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Ray

Had anything ever felt so perfect in his life? Ray doubted it. All he could think about was kissing Ghost again. It didn’t go unnoticed that Ghost wasn’t averse to skin-to-skin contact with him now they’d kissed, but he was left with questions. Ghost’s demeanor had changed. Ray wouldn’t push about the nophysical-contact rule—Ghost would feel safe enough to tell him sooner or later.

The second address was a bust, and they were on their way to the third location when his cell phone chirped. He checked out the message quickly and grinned.

“Seems I’m good to go on the whole vay-cation thing. The boss has signed off on it. Looks like I’ll return to Fire Lake after my conference in Vegas.”

“Good to know. Brick will be happy.”

Ghost grinned.

“I hope he’s not the only one.”

Ray knew he was fishing, but he couldn’t help himself.

“There may be more than one person happy with the knowledge,”

Ghost said coyly.

Ray chuckled. “I wonder why the address for a barn that used to belong to Jericho Miles’s family was handwritten on the papers Sophia left in the lake house?”

“Yeah, it seems weird. The place is nothing special unless you consider teenage lovers important.”

Ray turned to look at Ghost. “Teenage lovers? Care to explain?”

“Yeah, before my swan dive from the hay loft, I found an old carving on one of the beams. It was a heart with initials in the center of it. You know, the ones teenagers carve into trees to declare love for each other. I took a picture because you said anything could be a clue.”

“Good job. Can you send it to my phone? I’ll have a look at it later.”

“Sure.”

The GPS chimed, letting Ray know they were nearing the location of the third address. He scanned the area and snorted when he realized what they’d come across.

“Well, this is unexpected.”

“Okay, I draw the line at wandering through an old overgrown cemetery,”

Ghost said with a slight growl.

“It’s okay. You can stay in the truck while I have a look around.”

“Thank you.”

Ray pulled the truck up and parked along the side of the dirt road. The area reminded him of those old family plots that dated back hundreds of years. An old, rusted fence surrounded the perimeter and a large cross was above the entrance gate. It appeared no one cared for this cemetery any longer, and Ray wondered if the families had died out or moved away, with no one left to care for it.

The gate was rusted shut, so Ray braced his hand on the bar and jumped over the fence, his boots landing on the hard-packed Texas dirt. There were shrub brushes and long grasses dotted around the old tombstones. Some were made of wood, others rock, and a few looked like marble. Those would be the newer ones, likely the last people to be laid to rest in this plot.

Ray thought it best to start with the older-looking headstones and approached the back of the small cemetery. The marble gave way to stone and then to wood as he stopped at the back fence. He knelt, moved aside the dried brush, and wiped the last bits of dirt from the wooden plaque. It was hard to make out the name, but the year of death was easier to identify. 1864.

He thought that whoever this was might have been one of the founding members of Marshall. The name was worn and six letters long. One name alone, whether it be the first or last name, was unknown. Ray took a quick picture of it and moved on; he could take his time later to hash it out. He’d be leaving tomorrow for the conference, and Ray knew he’d have downtime to fill.

The next three headstones were the same shape, so he moved on to the stone models after a few quick snaps. The names and dates were much clearer now, although still worn by the elements. The dates ranged from the early 1900s to the 1930s, and along with the names came the realization that Ray was standing in the Miles family plot. Clues kept bringing him back to Jericho Miles and his family, and he suspected Sophia was the one who wrote these addresses in the files.

Abe Jerome Miles, 1897 to 1928; Anne Elizabeth Miles, 1898 to 1929; and on it went. Ray took more pictures, careful not to miss a single headstone. Toward the front of the cemetery stood four marble headstones with newer and much clearer carvings. Johnathan Roger Miles, 1901 to 1955, and Vera Marie Miles, 1905 to 1955, were combined in one large headstone, and their inscription read “Together in life and in death”; Susan Ellen Miles, 1931 to 1932; a fourth headstone was completely overgrown in the brush, and a small hedge was planted to one side. Ray believed he’d found the final resting place of the infamous Jericho Miles, whom Father Henry Jones allegedly shot on November 6, 1954.

“Is this you, Jericho?”

Ray asked as he brushed away the vines and dirt. “What secrets are buried with you? What have we here?”

Instead of the headstone being brown like the other three in the man’s immediate family, Jericho’s was white granite. The dark Lithichrome shading used in the inscription was familiar to Ray, and it read: Allan Jericho Miles, SGT, US ARMY. KOREAN WAR Jan 1930 to Nov 1954. Loving Son.

“Well, shit. A serviceman.”

There wasn’t any mention in his file about his time in the military. Ray knew the war had lasted from 1950 to 1953 and, as with most wars, didn’t end well for most who served. The bloody conflict had scared many and solved nothing.

Johnathan and Vera were Jericho’s parents, and according to his prior research, Susan was his baby sister who’d died of tuberculosis when she was only one year old. This was another twist in the story.

Ray took pictures of all four headstones before standing and scanning the area to confirm he

hadn’t missed anything. Satisfied he’d seen all there was to see, Ray turned and began walking

back to the truck. It was almost lunch, so Ray thought stopping at the diner on the way back to

the lake house might be okay if Ghost was hungry.

He opened the driver’s door and was about to ask Ghost if he wanted to go to the diner

when he heard the first thud, a sound he’d never forget. Ray threw himself across the bench seat,

thankful Ghost had removed his seatbelt. He grabbed the passenger door handle, shoving them both out of the truck and onto the ground on the vehicle’s passenger side. He covered Ghost with his body as the front windshield exploded and glass rained down on them.

“What’s the hell’s going on?”

Ghost shouted. “Is that someone shooting at us?”

“Somebody’s using us for target practice. Can you reach your cell phone and call Brick to let him know the situation?”

Ray said grimly. “We need backup.”

Pop, pop.

Two more rounds were fired, one taking out the driver’s headlight and the other hitting the ground roughly five feet from them. Ray pulled Ghost closer to the vehicle until they were almost underneath it, his body still protectively covering the smaller man. Ghost snapped his phone shut.

“Brick and the team are on their way,”

Ghost said. His face was pale and tense.

Another bullet hit the driver’s fender.

“Elias is going to be pissed about his truck being turned into Swiss cheese,”

Ghost huffed, causing Ray to chuckle.

“We’re being shot at, and you’re worried about how Elias will respond? Are you always this cool under pressure?”

“No, but I know neither of us is destined to die here,”

Ghost said, but before Ray could ask any further questions, he heard sirens in the distance.

Elias must have called in his deputies, because it seemed one was close enough to make it to their location quickly. The shooting had stopped, and Ray was fairly confident that whoever it was heard the sirens and took off, but he still wasn’t willing to move off Ghost.

The sirens were louder now, and when he looked up, two cruisers were racing down the road in their direction. The cavalry had arrived, and now all that was left was figuring out who the hell wanted them dead.

***

Ghost

The morning had ended on a much graver note than what had transpired in the barn only hours earlier, and Ghost wanted to return to that moment instead of sitting here rolling through his mental Rolodex of people who wanted him dead. Unbelievably, someone had decided to take potshots at him and Ray, but which one of them was the actual target?

Okay, it’s most likely me.

Ghost wasn’t naive; he was a moving target, kill or capture according to the Noah Group’s agenda; his life was fodder for movie plots. However, it was his reality, his everyday existence, even though he might have fooled himself into thinking he was safe for a time.

Ray, on the other hand, had been exceptionally quiet during their drive back to the lake house, and Ghost doubted it was only due to the gunfire that had taken place. The guy was a retired Marine and currently a detective in Seattle, so being shot at wasn’t exactly a new experience. Still, something was wrong.

“You going to spit it out, or will you make me dig?”

Ghost asked.

Ray looked over from the driver’s seat, not bothering to hide his scowl, and Ghost wanted more than ever to see that mischievous grin he’d seen back in the barn.

“Surprise, I’m pissed,”

he growled. “Someone used us for target practice.”

“I appreciate you not acting like you didn’t know what I meant,”

Ghost said. “Okay, you’re pissed off, got it. Is it with me?”

“You? You have got to be shitting me. The getting shot at part and the fact that I don’t think it was me they were after. Which means you’re in danger. More danger than I’d thought.”

“So it is at me. I figured you were used to getting shot at because of your career choices. Besides, it might have been you they were after.”

“First, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being shot at, and second, nobody gives a rat’s ass about me.”

“I do,”

Ghost said under his breath before thinking about stopping himself. “It’s not the first time the Noah Group has come after me, and I doubt it’ll be the last. That’s my lot in life. A genetically engineered weapon that has to be brought under control or destroyed.”

“How the hell are you still calm? And do me the same favor of respecting my intelligence and acting like you haven’t got a clue. You said you knew this wasn’t our day to die; why? Can you tell the future?”

The look of concern and confusion on Ray’s face did nothing to quell Ghost’s fear of sharing the truth with anyone. The reaction, the fear, and concern it would cause no matter what Ghost said to quell those fears was inevitable in his view. After that would come questions, demands, and anger, and Ghost would find himself alone yet again.

He was sunk. He couldn’t get out of this, but he still wasn’t willing to have this discussion. At least not yet. Maybe never.

“I wish it were that simple,”

Ghost admitted honestly before feigning interest in the scenery flying by his passenger side window. “I need something from you, Ray.”

“What?”

Ghost didn’t need to turn around; he heard the skepticism in Ray’s voice. How many times in the past had the detective been told ‘trust me’ for it to blow up in his face?

“I know we just met, which admittedly went over like a lead balloon, and now you know about people like me, you can understand my need for secrecy. My life has been one giant secret after another, and that’s kept me alive. Alone but alive. Trust comes hard, and there are some things I’m not ready to share. I need you to understand that.”

“I take it this is something you haven’t told anyone else.”

“No one.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Not to the people I care about.”

Ray took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay.”

“Thank you. I understand it’s a lot to ask.”

After a few moments of silence, Ray said, “So odds are they were after you, but why kill you? Wouldn’t you be a prize to try to capture?”

“You think I’m a prize. You’re special too,”

Ghost teased, hoping to lighten the moment.

Ray’s chuckle made the lame joke worth it.

“Smart-ass.”

“Thank you. Now, about your question. The traditional way of thinking would make what you said logical. Take me instead of killing me, but the Noah Group doesn’t rely on logic as much as one would hope. They’d kill me to stop me from helping those who are fighting against them and, by the same token, to stop me from being taken by another faction of the Noah Group.”

“That’s fucked up,”

Ray growled.

“Agreed, but a fact proven time and time again. They will do whatever it takes to further their own agenda. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

Ray looked concerned, and Ghost worried he’d done the one thing he’d initially wanted more than anything but no longer held the same appeal—he’d scared the detective into leaving.