to the fifties,”

Brick explained.

“That’d be during my grandfather’s tenure as sheriff. My father took over in the late seventies and retired when Elias took over a couple years back.”

“Imagine it’ll be interesting going through your family’s notes,”

Roman said. “Where are your parents now?”

“They retired out in Florida,”

Ray said. “That was always their plan after my father finally hung up his badge. And yes, I’m eager to look through the files.”

He’d honestly loved listening to the stories his father and grandfather used to tell him when he was young about cases and interesting happenings around town. Ray remembered sitting in awe of them and all they’d done and seen. At least until the shine wore off when he became an adult and learned the way of the world.

“I figured. It’d be a walk down memory lane, but you have years of experience to draw on this time. Be like looking through new eyes,”

Elias said.

“So, what are you gonna do about your conference in Vegas?”

Roman asked.

“I’ll have to attend that, but I’ve got some vacation time that my captain has been hounding me to use up. I’ve sent him an email, and if it checks out, I’ll come back to Marshall after Vegas and pick up wherever we end off.”

“I appreciate you doing this for me and the help you provided when we were searching for Kyle,”

Brick said. “If there ever comes a time when you need help, you’ll have it.”

Ray didn’t imagine Brick was in the habit of handing out IOUs, and he took the offer with the same degree of seriousness as it had been given.

“Thank you.”

“Here you go, guys, five orders of wings and another round of beers,”

Gator said as he began handing out their lunches.

The conversation died down as they dug into their hot wings, but Ray’s mind circled back around to Ghost, as it increasingly did. He wondered if Ghost was still out walking in the forest or had come back into the house now Ray was gone. He was still worried about Ghost’s reaction to him.

Flashes of those unforgettable crystal-clear blue eyes made his senses spike, and the hair on his arms stood up. I am so screwed.

***

Ghost

The team gathered throughout the lake house’s kitchen and living room, searching through stacks of boxes full of paper. At least two dozen boxes were already stored in the renovated shed on the property, and another dozen boxes had arrived today when Brick and the others returned from town. The plan was to divide all information regarding Sophia and her family, Jericho Miles, his family, and Father Henry Jones.

Ghost couldn’t help but be hyperaware of Ray’s location at the kitchen table, as he took notes when team members brought any interesting paperwork for him to review. Ghost had to admit Brick was placing great faith and trust in the detective by giving him the lead on this case.

From what he’d been told, not only did Ray grow up in Marshall, but he’d been the sheriff’s grandson. When Ray’s dad took over as sheriff, Ray had molded himself into a good son—star quarterback on the high school football team, model student—and he’d been scouted by several high-level colleges offering full rides. But Ray had had different ideas as to his place in the world. He’d immediately signed up for the Marines the day after graduating high school and shipped out almost the same week. Ghost had the distinct impression that Ray had been running from something, but perhaps he’d been simply patriotic.

After over a decade spent serving in the Marines and receiving multiple medals and promotions, Ray decided to change things up and took a position in Seattle as a detective instead of his expected position as sheiff in his hometown. Ray recommended his Marine buddy Elias Cooper instead for the position, then walked away. His career as a detective had seen Ray receive awards for bravery and a promotion to the rank of lieutenant.

The man was a mystery to him. Above the surface, Ray appeared calm and in control, but to Ghost, more interesting things were happening underneath that strong, unshakeable image. Ray was a man with secrets he was unwilling to share. Ghost knew what it was like to appear one way on the outside while concealing a crucial part of himself from the rest of the world. It was the only way to survive. He knew what it was like to have a secret so deep it festered.

It always came down to one thing for him: fate. Fate had always been a vicious four-letter word in Ghost’s world; nothing was left to chance, the future foretold. It had been used as a weapon, as the reasoning for events unfolding around him or for horrible things done to him. As the scientists put it, it was his destiny for these events to occur. The things he saw haunted him at times, but intervening opened a whole new can of fucked-up worms.

The scientists had placed a wrist restraint on him to protect themselves from what he could do. Then, hope had come along in the men who came to save him and the others. Now, he found himself at a new beginning here on Fire Lake.

His chameleon abilities had become more prominent in the past six months; the other one had been floating around in his consciousness since childhood. He’d exhaustively researched Greek mythology to understand what he was and find some way to control it, but to no avail.

“Here,”

Julia said from his left. He hadn’t seen her approach; he was so wrapped up in his thoughts.

Ghost looked over from the stack of paperwork he was sorting through to find Julia holding out a mug for him. The aroma of chamomile tea filled his senses, making him smile.

“You sure you don’t have a bit of mutant ability?”

Ghost asked as he took the mug, careful not to touch her hand.

“No, why?”

“You always seem to know what everyone needs before they even realize it themselves.”

Julia laughed and sat down on the couch beside him. “I’m a mother. That’s my superpower. I can coddle and fuss over people in a single bound.”

Picturing Julia with a red Superman cape flying through the air with hot mugs of tea and cozy blankets to wrap people in made Ghost smile even wider.

“That might be the best power to have,”

he said, meaning every word. “The team is lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, and I’m lucky to have them. Brick saved my son and me at a time in my life when it only had two ways to go.”

“Two ways?”

“Yes. Either it got better, or I’d lose everything I held dear.”

“He has the habit of doing that. Saving people. Has anyone ever saved him?”

Ghost asked.

“Good question. I guess Roman would be one.”

Julia looked reflective. “I also know of one time Stryker knocked a poisonous snake off his chest with a rock during a mission. However, they chalk that up to teammates doing what needed to be done, the brotherhood effect they called it. Other than that, Brick tends to do the saving.”

Ghost couldn’t agree more. He’d been saved when Brick and the team broke them out of the cells he and other survivors were held in by the Noah Group back on the East Coast. They were given a place to live and hide under Brick’s protection while the team continued to fight the Noah Group and save more people. That’s why it was so important for Ghost to get control over his ability to help the team in their work.

“He’s a good person,”

Ghost said.

“They all are,”

Julia agreed. “Though I doubt they’d ever tell you that themselves.”

“No, I imagine not.”

People, men like Brick and his team, seldomly viewed themselves as heroes. Dangerous, unpredictable, fucked up, beyond redemption, destroyer, fighter, serviceman, soldier, slayer, brute, savage, and deadly. Those are the words they’d use. Not hero.

Yet the world they lived in was not easy. A warped sense of truth drove many into seclusion, left with their own thoughts and memories replaying in their minds. And then there was the percentage who took their own lives, believing they had no other choice to escape their demons.

Everyone serving in the armed forces deserved to know the difference they’d made in countless lives.