CHAPTER TWELVE

"Trak, Angel, always good to see you boys," smirked Sheriff Landry, welcoming them into the trailer parked out at the fairgrounds. The department often set up remote offices when working large-scale events such as this one. He chuckled to himself, calling Trak and Angel ‘boys.' They were at least thirty years older than him but looked twenty years younger. He never questioned it, just went with it.

"Landry, nice to see you," said Angel. "We were just wondering if there had been any complaints about the circus fair."

"No. I wouldn't say any complaints, really. I've got a mother of a young boy who took her son to the fair yesterday and never came home. The little boy was crying, and security found him near the animal cages. They picked him up and put out a public call for the mom on the speaker system, but she never came around."

"Foul play?" asked Trak.

"We're not sure. The father admitted that they'd had issues the last few months, so it's possible she just left."

"Leave the kid?" frowned Angel. "I don't know. Leave her husband, yeah, I get that. But leave her child? Most women won't do that."

"Well, this one obviously did. No credit card charges yet. Her car is missing, so we think she just left, walked off or drove off with someone."

"Anything else?" asked Angel.

"Nothing. We've sent out animal control several times to check on the animals. You can tell Mama Irene to stop hounding me about that. The animals are fine." The two men chuckled, knowing it wouldn't do any good to say anything to Mama Irene.

"I've had extra deputies out here, even hired some private security to be sure nothing goes wrong. No pickpockets. No cheating carnival games. Nothing."

"Okay, thanks, sheriff," said Angel.

"No problem. You boys take care." As the men walked back out into the sun, Trak looked at Angel.

"When do you think he'll stop calling us ‘boys'?" asked Trak. Angel laughed, shaking his head.

"There's a part of me that hopes he never does," said Angel. "The other part of me is wondering when he'll actually ask us about our lack of aging."

"What do you think about the woman disappearing?"

"I think it's unusual but not unheard of. And it's only one person. If we could tie it to the circus, how does that fit with Gus?"

"I don't know," said Trak, "but it feels like it is connected."

"Well, we can't sit out there and watch all day, but maybe we send some others that they haven't seen yet. George, Sven, Chipper, Teddy, and Hannu all look innocent enough. But we need to rotate them."

"Agreed, but not Chipper. He's responsible for flying us. I don't want anything to happen to him. Maybe send Kegger, Pork, Bull, and Otto if they're available. They're experienced and can still move relatively quickly if needed."

"I can live with that," said Angel. "Let's work out a rotation over the next week for them to go out there. We can try to figure out what's going on. On the outside, it looks fine. But you and I both know that those brothers are hiding something."

"I'm supposed to be somewhere. Doing something," muttered Gus to himself.

He walked around the wet, marshy landscape, his feet feeling cold and wet, but when he looked down, they were dry. Shaking his head, he moved toward his self-made shelter.

Staring at it, he noticed something different but couldn't put his finger on it. The walls seemed more sound, larger. There was a solid floor with two long pieces of plywood covered in artificial turf. Connected to the roof, which had been shingled and sealed, was a canvas canopy stretching out over the land. It gave him the feeling of a porch. The opening to his shelter now had a screen that could be snapped on the sides to limit bug infestation.

Inside, he noticed an oversized blow-up mattress complete with sleeping bag, pillow, and even a foam crate over the top of the mattress.

"What in the world?" he whispered to himself. "Did I do this?"

On a small wooden table was a battery-powered lantern, three books about history, and several bottles of water. Looking beneath the table, he noticed a large cooler. Opening the lid, there was a tray on top that contained fresh fruit, granola bars, nuts, and beef jerky.

"Can I eat?" he asked himself.

Reaching out, he gripped the apple, marveling at the feel of the shiny skin in his hand. He took a bite and smiled. When did he last have an apple? Opening the water, he took a big swig, spilling some down the front of him. He laughed at himself, shaking his head at the simple pleasure of tasting something once again.

He had no idea that it had been two other ghosts that made his home habitable. At least they'd contacted others for help to make it habitable. They felt comfortable going into the attic of the big house or any one of the empty cottages or cabins. But Gus was still struggling with the knowledge that he wasn't in living form any longer.

When Eagle Feather and Archie reached out to Grant, he sent two carpenters over to the island and immediately set to work making the little hut cozy.

With the sun setting over the bayou, he left the tarp off of the screen so that he could watch the miracle happening before him. He'd visited many places. At least, he thought he had. He remembered buying little gifts for his sister. Hair ribbons, music, a t-shirt. He once bought her a rock from Idaho just because she said she'd never get to visit, but at least she'd have a piece of the state.

Oh, how he loved his sister. His only cheerleader. She believed there was nothing wrong with him. In her eyes, he was perfect. Their parents had been good and kind, patient and humble. But raising one child who was ‘normal' and one who was not must have been challenging.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, he heard himself ask a question.

"What did you do?"