“You’re forgetting how long ago that case was,” Jackson reminded her. “He was sentenced to ten years but made parole. He shouldn’t have. And if he hadn’t, he’d at least still be alive I imagine, albeit behind bars,” Jackson said.

  “How strange that he was among those murdered... here,” Angela said. “Well, at least we know he’s not the one after me for testifying for the prosecution, since he became a victim himself.”

  “We’ll get his phone records,” Jackson said.

  “But that’s interesting. If an ex-con was directly connected to a fired tech guy and a luxury plane flight attendant, then I think you’re right. This has to be drug-related,” Angela said.

  She’d almost forgotten that the ghost of Colonel Clayborn was still with them until he spoke.

  “The shooter in the woods. Yes, he was drugged to the teeth,” he said. “But again, I don’t understand how all of this happened with us seeing so little. Of course, as you know, we don’t just hang around our graves feeling depressed, we...” He paused, grimacing. “We haunt our families. That’s often why we stay. And still, how did we—how have I missed so much?”

  “They’ve clearly been working it through these woods. I say they because we know someone else dropped off our shooter today,” Jackson said.

  “Yes, that’s true. That would make a difference. We don’t go wafting through the trees all that often,” Clayborn said.

  “There’s something here,” Angela said. “And I still think there is something about the Robertson tomb we haven’t figured out yet.”

  “Angela,” Jackson said quietly, “I asked for a medical examiner to go through the tomb and make sure the bodies match the records.”

  She shook her head. “No, that’s not it. I don’t think there were others that didn’t belong there—besides those hung up on display. My theory is out there, I know, and I’m sorry, but something just... isn’t right. Anyway, we know that—”

  She broke off. The sun had shifted, and in the distance through the trees, she thought she saw a strange glint of light.

  “Something’s out here. Over there,” she said and pointed.

  A light moved. As she indicated the direction of the glint and color, it seemed almost as if the trees had widened and grown, blocking whatever it was.

  But she had seen it.

  She knew she had seen something.

  “There’s something there,” she repeated with determination as she slid past Jackson.

  Of course, he and Clayborn followed her as she wove her way through thickets and trees.

  And she was right.

  They stopped and stared for a minute.

  They had found the navy SUV.

  She and Jackson walked to opposite sides, looking into the vehicle. No one sat in the front or back seats, but there was something large and dark in the back compartment that they saw through the rear window. But all the doors were locked and the windows were up.

  “We’ve got to get it open,” she murmured and hoped against hope that Officer Whittaker wasn’t beneath the blanket she saw.

  Dead.

  “Forensics will need to go over the vehicle, but this can’t wait,” Jackson said. He pulled out his Glock, flipped it around, and slammed it with all his strength against the back window. Again and again and again.

  The window broke at last, and he found the button to cause the back hatch to open. Once it was up, he instantly pulled at the blanket to see what lay beneath.

  It wasn’t Officer Whittaker. It wasn’t a man at all, but rather ten or so stuffed toys, ranging from panda bears to monkeys.

  “That may be good,” Angela whispered. “I want to believe that Whittaker is still alive. And I somehow sense that he might be, whether that’s wishful thinking or not.”

  Jackson was already calling their discovery in, letting the involved Krewe know they’d found the vehicle that the neighbor had seen and stating it had been abandoned in the woods.

  But seconds after he made the call, he received one in return. It was Patrick. Jackson put the phone on speaker.

  “I got the information on the SUV. Someone stole it from a home in Maryland two nights ago,” Patrick said. "We'll be there in a matter of minutes. I've got Jordan and Brybo. Mark and Colleen are a few minutes ahead of me with Red. And Ragnar is heading to his place to pick up Hugo. All of us and the dogs will be there within minutes.”

  “Wonderful,” Angela called out. “We have the police, and we’re out here, but there is nothing like a good canine to find a person—living or dead,” she added unhappily.

  “See you soon,” Patrick said.

  Jackson sighed. “I’ll report the car to the forensic units, though they’re likely going to be running thin on personnel with all our different crime scenes. But the local police are in on this, too, so maybe we can use theirs, and it will all get done. Quickly.”

  “Whittaker isn’t in the car. We have to find the man,” Angela said.

  “Agreed. We’ll go northwest. I’ll let the others know which way we’re headed.”

  They started to move through the woods. As Angela did, she noted several huge, beautiful elm trees.

  Colonel Clayborn saw her eyeing them. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked her. “And rare today. I tend to forget decades, but I believe many died in the 1970s when that Dutch elm disease swept across the world. Obviously, these survived. And at their size, I’d say they are old, at least one hundred years old. Maybe more.”

  “The trunks are huge,” Angela noted.

  “Yes.”

  The branches of the trees created massive canopies that stretched over the trails. They blocked most of the remaining sunlight as night started to fall.

  But one didn’t look quite like the others. It appeared as if, perhaps, lightning had struck at some point, causing a split high in the tree, leaving a slice-of-pie-shaped area of branches to fall toward the ground at a strange angle.

  “That tree...” she murmured.

  “Yes?” the ghost asked curiously.

  “I must get up that tree,” she said.

  Jackson turned to her, frowning. “You want to climb a tree? Now?”

  “Jackson, look... look at the size of the trunk. And the way the branches are jagged and slanting. I think there’s a break at the top. Please. I heard something about kids during World War II finding the remains of a woman in a tree trunk.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’m trying to remember... Oh! It was in Worcestershire, in England during World War II. And it was an elm tree!” She smiled. “It might have even been this particular kind. Jackson, please, trust me. Give me a boost so I can grab that branch.”

  “Angela, I can—”

  “Come on, please. I can shimmy up the tree quickly. You can give me a boost, but I don’t know if I can lift you.”

  He shrugged, nodded, and walked over to her. “All right, a tree trunk. Well, it can’t get much stranger.”

  He gave her a boost, and she was able to hike herself up, grab onto another branch, and move higher and higher, finally reaching the place where it appeared the trunk had been split.

  It had been.

  And there was a several-foot-wide opening that stretched downward about four or five feet. She carefully maneuvered herself around so she could get a good grip with her legs around one of the sturdy branches and looked down into the gaping hole.

  Her heart slammed against her chest.

  Because there was something there.

  A man.

  And she could only pray that he was still alive.

  Chapter 8

  “It’s him, I think,” Angela called down from the tree.

  “Is he alive?” Jackson asked her.

  “I don’t know for sure. I assume they just got him up here and then let him fall into the tree,” Angela answered. “I’m trying to get an angle where I can touch him.”

  “Just be careful. If you fall out of the tree, you’ll be seriously hurt,” he warned.

  “You think?” She chuckled. “Seriously, though, I’m good. Don’t worry. I have strong legs, great muscles, and good balance,” she called back.

  He smiled. Of course, she joked. She did that sometimes when she was worried or nervous. But she was probably right. He honestly wasn’t sure how she did it between work, two children, and everything else, but she did maintain an exercise regimen—though most of them did.

  That strength and agility could mean the difference between life and death, though no muscle in the world could stand against the lethal qualities of a gun.

  “Careful, careful, careful,” he called.

  She had managed to get herself into some kind of pretzel-like position where she dangled over the hollow section of the tree. He saw her reach down, inching a little farther. And farther.

  “He’s warm!” she shouted back.

  “A pulse?” Jackson asked.

  “I—I’m not sure. And I’m not sure how—”

  “That’s okay. Reinforcements are on the way. Get back up safely and hold your position.” He turned to the ghost, wishing at that moment that the Colonel was still alive—flesh, blood, and muscle that could give him the needed boost to grasp the first low branch on the tree.

  “Jackson!” Thankfully, and in an incredibly timely manner, he heard a familiar voice. Turning, he saw that Mark, Colleen, and Red were hurriedly pressing forward through the trees to reach him.

  “EMTs,” he shouted to Mark. “We need them over here now! And I need a boost.”

  “Is Angela stuck in the tree?” Colleen asked, seeming confused.

  “No. We’re pretty sure Officer Whittaker is in the tree,” Jackson said.

  “Up in the tree?” Mark asked, sounding dumbfounded.

  “No. Literally inside the tree,” Jackson said. “I need help here. Get me up so I can reach Angela. Between us, we might be able to maneuver him out. What we really need is a ladder. When we reach the EMTs, we need to make sure that emergency services arrive with one.”

  “I’m on the call,” Colleen said, pointing at her phone.

  “And I’ll get you up the tree.” Mark put his hands into the shape of a basket.

  Gallagher had what Jackson needed to reach the branch. Catching hold of the first, he hefted himself higher and reached Angela’s position. She still dangled slightly but had raised herself as if she were doing an extreme sit-up. “How do we get him out?” she asked.

  “Colleen is getting emergency services to bring a ladder. But if we can switch around, I may be able to reach down far enough to get a decent grip beneath the man’s shoulders. Then you can help guide him. If we’re lucky, I can hold him long enough to get him down to Mark. The EMTs will be here soon, but if we can get him out before they get here...”

  “Every minute counts,” Angela said. “I just hope we don’t do more harm than good. We have no idea what his injuries might be.”

  Jackson nodded, and below them, Red barked excitedly. Out of the corner of his eye, Jackson thought he saw the man wedged in the tree trunk shift just slightly.

  Was it his imagination? Or was the man indeed alive?

  “Mark!”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re going to try to get him down to you.”

  “Got it. I’m here. I’m ready.”

  Jackson thought of himself as being in decent shape, and his idea had seemed sound. He was taller and broader than Angela with a better wingspan. And still, he strained to lower his arms into the tree trunk, and felt the burn in his legs as he used them to hang from the branch over the hole as Angela had before.

  He prayed the limb would hold his weight, but despite the previous injury to the tree, the elm held, the branch a strong one.

  Muscles Jackson didn’t even know he had burned.

  But then... success. He caught hold of each of the man’s shoulders and then managed to get a grip beneath his arms.

  As he strained and pulled, he felt sweat dripping down his face and falling into his eyes. Just when he thought he might have to give up the quest, the wedged body in the tree begin to inch upward.

  “Now!” he told Angela, and she quickly reached out for the body, guiding it from the tree and the branches, aiming him toward Mark.

  Thankfully, Mark wasn’t alone anymore. Ragnar was at his side. Even with the men below, Jackson realized he would have to let the body drop for a few feet, but he knew his coworkers would catch him before he reached the ground.

  Jackson let go, and Angela eased back.

  The man fell, only to be caught by the two Krewe members and eased gently to the ground.

  “Got him!” Ragnar shouted.

  Hugo was there then, along with Red, both dogs barking excitedly. Their masters calmly shushed them, but Jackson was just glad his plan had worked.

  Jackson saw the man wince at the sound of the dogs, and now saw in the light of the full moon that it was indeed Officer Whittaker. He wasn’t conscious, but it seemed his senses were still working. He was alive, and there was hope.

  “Hey!” Mark shouted up to Jackson. “You need some help? You two are adorable up there. You look like a pair of possums getting situated for the night.”

  “Or vampires!” Ragnar shouted.

  “Funny, ha, ha!” Angela called to him.

  “Seriously. We’re impressed as hell,” Ragnar said.

  “Catch Angela. I’m going to ease her down,” Jackson called.

  “On it, just let go, Angela. We’re here,” Mark said.

  Jackson grinned at Angela. They were still hanging upside down and probably did look like a pair of vampire bats.

  “I’m going to catch your hands. Hold mine tight. We don’t want to dislocate a shoulder here. Then I’m going to let you ease into a flip and then let you go.”

  “Like one of those trust exercises, huh?” she asked. “Sounds very Cirque du Soleil.”

  He smiled. “Kind of. You trust me and those guys down there, right?”

  “With my life,” she assured him.

  Angela held tight, and she was strong. Her body didn’t lose the tension at all. Now, it was as if she were doing an extreme pull-up, and he eased her slowly down and then let her drop. Ragnar caught her first, and he and Mark worked together to balance her until she could stand on her own two feet.

  “You next, my friend,” Mark told Jackson.

  “I’m a hell of a lot heavier,” Jackson reminded him.

  “Wait!” Colleen, who had been sitting with Officer Whittaker, his head cradled in her lap, called out the word. Twisting in his absurd position, Jackson saw that Patrick, Jordan, and Brybo were hurrying into the area.

  Patrick, however, didn’t even glance Jackson’s way.

  “You found him!” he said, referring to Whittaker. He rushed to the man’s side, and Jackson saw him pulling a syringe from the medical bag he had thrown over his shoulder.

  “Patrick—” he began.

  “They play with fentanyl. I have naloxone. It’s a temporary antidote. I’m willing to bet my life on this.”

  He gave the man the shot he carried.

  Seconds that seemed like hours ticked by. Even the ghost of Colonel George Clayborn looked on silently.

  Then Colleen looked at her brother before all of them. “He’s already breathing easier!” she cried.

  “Great. Now, we can try to get Jackson out of the tree,” Mark said.

  “No need,” Ragnar said. “Ladder and EMTs have made their way through.”

  And they had. Two men and two women carrying a stretcher and a ladder appeared. One pair went to quickly speak with Patrick and get Whittaker on a stretcher, and the other set the ladder up for Jackson to make an easy descent from the tree.

  Once again, Patrick planned to accompany the EMTs and his patient. Jordan would take their car and Brybo and meet him at the hospital.

  “We’re keeping the hospital watch overnight, if that’s all right,” Jordan said. “Now we have two people who could be in danger, and we all know that killers have the ability to sneak into even ICUs dressed as doctors or nurses. And while the cops are there, and they’re great—”

  “We need to be on this. Your plan is solid,” Jackson assured her.

  Brybo barked as if saying goodbye, and Jordan hurried after Patrick and the EMT squad.

  When they were gone, Mark looked at Jackson and then at Colleen. “How the hell did you find the man in a tree?”

  Angela smiled. “Well, I think we’ve figured out a few things now. The rest is just my research and ability to retain knowledge.” She smiled. “We know they’re making use of these woods. They’re doing a lot by more or less hiding in plain sight or disguising what they’re doing, but... it all came down to this documentary I saw about some kids finding a corpse in a tree in England during World War II. So, I looked at the tree.”

  “Still. Remarkable,” Colleen told her.

  “At least we found Whittaker. Or I should say, Angela found him. And she’s right. We still need to scour these woods. But we’ve been going for about sixteen hours straight now, and the only light we have is the moon. Thankfully, it’s full. We need to begin fresh in the morning. Our crime scene techs and forensic crews have been working the cemetery, but those they’re working on can’t be helped. It’s time for us to call it quits for the night.”

  “Right,” Mark agreed. “I think the dogs can see in the dark, but we can’t. So, damned good job in the end.”

  “And with Patrick being here with his quick fix, the man at least has a chance,” Angela said. “I’d say sleep is in order.”

  “Let’s do it,” Jackson said.

  “I will keep watch over the cemetery throughout the night when the crews leave,” Clayborn ensured. “It’s one benefit to being me. I don’t need sleep.”

  “Great, thank you,” Jackson told him. “All right, guys. Let’s get the hell out of the woods.”

  When they finally reached the car and made their way home, it was late.

  Once again, the kids were in bed.

  “Thank God for Mary,” Angela murmured.

  “She really is a blessing,” Jackson agreed. Inside, he made a point of telling her that and filling her in on what had been happening.