Before they left Lake Forest Cemetery, they exchanged the elderly couple’s car for an old pickup truck in the groundskeeper’s shed. Within thirty minutes, they switched the license plate and headed due south.
“We should find that couple and kill them,” Axalia remarked. She lounged with her feet propped on the dashboard and idly scraped dirt from beneath her stubby nails with a pocketknife. “They’ve ratted on us by now.”
Axis glanced sideways at her. “No. No more unnecessary slaughter. Blood leaves a trail. Besides, Chief McQuaid and his cops think we’re headed west to Laguna Beach, and that’s fine with me. They don’t know about our connection to the Escobars.”
“The Escobars don’t know about our connection to the Escobars,” Axalia reminded him.
Axis grinned like Jack Nicholson’s character the Joker in the original Batman movie starring Michael Keaton. “Wait until they get a load of us.”
Axalia laughed. Axis laughed, too, and pressed the gas pedal.
LAKE FOREST CEMETERY, ILLINOIS
ANDERSON FAMILY MAUSOLEUM
Miguel and Julia
Flashlightsin one hand and guns drawn in the other, Miguel and Julia cautiously approached the forty-year-old classic white Cadillac with a candy apple red interior in the groundskeeper’s shed at Lake Forest Cemetery, right where Tex had tracked it after they flew to Illinois on Miguel’s hunch. Careful not to touch it, they aimed their beams at the interior.
“It looks pristine,” Julia noted in a low voice. “At least Axis and Axalia didn’t trash it. Your theory was right. They came straight to Lake Forest.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Gray will be happy to hear that.” Miguel swept the ground around the Cadillac with his flashlight. “They exchanged the Caddy for another vehicle parked here. From the tire tracks, I’d say it’s a truck that belongs to the cemetery.”
“It’s the middle of the night. We’ll have to wait until morning to speak with the overseer to get a description.”
“In the meantime, let’s check out the Anderson family mausoleum. Axis and Axalia came here for something other than to visit their deceased parents and brother.”
In silence, they made their way along winding paths until the Andersons’ mausoleum came into view. When they drew near, they found the smashed cherubim outside the entrance.
“Guess they don’t like cherubs,” Julia remarked.
“Guess not.”
The heavy iron doors stood slightly ajar. Miguel examined them with his flashlight. “They picked the lock.” He used his elbow to create a large opening. “After you.”
Julia snickered as she moved past him into the gloomy interior. “Afraid of ghosts, Officer Rivera?”
Miguel’s guffaw reverberated in the silent, cavernous tomb. “Funny you should say that. Want to hear a genuine, honest-to-God ghost story?”
“I’m all ears.”
“Our good buddy, Marcus Finnigan from LA SWAT, recently married Tawny on Christmas Eve in, believe it or not, a haunted castle.”
“You’re joking, right?” Julia shined her flashlight directly at his face to read his expression.
“No, I’m not. This is the truth, on my honor, Julia. Grace O’Malley Finnigan, once a pirate, had been haunting the castle for seven hundred years, ever since her beloved husband Brecken Finnigan mysteriously disappeared on Christmas Eve.”
“What happened to him?”
“No one knew. When we descended on the castle for the wedding, Tawny met Grace Finnigan face to face.”
“Really?” Julia scoffed.
“Yeah, really. Grace destroyed Tawny’s bedchamber and almost ripped her wedding dress into pieces with a dagger.She stopped when Tawny said she was marrying one of Grace’s descendants.”
Miguel paused his tale as they examined the area around Axel’s and Lola’s nameplates. “Nothing looks tampered with.”
“No. So whatever the siblings came for wasn’t interred with their parents or brother.”
