“Isn’t everything around here?” Ben asked, only partly in jest.
“It certainly feels like it,” Erik replied. “I’ve always been interested in going to the Village when it’s open, but so far there have been other priorities.”
Ben snickered at the understatement. Since they both moved to Cape May, hauntings and unfinished business from their prior jobs kept them busy.
The old cemetery wasn’t fancy, just row upon row of old headstones surrounded by an iron fence, right beside a brick church. They parked and got out, walking toward the entrance.
“You know we’re being followed,” Ben said quietly.
“Yeah, since we left the shop. Pretty sure it’s the plainclothes detective,” Erik said. “If it isn’t, we’re likely to find out soon.”
No one else was around, so if their tail wasn’t a protector, he was likely to make his move despite them being on consecrated ground.
Erik pulled out his phone and opened the cemetery map he had found earlier. Then he navigated toward the plot where Samuels was buried.
The headstone was almost stark compared to others known to have been actually designed by Tiffany. An Art Deco-styled cross surrounded by the carved lilies that were a hallmark of Tiffany projects marked Samuel’s final resting place, with his dates and name on the opposite side of the stone from the carving.
“There’s no angel,” Ben said when they arrived.
Erik spotted a small placard on a stake and moved to read it. “They moved the angel to the St. Expeditus by the Sea compound,” he reported.
“And if it had magic, the nuns would be able to deal with it,” Ben said.
“That, too.” Erik went still, and Ben stood quietly, waiting to see if Erik would receive a vision. Their plainclothes tail stayed near the cemetery entrance, giving them space but still close enough in case of trouble. Ben didn’t see any other living people inside the graveyard.
“Grant Samuels, are you here?” Erik murmured. The wind picked up, sharply cold. Ben didn’t know if that was a response or just coincidence.
Several minutes passed and no vision manifested. Erik shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “Nothing. No vision, no visible ghost,” he told Ben. “You?”
Ben shook his head.
“Maybe Monty or Haley will have better luck.”
“Do you think it’s worth arranging a visit to the convent to see the angel statue?” Ben asked.
“Probably,” Erik replied as they headed back to the car. He saluted the cop, who nodded in response and got back in his vehicle. “It might not have any clues, but since we aren’t entirely sure what we’re looking for, I’m hoping we know it when we see it.”
They swung by the beach on their way back into town. Rain had held off so far, but ominous dark clouds hung on the horizon, threatening more storms.
“Just couldn’t stay away, huh?” Monty joked when he opened the lighthouse door.
“I’ll never turn down an excuse to go to the beach,” Ben replied.
“Me, neither. But we also wanted to see how the ghost situation was responding to the storms,” Erik added.
Monty’s gaze slid past them to where Ben suspected Jon’s spirit stood. “Jon says the energy has been weird. Not as bad as when there have been hurricanes, but it makes him feel jangly, like too much sugar and coffee.”
“Stronger?” Erik pressed.
Monty hesitated as if listening and then nodded. “Yes.”
“Picking up anything potentially dangerous from the old railroad tracks or the military locations?” Erik asked.
Cape May had been an important strategic location during World War II. People still told stories about German U-boats prowling the shore or a spy being shot off the top of the tall lookout tower that kept a watch for enemy ships. Asolid concrete bunker anchored the shore, which once housed a gun battery and a radio transmitting station, all now decommissioned.
Monty stopped to listen, and Ben figured Jon was giving him an earful.
“The ghosts haunting the railroad tracks aren’t like the usual beach spirits from drownings or boating accidents,” Monty explained. “They’re angry because the ‘accidents’ that killed them were usually due to companies cutting corners on safety or not protecting them from dangerous materials. Of course, the people responsible have been dead for decades, and the companies are long gone.”
