“And hopefully . . .”
They arrived at the home of Grace and Leonard Greenwood, Vivien’s parents. They’d just arrived back at their house with a police escort. And crime scene techs were busy but as yet, they had nothing but a few footprints.
Police were canvassing the neighborhood, asking for help from any neighbors. The children wouldn’t have left their grandparents willingly; they had to have made some kind of a fuss.
They spoke briefly with Grace and Leonard.
“There was a knock at the door; I had just ordered pizza,” Leonard told them. “Like a fool, I opened the door. Two men, big guns, all dressed in black, wearing these head coverings that covered everything but their eyes.”
“I did see this! One had green eyes and was light; the other had dark eyes and darker skin, maybe Hispanic, African American . . . I don’t know! We were hysterical; we didn’t know what they wanted!” Grace told them. “We just begged them not to hurt the children, and they laughed and said the children were their gold pieces; they tied us up and took off with the kids at gunpoint! The poor little things were crying and oh, God, if anything happens to them—”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jackson assured her. “We have kids; we know how you feel. We’re off to find them!”
“Canvas a bit in the neighborhood ourselves?” Angela suggested.
He nodded. This area of Virginia was old. It had seen action during the Revolution and during the Civil War—not mention day-to-day life. And death.
They hurried to the house next door and spoke to a man who had already been interviewed. He had heard a car arriving and a car leaving but he hadn’t thought anything about it. He was so sorry. The entire neighborhood knew what had happened now.
“Where do we begin?” Angela murmured as they left the house.
“I saw it, I saw it, if only . . .”
Jackson spun around. There was a man standing there. He hadn’t passed away during either the Revolution or the Civil War; he had left his mortal shell around 1900, perhaps, and at the age of at least seventy or so.
As Jackson and Angela stared at him, his spectral form seemed to freeze.
“You heard me?”
Jackson nodded.
“And if you can help us . . .” Angela said.
“Seers. So rare!” the man muttered. He started to offer his hand and laughed at himself dryly before quicky saying, “Sorry, I’ve only met one such as yourselves and that was back before World War II. And I don’t know how much I can help, but I saw the car and I can describe it and I even have the first few numbers and letter of the license plate!”
“Oh, sir! Bless you. Please . . .”
The ghost went on to give them the make and model of a black SUV and the first letter and numbers of the license plate. Angela was quickly on the phone with tech and then the police and an All Points Bulletin was sent out.
“I am Herbert Lansing, and I lived here long before a few of these houses, but . . . there was some trouble here with . . . well, with a kidnapping back then and somehow, I stayed, and I’m proud to say someone . . . not quite like you, but someone with something . . . seemed to sense me and followed when necessary. But I’m taking your time! The vehicle was headed north! Go north and . . . well, maybe nothing. Luckily, the neighbors were quick to come and call the police, but the car has now been gone over an hour. Maybe there’s a way to find the um, what do you call it? Oh! It’s GPS system . . . all kinds of new-fangled things since my day.”
“Sir, you’ve been extremely helpful. As you said we’re too late to catch up,” Angela said, “We’ll get all that information to the local and federal authorities and check out the second crime scene ourselves, see if we can figure out where the kidnappers might have taken the children. They are the prime focus right now. Thank you, thank you!”
“We move on,” Jackson said.
“I’ll come with you,” Herbert Lansing offered. “If I may?”
Angela laughed softly. “You’re a very polite ghost. You could just slip in if you wanted.”
“Indeed, ma’am, I could, but . . . in my day, we had manners.”
“We try to have them today, too, honestly,” Angela assured him. She glanced at Jackson. “I’ll make the calls.”
They were soon back in the car—with the spirit of Herbert Lansing comfortably in the back. Angela called in all the information not just to Krewe headquarters but to all local and federal agencies working on the case.
Manufacturing the answers to the questions regarding the “witness” who had given her the information by saying he’d looked terrified and disappeared into a nearby park.
“Where would they have taken the children,” she wondered aloud. “A safe house. There were two who kidnapped the kids. And they were probably part of the group that knocked Vivien out and abducted Robert. This isn’t a one man show.”
