Born on the 4th of July

by Heather Graham Pozzessere

  “Oh!” Jennie said. She looked at Corby, and her smile deepened. “Young sir, you have a kick-ass mom. We didn’t say that back in my day, of course. But I love the expression. Kick-ass!”

  They all dared to laugh softly.

  Then, with the man on the floor cuffed and groaning, Jackson stepped over to Corby and Angela and took them both into his arms.

  Angela accepted the embrace, and then stepped away. “This is Jennie Wilder, by the way. She helped me and I’m so grateful to her. Jennie, thank you. And I don’t mean to be rude, but I do think I should get out of this tunnel as well.”

  “Yes!” Jennie said. She looked at Josh and smiled. “I think I may have the courage to venture out myself!”

  Epilogue

  By the time they emerged via the Rosser tomb, the grounds of the cemetery were crawling with FBI agents and police and rescue vehicles. Jackson was grateful to see them.

  Of course, it seemed ironic to see the ambulances in the cemetery—where most were far beyond the scope of earthy assistance.

  But Jon left Merissa Hatfield to be taken by another agent, making Annie Green his priority; and she was quickly rushed to one of the waiting ambulances.

  Her husband would meet them at the hospital.

  Her father’s ghost, waving and mouthing his thanks to all, crawled into the vehicle, giving one of the paramedics a bit of tremor.

  Jackson insisted Angela go to the hospital, also. Her doctor was glad to come in and see to her; amazingly, she really was fine and not going into labor. The fetal heartbeat was strong and everything was good.

  As they were both having a child and they both already had a son; he stepped back and let Adam and Jon and other Krewe agents work the case along with the police.

  They’d planned for the 4th to be a tight occasion like the rest of the country, since Covid19 was a vicious enemy with little mercy. But Adam, Josh, Jon and Jon’s fiancée, Kylie Connelly, gathered at a picnic table on the roof of Krewe headquarters with Jackson, Angela, and Corby. Jon and Adam gave them the rundown of events as they awaited fireworks.

  Annie Green had given birth on July 2nd, to a beautiful, healthy baby boy. Her husband—and her father—had been with her.

  Police and agents had made their way through to the farmhouse and arrested a Doctor Samuel Walker and a nurse, Lettie Nelson, who had been awaiting the newest kidnap victims—and the births of their children.

  Amazingly, it all had a happier ending than anyone might imagine.

  The women who had previously been kidnapped so their infants might be sold were alive. They’d been held at an old warehouse south of D.C.—they’d been deemed ‘excellent breeders’ by the group that had been involved.

  “But you found a man in the catacombs who had been dead maybe a few months,” Kylie said, looking at Jon. “Who was he? They kept the mothers alive—so did they kill the man you found—and who was he?”

  “Ah, yes, we have the answer to that, too,” Jon told her, glancing at Adam.

  Adam sighed, shaking his head. “His name was Jasper Griffin. He didn’t kidnap anyone and he didn’t sell the children. But he was part of transporting their victims to the farmhouse—the women weren’t all taken from the cemetery, but it was his job to get them into a mortuary vehicle and get them into the office. He was seen one day, struggling with a coffin himself, and when the man who saw him complained at the office, Charles Dearborn claimed he didn’t know the man but he’d look into the incident immediately.”

  “But Dearborn would have looked into it himself, right?” Kylie asked, confused.

  “The best we can figure,” Jon told them, was that Jasper got scared and wanted out—and they were afraid he would talk and the whole multi-million dollar business would have gone to hell and Dearborn and his associates would have gone to jail.” He smiled. “But, thankfully, they’ll all be facing more charges than I could begin to enumerate with a lawyer present. They’ll go away for a long, long time, possibly, life.”

  Kylie shivered. “Hopefully life, with what they were doing! So, it was a bigger operation. The dead man was in on it—and others?”

  Jackson took a deep breath and chimed in himself, explaining all to the best of his ability.

  There had been four more arrests—members of the gang, those who had handled the business part of selling infants. The tangle created was being untied bit by bit; it was sad that those who had believed they were involved with legitimate adoptions were losing their precious bundles, but they understood the horror of what had been done to the mothers and fathers.

  “And, hey! Corby helped us a few times—not just in the middle of our frantic search, but as we worked on the ‘tangle’ part of it!” Jon said, smiling at Corby.

  Angela drew Corby into her arms. Jackson frowned; he’d known, of course, that Corby had gone with Adam and Josh on a few “untangle” visits, but he didn’t know his son had played a role.

  Corby shrugged. “I told them older kids needed help desperately. That everyone wanted little babies, but that everyone needed to be loved.”

  “And two of the couples are now looking into adopting older kids, kids with disabilities, and kids of any color!” Jon said.

  “My son is both brilliant—and kind!” Angela said proudly. Then she gasped and gripped Corby’s arm hard and said, “Uh . . . wow! That hurt!”

  Jackson, of course, jumped up. “Oh, my God! You’re in labor. The suitcase . . . um, yes, it’s in the car. Traffic . . . people might be in cars—”

  “Jackson!” Jon chastised. “Angela is the best expecting mother ever—you are a basket case of an expecting father! She just had her first contraction.”

  “Five minutes apart and we get to the hospital,” Angela said, smiling. “Let’s watch some fireworks!”

  They saw a few; he sat there chaffing, trying to smile, trying to behave normally . . .

  The others talked about the cemetery. It had been owned by a private company and the attorney and law enforcement believed that the actual owners had not known what was going on; they’d been delighted everything had run like clockwork under their managers, Merissa Hatfield and Charles Dearborn. Kylie Connelly was working as a docent and researcher at a museum Adam had purchased in D.C.; she’d been asked to compile all the research on the cemetery and clarify the truth. Adam was eager that she do so. The story, she thought, was really beautiful. The tunnels weren’t safe and they were the resting ground of many people; they would not be opened, but neither would they be filled in.

  The tunnels would be sealed after a ceremony honoring the dead—and the Rosser family and the good priest who had tried and succeeded in helping so many and giving them that final resting place when the time had come.

  Angela was grateful; she knew she’d see Jennie again at the ceremony, and Cameron Adair, too.

  All this, of course, new management had been brought in—Kylie would work closely with them.

  Jackson had just started to relax.

  Then Angela admitted that it was time to go to the hospital.

  Victoria Sophia Crow was born at 11:50 P.M., born on the 4th of July.

  She was beautiful, with a nice fuzz of her dad’s dark hair, great big light eyes, eight pounds two ounces and twenty-one inches long.

  Angela had been right; she had been in good health and had been active up to the end—not particularly in a way Jackson would have liked, crawling through a tunnel—and her labor had been relatively easy.

  Corby was brought in as soon as possible after the birth; he held his little sister. Angela hugged him and the baby and had him lie with her.

  Jackson thought how much he truly loved his wife.

  And his son and daughter.

  He frowned when Corby got up and stretched and said that he wanted to find a machine and get a soda, if they didn’t mind.

  They let him go, but Angela looked at Jackson.

  “Follow him, Jackson. Please.”

  He nodded, knowing what she feared, and he hea
ded out after Corby.

  Corby was standing against the wall by the soda machine.

  “Hey, kiddo, what’s up? I thought you had a few dollars on you, but I can put a credit card in that machine.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Are you okay?” Jackson asked.

  “Sure. I—she’s beautiful. She’s a beautiful baby. Perfect.”

  “We’re thankful,” Jackson said. He put his arms around his son. “And you know what? I can’t tell you how thankful we are for you!”

  Corby looked at him.

  “You saved your mother and your baby sister,” Jackson said.

  “I just . . . you saved them,” Corby said. “Well, Mom is amazing—she took care of Merissa Hatfield. But then you were there, you found them.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I wouldn’t have been able to save them if it hadn’t been for you. Son, you’re a hero. You saved your mom.”

  Corby winced. “I would do anything for her. I . . . she has so much faith in me all the time, and she’s so good to me. And you, too! You’re the best. I’m so grateful. You’ll never know, because, of course, I’m not little, I’m ten, and I know how the world can be. But . . .” He looked up at Jackson, anguish in his eyes. “But now you have your own real baby, and . . .”

  Jackson pulled the boy into his arms. “Corbin Crow! We’re going to love our little girl, your little sister, with everything in us. But we love you with everything in us, too. We never thought we’d have children, years went by. But then we were double blessed. We adopted you, and we found out we were going to have your little sister. Love doesn’t need to be biological Corby. You are my son. I was able to choose to be your father, and I have never been so grateful for a choice in my life. I will be your father even when you’re a grown man. I’ll punish you if you misbehave; I’ll try to teach you right from wrong. You’ll be furious with me at times. I’ll be angry with you. But that will never mean I don’t love you—nor will it ever mean I’m not your father in every sense of the word.”

  Corby leaned against him, into his chest, and Jackson smoothed back the boy’s hair. Corby was crying; he realized he was crying, too.

  They stayed that way as long moments passed.

  It was a night to bond with his new baby, Jackson thought. But it was a night to bond with his adopted son as well.

  “Hey! Let’s get your soda and get back to your little sister and your mom again—she’s going to be worried about you,” Jackson said at last.

  “I know,” Corby said. “She will. Because she’s the best mom. And now I have a sister!”

  Corby looked up at him. “You will always be her big brother in every way, too, Corby. You’ll look out for her, and she’ll look up to you.”

  “I’ll make sure she has something to look up to!” Corby promised.

  “I know you will,” Jackson said.

  He smiled. He wondered if there were still fireworks going off.

  They were going through tough times. Covid19, economic hardship, looting, bad things—but good things, too, peaceful protests to bring many things to light that too many people just hadn’t seen.

  And he believed in the American dream. Yes, it was a dream that needed constant work and attention. They still strived for equality for all.

  But love was the greatest emotion humanity had been offered. For him, love often showed the way.

  And tonight . . .

  His beloved Angela was alive and well and doing great.

  He had a wonderful son, brave and determined, hurt, but so capable of caring and giving and love.

  And his daughter . . .

  Born on the 4th of July!

  Yes, life could be hard. But the hardest parts could also teach one how to value all that was beautiful.

  It was one hell of a day to celebrate!

  Social distancing, of course!

  About The Author

  Heather Graham

  New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Heather Graham, majored in theater arts at the University of South Florida. After a stint of several years in dinner theater, back-up vocals, and bartending, she stayed home after the birth of her third child and began to write. Her first book was with Dell, and since then, she has written over two hundred novels and novellas including category, suspense, historical romance, vampire fiction, time travel, occult, sci-fi, young adult, and Christmas family fare.

  She is pleased to have been published in approximately twenty-five languages. She has written over 200 novels and has 60 million books in print. Heather has been honored with awards from booksellers and writers’ organizations for excellence in her work, and she is the proud to be a recipient of the Silver Bullet from Thriller Writers and was awarded the prestigious Thriller Master Award in 2016. She is also a recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award from RWA. Heather has had books selected for the Doubleday Book Club and the Literary Guild, and has been quoted, interviewed, or featured in such publications as The Nation, Redbook, Mystery Book Club, People and USA Today and appeared on many newscasts including Today, Entertainment Tonight and local television.

  Heather loves travel and anything that has to do with the water, and is a certified scuba diver. She also loves ballroom dancing. Each year she hosts a Vampire Ball and Dinner theater raising money for the Pediatric Aids Society and in 2006 she hosted the first Writers for New Orleans Workshop to benefit the stricken Gulf Region. She is also the founder of “The Slush Pile Players,” presenting something that’s “almost like entertainment” for various conferences and benefits. Married since high school graduation and the mother of five, her greatest love in life remains her family, but she also believes her career has been an incredible gift, and she is grateful every day to be doing something that she loves so very much for a living.

  Krewe of Hunters

  A secret government unit, a group of renegade paranormal investigators.

  Seeing Darkness

  She’s being murdered.

  It was supposed to be a fun girls’ weekend in Salem, but when a past-life regression session instead sends a terrifying vision of murder to Kylie Connelly, she’s shaken and doesn’t know what to think. Worse, later she identifies the attacker from her vision: he’s a prominent local politician.

  Special Agent Jon Dickson of the FBI’s Krewe of Hunters is on the trail of a suspected serial killer based on the scantest of clues and unreliable witness testimony. When he realizes Kylie’s vision might be his best lead, he must gain her trust and get close enough to guide her new talent. Though she doubts herself, the danger Kylie sees is all too real—and the pair will have to navigate a murderer’s twisted passions and deceptions to stop the killer from claiming another victim.

  Deadly touch

  SHE KNOWS WHERE TO FIND THE BODY

  When Raina Hamish tries on a dress in a Miami boutique, she has a terrifyingly accurate vision of a murdered corpse in the murky shadows of the Everglades. She wants to help, but who would believe her when she can hardly believe herself?

  Special Agent Axel Tiger has returned to Florida to help hunt a serial killer, but the investigation doesn’t have much to go on. Raina’s vision is their best chance to uncover more. Axel’s experience with the FBI’s elite paranormal team will nurture Raina’s abilities, and she may be able to help save a life—but it puts her directly in the crosshairs of a killer who is closer than they would ever suspect.

  Dreaming Death

  SWEET DREAMS AREN’T MADE OF THIS

  Ever since she was a child, Stacey Hanson has had strange dreams—and sometimes they come true. Her skills and experience led her straight to the FBI’s Krewe of Hunters. Now a serial killer is stalking Washington, DC, and people are scared. And it will be Stacey’s first case.

  Special Agent Keenan Wallace isn’t exactly thrilled to be teamed up with a rookie, but they’re going to have to get past their mutual friction if they want to stop a brutal killer. The victims are all vulnerable women, though the clues lead to suspects from D
C’s powerful elite. Stacey can’t escape her nightly visions, but in trying to prevent them from occurring in real life, she might come face-to-face with a nightmare.