Ian had finished speaking with the fourth person of interest and was driving across town when he saw the flashing lights of a squad car pull up behind him.

"Caught you," Mike said, as Ian pulled the car to the curb.

"Aye," he said. "I suppose I should make my one phone call now."

He dialed Bradley's number and put the phone on speaker.

"Chief Alden," Bradley said into the phone.

"It's good to hear your voice," Ian said. "I've just been pulled over by a very angry-looking Lena Police Chief. I thought it would be wise to have you on the phone with me. Do you ken?"

"Yes, I understand," he said. "Thanks for calling me."

Chief Richards tapped on the driver's window and Ian rolled it down. "Good afternoon, Chief," he said. "How are you today?"

"What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing?" Richards asked.

"I beg your pardon, Chief," Ian replied, "are you meaning right now or do you mean something else?"

"You get smart with me, boy, and I'll pull you out of this car and show you what I mean," he threatened.

"And Ian will have to kick your fat b.u.t.t, Uncle Chuck," Mike added.

"Ach, well, before you say another word, I should be telling you that Chief Alden is on me speaker phone listening to our conversation," Ian said with a pleasant smile. "I wouldn't want you to think I entrapped you or anything like that."

"Good afternoon, Chief Richards," Bradley said. "Is there a problem?"

"You can keep your people out of my jurisdiction," he said. "You want my help, fine, I'd be happy to work with you. But, I'm not going to stand for you freelancing in my town."

"All right," Bradley said. "I'll take you up on your offer. I didn't find any of the original interviews with the persons of interest in the files you gave me. Would you be willing to share those files with me?"

Richards looked at Ian and nodded. "Yeah, I'll share them," he said. "Your man can follow me back to the station and I'll have them all copied. I'm not against you working your leads and I want this solved just as badly as the next man, but I don't like being left out of the loop."

"That's understandable, Chief," Bradley admitted. "We were initially concerned there was a leak in your office, which is why we circ.u.mvented you."

"Yeah, well, there's not a leak," he said. "Folks around here are just protective of the families that got hurt. They don't want to see old wounds opened up. And, they see me as the person who can keep a lid on things like that."

"Thanks for shedding a light on the situation, Chief," Bradley said. "I'll put together the things I'm working on and send you a report early next week."

"Thank you, Alden, I'd appreciate it," he said and then he turned to Ian. "If you'd be willing to follow me, I'll get you the information."

Ian smiled. "Thanks, I'd appreciate it."

An hour later, Ian walked out of the Lena Police Station with a large file and no more information than he had when he stepped in. He got into his car and pulled away from the station. He drove several blocks away to the city cemetery and pulled in.

"Drive over there," Mike said, pointing to a large monument. "Timmy's marker is right near that one."

Ian drove over to the site, parked the car and got out. He and Mike walked over to the marker and just looked at it for a few moments without speaking.

"I'm glad I got to meet him," Ian said. "He's a great kid."

Mike nodded. "Yeah, this piece of stone isn't really a great representation of him."

"What would you put here instead?" Ian asked.

Shrugging, Mike thought about it for a moment. "I don't know," he said. "But something that reminded me of his laughter, his sense of humor. This is just too sad."

"Well, the end of his life was sad," Ian replied.

"But that was just a little part of the life he lived and the person he was," he said. "How someone lived, that's how he should be remembered. Not how he died."

Ian nodded, "Aye, you're right," he said. "We forget that when we're planning a funeral. We're so focused on death, we forget about life."

"Yeah, and when you're dead, that's all you think about," Mike said, "your life, your family and your friends. It's all about who you loved. You figure out pretty fast what really mattered."

"I think I need to call me ma in the morning," Ian said. "You have me longing for her voice."

Mike smiled. "And there's one place I want us to stop before we go back to Mary's. They might be able to help. But even if they don't, I'd like you to meet my parents."

Mike guided Ian out of town and down the country lanes until they came to his childhood home. Ian pulled into the farmyard and parked, as Mike had instructed, next to the back door.

"Dad's probably already done the milking for the afternoon," Mike said. "So, he and mom will be in the kitchen talking about their day. This is a good time to catch them."

Ian got out of the car. "Are you sure I shouldn't use the front door?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Mike led him to the back porch steps. "Only salesmen use the front door," he said. "Regular people use the back."

Ian climbed the stairs and knocked on the screen door. A moment later, a woman in her fifties opened it and smiled at him.

"h.e.l.lo, can I help you?" she asked.

"h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Richards," Ian said. "My name is Ian MacDougal. I'm a friend... I mean, I was a friend of Mike's."

"You knew Mike?" she asked, opening the door wider.

"Aye," Ian said with a smile. "We were fast friends."

"Please, come in," she said. "I'm sure we'd be happy to speak with you."

Chapter Forty-one.

Ian walked into the kitchen of the Richard's farmhouse. The bright, warm room was such a contrast to the cold, dark night outside. The kitchen table was draped in a yellow gingham checked tablecloth and the cabinets were a warm golden maple. The kitchen curtains were blue and the walls were painted a soft creamy yellow with pale blue accents.

"This is a lovely room, Mrs. Richards," Ian said, as he entered.

"We're not much on formality here, please call me Alice," Mike's mother said. "Do you mind if we sit in the kitchen? I'm in the midst of preparing dinner."

"Oh, forgive me for intruding," he said. "I shan't stay but a moment."

"Nonsense," Alice replied. "Allen is just washing up and will be down soon. You have to stay and visit with us. We'd be pleased if you'd consider staying for dinner."

She moved over to the counter and started cutting biscuit dough into rounds and placing them on a cookie sheet.

"Mom's making pot roast," Mike said from the corner of the room. "You'd be a fool to leave."

"Is that pot roast you're making?" Ian asked. "Mike would speak of it, often. He'd say if I ever got offered the chance to try his mother's pot roast, I'd be the luckiest of men."

She turned and smiled at him. "Did he really say that?" she asked.

"Aye, I can still hear the words," Ian said. "I'd be honored to stay."

"So, where did you meet Michael?"

"Oh, well, then, that's a story," Ian said, looking to Mike for direction.

"When I went to Philmont Boy Scout Camp, you were there from Scotland with your Troop," Mike said.

"Do you recall when Mike went to Philmont Boy Scout Camp?" he asked.

"The one in Arizona?" she asked, lifting another biscuit from the board.

Ian started to nod in agreement, but Mike called, "No, it's in New Mexico. She always forgot that."

"Um, no, it's in New Mexico," Ian said.

Alice smiled. "Oh, that's right," she said. "I always forget that."

"Aye, well I was one of the International Scouts and I met Mike there," Ian said.

"Were you the one he wrote home about?" she asked, looking concerned.

Mike laughed. "No, no," he said. "That kid puked every night because he missed his mommy."

"Oh, do you mean the poor lad with separation issues?" he asked. "No, that wasn't me."

"Did you two keep in touch from Scout Camp?" she asked, lifting the cookie sheet and placing it in the oven.

"Yeah, like I'd write a letter," Mike said. "No we saw each other again in college."

"Oh, no, I wasn't very good at correspondence," Ian said.

Nodding, Alice closed the oven door and set the timer. "Neither was Michael," she said. "We had to threaten him to get him to write thank-you notes at Christmas."

Ian laughed. "I'm sure me mum feels the same way," he said. "We met up again at college. We each realized we'd met earlier and hit it off again."

An older version of Mike entered the room. Ian figured Allen Richards was probably in his late fifties, but he moved and looked like a much younger man.

"The body of an athlete," Mike commented. "That's what farming will get you."

"Allen, I want you to meet Ian," Alice said. "He's was a friend of Mike's. He's in the neighborhood and thought he'd stop by to meet us."

Allen didn't say anything at first, just sat down at the table across from Ian. "What brings you to our neighborhood?" he asked.

"Tell him the truth," Mike said. "My dad can see a lie a mile away."

"Well, I'm actually here in the area doing research," he explained. "I'm a professor from the University of Edinburgh and we have a relationship with the University of Chicago. For the time I'm working with a private investigator in Freeport."

"A private investigator," Alice said. "Well, that sounds exciting."

Ian smiled, "Aye, it has been so far."

"What do you study?" Allen asked.

"Criminology and Paranormal Phenomena," Ian replied.

"Well, that's different, isn't it?" Alice said.

"Mom thinks you're a nut," Mike translated.

Ian bit back a grin. "Aye, it is different, which is why we want to study it," he said. "There are many so-called psychics who come forward with information, some are mere charlatans, but some have good information that often helps solve a crime. How do we tell the difference?"

"So, all you are studying are psychics?" Allen asked.

Ian shook his head. "No, currently my emphasis is on paranormal images or ghosts."

Alice walked across the room and sat at the table next to Ian. "Do you believe in ghosts?" she asked, watching him intently for his answer.

He nodded. "Aye, I do," he said. "I believe there are ghosts among us and they often want to communicate with us."

He watched her lift her hand to her cheek for a moment. "Are they all evil?" she asked.

"No more than asking if all the people in the world are evil," he replied. "I'm sure there are some evil ones, but I believe the majority are good."

"Why are they here?" Allen asked.

Ian sighed. "Well, my theory," he began. "And it's still just a theory, mind you, is that we have several kinds of ghosts. We have ghosts that haven't moved on to their next stage yet. It could be because they don't realize they're dead or they still have unfinished business. Then, there are ghosts who moved on and come back to visit occasionally. They come back to the places that were important to them a either a place they spent a lot of time or perhaps, a place they died."

"Like the battlefields at Gettysburg," Alice said.

"Exactly," he replied. "And then, I'm learning just now about another group who pa.s.sed over, have no unfinished business, but come back to watch over those they love."