by Jon Coon
Peterson’s eyes opened wide, and his jaw sagged. Gabe guessed the old man could see what was coming. Reality can be such an ugly mother.
“Under the house. Locked room by the tunnels. Harriet will show you,” the old man gasped and coughed. His eyes focused on the infinite, and it wasn’t pretty. His lips trembled, his breathing rattled, and he recoiled back violently. He raised an arm to protect himself from the hounds Gabe knew were coming. “No!” Peterson cried out in terror. Then he died.
Gabe watched and nodded slowly. Then he said quietly, “Amen and amen.”
With Peterson’s confession safely in Gabe’s hand and Wes Rogers facing life in a Mexican jail, they flew home ready for a well-earned rest. On the way, Gabe and Carol talked quietly while Zack, three rows back, slept.
“Do you think he blames us for what happened to his mom?” Carol asked.
“Maybe. But it wasn’t our fault. Rogers pulled the trigger. It wasn’t you. You did everything possible to save her.”
“But I—”
Gabe took her hand and kissed it. “It was an accident. He was a lousy shot. He missed me by three feet. You can let it go, I promise.”
“I guess it depends,” she said wiping a tear from her eye.
“On what?” he asked.
“On what happens next.”
“Ma bel fanm,” Cas said as she looked into the cage where Souriciere had gorged herself on a tender young rabbit. The huge snake raised her head and studied Cas with ebony black eyes.
“Come, beautiful girl, you’re mine now.” Cas reached into the cage and lifted the snake’s head to her shoulder. Soon Souriciere was wrapped around Cas’s waist, and they moved together to a small SUV. “Sorry about your cabin. But you should never have been here. And you should never come back.”
She surveyed the devastation from the storm. Chickens wandered in and out of the cabin’s remains, and an orange and white striped feral cat peered out from the flattened outhouse, then went back to her pursuit of the rat she’d cornered in the rubble. Cas eased the big snake into a padded crate on the back seat, closed the door, and drove back up the dirt road to the highway.
CHAPTER 24
1045
30,000 feet
They slept until they changed planes in Houston.
“I’ve been thinking,” Carol began as she sipped coffee. “Do you think we could buy the river property?”
“Whoa, where did that come from?”
“If it’s not too expensive, and if I sold our house and used some of the insurance money, we could build something nice there. There’s enough room for pasture. We could have horses.”
“It probably could be bought, but I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Could you do half?” she asked. “If you still want to wait, you could move the RV, and we could split the property.”
“I haven’t thought about it, but moving the RV and splitting the property. That could work. I could put it down by the river, I’ve always liked that spot. But it’s only been a month, Carol. I think we need more time.”
“Gabe Jones, are you still worried about your ‘issues’? Don’t you think I know about your ghost-whispering past?”
“What?”
“That’s what Charlie called it. He said the only way you could have possibly solved some of the cases you worked together was that you talked with the victims. The dead victims. So you must be a ghost whisperer or a vampire or whatever.”
His breath caught in his throat. “What?” He looked across the aisle, wondering if anyone else had heard her accusation.
She tucked tighter against his arm. The plane took a bounce, and she looked down to keep him from seeing her mischievous smile. “Even Jim believes it. He knows you go offline on dives, and he doesn’t think it’s to talk to yourself. You have a real reputation.”
“I do?” He had to force the words out. He’d thought he’d been so smart, hiding his secret, and now she was telling him his teammates had been talking about it all along?
She shot him a teasing look. “Okay, cowboy, how did you know about Wilson Corbitt or that Peterson rigged those bids?”
“We had an informant.”
“Did he have a pulse?”
He tilted his head and looked into her eyes. What if he told her she was right? If she was going to walk away because he talked to the dead, wouldn’t it be better to know it now? He drew in a long breath and said, “Are you honestly telling me if you believed I could somehow talk with the dead, it wouldn’t bother you?”
Something in his tone must have told her this wasn’t banter. Her smile faltered, and she gave him a searching look. Reality struck. A chill went through her. “Oh, no, it’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is. That’s how I knew about Corbitt and a lot of other things.” He looked into her eyes and didn’t blink.
She shifted away from him, her eyes uncertain.
“And you actually believe they talk to you?”
“I do. And what they tell me has always been exactly on target. Every word has been truth. Remember when I said I was certain Charlie was greeted by a pair of angels?”
“Yes . . . ?”
“I was there, Carol. I talked with him, and I saw them with him. And that wasn’t the first time I’ve seen them.”
“Gabe, that’s cruel. It’s not funny.” The plane bounced again. This time she retreated entirely to the opposite side of her seat and twisted to get a better look at him.
“It’s not funny, but it is the truth. It started after Katrina, in New Orleans. Like a lot of recovery divers, I used to talk to victims when I was searching. I would tell them the doors to heaven were open, that loved ones were waiting for them. Then, one day, a little girl in a submerged school bus answered me. That was the beginning.”
She searched his face for anything that would give away his joke. Nothing. “You’re serious? You’re telling me the truth?”
“Do you care enough about me to trust me?” he asked.
She gave a slow nod. “Yes.”
“Go diving with me.”
“What?”
“You dove with Charlie, right? I remember he took you on vacations to Cayman and the Bahamas. He said you were a great diver. Carol, we need to trust each other. No secrets. Dive with me. Then make up your mind.” He smiled and took her hand. “I’ll get Jim to help us. We’ll go tomorrow night. You good in the dark?”
She gave him a tentative smile. “You’ll have to find that out for yourself.”
The plane landed, and two hours later they were back at the river camp. After filling the kids with both the story and frozen pizza, they called an early night. Mickey was relieved to see Zack, and Emily was happy to have her mom and Gabe back. They talked until late, but by the time the fireplace was down to glowing embers, all were bedded and at least trying to sleep.
Carol soaked in the shower until the hot water was gone. She dried, put on an oversized flannel shirt, and crawled under the quilts on the big bed. The sleep she desperately wanted obstinately refused to come. Her heart ached for Charlie, and her head swirled with Gabe’s revelation. It couldn’t possibly be true, but what reason would he have to lie to her?
When blessed sleep finally came, she dreamt about Emily. As she watched, Emily was trapped in a tight chamber. Freezing water flooded in until Emily was pressed against the ceiling gasping for air. Carol pushed her way through a maze of debris. In the struggle, she kicked an iron brace and pain shot up her leg. She was almost close enough to reach Emily but couldn’t stretch the last few inches. As she fought against whatever was holding her back she saw Emily sink into the water, and with her child’s labored gasp, Carol knew it was the end.
Carol awoke in a cold sweat. The dream lingered, vivid and terrifying. She felt sick, turned on the bed light. When she stepped down from the bed to go to the bathroom, pain shot up her right leg. In the soft light she saw a large bruise and a chill gripped her heart.
What was that? Is Emily
all right? She grabbed her robe and hurried to the girl’s room. She eased open the door, watching in the moonlight until she was sure Emily was breathing.
As she watched her daughter sleep, Carol only had one prayer. Lord, help us get through this. Help us get through this alive.
CHAPTER 25
0800
Rainbows after the storm
Gabe spent the day writing reports and briefing Bob and DA Jessica Carruthers. She would ask the court for warrants. Then Bob and Gabe would investigate Peterson’s house, the state records, and the finances of the engineers Peterson had named. They would make every attempt to extradite Rogers from Mexico and find the wounded accomplice D. B. Johnson. McFarland Construction would also be looked into, tactfully, due to the influence of the owner’s brother, Congressman Conners. Gabe would find and interview Wilson Corbitt and hopefully save his relationship with Carol.
On the drive home Gabe began to analyze the two biggest questions of the day: what would it mean to lose Carol and what would it mean not to lose her.
He remembered a teacher explaining the Ben Franklin method for problem solving. Sister Fletcher, perhaps old enough to have known old Ben personally, told the class, “When Mr. Franklin, certainly one of the smartest men of his day, had a problem, he would divide a piece of paper into two halves. He’d list the positives on one side and the negatives on the other. When the lists were made, he’d count the items in both columns and have his answer.”
The example she used was whether or not to do homework: “To do, or not to do, that was the question.” She had the class make the arguments on both sides, which were listed and then counted. The conclusion was, of course, that next to crawfish and beer batter hush puppies, homework was the best thing students might ever encounter.
Gabe remained skeptical about homework, in spite of the indisputable evidence. However, believing the method sound, he started his lists. There were the tangible and intangible benefits. Positives: She’s attractive. She’s smart. We have a lot in common. I like one of her kids and will pray for the other. She likes the dogs. The dogs love her. She’s not too bossy, and when she is, she’s usually right. I like her dad. She cooks—better than I do. She not only knows how to drive straight nails, but she’s also willing to do so. She knows what it is to be a cop’s wife. She’s good with guns. She could give me CPR, stitches, or meds if required.
Negatives: She was Charlie’s wife and knows what a cop’s life is. She probably thinks I’m nuts. If this dive goes badly, she’ll know I’m nuts. She’s good with guns.
He tried, but the second list remained alarmingly lacking. I think old Ben has made up my mind.
When Gabe returned from work shortly before dusk Carol was waiting. They loaded her scuba gear into the trunk and headed down the long tree-lined drive.
“You okay? He asked. She looked spooked.
“Not really. You’re asking a lot.”
“Just trust me. It’s going to be fine.”
“Gabe, I had the most terrifying dream last night. Emily was trapped in some kind of tank underwater. She was dying, and I couldn’t save her.”
“Sounds like a nightmare more than a dream.”
“I think it was more than that. While I was trying to get to Emily, I banged my shin into something. It hurt like crazy. When I woke up it still hurt.”
“Spooky.”
“Look,” she said and pulled up the leg of her jeans. There was a large bruise turning painfully purple.
“Ouch.”
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but that dream and this bruise made me think I need to trust you. Dreams don’t leave bruises. It had to be something more. But I swear if this is some kind of joke, ‘Old Testament’ won’t half cover the paybacks.”
He turned and took her hand. “Carol, I promise, no joke. What I hope you’re going to see is, well, it’s impossible to explain. You have to see it. And as far as I know, you will be the only other living person ever to see what you’re going to see. I hope that makes you feel special.”
“Oh, I feel special all right.”
As Gabe had requested, Jim had dry suits, tanks, and weight belts laid out. The man’s small dry suit was a bit snug for Carol, but she made it work, and soon they were ready. Jim had done his “Are you sure about this?” routine with Gabe and had gotten only a “She’ll be fine” response.
“Okay, let’s dive,” was Jim’s answer. “I only work here.” He stood by, ready to tend Gabe’s umbilical.
Gabe briefed her on hand signals and made sure she had them correctly. One squeeze: you okay? Returned: yes. He assured her that if for any reason she wanted to call the dive she should grip his hand repeatedly, and they would immediately surface. She agreed. He backed slowly down the mud bank with Carol hanging on to his arm with a life-lock grip. They stopped in chest-deep water. He waited until he saw her breathing had slowed, then he checked her gear a final time and gave her a diver’s okay. She returned it and they both submerged. She took his hand. It was too dark to see, but he could feel her hand trembling and hear her regulator working like a steam locomotive. He squeezed. She squeezed. He backed farther down the line. He squeezed. She responded.
No visibility even in four feet of water.
Go slow. Very Slow. Ten feet down he waited for her to relax, but so far, considering zero visibility, current, cold, and ghastly mission, relaxing wasn’t yet reality. Several times he repeated the hand signal question. Are you okay? Each time she answered by returning the hand signal with a single squeeze and then pushing on down the line. Confident she was managing, he led, backing against the search line until at sixty feet they came to the bridge steel.
Gabe followed steel beams out and down until they passed the first footings into the steel from the main span. He stopped occasionally to put Carol’s hand on the steel hoping to give her a sense of orientation. Ten minutes down he could tell she was getting it. Her breathing was slowing, and her grip was relaxing. Good.
Gabe now knew Corbitt’s boat was buried under the steel bridge, which was why they had not seen it thus far. But getting down to the boat would only be necessary to recover the body. To speak to Corbitt’s soul he just had to be close. He squeezed Carol’s hand twice: stop. He quietly prayed the astronaut’s prayer: “Lord, please, please don’t let me screw this up,” and he was ready. He raised his arm and spoke. “Wilson Corbitt, awake!”
At first nothing happened, and his heart sank; maybe it only worked when he was alone? Maybe he was nuts, and all these years it had just been his overactive imagination? Perhaps life was only a cruel joke?
Then supernatural light flashed. They could see the bottom as though the water had been drained. Beneath the twisted steel bridge was a mangled workboat. From it came gossamer light, emanating from Wilson Corbitt’s emerging ghost. As they watched the light took form, revealing the young engineer as he had been fifteen years ago. Corbitt looked at them both as though they were expected.
“Wilson, can you help us? Can you tell us what happened and what we need to put an end to this nightmare?”
“It was Peterson and Rogers. I think Conners was in on it too, but I didn’t see him. They called me out here for a conference. We tied up the boat, and then they dropped the lift span on us. It was so fast, we didn’t have a chance.”
“You said ‘we.’ Who was with you?”
“Nancy Bodine, my fiancée. She’s in the boat too. Please, send her to me if you can. Please.”
“Of course.” Gabe saw light coming downriver. Time was limited. “We know Peterson was rigging bids with McFarland. We were told you had proof. Do you still have it?”
“Yes. Everything is in my Pelican case. Two sets of plans. Different price tags. Be careful. We found out what they were doing, and look where it got us.”
The iridescent light was becoming brighter.
“They’re coming for me, aren’t they?”
“Yes, but don’t be afraid.”
“Oh, I’m n
ot. I’ve been ready for a long time now. I’m just worried about Nancy.”
“Where is that case, Wilson?”
“Nancy hid it in the boat. Find her. She’ll tell you. Tell her I love her.”
There was no more time. The six-winged angels wrapped him in their radiance. As they left the river bottom their light intensified until it was too painful to see. Carol put up her hand to shield her eyes. Gabe did the same and said, “Go in peace, Wilson. And thank you.”
Like a shooting star, the light shown brightly, then burned out. Wilson and his angels were gone. The bone-chilling cold and the deep black of ghost river remained. But for the first time, Gabe was not alone. A new life, full of new promise and challenges, was waiting. Gabe held Carol close.
Now it was time to go home. Together.
Alone, the gear stashed, and Jim happily on his way back to the dive locker, they sat on a tarp by the water’s edge and drank hot chocolate from a thermos.
“I would never have believed it!” Carol said, “If we can talk with the dead, what else is out there?”
“Remember in the Lord’s prayer, the line that goes, ‘Protect us from evil’? The earliest translation was, ‘Protect us from the evil one.’ That should give us a clue. We may have a limited view of what’s normal.”
“I didn’t know.”
“It’s easier to deny evil than to face it. Something to think about.”
When they were in the cruiser on the way back to the river camp, she asked, “What did Wilson mean, ‘Pelican case’?”
“Waterproof cases. Divers and boaters use them. They seal very well and are tough. My guess is whatever’s in that case is still in good shape.”
“One more question, the business with the light, which let us see everything, how does that work?”
“Alethea calls it ‘post tennebras lux.’ It’s Latin for ‘after darkness, light.’ She thinks it’s a big deal. I have no idea how it works. It just happens.”
