But now . . .
He knew Angela had made a promise to secure the ghost’s help.
And he had done the same. Somehow, he had to get to David before David could—most likely give in to his fear—attack someone else.
Or be attacked. He couldn’t guarantee Marty Lawson might not realize the man had taken his wife and go after him.
“So . . . which way?” he murmured aloud. It had gotten late! Far later than he had imagined. Now the man was gone.
In the dark.
And to his surprise, his question was answered. Not by the living. But by another spirit, that of another older man whohad been buried in an army uniform that denoted his rank as colonel.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you!” the spirit said. “Colonel Ted Hargrave, sir, at your service. David headed east, straight down the sidewalk. But Marty Lawson has called the police to the house . . . I guess when you called an ambulance, that alerted police officers as well. So, I saw which way he went, and I even think I know where he went. There is a little park with a playground. David goes and sits—never bothers the kids. I guess he likes to imagine that Donna comes home somehow, and he gets to watch his little one. I swear to you, Ray and I fought together but died at different times. Still, both of us are hanging around. I am his friend, and I have seen all that David has suffered and what’s gone on with his medications. So, I’m begging you, too—”
“We need to move! Get me to that playground! Please!” Jackson urged him.
The spirit didn’t wait a second longer; he swept through the air and Jackson followed at a mortal run—damned fast, thanks to years of working with the Krewe.
Police were arriving at David Johnstone’s house, he saw from the sidewalk. But seconds after, he was in the park.
And he saw the man sitting on a bench, staring at an empty slide. There were no kids around at this hour of the night. Darkness had come upon them long ago.
Jackson walked over and took the seat next to him. He wasn’t worried. The man wasn’ a threat.
Tears were running down his face. He looked at Jackson, shaking his head.
“I thought I was going into my house. I thought that . . . I had that little vial the doctor gave me, and I saw her . . . in my mind, Donna! She was going to fall, and I swept her into my arms and thought we were in the wrong house, so I took her outback. But she wasn’t Donna, and I didn’t realize that until . . . I don’t know. You knocked my arm. It was like . . . clarity was knocked into me. You’re welcome to arrest me. What I did was horrible and I’m praying that . . .”
“Hey. Honestly, sir, I’m law enforcement, not a lawyer, but I think that what was done to you with the meds . . . it wasn’t really your fault.” He hesitated. But he knew that Angela would agree. “David, we’re going to tear through the old records. Everything the police have, neighborhood reports, everything. We will do everything in our power, even though it has been a long time, but—”
“Could she still be alive? Could Donna still be alive? And my baby?” he asked in a whisper.
“I don’t know. I know I can’t guarantee you anything, but we will try to help you,” Jackson assured him. “Let’s head back and see what’s going on. Cindy Lawson was in labor and I believe Angela thought that the baby might pop out before an ambulance could get there.”
The man nodded, still miserable. They walked back from the park, but there were no police around.
Only Angela was waiting for them on the sidewalk in front of David’s house.
And she was smiling. Jackson was glad; that had to mean the baby had been delivered alive and well even if a few weeks earlier than due. But she had met the spirit of Ray and his colonel friend and knew what had happened to David and the real Donna Johnstone and her baby?
“I think I’m supposed to be under arrest,” David said to her, miserable and confused.
“Uh, no,” Angela said. “Marty got here with the ambulance. Cindy was pretty spectacular. She said you were just helping her because of what had happened to you and she was so sorry . . . she forgot about time. Now, I don’t think Martybelieved her, but he understood. And their little boy is fine. The ambulance arrived just when I was hoping for a bit of help. Baby was out, but I didn’t want to make mistakes with the umbilical cord or . . . with Cindy! She and Marty are off to the hospital. And even at a few weeks early, the EMT told me the baby weighed about eight pounds!”
“What?” David asked, sinking to the sidewalk. “What? That poor woman! I terrified her. I made her go into labor early. How can they be so forgiving after what I put them through? I don’t deserve this. I should be locked up for what I did—”
“Believe it or not,” Angela told him, “Cindy is happy. I guess none of us has realized this, but . . . it has turned into Mother’s Day. And Cindy gets to hold her baby, truly be a mom, for Mother’s Day.”
“Well, that’s beautiful,” David whispered. “But still . . . what I did! I’m guilty of kidnapping a pregnant woman.”
“One who understands and cares,” Angela told him.
“You weren’t in your right mind,” Jackson reminded him. “David, we need to talk about this doctor. He—”
“He tried to help me,” David said.
“David, he may have tried to help you, but he gave you hallucinogenic drugs. If you were on simple depressants, this never would have happened. I’m not wishing ill on anyone, but if someone else with a past that was threatening or worse wound up in the same position . . . well, we need to avert more problems!”
