Motrin, anything for
pain?"
"Tylenol in the side pocket
in my shoulder bag." Rand rolled onto his side and covered his head with the pillow.
"Get up, Adonis. I promised
Sister Francoise we'd meet her within the hour at the cemetery."
* * * * *
Gray clouds hung from a
salmon-kissed sky as Frank and Rand exited the taxi and walked toward the front gate of the cemetery.
Frank's gaze wandered to the black LX10
idling at the curb. Behind the wheel, the back of a man's head came into view, the Sister's driver he
assumed.
"What about the cabbie?' Rand asked.
"I let him go. We're within distance of the
hotel."
Just inside the black,
wrought iron gate, the Sister's voice called out to them. "Over here, Mr. McGuire, Mr.
Brennan."
Rand's description of the
woman failed to do her justice. Oh, the clear, blue eyes were
present, and the network of tiny lines around her eyes and mouth, but beneath it all an earthy glow lit her
small face. The blue blazer Rand had
described hugged her small frame, matching the pair of neat
and serviceable denim pants. Obviously,
the Ursuline Order had come a long way over the years.
Rand made the introductions
before the Sister led them toward a section in the far left corner of the cemetery. "Here's where
the police found the flashlight and
shoe."
Frank drank in the scene, a
labyrinth of white granite headstones and monuments; many yellowed with age and covered in lichen. "Why
would two young boys be in this particular
section? Any idea?"
"I suspect they were up to
no good." She smiled at Rand. "Did Mr. Brennan tell you about the soldiers that haunt the hotel
you're staying at?"
Frank nodded. "Tell me.
From a spiritual perspective what do they want?"
"Peace, Mr. McGuire.
They're lost, caught between our world and another."
Guilt nibbled at Frank's
conscience. The woman didn't have to help them, but here she stood,
waiting for his next question. He had to tell her about the pictures from the photo album and
particularly about the incident last
night. "What will put their souls to rest?"
"Someone telling them they're dead, someone
they trust."
"This is rather far-fetched
when you think about it. Two boys are missing, the only clues a tennis shoe and a flashlight left
in a cemetery. Anyone could have grabbed
those young men, taken them anywhere, even out of the state by now."
"The dogs followed their
scent here, to this exact spot." She pointed to the ground. "The police have been reluctant to release
information, but one of the detectives
told me if someone took them out of the cemetery, the bloodhounds would have picked up the
trail."
"And they didn't." Frank said on a sigh.
"Mr. McGuire, without
sounding intrusive, of all the places to stay in New Orleans, why did you choose the Hotel
Provincial?"
He could no longer withhold
information from her. It seemed pointless now when time was of the essence. The boys' parents would
expect a report today of some sort, and
sooner or later he'd have to confirm their suspicions, sans Carmen's disbelief or not. He pictured it in
his mind now. Folks, a ghost did indeed snatch the boys and now his spirit is
doing its best to flaunt it in my face. In
fact, his arm came through our hotel wall last night when he tried
to add Rand to his human
menagerie.
An uncomfortable silence passed. "Mr.
McGuire?"
He began by telling her his
gut feeling convinced him to stay at the Provincial, and moved on to the discovery of the photo album
on Building Five when they checked in.
Further, that led to his initial contact with a spirit. Her benevolent face remained staid when he told her
about his encounter with a disheveled man
in the hallway outside his room, and finally of Rand's brush with the ghost last night.
She crossed herself and
looked at Rand. "How can you be sure the boys you saw are Brent and Charlie?"
"Frank showed me recent photos their parents
left with him."
"So there you have it,
Sister. We most definitely have a restless spirit harassing us,
pain?"
"Tylenol in the side pocket
in my shoulder bag." Rand rolled onto his side and covered his head with the pillow.
"Get up, Adonis. I promised
Sister Francoise we'd meet her within the hour at the cemetery."
* * * * *
Gray clouds hung from a
salmon-kissed sky as Frank and Rand exited the taxi and walked toward the front gate of the cemetery.
Frank's gaze wandered to the black LX10
idling at the curb. Behind the wheel, the back of a man's head came into view, the Sister's driver he
assumed.
"What about the cabbie?' Rand asked.
"I let him go. We're within distance of the
hotel."
Just inside the black,
wrought iron gate, the Sister's voice called out to them. "Over here, Mr. McGuire, Mr.
Brennan."
Rand's description of the
woman failed to do her justice. Oh, the clear, blue eyes were
present, and the network of tiny lines around her eyes and mouth, but beneath it all an earthy glow lit her
small face. The blue blazer Rand had
described hugged her small frame, matching the pair of neat
and serviceable denim pants. Obviously,
the Ursuline Order had come a long way over the years.
Rand made the introductions
before the Sister led them toward a section in the far left corner of the cemetery. "Here's where
the police found the flashlight and
shoe."
Frank drank in the scene, a
labyrinth of white granite headstones and monuments; many yellowed with age and covered in lichen. "Why
would two young boys be in this particular
section? Any idea?"
"I suspect they were up to
no good." She smiled at Rand. "Did Mr. Brennan tell you about the soldiers that haunt the hotel
you're staying at?"
Frank nodded. "Tell me.
From a spiritual perspective what do they want?"
"Peace, Mr. McGuire.
They're lost, caught between our world and another."
Guilt nibbled at Frank's
conscience. The woman didn't have to help them, but here she stood,
waiting for his next question. He had to tell her about the pictures from the photo album and
particularly about the incident last
night. "What will put their souls to rest?"
"Someone telling them they're dead, someone
they trust."
"This is rather far-fetched
when you think about it. Two boys are missing, the only clues a tennis shoe and a flashlight left
in a cemetery. Anyone could have grabbed
those young men, taken them anywhere, even out of the state by now."
"The dogs followed their
scent here, to this exact spot." She pointed to the ground. "The police have been reluctant to release
information, but one of the detectives
told me if someone took them out of the cemetery, the bloodhounds would have picked up the
trail."
"And they didn't." Frank said on a sigh.
"Mr. McGuire, without
sounding intrusive, of all the places to stay in New Orleans, why did you choose the Hotel
Provincial?"
He could no longer withhold
information from her. It seemed pointless now when time was of the essence. The boys' parents would
expect a report today of some sort, and
sooner or later he'd have to confirm their suspicions, sans Carmen's disbelief or not. He pictured it in
his mind now. Folks, a ghost did indeed snatch the boys and now his spirit is
doing its best to flaunt it in my face. In
fact, his arm came through our hotel wall last night when he tried
to add Rand to his human
menagerie.
An uncomfortable silence passed. "Mr.
McGuire?"
He began by telling her his
gut feeling convinced him to stay at the Provincial, and moved on to the discovery of the photo album
on Building Five when they checked in.
Further, that led to his initial contact with a spirit. Her benevolent face remained staid when he told her
about his encounter with a disheveled man
in the hallway outside his room, and finally of Rand's brush with the ghost last night.
She crossed herself and
looked at Rand. "How can you be sure the boys you saw are Brent and Charlie?"
"Frank showed me recent photos their parents
left with him."
"So there you have it,
Sister. We most definitely have a restless spirit harassing us,
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