4

Cope

After snarfing down two foot-long dogs and an order of fries, Cope felt unstoppable. He couldn't wait to head back to the hotel so he and the kids could hit the beach. Thankfully, Jude's mood had brightened as the afternoon wore on, hitting a high point when he'd taken the kids into the toy store before they left. Wolf had gotten a bag full of rubber bugs, and Lizbet had fallen in love with a brightly colored beach ball.

Cope pushed Lizbet's stroller along the beach access mat leading back to the hotel. The little girl looked as if she were about to drop off for a nap. He'd put her down in the portable crib on the beach. His daughter could sleep through anything, and when she woke up refreshed, she could play on the beach.

Catching sight of a group of people surrounding the back of the motel made Cope's stomach drop. Christ, he hoped to hell someone wasn't dead or badly injured. The closer he got to the crowd, the worse he felt. "Oh, fuck a duck," he mumbled, noticing the first camera, then a second.

"There he is!" someone shouted. The crowd milling around the hotel turned and ran toward Cope as one. Some held microphones in their hands, while others had their smartphones turned in his direction.

"What the hell is going on?" Jude asked. "Who the hell are they here for? Me? Ronan? Fitz?"

Cope quickly scanned the group of rabid reporters. The answer came to him quickly. "Me, they're here for me." Turning to Ten, Cope pitched his voice low. "Take Lizbet and go around the front of the hotel. Can you take Wolf too?"

Ten nodded. "They're not here to hurt you, but I'm sure Jude and Ronan will stick around and have your back."

Cope watched as Ten spoke briefly to Ronan and waved Jace and the kids toward him. They took the side path toward the front of the hotel. When they were out of sight, he turned his attention toward the advancing mob. He thought he could pick out a word or two.

"Playboy…"

"Solve the case…"

"Longfellow."

Longfellow didn't ring a bell for Cope, aside from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and he very much doubted the media was here to talk about his poem Haunted Houses , but stranger things had happened.

As the mob came closer, Ronan and Jude stepped in front of Cope, while Fitzgibbon stood facing the direction they'd just come from, effectively covering Cope's back. Both men held their hands up to the shouting members of the media. "You want to tell us what's going on here?" Jude asked.

Several reporters started talking at once, their words jumbled and garbled.

"You, ABC 7, Bangor." Ronan pointed to a youngish reporter with his station's logo on his microphone.

"Chet Hines, ABC 7." The reporter stood taller, obviously pleased to have been chosen as the spokesman for the group. "Is renowned psychic and ghost hunter Copeland Forbes here to solve the Case of the Penniless Playboy?"

Cope shook his head. He was really lost now. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm here on vacation with my family and friends."

The reporters raised their hands as if they had the answer to a schoolteacher's math problem.

"Fox Bangor." Jude pointed to a young woman wearing jeans and a plain white tee.

"Julia Wright. Mr. Forbes, Cyrus Longfellow was murdered in room 13 back in 2010. His murder has never been solved. His ghost haunts the hotel, crying out for his murderer to be found and punished. Have you made contact with his spirit yet?"

Cope shook his head. "I didn't feel any spirit in room 13, but then again, I was focused on my family." He thought back to the brief amount of time he'd spent in lucky number thirteen. He hadn't felt that anything was off, aside from the fact that the motel wasn't the four-star accommodation he'd thought it would be, but he could hardly say that to these local reporters.

"Why don't you all leave your business cards with me?" Ronan said, easing the crowd away from Jude and Cope. "If Cope does manage to make contact with Cyrus Longfellow, we'll be in touch. Okay?"

More questions were shouted toward Ronan as Jude led Cope around the group of reporters and up the staircase leading to their room. Cope couldn't help but notice how easily Ronan handled the crowd. His presence was commanding when he was in cop mode.

Cope used the key to unlock the door to his room. Jude was right behind him. With his hands shaking. He took a seat at the small table and tried to catch his breath. He'd shut his gift down once they'd left for lunch, after Cope learned there wasn't anything more dangerous here than a couple of lonely spiders hanging out above their balcony.

Regaining control of himself, Cope slid his eyes shut. He reached out with his gift and could hear Aurora and Everly laughing at something silly Jace was doing. Lizbet was sleeping, and Ezra was almost out too. He didn't sense any spirits, Cyrus Longfellow or otherwise.

"Anything?" Jude asked when Cope opened his eyes.

"Nothing." Cope shook his head. The murder had only happened fourteen years ago, but he wasn't getting a feeling that anything violent had happened in this space. "Cyrus Longfellow, are you here?"

There was no answer to Cope's question. He tried again, reaching out silently. Cyrus, I can help you cross over. If you need my help, let me know. Again, there wasn't a response. "Why don't we see what's cooking in Ten and Ronan's room."

"Good idea, but after that, we're off to the beach, right?" Jude asked, his hands planted on his hips.

"Yes, right." Cope was promised a last weekend of fun in the sun, and he was going to sit on that beautiful beach and watch the waves crash against the shore. Nothing was going to stop him from enjoying this time with his family.

Opening the large suitcase he was sharing with Jude, Cope pulled out their swimsuits and passed Jude's to him. Stepping into the bathroom, he quickly switched out his shorts and black briefs for his brightly colored board shorts. He couldn't wait to hop into the ocean with Wolfie. When he came out of the bathroom, Jude had finished changing as well.

"When were you gonna tell me you were a ringer in darts?" Jude asked with a grin.

"Until today, it never came up." Cope wrapped his arms around Jude's neck and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"How did you learn to throw like that?"

"What, you mean limp-wristed? Sort of comes with the territory, I'm afraid." Cope snickered.

"How did you know that you couldn't throw the darts with your full strength like Ronan and I were doing?"

"My mom loved to figure out how to beat carnival games. She could have done it easily with her magick, but she liked to figure out the trick to it. I just followed along with what she did. It's been like twenty years since the last time I tried it. Obviously, the game hasn't changed in that time. I'm just glad I could win something for the girls before you ended up spending our kids' college funds to beat the game."

"I wouldn't have spent all the money. I'm not a monster." Jude laughed, pulling Cope into his chest. "If you're not connecting with Cyrus Longfellow, what do you suggest we do? The last thing I want is for a group of reporters to spend the next few days following us around."

"I don't want the kids to have to deal with it either. I just want them to have a good time."

"They will, babe. We all will."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're feeling better." Cope had been afraid Jude's sour mood would continue the whole trip. He was glad to see the sunnier side of his husband's personality had prevailed.

"It's not the place I thought it would be, but it's clean and not crumbling down around us. I'll tell you what though, I'm never going to book a hotel because an email recommended it ever again."

"You know, it's strange," Cope began.

"What is?"

"You get this unsolicited email out of the blue that tricked you into thinking this place was a four-star resort, and instead, it just so happens that a murder was committed here, and we got the room it happened in? There are too many coincidences for me."

"Agreed. I'll look into it. I'm sure Ronan and Fitz will have something to say about what happened this afternoon too."

Cope didn't need his gift to know the others would definitely have something to say about the strange occurrences they had encountered.