Ghosted

Chapter Sixteen

The small medal seemed to glow in the soft radiance of the desk lamp.

The engraving was worn, the silver tarnished with age, the Latin inscription had been lost to time. St. Christopher, patron saint of travelers, was not much more than a shadow now.

The medal had first belonged to Archie’s grandfather. Archer Barclay had worn it tangled with his dog tags in the suffocating steamy jungles of Vietnam. Later, Archie had carried it over his heart, all those long months in Wyoming, the only tangible reminder of his past, of his true self.

The chain, broken in the struggle with Kyle, coiled loosely beside it.

For a long time Archie stared, as if hypnotized, at that talisman, reliving those last months, that last morning…

“You left the front door unlocked.”

Beau’s accusation broke the spell. Archie, jerked out of his trance, stared up blankly.

Beau, dark hair ruffled by the night breeze, cheeks flushed with—not cold, so emotion?—blue eyes glittering, stood on the other side of the desk.

What the— How was Beau back?

Beau snapped his fingers impatiently. “Hello? The front door to this house was unlocked.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Archie started to rise. “What are you doing in here?”

“Since you’re insisting on staying, I thought I ought to double-check that the place is secure. And sure enough, the damned front door was unlocked.” Beau seemed truly incensed, and maybe he had good reason.

Archie sat back down. The fact that had he’d left the door unlocked—hadn’t given it another thought after Simmy shrieked—was an unpleasant jolt. A bigger and even less pleasant jolt was the fact that he hadn’t heard a thing: hadn’t heard Beau open the door, hadn’t heard him coming down the hall, hadn’t seen him walking across the room.

He’d been so lost in memory, reliving those last terrible moments— He’d had no clue he was not alone in the house until Beau spoke.

Beau was still speaking, though less aggressively, “What’s the matter?”

Archie stared back, opened his mouth, but no words came to him. He had no idea how to answer. He looked instinctively at the broken chain.

Beau looked from him to the little medal. “Is that—that’s yours, right?”

There. Something he could respond to.

“Yeah. I…lost it. Thought I’d lost it. In Wyoming.”

Beau’s assessing gaze returned to him. “How’d you lose it?”

“A fight. The chain snapped.”

Beau considered, nodded, said briskly, “Nice you got it back. Anyway, situational awareness. Remember that? If you’re staying here, you’ve got to stay alert. There are way too many points of entry in this house. Windows. French doors. Side doors. Back doors. Front door.”

“All right, already.” Archie did not have the energy to spar with Beau again. “You’re right. I was distracted and I got sloppy. It won’t happen again.”

“I wish I could be sure of that.”

Really? Why did Beau have to keep pushing and pushing? Even when Archie was agreeing with him. What did he want ?

Archie gritted his jaw, said with strained politeness, “I’m going to go check all the doors and windows as soon as you leave. Which should be now, right? Or was there something else?”

“Yes.”

When Beau did not continue, Archie glared at him. He opened his mouth.

“What I was going to tell you earlier before you—” Beau rethought that. “Swenson finished going over all the footage from John’s security cameras. It’s not a full-on alibi, however, we were able to see that two and a half minutes after you entered the house, John walked out of this room, onto the terrace, and went into the garden.”

Archie nodded automatically.

“We know, because we can see on the video. You didn’t go outside again until twenty-eight minutes later when you also walked out of this room, onto the terrace, and went into the garden.”

Archie nodded again.

“It doesn’t prove that you couldn’t have hired someone to kill John. But it does mean you didn’t kill him.”

Archie said bitterly, “Great. I’ll cross myself off my list.”

Irritation flashed across Beau’s face, he started to speak, but then, astonishingly, he said, “Look, it was on Sunday. I applied for the warrant Sunday morning. At that time, I had no idea if you were involved or not. I assumed not, but I can’t go on assumption. Any more than you would in my place. Also, if I’m being honest, I was still pissed off about the there was never anything for me here comment.”

Oh. That.

Beau’s honesty compelled Archie to equal honesty. “It was a stupid thing to say.”

“Yes. It was.” Beau seemed to struggle with himself before adding gruffly, “As stupid as me saying you should go to Alaska because there was nothing for you here.”

That…was so much more than Archie had ever expected to hear from Beau.

Surprise held him silent, then he stumbled through his own sort-of apology. “Sorry. I was— I appreciate you letting me know. I appreciate you checking the front door. I appreciate the due diligence.”

Beau nodded, glanced at the portrait over the fireplace. He turned back to Archie, studied him.

After a moment, he said, “What happened in Wyoming?”

Archie shrugged. “You know the gist of it.”

Beau’s smile was cynical. “Yeah, I don’t mean the part where you save the day. I mean the part that makes you look like you got hit by a car more than when you actually got hit by a car.”

Archie made a pained expression.

Beau sighed. “Crane.”

Archie remembered that Beau had had a long day and was probably under tremendous pressure to get John’s homicide solved and someone charged. Someone most likely meaning Archie. As much as he blamed Archie for all the things he still he blamed him for, he was doing his best to be fair.

Beau said quietly, “It helps to talk, which I’m sure you know. So, talk. What happened?”

Would it help to talk to Beau? Archie had his doubts. Anyway, the Bureau provided counseling and support services. Support and services Archie was never going to take advantage of. Though he probably should, because from the minute he had arrived in Twinkleton, something in him had started to give way, his normal restraint crumbling beneath the weight of holding back so much feeling for so long…

Like that kids’ game where you kept adding marbles and pulling sticks until the whole thing came crashing down. KerPlunk.

He heard himself say, “It was an undercover gig.”

Beau knew that, of course. “Right. Deep cover is difficult. Especially for such a long time.”

“Yes. But it’s not just the logistics of it. It’s… You go in with the aim of convincing people that you’re one of them, that you’re on their side. You befriend them in order to…”

You betrayed us! Kyle had screamed that into his face.

Archie said steadily, “To find out what they know, what they’ve done, or what they’re going to do. So you can stop them. Bring them to justice.”

“That’s the job,” Beau agreed. “It has to be done. I don’t think it was easy for you.”

With bleak humor, Archie said, “Oh, I’m much more charming than when you knew me.”

Beau curled his lip. “I’ll take your word for it. That’s not what I meant, though.”

“I can’t go into detail. It’s still an active investigation. I hope. But there was a kid—”

“A kid?”

Archie corrected hastily, “Not a kid. A kid to me . Kyle was twenty-one. An adult. He was…the classic case. Smart, but not broadly educated, not intellectually sophisticated. You know the profile as well as I do: feelings of isolation, marginalization, grievance…”

“An emotionally vulnerable misfit,” Beau concluded. Which was harsh, but true.

“He was emotionally vulnerable, yes. His parents were gone. He didn’t have anybody, really. No job. No prospects. And twenty-one is…young.” Archie did not look at Beau. He said colorlessly, “I know I made mistakes at twenty-one. Things I would have undone. If I’d known how.”

A silence followed before Beau said neutrally, “Yeah. Twenty-one is young.”

Archie let out a long breath. “And with Kyle…he was looking for adventure. For a-a sense of mission, for belonging, brotherhood.”

The same things Archie had been looking for at that age. The difference being that Archie had sought them in the FBI and Kyle had searched for them in online fringe social media networks.

He glanced up and caught a weird expression on Beau’s face. “You got involved with this guy?”

Archie was startled out of his thoughts. “In— You mean involved ? Romantically? Hell, no. He was a subject in my investigation. And eight years younger than me. And not my type. No. But underneath all the bullshit bravado and desperation to fit in, he was just…a nice kid. Funny. Smart. Polite. Hard working. He latched onto me and eventually I started thinking I could help him get out of the mess he’d gotten himself into.”

Beau said grimly, quietly, “Sixteen months is too long.”

Which was true. Despite Archie’s best efforts, he had formed an emotional attachment.

He insisted, “He had been indoctrinated, but he wasn’t hardcore, and I thought I was—I know I was starting to get through to him.”

When he didn’t continue, Beau said, “But you ran out of time.”

Archie nodded, scrubbed his face with his hands. “Yes. They moved up the attack on the base by a week. I didn’t have any warning. By then Breland—the de facto leader—was starting to get suspicious of me. There was no way of getting word to my team. I had to stop them—try—as best I could.”

“Which you did.”

“Yes.”

Archie closed his eyes for a moment.

Beau asked, “What happened to Kyle?”

Archie opened his eyes, but he wasn’t seeing Beau or the comfortable, gracious room. Instead, he saw again that knock-down drag-out bloody brawl beside the campfire. Saw Johnson and Flowers coming for him with murder in their eyes. Saw Kyle diving for his weapon. Saw Breland and Ronson running for their trucks. Breland and Ronson who had to be stopped at any cost.

Funny thing. He’d always thought a serious head injury resulted in memory loss of the entire event, but he remembered every terrifying, horrifying minute right up the moment he’d actually lost consciousness.

It would have been a blessing to be able to forget.

He said calmly, “Everything went to hell. Kyle and I wrestled, he yanked the chain off my neck and I punched him. He went down. I thought that would take care of it. I thought he was out. He wasn’t. He went for his weapon, managed to get off three rounds. I…fired back.”

He felt Beau start to speak and then stop himself.

Archie offered a twitchy smile. “We’re not…trained to wound.”

“No,” agreed Beau. “With good reason.”

“But I aimed for his leg and…that took him out of play. But. But I got kicked in the head and lost consciousness.” He said without emotion. “Kyle bled to death.”

Beau didn’t say anything. Not for a second or two. Then he said calmly, casually, “Yeah, I can see how that would make anyone tired.”

It surprised an uncertain laugh out of Archie. “Yeah.”

The images faded.

“I’m sorry. That’s a fucking horrible story,” Beau said. “You needed time to recover, and instead you got…this.”

Archie shrugged. Nobody went into law enforcement because life was fair.

“Which doesn’t change my feeling that you staying here tonight might not be a great idea.”

It was a relief to be back in the here and now, to have something familiar and comfortable to argue about. Archie shook his head. “I’m not going to forget to check the doors and windows again.”

“Hear me out. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say your intruder was not a would-be burglar. Let’s say he followed you from Fraser House with another goal in mind.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t matter what you think. Until we know—”

“Sure, but do I also get to offer a theory? Because he didn’t know I was in here. He knew Mrs. Simms was here and he waited for her to leave. When he came in, he let the back door screen slam shut. He wasn’t in stealth mode until I called out. I thought you had arrived.”

“He didn’t leave,” Beau pointed out. “Assuming you’re right, when he did know you were in here, he came after you.”

That was true. Probably. Up to a point, anyway. The intruder had either lost his nerve or changed course for another reason.

“Okay. But what’s the difference between tonight and tomorrow night?”

Beau frowned.

Archie said, “I haven’t actually checked out yet. If you have a good reason for me to spend another night at Fraser House, I will. But it you’re thinking I can just stay there until this is all over, no.”

“I’m going to be honest. I don’t think you’re at the top of your game right now. You were lucky ton—”

Archie’s cell phone rang.

Beau said, “Hey, maybe it’s your common sense calling.”

Archie gave him an unamused look, clicked accept. “Crane.”

“Archie. It is you. That’s a relief. I half-suspected Desi was going to give me a wrong number.”

The voice was feminine and sort of familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it. For sure not Judith. Not Ms. Madison. Not Desi…

“It’s Pris Beckham,” Priscilla added helpfully.

“Hi,” he said automatically. “How are you?”

Priscilla said, “How are you , is the real question. I understand Judith lost her flipping mind at the reading of John’s will. John would be beside himself. That she could think that? Do that? In public?”

“It doesn’t matter. I know she’s upset.”

“Judith is always upset,” Priscilla said tartly. “Johnny catered to her way too much. He was kind to a fault.”

Was it possible to be kind to a fault? Personally, Archie did not think the world suffered from an overabundance of kindness.

Priscilla was still rattling on. “I know your feelings about our, the TPS’s examination of the unknown, have always been…mixed. At best.” She amended hopefully, “Unless, now that you’re older—?”

Archie said regretfully, firmly, “Mixed, at best.”

Priscilla sighed. “Given your profession, I suppose that’s inevitable. Anyway, we—the TPS—all agreed that as each of us crossed the veil, we would attempt through séance to communicate with each other. We’re going to open the channel on Wednesday—tomorrow evening—and I know John would want you to have the opportunity to attend.”

“A séance ?” Archie repeated. “Tomorrow?” He glanced up at Beau.

Beau echoed his tone. “A séance ?”

“Please don’t dismiss the idea without at least considering it,” Priscilla said quickly. “John understood and respected your feelings, but he did believe very passionately and I know…”

She didn’t finish it, which was a relief.

“I’m not sure.” Understatement. The very idea of a séance to summon John bothered him. A lot.

But Priscilla was right. John was a true believer. And, while he’d never tried to proselytize, let alone pressure Archie, it was a given that Archie’s presence at such a gathering would have meant something to him.

“I— we —just want you to know that you would be very welcome tomorrow night. We’re going to meet at Leo’s at nine for dinner and drinks. And then we’ll attempt to commune with John.”

Dinner and drinks and a chat with the dead?

It was almost funny.

Almost.

“I appreciate the invitation. I’ll think about it. I promise.”

“Thank you for at least considering it,” Priscilla said. “And Archie? No one in their right mind believes you had anything to do with John’s death. When—if—John appears, we’re going to ask him who’s responsible for his death.”