In the Dead of Night (60 page)

“There’s almost no evidence for either apparition,” she said, chuckling. “If you had read further, you’d know that most of the house’s haunting accounts are pretty much local urban legends.”

“Isn’t that a misnomer of sorts? I mean, I can already see around here that it’s mainly farms and woodlands…. What in the hell is urban about that shit?” I laughed, and then saw she wasn’t quite as amused as me. “Darlin’, the only urban going on around these parts is the guitarist-married-to-a-movie-star Urban croonin’ some hard luck country song, and nothin’ else.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that we’re here to explore the other ghosts, then, huh?” My wife sounded perturbed again…but it hit me, suddenly, that it might not have anything to do with my playful jest from a moment ago. “Where we’re going, there have been a number of soldier sightings.”

“Doesn’t the Branner Cemetery have like a hundred and fifty unmarked graves in it?”

“Yes, it does. In fact, that’s the reason it was originally suggested by Jackie to be added to the tour, back in September,” Fiona advised. “Confederate and Union soldiers lie side by side…and none of these unfortunate souls were ever identified.”

“Jerry said something about the barn being haunted. What’s that all about?”

“Jackie told me the same thing yesterday, and her information comes from Ned and Shirley. Apparently, there have been sightings of soldiers and an officer on a horse.”

“Really?”

That surprised the hell out of me, actually. A soldier and his ghost horse. It sounded so
Legend of Sleepy Hollow
. I immediately dismissed that notion out of hand.

“Are these spirits mostly Union or Confederate ghosts?”

“Now you’re just being silly, Jimmy. People report that both armies are well represented.”

She was right, as I had heard the same thing from other researchers in the past. But frankly, I looked forward to the couple of hours spent investigating this site to be over. Yeah, I know, what a sorry excuse for a ghost hunter, right? But our oldest son was about to have a birthday in a couple of days, and Christmas Eve would arrive on its heels one day later. We hadn’t had a chance to finish our shopping for either event, and I looked forward to visiting one of the factory outlet malls in Knoxville before my wife and I checked into a romantic cabin in Sevierville for the night. Since we had to get back to Nashville before it got too late tomorrow, any head start we could gain on getting out of this investigation at a decent hour tonight would be heartily welcomed by me.

We soon reached the Jefferson City limits and Fiona turned up her favorite Duran Duran tune,
Save a Prayer
. Odd coincidence, I thought, but we were already pulling up to our predetermined meeting place along the old AJ Highway when I thought to say something about it.

“We’ll want to follow Jackie in through the gate once she pulls in after the boys and Tom,” she advised. “It looks like everyone else is here.”

Indeed, several cars and an old Chevy Suburban were pulled onto the dormant grass to the right of the barn and across from a large leafless elm. The old barn sat behind it, and beyond it was a thick wooded area that wasn’t far from one of the small tributaries that fed Mossy Creek.

It’s always a little strange for me to consider that roughly one hundred and fifty years ago, young men from both sides of the conflict lost their lives in the smaller skirmishes that happened nearly every day during the Civil War. The Battle of Mossy Creek was a little bigger, but no more significant than many other little encounters, like the one at Spring Hill that preceded the Battle of Franklin.

I could picture the frightened and hopeless faces of these men, who hadn’t seen their loved ones in more than a year. For some, the most recent Christmas that had taken place just four days before the December 29
th
battle in 1863 was their second consecutive Christmas away from home. I had read the journals of soldiers from this particular battle the last time we were in the area, two years ago. They talked about the loneliness of celebrating the most cherished holiday at the time with only their comrades, some of whom would be dead in the coming weeks and months as the conflict carried on through its third year. Many of the soldiers died from exposure to the elements or starvation, and moving into the fourth year of the war those numbers rose sharply.

“Are you going to just sit there, Jimmy?

“Huh? Oh, sorry about that. Just thinking about how it was back in the old days,” I said, and opened my door to get out. “I’ll get your door, babe.”

“No, that’s fine, hon’—I’ve got it. Go ahead and grab our gear out of the trunk.”

She was already out of the car before I had shut my door, and was on her way to see Jackie, who was parked next to Tom’s Navigator. That’s really where we should’ve parked, too, but the ground was not as rutty closer to the Chevy Suburban. I just prayed I wasn’t regretting the decision later if we got a lovely dent from the old beat-up truck.

The Thomas twins, or boys as Fiona had referred to them, parked their truck nearest to the gate, and I watched Jason hurry over to the gate to close it.

“Hey, Jimmy—I can’t wait for us all to check out the barn, man!” he called to me, before jogging to where his older brother stood with Ricky and Tony. “Ned told Tom to make sure that one of us closed the gate after we were all in here, so no unwanted trespassers could sneak in while we’re gathering evidence.”

“Well, I hope we catch something worthwhile this evening, Jason.”

I hoped it also wouldn’t get much colder, since Fiona also mentioned something about the barn missing a lot of its roof planks. That could mean some more moisture orbs could be in store for us. Meanwhile, Tony and Ricky were cutting up with Jerry, and it seemed that the three had become fast friends in a remarkably short period of time. I noticed Michelle had moseyed over to Jason, and they seemed to have hit it off, as well—although assuredly plutonic, since she doesn’t roll the hetero way. Then again, that might be the dude’s fantasy. But everyone seemed to be getting along exceptionally well, and I was impressed that our new cohorts seemed to fit in quite nicely.

“Hey, Jimmy—why don’t you and Justin grab the cords we’ll need for the monitors to be set up in the barn,” Tony called to me.

“I’d love to, but I’ve sort of got my hands full, man.”

At the moment, I held my wife’s and my cameras, audio recorder, and our EMF detectors.

“Hey, hon’, I’ll carry those,” offered Fiona, smiling sweetly as she rejoined me at our car.

She looked as if she had a pretty cool secret to share with me, but I could also tell that I’d have to wait to find out what it was. Must’ve been something she had just learned from Jackie. She gave me a quick kiss and then left to rejoin Jackie and Tom as they moved toward the barn.

“Well, I guess I’ll be carrying some cords, huh?”

“Guess so—just you and me, bro,” said Justin. “Let’s go get loaded up.”

I hadn’t seen him sneak up to me from behind, and I jumped a little. I’d never admit to it, of course, unless someone caught that moment on tape. Good thing our camera crew trio from Nashville wasn’t present for that fun nugget.

“It’s good to be here with you, Justin.”

“It’s good that I don’t have to hang with anyone else tonight,” he said, keeping his voice to just above a whisper as we approached the back of Tom’s SUV.

“Here, Jimmy, you carry the audio cords,” said Tony, as he unloaded several rolled cords into my arms. “And, Justin, you take the video cords and connectors. You know how to space them out, right?”

“Sure, man, just load ‘em on me.”

It seemed like Justin got the worse end of the deal, since he ended up with six, thick video cord rolls over his shoulders and arms, while holding the connectors for each in his hands. I relieved him of one of the cords and two of the connectors, and then he and I set out for the barn, moving quickly since these suckers would get heavy in a moment. I noticed the sun was beginning to disappear along the western horizon. I had forgotten that this area was an hour ahead of Nashville, and it was nearing 4:00 p.m. our time when we parked, yet in reality, it was almost five o’clock in Jefferson City.

“It looks like everyone but you has become fast friends with Jason and Jerry,” I said, quietly, once we were at the head of the line moving toward the back of the barn. “You still think they’re a couple of redneck racists?”

“I surely do,” he said. Normally a comment like that would come with the impish grin my buddy is known for. But his expression was reserved, and I could tell that something was truly bothering him. “No one was this chummy until we all got together Wednesday night. Lots of liquor was on tap that night, man, and you know what it can do to people’s perception and perspectives. That’s when Jerry brought up your idea, and then Tony and Ricky talked Tom and Jackie into coming here. I was outvoted.”

“I only mentioned it in passing, man,” I said, not liking the fact I was on the defensive. “I’m sorry, Justin. I never thought anything would come of it. But it looks like everybody else is really into this investigation. Maybe you should try to enjoy it as best as possible. That’s what I’m doing.”

He shot me a look that warned me to tread carefully.

“Seriously, man, I’m just looking forward to getting this over with as quickly as possible. Then, Fiona and I will make a romantic night of it, and get the hell out of Deliverance County tomorrow afternoon.” I nudged him with one of the cord rolls so he would look me in the eye. “Hey, I would’ve voted to shoot this shit down, too, if I had been there Wednesday night. But I never knew about the meeting. I have weekly band practice that night—remember? Besides, Fiona never mentioned any meeting to me. She wasn’t there, right?”

“Of course, I wasn’t there. I had a reading with Kim Wednesday night—remember?”

Oops. I had no idea she was right behind us. She must’ve snuck up, or I guess Justin and I had slowed down. Regardless, her sharp remark spurred my memory, and I recalled Fiona mentioning Tuesday morning that her childhood pal was coming over Wednesday night for a semi-annual card reading.

“Ahhh, yeah…shit. I do remember that now. Sorry,” I told her over my shoulder.

As anyone should know by now, a latent apology could get me a disparaging look—which in this case would be well deserved. But it appeared that only Jackie, Michelle, and Tom gave me the dreaded stink eye. I worried momentarily about what they had overheard from the conversation between Justin and me. The only silver lining in this awkward moment was that Ricky and Tony, along with the Thomas brothers, seemed blissfully ignorant of what had just been discussed as they pulled up the rear of our little army. As for Fiona, she looked deeply worried about something. In fact, if anyone was to ask me, I’d have been willing to bet that she was in private conference with her guides as we prepared to round the corner of the barn to reach the back side, where the folks from Tri-Cities were supposed to be waiting for us.

“Tom, didn’t you say that Ned and Shirley were supposed to meet us outside the barn?”

“That’s what they told me, Fi,” he said, and his tone betrayed his own uneasiness.

“That’s the way I understood their instructions,” added Jackie, just as tense.

Maybe I wasn’t the target of a stink eye attack after all.

“Well, I think one of us should try and call them again, since I get the feeling they’re not here,” Fiona suggested. “Maybe they’re—
oh shit! Guys watch out!”

Before I heard the screams behind me, I caught a glimpse of a gun barrel pointed at my chest. A large man wearing a gray hoodie held the weapon. But while everyone around me shrunk down to their knees, I remained standing. Standing stupidly, I should say, with a slack-jawed expression of disbelief on my face.

“What-t…what in the hell are you doing here?” I stammered, taking a step backward as the gunman brought the muzzle closer to my heart.

“Now, what kind of greeting is that, Jimmy boy?” said the man, grinning meanly. “I do believe we have some lessons to discuss, as far as the proper way to greet a true southern gentleman is concerned. Afterward, we shall deliver justice to our southern land’s infidels and the mongrel cohabitating with y’all. Sound good?”

Perhaps. But only to the misinformed and ignorant soldiers already dead. I could almost hear the forlorn confederate souls rising from their unmarked graves less than half a mile away, whistling Dixie in a brisk breeze from the Branner graveyard as darkness fell around us.

Chapter Seventeen

“Why are you doing this?”

Melvin Schoels’ only response to my question was a low, sardonic chuckle as he lowered his hood. If not for the athletic sweatshirt, he would almost appear the same as I’d always seen him, sans the leather biker coat he favors. Dressed in a black bolero hat and matching shit-kickers, he also wore his ridiculous shades. Unless he had some God-given ability to see better at night, the glasses appeared to be a weakness. Even so, they made him look more sinister—especially while pointing his assault rifle just below my neckline.

“Do you know this dude?” Justin asked, incredulously, while still cowering low with everyone else. He and I had dropped our cables and connectors when Melvin told us all to raise our hands above our heads. Why he thought that any of us would be packing heat, or any weapons beyond the nail file Michelle always carried in her purse, is beyond me. But they say the most dangerous criminals are the ones who are extremely thorough. As Justin started to rise to his feet, Melvin immediately swung the rifle’s barrel toward his head. “Hey, no worries, man. Don’t do anything crazy.”