Page 161 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

“I leave for the morning, and all hell breaks loose,” theghost said. “You’re quite all right? The place is a mess of shattered stones.Who did this?”

“A sad, addicted human—one being used by someone else,”Jackson said.

“He’s still alive. We’re not sureif he’ll stay that way,” Angela said. “But we have hope. And if he lives, he maybe able to help us.”

“That is good. Excellent,” Clayborn said. He shook his head.“War is bad enough, men and women who just want to raise their children butserve a different crown or country. But killing randomly, this...”

Clayborn stopped speaking and shook his head. “Such insanityto come to such a place,” he added quietly.

“We will get to the bottom of it. And hopefully stop it,”Jackson vowed.

“Yes, I believe you will do all in your power to see theevildoers are brought to justice,” Clayborn said. “And in that regard...”

“You have something that will help us?” Angela asked.

“I’m not sure, quite honestly. But I spoke with my friend,Sergeant Mahaffey of the DC police. He joined us here about twenty-five yearsago. He doesn’t spend much time at the cemetery, prefers the old mansion wherehis family lives so he can watch over his adorable grandchild. I’m sorry, Idigress. Anyway, Mahaffey told me there were some strange soldiers here, bothon the Fourth of July and on Labor Day. He assumed they were honoring our lostservice men and women from the early days to the present." He shrugged andcontinued.

“Said there weremaybe six or seven of them, all dressed as soldiers from different eras inhistory. Mostly, they stayed by the Robertson tomb and held some kind ofservice near it. Candles, books. He said one man led the rite or ritual...whatever it was.” He circled his hands.

“Apparently, theycame twice—more the first time than the second. But Mahaffey didn’t thinkanything of it. Compared to the craziness of Halloween, what could possibly beso strange about people praying and honoring lost soldiers?”

“The flag,” Angela murmured, looking at Jackson.

“What flag?” Jackson asked her.

“Patrick and I saw it earlier. I believe it’s been there awhile. I didn’t think anything of it before. I mean, as Colonel Clayborn said,it seems benign next to the goblins and ghouls and witches set up everywherefor this time of year. But I had a strange feeling... It looks like some kindof marker. And there’s a recent grave near the flag.”

“Show me,” Jackson said.

“That group could have just set up the flag to honor one ofthe dead,” Clayborn said.

“They could have, but this thing may also go a lot deeperthan we know,” Jackson added.

“Ah. I’ve heard a great deal about normally sane peoplelosing their marbles. Still believing the earth is flat, or that outer-spacealiens walk among us. Oh! And Martians are the ones really running the federalgovernment. Do you think conspiracy theorists are involved?”

“Not so, I’m afraid,” Jackson said. “After what justhappened, I think the only conspiracy here is getting others to make sure thatillegal drugs continue to flood the market. Let’s see this flag.” He turned toAngela.

Angela led him to the flag. It was store-bought, the kindthat went on sale right around the Fourth of July every year and was sold justabout everywhere.

He pursed his lips and nodded.

“We need to dig,” she said.

“We’ll get over to the office and let them know, and thenI’ll get a crime scene crew out here,” Jackson said.

“You think we might find more victims?” Angela asked him.

“I’m sure that’s what you were thinking. Hard to say,though. Someone set up the bodies in the Robertson tomb as if on display. Likesome macabre, would-be artist wanted them to be seen,” Jackson said. “If there arebodies here, someone went to the trouble to conceal them.”

“There was no guarantee anyone would go into the Robertsontomb,” Angela reminded him. “I don’t think the killer planned on Debbie Nolangoing to the police and then telling the people at the office what she saw. Hebarely caught sight of her at the last minute. So, it’s possible his artistrywas only for himself. But if it is drugs, Jackson, more than one person may beinvolved. Maybe our drug dealer finds those who are vulnerable, like theshooter who was here today, and uses them.”

Jackson nodded.

“So, you think while the ground was still fresh, they justgot rid of those digging in against them?” Colonel Clayborn asked. “All thiswhile pretending to honor the dead.”

“Quite possibly,” Jackson said and shrugged. He felt hisphone vibrating and answered it quickly.

Patrick, calling from the hospital.