In the Dead of Night

by Aiden James

  It could’ve been an uncomfortable event for a variety of reasons, and most of those are obvious. You might’ve guessed that after last night’s attack in the parking lot at Stones River we now have much tighter security. The bullet that had pierced Detective Silver’s left shoulder made our patron cop all the more ornery. Thankfully, no hollow points were used in the ambush that left one of the Murfreesboro cops in serious condition at Northcrest Medical Center. If the bullets had been the deadlier version, the cop would be dead and Ed would be the one in serious condition, I’m sure.

  But, despite the slight M.O. change, Fiona agrees with Ed that this attack was definitely related to the others. I can tell from Fiona’s verbalized conviction that her opinion will remain unchanged, regardless of what the ballistic report and other evidence recovered at the scene reveal about the assailant. Dressed in a gray hoodie and dark baseball cap, this person wore a bandana to conceal their facial features. It could even be another female, like we encountered sixteen months ago with Angie. But I doubt it.

  Ed and Fiona doubt it, too, even though Ed only caught a glimpse of the hat and concealed face as the figure emerged from the woods closest to where Ed’s sedan and the squad car were parked next to each other. The assailant opened fire on Ed and Officers John Morrisey and Stu Wright before they could react, and then this individual fled the scene on foot. Fiona says the cunningness and rage involved indicate ‘male energy’, and her guides and other senses confirm this same conclusion one hundred percent. Too bad her gifts won’t simply reveal this dude’s identity and put an end to this shit before someone else gets seriously hurt. Even with the homicide cases she has assisted Detective Silver with in the past, Fiona rarely is given a perpetrator’s identity outright. The composite usually comes to her in bits and pieces that eventually merge to make a whole.

  In the meantime, Officer Morrisey is the one who is in intensive care. Jackie told Fiona this morning that he is improving, but the wounds he received in his stomach and liver remain quite serious. Meanwhile, Ed managed to finagle his way out of the hospital before midnight. Before he retired for the night, he had arranged protection for those of us residing in Davidson and Williamson counties. Dick Tracy can be quite persuasive, and he shares my wife’s hunch that more than one gunman is involved with these attacks.

  The biggest question at present is whether the gunmen are operating together when they attack, or taking turns by stalking their prey alone, since two different kinds of ammo are in use. Several streetlights in the parking lot came on at roughly the same time the shots were fired, so it is possible that another shooter got spooked and fled before engaging the three lawmen. Also, Tom and the Thomas brothers arrived in the parking lot just moments after the gunfire erupted, and that could’ve provided additional incentive to flee.

  Some might think we should’ve stayed home Sunday and chilled out for a few more days. Maybe that would’ve been the wisest option. But as I mentioned earlier, it would certainly mean the end for our television show. Based on that fact alone, the group voted unanimously to meet at Tom’s modest home located not far from the Grassmere Zoo. Surely having two uniformed Nashville cops in attendance for the duration of our meeting didn’t hurt things either, and the pair would keep an eye on Tom’s place until Monday afternoon.

  One caveat pleased Tony, Ricky, and Justin especially. Despite the fact that Sam, Brandon, and Sally would be present to film the entire session, our latest additions—the toothy Pulaski Paranormal Twosome—would not be joining us. It had nothing to do with Ed Silver’s edict. Jerry called to let us know he and Jason had a few things to take care of on their family’s farm, and they didn’t think they could make it on time. Since the brother’s wouldn’t be officially added to the show until Monday night anyway, their Sunday participation wasn’t mandatory.

  I could tell Justin was beside himself with joy over this development soon after we arrived that evening. His dazzling smile greeted us as we approached the studio’s front porch, after Fiona parked our car under Tom’s carport and we had checked in with the Metro cop guarding the backyard gate.

  “I haven’t seen you this happy since Halloween, when you were dressed up like Jafar at Tom’s party,” I said. “And, here I thought my boys’ smiles earlier this afternoon when we picked out a Christmas tree would be the most joyful we’d get to witness before St. Nick’s arrival in a few weeks.”

  “Man, Santa made it to my chimney early this year, don’t you know?” He held the studio door open for us since I carried a cooler filled with beer and cokes for everyone. Tom and Michelle had suggested having drinks, chips, and chili to munch on. “Any day without the poster kids of the KKK is like a day at the beach for me!”

  “I don’t know how either of you guys can be so nonchalant about what’s been going on,” said Tom, disgustedly. He peered at us over his wire rim glasses while manning his wickedly sweet video and audio’s control panel. “Six dead….two wounded…and more likely to come. That body count could soon include some of us, if we don’t play our cards right.”

  Yeah, he said that, and with Brandon’s camera catching it all, including the exaggerated pout upon Tom’s face. Good thing no one else in the room appeared quite as morose and pious as our host, or otherwise I might’ve suggested taking the snacks and alcohol over to Justin’s or Tony’s place and watch the Giants and Packers battle it out. Or, maybe we’d watch some on-demand HBO if the gals won out. Anything would be better than trying to deal with an already somber night of reviewing what went down last Sunday at the Carnton, without also dealing with a loaded guilt trip.

  And, before anyone accuses me of being insensitive to the terrible loss of human life and the suffering that would surely haunt the Peters and Anderson families for years to come, let me say this. I haven’t slept well this past week on account of these very events. Not only that, but the ever-encroaching presence of Angie Meyers is becoming a bigger nuisance. Hell, I believe she may have been what woke me up last night. I heard the distinct sound of creaking footsteps on the second floor landing around 2:00 a.m. Fiona and I were crashed out downstairs after falling asleep during a movie—a frightfully dull zombie flick that I forget the name of as I try to recall it. When I got up to investigate, there was no sign of any intruders, and the doors and windows throughout both floors were all locked.

  Everything was rapidly becoming too much to deal with…. But would Tom be happier if I showed up bearing my weariness as open as he carries his angst? I think the answer is obvious. Still, one never knows which video clips from our camera crew will catch the eyes of our producers. Maybe they’d love to see two grown men falling apart and later acting like the chicks on the Bad Girls Club.

  “Yes, the deaths are a terrible tragedy, Thomas,” said Jackie, drawing everyone’s immediate attention by her sharp tone. Perhaps she was miffed that the cellophane stretched across the bowl of her specialty jalapeno dip remained intact, while the chips, some veggies, and the small crock of chili had already been broken into. “But this is not the time to grieve. Fiona and I will be attending the final service for the Anderson family tomorrow afternoon. Let us offer our shared condolences then…. For now, damn it, we need to have a little fun tonight. We have some exciting things to share about the Carnton investigation, and it should go over very well tomorrow night. Nick and Lisa are expecting an even bigger crowd this time, which might mean standing room only. Presenting our collection of video, audio, and still shots of the mansion’s most famous spirits could get us fast tracked to a national level by January.”

  Ooh, slam dunk announcement and a slight sexy smile toward Sally’s camera. Very nice, Jackie! If the rest of the two-hour meeting plays out like this, the trolls reviewing tonight’s footage will be quite pleased when they begin cutting it up tomorrow morning.

  “Not to pile on, but Jackie’s right, Tom,” agreed Fiona, moving over to her seat and absently motioning for me to join her. “We need to all work together tonight to make sure our presentation
tomorrow is the very best one we’ve had thus far. Can we get everyone’s commitment to do that?”

  Her proposal sounded reasonable to me, and I saw positive nods throughout the room.

  “I’m just glad we don’t have to waste any time explaining ghost hunting 101 to our two pretty boys from Klan-ville!” said Justin, sliding next to me with two Heinekens in hand. He popped the top off one and handed me the other.

  “Thanks, bro,” I told him, smiling at his glib timing and humorous observation. I wondered how the producers would react to Justin’s statement, given their fondness for our newcomers. But it sure as hell would make for some good TV, since you’ve gotta have some interesting tension to keep viewers tuned in week to week. Justin’s comments would at least get a good review, since all three cameras caught the words and the impish posturing that only he can deliver with such pizzazz… is that the right word?

  After a quick bottle tap and salute, I glanced at Fiona again, who eyed my beverage longingly. Since I wanted her to just keep the party going now that we had a slight wedge in place to keep our host at bay, I got up and retrieved a beer for her, and another for Tom. Hell, I decided right then that everyone else could join us in sharing my preferred brew. Good thing I brought an extra six-pack, and it was so worth it to watch everyone—camera crew included—sipping and smiling. Life goes better with some good suds to wash it all down.

  We began the night with a quick review of the rest of the Carter House findings, and I think we all agreed it wouldn’t have mattered if we didn’t get squat from anywhere else. Seeing the infamous Todd Carter move down the hall and back again—and then cast an amused grin toward the camera that had captured his sometimes solid and other times misty image—was by far the coolest thing any of us had ever witnessed. Period.

  That put us in high spirits, and even Tom grinned. He might be a Negative Nellie from time to time, but he’s not a fool. The treasure trove of primo ghost footage was worth thousands of dollars to us all. Probably more than that if we could get the right exposure for it. I’d say a local program with a potential syndicated national audience would be the flipside of that meal ticket.

  “We will definitely revisit Todd’s ghost when we do our New Year’s Eve finale,” said Jackie, taking over after Fiona and Tom made this latest surprise announcement to the group.

  It took me back for a moment, since my wife had kept the news as a secret from me, as well. We hadn’t made any plans to do anything special yet for New Year’s, since we always run a little late in that department. But having something cool and different to look forward to that evening sounded fantastic.

  “…The next thing we want to talk about deals with some of the audio and video clips we captured yesterday at Stones River,” Jackie continued. “And after that, we’ll finish up the night with the fun stuff we captured at the Carnton. By the way, I just got a text from Ed while Tom and Fiona were making the New Year’s Eve studio show announcement. Officer Morrisey has been moved to a private room in the hospital and is doing much better. He’s no longer in danger.”

  That brought smiles and clapped hands from everyone. We needed the good news… much more than I initially realized.

  “Tom, are you ready to begin with what you and Tony uncovered this afternoon from yesterday’s video and audio recordings?”

  “Don’t forget the photographs I took, too!” said Ricky, excitedly. He pointed to his beloved Hasselblad camera sitting on the table before him. “Just wait until you see the infrared pictures I caught with Tony last night. Justin’s already seen them, and so has Tom.”

  All three guys he mentioned nodded with enthusiasm, and I could tell from their expressions the captured images must be very cool. Maybe not Todd Carter cool, but excellent nonetheless. I almost felt left out, but that is one of the small costs of family life, that sometimes I do miss out on being the first to see some of the paranormal shit our group members capture—unless it involves Fiona or me. But it is such a tiny price to pay when my wife and boys make up the most important things in my world. Yes, I hear ya…music is essential, too. But I’d give it all up, if it ever came to that, for them.

  “Yes, your pictures are extraordinary, Ricky,” Tom agreed, rising from his chair and pulling out his laser pen. He pointed it toward the immense LCD screen upon the wall before us. “I’ve already added the images you emailed me this afternoon to tonight’s presentation. We’ve got nearly two-dozen clips from both investigations, and we’ll narrow them down to about half that many. The evidence we collected from the Carnton will make up the bulk of what will be presented tomorrow night.”

  I felt an immediate chill seize my chest as he mentioned the Carnton. I’m not sure why, since we had already spoken of it that evening. Maybe it was because we would soon be discussing the infrared images of Angie—Dolores Cabrini in all her earthly gothic raiment—who might soon become a permanent fixture on the station’s program videos and website. The crazy murdering bitch turned malevolent ghost, with an itching to finish the job on me that she started in life, might soon be immortalized on the Web.

  “I’d like to start with an image captured by Justin,” said Tom. “This clip comes from his Sony video camera, which I’m not crazy about since we do get some graininess now and then…Don’t we, Justin?”

  “It’s no more grainy than the piece of shit that Jimmy still carries around,” said Justin, elbowing me in the side to where I damned near spilled my beer on Tom’s tiger oak table.

  “Oww!” Of course, I hammed it up, as if Bruce Lee had delivered the blow instead. “Nothing’s as bad as your vintage crapola camcorder. And as for my piece of shit camera? You’ll have to address that subject with my lovely wife!”

  “Christmas is right around the corner…but only if you’re a good boy.”

  I’ve got to admit the way she said it…well, let’s just say that we hadn’t had anyone deliver a line with that much husky sensuality since Angie pretended to be our friend. Even Justin and Tony gave my wife a look of wanton surprise before Tom reeled us back in.

  “Well, children, the good news is the camera caught something substantial,” Tom continued, his tone serious again. “Keep an eye on the tombstones in the foreground. You’ll recognize the Hazen Brigade Monument further in the background. Here we go….”

  For about thirty seconds, we suffered through the occasional graininess that Tom referred to, although the camera isn’t that bad. In fact, when it came time to see the image in question, the video display footage before us was completely clear. Clear enough to see the light orange horizon behind the cemetery as dusk fell upon the area. More importantly, the video capture remained pristine as the image of a pair of gray clad legs suddenly stepped in front of the camera. Definitely a Confederate soldier’s pants, the image faded from opaque just below the knees and above the thighs. The legs moved past the tombstones, and then disappeared entirely from our view.

  Lots of impressed murmurs followed, despite our being a bit spoiled by the Todd Carter video capture from earlier that evening.

  “My picture shows more soldiers,” said Ricky. “I took the photograph over by the pond at the McFadden Farm.”

  “Well…your pic is coming up in a moment,” said Tom. Ricky hasn’t had the chance to become acquainted with Tom like those of us who have known our surliest member for the past few years. One more impatient mention of his frigging Hasselblad’s merits and Tom was likely to go off on him. “But first, we have something that we haven’t seen in quite a while. This comes from Tony’s camera right after Fiona, Michelle, and Jimmy joined him in leaving The Slaughter Pen.”

  It was an interesting clip that began with Tony’s collision with the wagon wheel after he claimed to be pushed into it. At the moment, his Canon camcorder hung from the strap around his neck. Great shots of the long grass and the wheel’s wooden spokes. Yeah, that’s me being facetious…and to be honest, I thought this might be a spoof by Tom at Tony’s expense. In addition to the limited scope of images, a
ll we heard for the next couple of minutes was my former coworker’s incessant complaining about being mysteriously shoved into the wheel by some unseen assailant. Everyone in the room fought hard to keep from laughing at his expense. Yet, as Tony tried to re-explain to his present audience what he experienced, an enormous blanket of darkness filled the LCD screen. It brought all the sidebar conversations in the room and even Tony’s entreaty to a sudden halt.

  The footage must’ve been captured as we climbed out of the pen and headed for the main pathway. But the darkness was as impenetrable as anything I’d ever seen before. It spread quickly, and at one point the camera’s view was utterly obscured in thick blackness. Granted, dusk was upon us…but that in no way explained the soft orange, purple, and gray of twilight being totally obliterated by a wave of black. The pen below us disappeared, as did the path ahead. It was as if the video function had ceased to work, leaving us to listen to Tony’s and my small talk, and Fiona’s panicked reaction to the news from Jackie about Ed.

  Maybe it was an equipment malfunction…maybe not. I recalled the ominous feeling emanating toward us from The Slaughter Pen, and how I kept looking over my shoulder. But I never saw the darkness. I only felt it.

  Trying to decipher this mystery, I pretty much missed the last portion of our review that had been reserved for Stones River. Not that I didn’t see Ricky’s cool shot on the big screen, but something about the other, undefined image affected me more. Enough to where I absently responded ‘It could be’ when asked by my peers if the four smoke-like mists in a row contained faces in them, or was this another case of matrixing?

  “Well, I disagree—I think those are faces, and if you guys are too blind to see them, then that’s your problem,” said Ricky, angrily. “I’m still voting for this shot to be included in tomorrow’s lineup!”

  “Maybe your picture will be included, Ricky,” said Fiona, applying some of the soft skills she uses well as manager for the three bookstores she overseas. “But, let’s see how it stacks up against the Carnton evidence before making that decision. Remember, we want to have the very best blend of evidence tomorrow since we’ve only got a few more opportunities to make a great impression on New York.”