But I like to think of us as violators with a n.o.ble cause. Ambitious seekers of paranormal truths and century-old secrets only revealed in the dead of night.

Our plan tonight is this: First, sneak into the graveyard. Then, after spending an hour or so exploring and gathering evidence in video, audio, and from our own sensory perceptions-both physical and extrasensory, we will move on to exploring the grounds surrounding the house.

The first phase can merit a stern warning, if we're caught. But the second phase of tonight's agenda is actually the one that could get us arrested by Franklin's finest, and our a.s.ses thrown in jail for the entire weekend. Yeah, that's made me think twice on more than one occasion when we've done this before. But when Fiona runs an investigation, everyone better get used to the fact she likes living on the edge. Even more than her rock n' roll husband does.

So, we are here. Seven figures clad in dark clothing, carrying cameras, voice recorders, EMF detectors, and flashlights. After traveling in two SUVs-Tom's and Jackie's-we parked a quarter of a mile from the graveyard. Sprawling mansions border what's left of the battlefield and plantation.

"Man, did y'all feel the temperature drop just now?" whispered Justin, shortly after we crept inside the wrought-iron gate that marks the graveyard's main entrance. "Last I checked it was still your typical humid July night back there in the parking lot."

He pointed back to the small parking lot that separated the graveyard from the entrance road that leads to the plantation house.

"Yeah, I'd say it's a noticeable drop," I agreed.

I looked over at Tom and Tony, and they nodded while testing the settings for the infrared camera and a new digital EVP recorder Tony picked up that morning before work, using the proceeds from his latest bonus check from our employer. Mine has been set aside for the kids, and Fiona and I plan to spend some of that cash tomorrow afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese's and a matinee movie.

"It could just be the fact we stepped under a few tall trees that have prevented the sun's rays from warming the ground, as well as the very air around us," offered Angie from behind me.

She and Jackie flanked Fiona, who now giggled.

"Or it could be that even the spirits quiver before your powerful presence and fearsome strength, Muscle Mutt!"

Just teasing, of course, but even in darkness I could've sworn she glowered at me, as a warm tingling sensation suddenly traveled up my spine.

"So, are you suggesting the restless souls of the Confederacy now tremble before the ladies in our little group, Cracker Jack-a.s.shole?"

Ooh, always a bad thing when the uncomplimentary nickname gains a hyphenated add-on.

"Just kidding, Angie," I told her, peering over my shoulder to offer her a smile, and a tender wink to my wife. I'm not sure that either gesture was witnessed, given the twilight's steady decline into deeper darkness. "By the way, did any of you sense something unusual last night at Johnny and Brenda's place?"

"There were a few cold spots," said Tony, who looked over at Tom, as if waiting on a nod to confirm this.

Tom glanced up from his camera's video playback screen and offered a slight nod to Tony, while we all waited for him to continue. I couldn't help but wonder what had transpired since dinner to make surly Tom so amenable.

"I thought for sure we'd leave there with all kinds of evidence," Tony continued, pausing to adjust his UK baseball cap. "But nothing showed up other than in the still shots, unless we count the two EMF spikes we noted near the backdoor. No video, no EVPs, and-"

"Nothing that anyone could sense," Jackie interrupted, looking over at Fiona.

Unless we're counting Candi's dream visitation to my wife later last night. Sometimes Fiona shares that kind of thing with others in the group...sometimes not. I a.s.sumed from Jackie's response and the crickets in the background that followed, no one knew about it. Maybe she felt this was the best way to protect our friends, or perhaps she thought it was just a dream after all, with no other importance. I could buy that, if not for several corpses being prepared for burial during the next few days.

She had some other reason-one that I determined to learn later, when alone with her in private "Let's stay focused on why we're here, everyone," urged Fiona, a perfect opportunity to change the subject when a pair of headlights appeared briefly in the parking lot.

We all ducked down behind the nearest tombstones, and remained there until the small sedan turned around and left. Probably someone lost in the area. It's easy to do if unfamiliar with Franklin's urban layout.

"Tom and Tony, you guys go ahead, and the rest of us will spread out as we follow along."

She motioned for Justin and me to travel among the markers on the left side of the path that bisected the graveyard. Jackie and Angie joined her on the right side. Luckily we had a little moonlight to work with, so we didn't need the flashlights just yet. But there was no way to avoid the camera flashes. The only thing we could do to avoid detection was not overdo it...just a few snapshots every five minutes or so, and rely on Tom's infrared ahead of us. At least the neighborhood houses sat farther away from us the deeper we moved into the graveyard.

"How many times have y'all come here in the past?"

A reasonable question from Angie, whose earlier sarcastic tone had softened. It was only her second trip to this locale. The first had been a brief run through the markers closest to the parking lot, since a wicked downpour ensued shortly thereafter. It was frigging cold, too, since that happened last November on the anniversary eve of the Battle of Franklin.

"Dozens of times, literally," said Fiona. "I came here with a family friend when I was a little girl. Her grandmother was hugely responsible for the restoration of the main house, and there's a plaque with her name on it in the tourist center."

"So, when did you first see the nanny ghost?" asked Justin, from across the way.

"I was six at the time. The house was being repaired after a bad tornado came through here," my wife explained. "I stood in the dining room and I saw her...she wore a turban and smiled at me. But I could see the table through her.... I later saw her picture, and it's the same one on display in the tourist center."

"The McGavock's nanny?" Jackie confirmed.

"Yes."

"So that's the ghost for this place, huh?"

I could almost picture Angie's wry smile, her cynicism on its way back.

"Actually, there are a number of spirits here-and many have been caught on camera," I said. "There's a little girl ghost, whose image made national news some years back, and Fiona and others talk about a General who walks between the house and graveyard-sometimes in broad daylight."

"Really?"

Well, at least Angie sounded curious. There was honest interest in her tone, like she hadn't known much about the Carnton's history. I thought she knew...Fiona is so well-versed in the paranormal and historical facts surrounding Franklin, it seemed unlikely she had never mentioned anything beyond the nanny ghost to her before now.

"Yes, that one has a lot of eyewitnesses," Fiona confirmed. "And, we've got a photograph of a Confederate officer standing next to one of the taller markers, which I caught on film when Jimmy and Jackie came out here with me a few summers ago."

"I thought at first it might be a tree," I added, glancing at Justin before continuing. He nodded. At least I didn't have to prove any of this s.h.i.t to him. "But, after Jackie paid to have it enlarged to an eight by ten, you can see the coat edges and a row of bra.s.s b.u.t.tons that go all the way up to the neckline. There's just not a head or anything below the knees."

"So, it's not the dude that chased Jackie and Fiona out of here last August?" asked Justin, snickering playfully. Lord knows what that scene looked like in his head.

"Geez, I forgot about that!" said Fiona, chuckling. "No, I doubt seriously it's the same person, but who can say for sure? You remember how scared we were, Jackie?"

"As Angie would be, too, if she ever encountered something like that!" Jackie agreed. "Okay, how would you respond to a pair of legs running full force at you, with no torso visible?"

"Could you see the shoes?" asked Angie, and then she paused to take a picture of the marker for the Arkansas regiment.

"Yes, we could...for this particular apparition," said Fiona. "It made it all that much worse. But by the time we reached the car, nothing followed us. At least nothing we could see."

"And the pants-weren't they what soldiers back in 1864 might've been issued?"

Justin's tone sounded increasingly excited, which only added impish opportunity for Angie.

"Are you sure it doesn't bother you that most of these idiots buried here were fighting to keep your ancestors in bondage?"

She sounded a bit more disdainful, and I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"Well, they might've been all for it...the ignorant ones buried here, I guess," he said, and for a moment he looked like he regretted his latter comment. "But, that's not why the war started. Slavery became a bigger deal when Lincoln wanted to end the war. States rights. That's why this happened...and if the federal government keeps pa.s.sing laws that belittle our rights-like the Patriot Act bulls.h.i.t-then we may be fighting again over pretty much the same thing."

"Still, you're black."

Despite the dimness, everyone stopped walking. I figured Angie must be on her period. Always a bit ornery, she's been a little b.i.t.c.hier since yesterday. Perhaps she's having a much harder time dealing with the death of our friends than she's let on.

"Okay," he said, and then the familiar smirk crossed his bearded face under the moon's soft glow. "I've always liked stuff about the Civil War...don't know why, man. But, hey, maybe it's because my great-grandmother was white and comes from a s.h.i.tload of money-none that my side of the family will ever see, but still. Or, maybe the reason I care about Tennessee's Civil War history is I get to gloat about some things.... Like the fact a bunch of a-holes from Pulaski formed the ill-fated KKK. I mean, who in the h.e.l.l cares about them anymore? But, even better is this: I can wipe my dirty shoes on the back porch over yonder, where four Confederate good ole boy generals lay dead after 'pretendin' to know what the h.e.l.l dey's doin' when dey got der d.a.m.n't a.s.ses kill't'"

Ouch...But funny as h.e.l.l, despite an opinion the local southern gentry would surely take issue with.

"The only Confederate general who made it out of the Battle of Franklin alive was the dumba.s.s who started the whole thing, too," continued, Justin, his tone serious for a moment, though the playful glint in his eyes remained. "General John Bell Hood. Peg-leg Hoodie had one leg and an arm paralyzed from a gunshot wound...high off his a.s.s on laudanum. He blamed everyone else for the Union slipping through his flimsy blockade near Spring Hill. And, that sucker lived through the battle...probably up on a hill with his spygla.s.s, saying s.h.i.t like 'That's it! Go get em' boys!!'"

He laid on another of his comedic voices to emphasize his point, and we all laughed our b.u.t.ts off. Me and Jackie staggered about, trying to catch our breath. d.a.m.ned hilarious-really it was.

Well, it only took a moment for the uptight members of our band of nighttime miscreants to sound the alarm.

"Shhhh!!"

Tom and Tony came scurrying back to us, motioning for everyone to crouch low amid the tombstones.

"We might've seen something, just beyond the back gate that leads to the house!" said Tom, seething again. I couldn't tell if that was from physical exertion or his usual irritation.

"And y'all have probably just blown it for us!" said Tony, as angry as I've ever seen him. It must be something pretty amazing captured by the infrared camera for him to be this upset.

"Sorry, guys," said Fiona. "We'll keep it down...all right?"

She looked at the rest of us, and even I nodded emphatically.

"It's too late," said Tom, motioning toward the parking lot. A police cruiser had just pulled in, its top row of lights were dormant. "It looks like we'll have to climb the fence like last time."

Well, that sucks. The investigation cut short, we now had some new drama on our hands. Tom can be somewhat nimble when he needs to be, and it's the same thing with Tony...at least nimble in a Chinese fire drill sort of way.

Luckily, no one dropped anything as we slipped over the fence, careful to avoid the wrought-iron spikes. Equipment and all seven of us arrived safely, and the lights atop the cruiser came to life just before I climbed over the fence. I was the last one out of there, but I don't think the heavy-set officer saw me. His silhouette was framed by flashing red and blue rays, like Meatloaf on stage at the Exit Inn.

The image made me laugh, amid more shushes from the group. But funnier than that was seeing the look on Angie's face as she gazed at the cop shining his flashlight through the grave markers we'd recently traversed through.

Either she's afraid of the man with the badge, or maybe she finally saw a ghost.

Chapter Eleven.

Chuck E. Cheese's with the boys was a lot of fun. Glad we went early in the afternoon on Sat.u.r.day instead of waiting until 4 p.m., like we'd originally had planned. Ryan and Alex are great kids, and a h.e.l.l of a lot of fun to be around. I love music, and checking out haunted places can be a real rush, but Fiona and our boys are the focus of my life. Nothing gets me high like an afternoon spent with them. Well...intense s.e.x with my wife runs a close second, I must admit-and only because o.r.g.a.s.ms don't last several hours.

Anyway, we were on our way to a movie, and to be honest I can't remember the name of it right now. Just the latest Pixar flick and this one was a 3-D version. Fiona got a call from Detective Silver. I'll admit that my pulse quickened the minute she addressed 'Ed' by name, but again my problem is with him and not her.

"Oh my G.o.d...No!"

Even Ryan and Alex understood the immediate implications in their mom's tone, though so young. My older boy, Ryan, looked over at his little brother bobbing in his car seat.

"There goes our plans, Alex!" he said, wearing a chagrinned 'oh well' expression and shrugging his shoulders.

Before Alex could launch himself into a full bawling fit, I turned to face them, reaching back to pat his knee in the Camaro's backseat.

"Hang in there, guys...let's see what's up first."

I offered an easy, confident smile-which is usually all it takes to instill similar confidence in them that everything's going to be all right. But, the fact Fiona had just burst into tears flattened the optimism like a Sumo wrestler landing hard on a seventy-pound midget.

"Babe...what's going on?" I asked, gently as possible.

"He killed somebody again!"

"Oh, s.h.i.t," I mumbled, unsure where to go with my next question. Was it someone we knew? The third country celebrity, perhaps? That'd be logical, based on what we knew about the killer's preferences so far.

"Mitch...Mitch Dobbins... He's dead!"

"What??"

Now I was the one in complete shock. Mitch was Candi's ba.s.sist, and the only original band member from when she first hit the local bars in Nashville. Another good friend of Fiona's, he was an even better friend of mine.

Mitch and I worked the same rotation of rock n' roll bands in need of a decent ba.s.sist. It might surprise some folks that despite the near-forty thousand guitar pickers in the greater Nashville area, there are just a few hundred ba.s.sists. The number shrinks dramatically when you factor in versatility and actual experience in the various music genres our city supports: country, rock, gospel, soul, jazz, and even hip-hop. I can count those suckers on my fingers and toes.

Luckily, I'm one of them. Mitch is...er, I guess was another of the proud few.

"You're sure it's Mitch Dobbins-our Mitch, you're talking about??"

"Yes!" she cried out, her hair flying as she whipped her head toward me.

Her eyes morphed to bright green-highly agitated. I definitely should've thought of a better reply, but what'd exited my mouth represented my stunned disbelief. I still couldn't fully grasp the idea. Mitch had been killed...murdered. Meanwhile, Alex cried harder, meaning the world of s.h.i.t I'd just entered would likely get a lot messier if I didn't think of something quick.

"I'm sorry."

Okay, I wimped out. The bronze kahunas I'm known for just shriveled up, man. They were little malted-milk eggs now, like the ones we'll be giving our youngsters at Easter.

d.a.m.n! Thankfully, Tony and Justin weren't around to witness this.

"I really am sorry, babe," I continued, gesturing with my free hand for her to give me a chance to explain while I kept an eye on the road. I doubt this would've been any easier if she'd driven today instead of me. "It's just that Mitch is my oldest friend-the only one besides Ricky who's still left from when I first moved here!"

Good thing she's more understanding than most females I've been around. It probably doesn't hurt that she reads thoughts and emotions fairly accurately, too. If ever a girl could see into her man's heart, Fiona would be her.

"I know...I know, hon," she said softly, returning her attention to the road ahead.

We'd pulled out of the parking lot of Chuck E. Cheese's and the theatre sat less than a quarter of a mile away. It might as well have been in the next county. The kids might've been fine watching a flick that afternoon, but it'd be a tough gig for their parents.

"There, there, baby," she said, pausing to look back at Alex, weeping in his car seat. Fiona reached back to lightly stroke his leg. "We're still going to the movie, boys. Mommy and Daddy just got some bad news, but we'll be okay."

Odd response, some might think, although she'd do about anything to fulfill her promises to the boys. So, we went to the movies...or at least started to, anyway.

Apparently the brief tension in the car took its toll on our oldest boy's nerves. Or, perhaps it was the extra chocolate brownie Ryan ate at the restaurant. Whatever the reason, molted brownie bits ended up all over the back of my seat, as Ryan puked. Alex cried even harder, and if not for a quick trip to Wal-Mart nearby, Fiona might've lost the contents of her stomach through her mouth as well.

Needless to say, it nixed our plans for the afternoon. That meant more tears from the boys, until I showed them two relatively new Disney releases I purchased while picking up the upholstery cleaner and a big bottle of Febreeze. I also picked up a blu-ray copy of "Interview With The Vampire" for Fiona, which lifted her spirits...a little.