Gray's Ghosts

by Carey Lewis

  “I’m still trying to figure what this is.”

  “Yeah, well,” Ben said, letting the sentence trail off, turning his attention back to the couch. “This one says my house ain’t haunted but on the verge of being condemned unless I get some repairs I can’t afford done. This one here’s the contractor supposed to be doing it. They say they give me a fair price and I ain’t got no choice but to sell to them. Tell me my kids going to the State unless I give it up. Now you’re up to speed.”

  Carter caught Deacon’s eye. “There’s more to it than that,” he said.

  “What I’d like to do,” Carter said “is maybe put the guns away, get to the bottom of this and see how I can help you.”

  Ben turned to look at him, said, “Think I’m doing just fine.”

  “So what’s your plan then?”

  “Afraid I ain’t got much farther than where we are now in terms of that. But I don’t suspect you’re going to offer anything better than the comfort I got myself right now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  THEY KEPT PUTTING HER ARMS back down. It was enough to make Brooke want to scream. Her phone was right there, in her pocket, but these busybody paramedics wouldn’t take their busybody hands off her long enough to let her get it.

  “Can you just hold still a second?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Doesn’t mean we don’t have a job to do.”

  Then there was a penlight shined in her eyes. Someone telling her to watch a finger. How was she supposed to watch a finger when they kept shining a light in her eyes? All she could see was a white orb strobing in her vision. Then behind the orb, she saw Whitmore and the other man come out of the house. When she tried to get up from the rear of the ambulance, a hand on her shoulder made her sit back down.

  The paramedic walked over to Whitmore and she was finally able to reach into her pocket and take out the phone. She felt better, albeit weaker and fatigued, but at least she could move.

  “How you feeling Mrs. Gray?”

  She just turned the phone on. She looked up to see the older man with his smile, the one he probably used to get on the good side of people. “Not deserving of this attention,” she said, then turned her focus back to her phone.

  “I have a few questions to ask if you’re up to it.”

  She didn’t look up, scrolling through the messages until she got to Deacon’s text chain. “Just a second.”

  “Got someone worried about you?”

  She was about to answer but running the question through her mind again, she stopped. Brooke looked up from her phone, her mouth hanging open. She was thinking of consequences of things she might say. If she said Yes, that could mean someone knew she was in danger, which could lead to questions about what she was doing that put herself in danger - mainly, what was she doing with Hector, if she was part of it. She pictured being on a game show where she had to choose the right door, each door a question. Within each of these doors were three more doors which led to more, which led to even more. The questions were a maze she had to navigate out of.

  Brooke finally answered. “Just need to find out what’s going on with the show. Supposed to go to Upstate New York soon.”

  “That can’t wait?”

  “Want to know when my flight leaves.”

  “Could it leave today?”

  Brooke tried her best at a friendly smile. “Why I have to check.”

  She looked down at her phone and realized she couldn’t text Deacon that he was in the clear, that someone made the scene look like a drug deal gone wrong. It could later be seen by others that would wonder why she would send Deacon that message. Whitmore also seemed to be looking over her shoulder even though he was pretending not to. Brooke typed in ‘No video,’ and hit send, trying to think of a way to tell him about the scene.

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Gray, but I’d like to know what you were doing here with Hector. I’m sure the show won’t mind you helping in a murder investigation.”

  She looked up from her phone, felt her heart miss a beat.

  “It’s like the guy said, I was a hostage.”

  “How was he keeping you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m just wondering under what force he was keeping you hostage.”

  “He’s bigger than me.”

  “You never thought about running?”

  “Of course I did. I also thought about getting my throat stomped on.”

  Whitmore pulled out a notepad and started writing in it. It made Brooke nervous.

  “You mind telling me about your day?”

  Brooke chuckled to herself, for some reason finding the question funny. Whitmore caught her eye, not in on the joke. “Sorry,” Brooke said. “You make it sound like… when Deacon and I didn’t have anything to talk about we’d ask each other that.”

  Whitmore stared at her, his pen poised over the paper.

  “We’re with each other all day shooting the show then we’d go home together. It was kind of ridiculous that we’d ask because we already knew.” She looked up at Whitmore who was still unflinching. “An inside joke,” she said, smiling and feeling foolish.

  “There’s no reason to be nervous, I’m just trying to figure out what happened here, how everyone’s involved.”

  “I wouldn’t mind knowing that myself.”

  “Mrs. Gray, just trying to figure out how you got yourself here.”

  “Who’s that guy that was here? The one that saved me.”

  Whitmore looked over his shoulder to the man who shot Hector. He was standing near the stairs, fidgety in his movements. He was looking over at the two of them but trying not to show it.

  “That’s Colton Brant. He runs a bond service. He was here with Huey trying to find a man he bonded out went missing.”

  “He thought he was here?”

  “Where he was led to.”

  “He saved my life,” Brooke said, then looked back to Whitmore. “Looks nervous.”

  “Has that gun on his hip for show, never thought he’d have to use it.”

  “I’m glad he did.” She smiled a little, hoping to show her appreciation, playing up the saved damsel in distress routine. “Looks like he might want to talk to you.”

  Whitmore looked over his shoulder at Colton, then back to Brooke. “You want to thank him?” he asked. “Might calm his nerves a bit.”

  “I’d like that.” Whitmore smiled and turned when Brooke called after him. She said, “You said Hector didn’t have a gun.”

  Whitmore stared at her.

  “I hope your friend’s not in trouble, shooting someone unarmed.”

  Whitmore took it in, then walked over to Colton. They had a few words. Brooke assumed they were trying to get their stories straight. She turned on her phone again, texting a message to Deacon she hoped he’d understand. She wrote ‘House isn’t haunted. Looks like you were never there.’

  “I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT ELSE you want,” Deacon said. “I already told you the contract wasn’t real. The house is yours.”

  Ben smiled at that, taking another pull from the bottle.

  “You might want to take it easy,” Carter said.

  Ben looked over to him. “I tell you how to do your job of being an asshole?”

  “You didn’t know I existed until a half hour ago.”

  “So that’s a No,” he said, then turned his attention back to Deacon. “You want me to take your word when you already tricked me out of my house. Want me to go on believing the house is mine until I let you go and you show up with an army of lawyers.”

  “What’s the alternative Ben?” Deacon asked. “You’re already holding us hostage.”

  “I might be able to help you,” Cesar said, leaning forward. “That contract you signed is real. Sorry, but this guy took you by the balls.”

  Deacon looked over at Cesar, wondering where he was going with this. Looked down and saw the Glock still dangling in his hand.

  “Why you going to help
me?”

  “He’s got me by the balls too. Might be able to come up with something that helps us both.”

  “He put a grow-op in your bunker,” Deacon said, looking over to Carter. “Told you there was more to it.” He looked back to Ben, watched him trying to put everything together in his mind.

  Cesar looked from Deacon, to Carter, back to Deacon. It was at that point Deacon knew Cesar wasn’t going to let him leave the farmhouse alive.

  “And I’d like to offer you half,” Cesar said, turning his glare away from Deacon, smiling when he looked at Ben. “All you got to do is pretend it’s not there.”

  “Like I’m renting the barn to you,” Ben said.

  Cesar’s smile grew. “Exactly. You get half for not seeing something.”

  “How much we talking?”

  “A lot. Enough you won’t have to worry about money again.”

  Deacon watched Ben nodding his head, his eyes lost in space, thinking it over.

  “Ben?” Deacon said. “Ben there’s a problem with this though.” He was hoping to buy more time. Hoping US Deputy Marshal Carter Grant would come up with a plan of action. Hoping Carter knew he wasn’t going to get out of this alive either.

  “I see two problems,” Cesar said, looking at Deacon and smiling. “But two problems can’t be solved with the help of some gators.”

  Deacon returned the smile, no joy behind it. He looked back to Ben. “I still own the house and that’s a US Deputy Marshal.”

  “Nothing the gators can’t fix.”

  “Except I own the house,” Deacon said again, looking at Cesar.

  “And it will go back to good ol’ Ben here.”

  “You kill me, I disappear? It goes to my wife. Fucking idiot.” He couldn’t help himself. The guy couldn’t even see the trap he laid for himself. Couldn’t put his ego aside to tell Ben he was wrong about the contract, that it wasn’t real. His ego and stupidity were going to buy Deacon the time he wanted.

  Cesar tensed but stopped himself from lashing out, afraid of Ben and his drunk trigger finger. Instead he relaxed and sunk back on the couch. “My man has your wife. Remember?”

  Deacon looked to Carter, hoping for some help, wondering how lax the application process was to become a Marshal. He sat there on the steps, stone cold, unmoving. Apparently you just had to write that you liked sitting like an asshole to get into the Marshals service.

  “Ben,” Deacon said. “Ben, I go missing, you know what happens? The house doesn’t go to you. It’s still mine until the bank takes it.”

  “So we’ll draw up a new contract says you gave the house back,” Cesar said.

  “You a lawyer now?” Deacon let his glare rest on Cesar for a moment longer than it should have. Saw the anger cross his face, then turned back to Ben. “Here’s my idea. I’ll call the lawyer, the one that drew up the paperwork. I’ll get him down here with new paperwork saying the house is yours. That way it’s all legal. That’s what you want right?”

  Ben’s brow furrowed, his whiskey soaked brain trying to process the better option.

  “And then what,” Cesar said. “We let you go?” He turned to Ben. “The moment they get out of here we’re going to jail.”

  “Are you kidding? I don’t want this house, it was him got me on the line to take it from you,” Deacon said, pointing a thumb at Cesar. “There’s nothing more I’d like than to not have this piece of shit farm and go on doing my show. I’m sure the Deputy Marshal has better things to do.”

  “I’d like to go fishing,” Carter said with a smile.

  They all stared at Ben, watching him run ideas through his mind.

  “We get out of here, you two can have each other,” Deacon said, breaking the silence.

  “Get the lawyer down here,” Ben said, then looked at Cesar. “You’re going to convince me I can trust you enough to be partners with.”

  Deacon caught Ben’s eye and pointed to his pocket, said, “I’m going to grab my phone.” Ben nodded and Deacon slowly took out his phone and powered it on. He saw the notification from Brooke. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked to see if Cesar was watching.

  “How you want me to convince you?” Cesar asked Ben, not paying attention to Deacon.

  Deacon read the texts, the ones telling him he was in the clear. He tapped the screen and opened up Brooke’s profile. He hit the button to dial her number. The room went quiet.

  “Hey Harvey,” Deacon said into the phone before Brooke could say anything. “That farmhouse we bought, the Millers? I’d like to give it back to them.” He waited, but Brooke didn’t say anything. “Yeah, wait a second.” Deacon said to Ben without taking his mouth away from the phone, “House goes to you or you and your partner?”

  “Just me. Maybe he writes up another agreement says I’m renting out the barn.”

  “Just Ben but he wants to rent the barn to his new partner.”

  “That’s good because his old partner’s gone,” Brooke said. He was glad he spent all those years with her, able to understand what he was saying.

  “Happy to hear that,” Deacon said. “You don’t mind coming back down do you?”

  “I don’t think I’ll have a car.”

  “He doesn’t have a car,” Deacon said to Ben.

  “Tell him to call a fucking Uber.”

  “Hitch a ride as soon as you can,” Deacon said into the phone.

  “I might have an idea,” Brooke said.

  “Great, see you soon.” Deacon ended the call.

  Ben smiled. He turned to Cesar. “Now you get to convince me.”

  “I hand over this gun, you need more convincing?”

  “Probably go a lot further if you handed both of them over,” Deacon said, staring at Cesar.

  BROOKE GOT OFF THE PHONE and found Colton standing in front of her. “He didn’t have a gun,” she said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I should know, I was with him all day. I never saw one. He never threatened me with one.”

  “Doesn’t mean he didn’t have one.”

  “Maybe he told me he didn’t have one.”

  “Then what were you doing with him?”

  “I think that’s what the three of us need to settle,” Brooke said, smiling. “I want him to have a gun.”

  “I saved your life,” Colton said.

  “And now you’re going to save another. Thank you by the way.” Brooke looked past Colton to Whitmore, standing off to the side, talking to the paramedics. “How much you think he cares about you?”

  Colton looked over his shoulder to Whitmore, saw him staring back. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “He told you he was going to plant the gun. Seems pretty friendly with you.”

  “He didn’t say that.”

  “He did. I got somewhere I need to be and I’m assuming I can’t take the Buick.”

  “Not up to me.”

  “I’d rather you give me a ride anyway.”

  Colton smiled, chuckled to himself. “I’m pretty sure we can’t leave.”

  “I’m pretty sure we have to. Whitmore said it was the first man you killed. How you feeling?”

  “Not much one way or the other.”

  “Probably feel better if he had a gun.”

  “He did.”

  “Or he didn’t. It’s really up to me isn’t it?”

  Colton looked at her, sitting at the edge of the ambulance with the blood pressure band still wrapped around her bicep. He frowned. “What’re you driving at?”

  “I’ll say there was a gun, tell you why I was here but I don’t want questions about it.”

  “I’m not the one asking.”

  “That’s why I’m asking how much he cares about you. I can say Hector didn’t have a gun, is he going to go for something else to make me say he did?”

  “Like if you said you’d testify he didn’t have a gun, would he leave me out to dry?”

  Brooke nodded.

  “And for that there’s no questions
and you go.”

  “We go. You can save another life.”

  “From who?”

  “The dead man’s partner.”

  “Cesar?”

  Brooke nodded again.

  “What did you get yourself into?”

  “Detective Whitmore tells me you’re a bondsman. I got a card in my pocket for a Marshal Carter Grant. How much you want to bet I dial that number it’s your phone that rings?” Brooke asked, lying about having the card, hoping it was all too much for Colton to deal with, that he’d break. “I’m not a Marshal, but I’m willing to bet impersonating one is illegal.”

  Brooke stared at him. She laid her deal on the table, it was up to Colton if he wanted to play. He looked over his shoulder at Whitmore again. Then Whitmore started walking toward them.

  “Clock’s ticking,” Brooke said.

  Colton turned and met Whitmore before he got to Brooke. He took him by the arm and took Whitmore away from everyone. Brooke watched Colton explain the situation to him, watched them both look back to her. Watched Whitmore ask a few questions, then they both got quiet while Whitmore thought.

  She wondered if she should just go then. No, Hector had the keys. She had no way to get to Deacon. This was her only way. It all depended on how much Whitmore wanted to compromise.

  They came back over.

  “I’m the lead investigator with a house of bodies,” Whitmore said. “I can’t be taking off.”

  “That’s good because it’s probably better you don’t come.”

  Whitmore looked from Brooke to Colton, trying to make up his mind. He was studying Colton, Brooke guessed, trying to figure out how much Colton actually did mean to him. Wondering if he could trust him.

  “What do I get if I let you leave?”

  “A clear conscience,” Brooke said. “Which you won’t have if you don’t let us go.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “I’LL GIVE THE MAN THE one, he’s still got me out-armed,” Cesar said, looking at Deacon while handing one of the Glocks to Ben. “We’re partners after all,” he said, looking at Ben now. “We got to have the trust.” Then Cesar smiled, trying to come off like a salesman - selling Ben trust.