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"Veil of Secrets"


Prologue
Veil of Secrets- Prologue

By Begin Again

 

The smell of diesel and burnt rubber lingered in the air as Detective Matthew Donatelli stood at the edge of the crash site, his boots sinking into the frostbitten mud. The early dawn light struggled to pierce through the heavy clouds. Twisted metal and shattered glass littered the ground, the aftermath of a collision that claimed too many lives. Two buses had collided — one carrying orphanage children, the other transporting prisoners to a maximum-security facility.

Donatelli's gut told him this tragedy was no accident. His hands clenched into fists as he surveyed the wreckage. Paramedics had already taken several children to Frank DiVito's private hospital, a mobster fortress now serving as the town's best-equipped medical facility.

Further down the ravine, the prison transport bus lay on its side, its scorched shell smoldering after having the local volunteer firefighters put out the flames. Detective DeLuca anxiously waited for information regarding the inmates, John Doyle and Vince Rossi.

DeLuca's phone buzzed, and a quick scan of the screen told him Detective Donatelli wanted information he didn't have yet. "DeLuca here."

Donatelli's voice was clipped, "Any bodies yet?"

"Two dead guards. Another one is missing."

"What about the inmates?"

"Nothing from the forensic team — wait, she's coming out of the bus —well, what's left of it. Hang on—" DeLuca waved at the officer. "I've got Detective Donatelli on the line. What can you tell us?"

"Not much. The chains and cuffs were unlocked." The officer looked down at her notes and shrugged.

"So, they had help. Maybe the missing guard?"

"Possibility. The only thing I am sure of is that the two guards on the bus were shot. Never even got their revolvers out of the holsters. And there aren't any other bodies on that bus."

DeLuca spoke into the phone, "Did you hear all that, Matthew?"

"Yup! We've got two desperate inmates on the run, and they most likely had help."

"We've got another team working the roadway and a third in the undergrowth and woods. Haven't heard back on anything yet."

"Keep me updated. I know it's Christmas, but we've got to call in all the manpower we can get."

"I'm on it!" DeLuca hung up his phone and continued his conversation with the officer.
 
*****

As Donatelli shoved his phone in his pocket, an officer from the second forensic team approached him.

"Any idea which way they went?" Donatelli asked, his words clipped.

"Not yet," the officer replied. "We found vehicle tracks about a mile away in a clearing near the forest. Looks like they had help in their escape."

Another officer approached and joined them. "There's another set of tracks closer to the crash," she said, her voice low. "But they're faded — like someone tried to cover them up."

Donatelli frowned, the pieces falling into place. "Two sets of tracks? Any thoughts?"

"To me, it says someone was double-crossing someone, and John Doyle was caught right in the middle."

"If your idea plays out, this wasn't a spur-of-the-moment escape."

"Someone planned the escape, and another someone changed the plan."
 
"Looks that way. But who are they, and why?" Donatelli stared out across the wreckage. "And using a busload of kids on Christmas Eve to get what they wanted. That's sick, and if it's the last thing I do, whoever they are, they'll pay."
 
*****

The office felt unnaturally quiet as Donatelli stepped inside, exhaustion crushing him. The familiar aroma of coffee greeted him, and he looked up to see Danni perched on the edge of his desk, holding a steaming cup.

"You look like hell," she said, handing it over.

"Thanks for the reminder," Donatelli muttered, taking a long sip. The warmth spread through him, but it did little to ease his tension. "What's the word?"

"Garth took Rebecca back to her apartment and stayed with her, but Poppa will be taking over shortly, so he can join us here. Tango stood guard at my place."

Donatelli raised an eyebrow. "Since when does a ghost need a guard? Anything going on that I should be aware of?"

Danni rolled her eyes. "Don't start with that stuff. We're just friends, and he's a macho guy protecting a woman. Besides, it was Garth's idea."

"You are a ghost! They are aware that you're dead, right?"

"Nothing is going on between Tango and me and to answer your question, he is well aware that I'm a ghost like Eleanor and Miriam."

Donatelli nodded, setting his coffee down. "And the mansion? Any word on that situation?"

Danni's expression darkened. "Bomb squad's there now. Garth thinks it might've come from the prison, but no one's sure yet."

"I thought it was addressed from Joliet Prison?"

"It was, but anyone can put an address on a box. Forensics is checking for fingerprints."

"Any idea on what's inside?"

"Not yet. They're taking every precaution in case it is a bomb."

Before Donatelli could respond, the door swung open, and Garth strode in, his FBI badge glinting under the light. His face showed fatigue, but his eyes were sharp.

"Morning! It is morning, right?" Garth asked.
 
"I just was asking Danni about the situation at the mansion. Any word yet?" Donatelli asked.
 
"The bomb squad is not sure what's in that box. They're bringing in an x-ray machine." He accepted a cup of coffee from Danni and then turned to Donatelli. "Any updates on Doyle and Rossi?"

"Nothing yet." Donatelli sighed. "Heck of a way to spend Christmas."
 
"Amen - wasn't what I'd planned."

*****

Eleanor materialized near the window, her presence heralded by a faint chill. She cast a reassuring glance at Donatelli. "Jenna and Maggie are safe," she whispered. "Frankie's watching over them."

Relief flickered across Donatelli's face, but it was short-lived. "Good. Now let's talk about who planned this."

Danni crossed her arms. "I hate to be the bad guy, but Frankie's name has come up, though I don't buy it. He's out of the game. Retired."

"What about Jack Lexington?" Garth countered. "He's still active in Chicago and has the resources to pull something like this off."

Eleanor shook her head, her gaze distant. "Whoever it is, they're playing a long game. Maybe it's someone Doyle worked with during his trafficking days. Or it could be Rossi — his ties to the mob could run deeper than we ever uncovered. He could've arranged this with someone Lexington doesn't know about."

Donatelli frowned. "Or it's someone new. Another player trying to move into Bayside."

"Why Bayside, though?" Danni asked. "It's small, quiet. What could they gain?"

Eleanor's voice softened. "Sometimes, it's not about the place itself. It's about the people or the history."

Garth hesitated, then said, "What about Miriam's premonitions? She warned us something was coming. Do you think she saw this?"

Eleanor's expression turned somber. "Miriam's intuition has rarely been wrong. But what exactly she saw — she didn't say."

Donatelli nodded, his jaw tightening. "Either way, this wasn't a random act. Whoever planned this escape wanted Doyle and Rossi out for a reason. We need to figure out what it is. And if there was another party involved as well."
 
The room grew quiet for a few minutes as each of them considered what they knew about the situation and the possibilities.
 
Danni broke the silence, her voice tinged with unease. "I picked up something on the police scanner. Some Chinese gibberish. They were being transmitted before the crash."
 
Garth tipped his Stetson up, wiping his brow. "You sure it was Chinese, Danni?"

"Well, I'm not fluent in the language, but we'll get better information soon. I recorded it so the team could analyze it."

"Good job. Explains why you're the brains of this office." Garth chuckled, and Donatelli threw a pencil at the Cowboy, temporarily breaking the tension.

Danni snickered at Garth's joke, but then returned to the job at hand. "I can't say that any of it is connected, but I just thought we should cover every possibility."

Donatelli's gaze hardened. "Doyle and Rossi didn't just vanish into thin air. Someone wanted them out, and they've got bigger plans. We need to figure out who's behind this before it's too late."

Eleanor moved to the window, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The first rays of dawn broke through the clouds, but the light felt cold and distant.

"We're not ready for what's coming," she whispered. A vision of Miriam and the mansion flashed through her mind. She sighed. "Miriam sensed it, too."

Author Notes Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer and cellmate at Joliet State Prison
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - Jenna's assistant, Miriam's granddaughter, and budding love with Garth
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - a retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frank's right-hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin with a soft side


Chapter 1
Veil of Secrets - Chap 1

By Begin Again


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Detective Matthew Donatelli leaned back in his chair, the squeak of worn springs filling the quiet office. His body still ached — a dull reminder of the weeks spent recovering after nearly losing his life. The doctors called him a miracle; he called it Miriam. Her quick thinking had pulled him back from the brink.

He ran a hand through his dark hair and exhaled, glancing around the familiar space. His desk was exactly how he'd left it — paperwork half-stacked, a spilled cup of pens, and the ever-present coffee mug. Except now, there was something new — a framed photo of Jenna holding their newborn daughter, Maggie. It still felt surreal. One day, he was a detective with amnesia trying to piece his life together, and the next, he had a family.

A soft knock startled him. "Donatelli, you in there?" a voice called, though he recognized it instantly. Before he could respond, the air seemed to shimmer, and Danni appeared, her presence as natural in his office as the buzzing of the overhead light. The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafted toward him, and he inhaled, enjoying the spicy scent.

He eagerly accepted the cup from Danni. "Hmm — what have we here? Do I smell cinnamon?"

Danni laughed. "Well, your sniffer certainly wasn't damaged during your adventure."

"Adventure? Is that what you call it? I was almost dead."

"Your own fault. Going off half-cocked without knowing the full story."

"You might be right, but right now, I am interested in this treat you've brought me."

"Sure, change the subject. But it is a special coffee to welcome you back. I'm glad to see you sitting in that chair. It seemed so weird not having you here every day."

"Don't tell me my partner missed me. Can that be possible?"

"No, it can't!" Danni stammered as a rosy blush touched her cheeks. "I only meant I was accustomed to hearing you start the morning by blowing off steam about something, and it was strangely quiet without you. Eerie almost."

"Eerie?" Donatelli smirked. "You're a ghost, Danni. Aren't you supposed to like eerie?"

"Not this kind. Everything's off lately," Danni admitted, her tone softening. "Even Eleanor's been distracted. Not finding Doyle and Rossi has put everyone on edge, but it's almost like there is something else."

Matthew sipped the coffee, realizing how much he had missed these early chats, teasing or butting heads with her. "I understand, but I can't think without my caffeine fix. Are you going to tell me about this coffee or not?"

"Of course, if you'd ever close that trap of yours long enough to let me finish a sentence. It's a Moroccan coffee called Cafe Noir. It's infused with warm, sweet spices like cardamom, cinnamon, and nutmeg." Danni tilted her head, acting all sophisticated. "For those in the know, meaning people like me, it's an allonge, which for peons like you, means a large espresso."

"My, my, aren't we becoming the connoisseur of the coffee world." Matthew took another sip. "I hope you've got the recipe to whip up another one. They're great!" He leaned back in his chair and finished off the cup.

A tap on the door drew their attention to the doorway as Eleanor stepped inside, handing Donatelli another cup of the Moroccan coffee. Her gaze briefly met his before she drifted toward the window.

"How'd she —" The detective's mouth dropped open, and then he chuckled, "Never mind. I'll never figure the two of you out."

In typical Danni fashion, Danni jumped to her next train of thought. "Now that you're a father," she began without preamble, "don't you think it's time to marry Jenna?"

Donatelli's mind shot back to Christmas Eve. So much had changed because of that night. He groaned. "Slow down, Danni. I just got my memory back. I just found out I have a kid. Let me figure out how to be a dad before planning a wedding."

Danni smirked, leaning casually against his filing cabinet. "Excuses, excuses. You already love Jenna, and she loves you. You're a perfect match. What's the holdup?"

"For your information, I planned on asking her on Christmas Eve, but that didn't work out."

Danni rolled her eyes but smiled. "Fine. I'll drop it. For now." She turned her head slightly, acknowledging the second figure in the room. "Eleanor, what do you think? Shouldn't he make an honest woman out of your daughter?"

"So much for dropping it," Donatelli muttered.

Eleanor was lost in thought and didn't respond to their banter. Her expression was distant, her posture tense.

"Eleanor?" Danni pressed.

Eleanor's head tilted — her brow furrowed. "Sorry. Were you speaking to me?"

Donatelli answered first, "Unlike my partner here, you seem quiet today. You're not worried about me being back on the job, are you? Because I assure you, I'm ready."

Eleanor flashed a warm smile toward Donatelli. "I'm sure you are, Matthew."

"Well, if it's not our star detective that's worried you, what's going on? I sense some strong vibrations coming from you," Danni asked.

"I could've sworn I heard someone calling my name."

Donatelli exchanged a glance with Danni. "Are you sure? There's no one here but us."

"She doesn't mean from this room, pal. She gets a feeling when people reach out to her, like when she felt you'd been at the bar where you were beaten or when she felt your presence at the vineyard."

"Exactly," Eleanor said, her voice sharp with conviction. She stepped closer to the window, her gaze scanning the street outside, but whatever she'd heard was gone now.

Donatelli cleared his throat, drawing their attention back. "Danni, while you're here, why don't you fill me in on the cases I missed while I was — out of commission?" He gestured to the files stacked haphazardly on his desk.

Danni moved closer, giving the stack a pointed look. "You missed plenty, but here's the big one." She picked up a file with an elegant wave of her hand, turning it over to him.

Donatelli took it, flipping it open. His breath hitched as he stared at the details: a missing child, a boy no older than five, last seen playing in his front yard. The photograph clipped to the corner of the report struck him in a way it never had before. He thought of Maggie — small, fragile, innocent —and tightened his grip on the file. "What's the status on this?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

"Cold, unfortunately," Danni replied, her tone unusually somber. "No leads, no ransom, no trace. Just gone." He nodded, his eyes fixed on the boy's photo. The cases had always been personal, but now, as a father, they cut deeper.

Before he could ask another question, Eleanor gasped, her hands clutching the edge of his desk.

"Eleanor?" Donatelli asked, jumping out of his chair.

Her gaze was distant again, her voice trembling. "I heard it again — clearer this time."

"What did you hear?" Danni asked, concern flickering across her face.

"Miriam," Eleanor whispered, her expression turning urgent. She straightened, looking at Donatelli and Danni with wide eyes. "Miriam needs me." She vanished into thin air before either could stop her, leaving the office colder and quieter.

Donatelli stared at the empty space where she had been, his mind racing. "What the hell just happened?"

Danni folded her arms, her figure unusually still. "I don't know," she admitted. "But whatever it is, it's big."

Donatelli sat back down, the missing child file still open on his desk. His mind was now juggling two mysteries — the case in front of him and whatever had just drawn Eleanor away.

*****

Eleanor's transition from Donatelli's office to the abandoned mansion took mere minutes. Her translucent body shimmered beneath the pale sunlight filtering through the tall pines, but as she approached the mansion, a sharp chill settled in — a cold unlike anything she'd felt in years crept into her bones. It wasn't just colder — it was heavier — oppressive, like a force pressing down on her chest. Something was wrong. The shift in the air struck her like a warning.

"Miriam, it's Eleanor. Send me a sign if you can hear me," she called, her voice echoing faintly across the frostbitten garden.

The silence was unnatural — as if the land had frozen mid-breath. Eleanor's gaze scanned the mansion. The renovations had brought new life to its weathered stone, but now the house felt lifeless. A faint buzz ran along her spine — almost electric, too subtle to define. She closed her eyes, focusing on the faint, lingering energies of the house. Something told her Miriam was in trouble.

She slipped inside the house and instantly felt the change, too. Dust coated the railing of the grand staircase, dulling its former gleam. The air was stale, tinged with the faint odor of must. Something had happened here, and it wasn't good.

"Where are you, Miriam?" Eleanor whispered. Her voice trembled, but no answer came.

The wind picked up outside, rattling the windowpanes with an unnatural howl. As Eleanor looked toward the rose garden, her breath caught. Across the vineyard, she saw a fleeting figure — a man, his outline barely visible in the frost that spread in unnatural patterns, like webs. When she blinked, he was gone.

She moved into the kitchen, the cold tightening its grip on her. Her fingers brushed the counter when a shadow flickered near the back door. Eleanor froze, her chest tightening as though the house itself was warning her. Then, just as suddenly, the feeling vanished.

The sound of an approaching car broke the silence. Rebecca stepped out, her expression shifting from awe at the mansion's renovated beauty to worry. "Where's my grandmother?" she asked. "I don't smell her sugar cookies baking."

"Maybe inside," Eleanor replied, her voice steadier than she felt. Together, they entered the house, but its emptiness spoke volumes.
As they crossed the threshold, Rebecca's eyes darted from room to room, confusion growing. The house was eerily silent, and no welcoming warmth met them. "I don't understand," Rebecca said softly. "Miriam's always kept this place pristine. But now — it's like no one's been here for months."

Eleanor felt the odd emptiness of the mansion, too. She glanced around, her ghostly senses prickling. "I'll check upstairs,"

Rebecca nodded and moved toward the parlor. As she walked through the hallway, her foot brushed against something on the floor. Looking down, she saw a letter, half hidden beneath a fallen book. She picked it up, staring at the ornate handwriting on the front.

Eleanor joined her, noticing the letter. "What is it?"

Rebecca shrugged. "Probably one of the letters Danni brought to the hospital. She was always dropping them." She tossed the letter onto a nearby table, oblivious to the significance. But Eleanor's gaze lingered on the paper, unease prickling her senses.
 
"It's not like her," Rebecca said, her voice tinged with concern. "Where could she have gone?"

"I don't know, but I agree she wouldn't have left without telling you she was leaving." Eleanor moved toward the door. "Let's check the cottage."

Outside in the overgrown garden, Eleanor searched for any trace of Miriam. Once vibrant and orderly, the garden now lay in tangled disarray, its flowers crushed and vines twisted unnaturally.

Her instincts told her to search more thoroughly, to trust the gnawing sensation that something was wrong, but as she took a step forward, something caught her eye — a glint in the tangled garden.

She knelt, brushing aside the leaves and vines, and found a tin box with an old, weathered key inside. Eleanor's breath caught in her throat. She didn't need to look closely to see the faint markings on the handle — this was no ordinary key. It was the one she had once seen in Miriam's hand — one Miriam had tried to hide.

Rebecca approached, her voice trembling. "What is it?"

"A key," Eleanor said softly, her grip tightening. "It belongs to your grandmother."

"What's it for? I've never seen it."

"I can't answer that, but I sense it is important to Miriam."

Eleanor rose to her feet, the key clutched tightly in her hand. She glanced at Rebecca, staring at the cottage with fear and confusion.

From the cottage came a faint creak. The door had swung open on its own.

Without a word, Eleanor started walking toward the door, her steps slow and deliberate.

The air grew colder as they approached the entrance, and the sound of something or someone moving inside echoed faintly.

The cottage smelled of dust and decay. Suddenly, the scent of lavender drifted in the air, and a voice whispered from the far corner of the room —  Miriam's voice warped and echoing.
 
"Miriam?" Eleanor called, her own voice shaking.

The whisper came again, calling Eleanor's name, and then, there was only silence.

Author Notes Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin


Chapter 2
Veil of Secrets Chap 2

By Begin Again

Rebecca's breath caught as Miriam's voice echoed in the stillness of the cottage before fading into silence. She gripped the edge of the doorframe tightly. "Did you hear that?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Eleanor nodded, her expression calm but her unease evident in her eyes. "I heard it."

"How is that possible?" Rebecca stepped back, her wide eyes darting around the room. "She's not here. How can she be calling to us if she's not here?"

Eleanor's voice softened. "Rebecca, I need you to breathe. Slowly." She placed a reassuring hand on Rebecca's shoulder. "Sometimes, places like this carry voices. The cottage holds Miriam's essence, her energy. We may be hearing an echo of that."

"Echo?" Rebecca's voice cracked. "That wasn't an echo, Eleanor. That was her. She's calling for help."

Eleanor hesitated, then spoke gently but firmly. "If Miriam is reaching out, it means she's nearby. But we won't help her by staying here and panicking. We need to stay focused."

Rebecca swallowed hard, her eyes glistening. "What do we do? I don't understand any of this."

"We go back to the mansion," Eleanor said. "If Miriam's presence is strongest there, it's the best place to start."

Rebecca hesitated, glancing back into the darkened corners of the cottage. "What if we're leaving her behind?"

Eleanor's gaze was steady. "If Miriam's here, she'll guide us back. Trust me."

Reluctantly, Rebecca followed Eleanor outside, her footsteps hesitant.
******
As they walked through the vineyard, the path seemed quieter than usual, the winter vines casting long, skeletal shadows on the ground. Rebecca remained silent, her arms crossed tightly. Eleanor didn't push her to speak; instead, she focused her senses, hoping to pick up on Miriam's presence.

Ahead, a figure came into view — a man standing at the edge of the driveway, a dog by his side.

Eleanor's steps slowed. "Stay close, Rebecca. He may be harmless, but we can't trust anyone."

Rebecca glanced at the man and the wagging dog. "He's just walking his dog, Eleanor. We can't suspect everyone."

The dog, a scrappy mutt, bounded toward them, its tail wagging. Rebecca knelt to greet the dog, her hand trembling as she patted its head. Eleanor, however, kept her gaze fixed on the man as he approached.

"Good evening," he said, his tone polite, his smile practiced. "I'm Grayson Webb, and I just moved into the Webb Estate down the road. Thought I'd introduce myself."

Rebecca managed a cautious smile. "I'm Rebecca," she offered, glancing nervously at Eleanor. "This is my friend, Eleanor."

Eleanor nodded curtly, her eyes narrowing. "The Webb Estate?"

Grayson's smile faltered briefly before returning. "It's a beautiful property, but you've been working on this estate, too. The mansion here has always fascinated me — so much history."

"Funny," Eleanor said. "You seem well-acquainted with the local landmarks for someone new to the area."

Grayson chuckled nervously. "My family visited often when I was young. I've always admired this estate."

Before Eleanor could respond, the rumble of a car drew their attention. A sleek vehicle pulled into view, slowing as it approached. Eleanor recognized the driver.

Donatelli stepped out, his presence commanding as he surveyed the scene. "Detective Matthew Donatelli," he said, nodding to the stranger.

Grayson straightened. "Grayson Webb," he said, his voice a little too quick. His hand tightened on the dog's leash.

Donatelli's sharp gaze lingered. "Anything wrong?"

"Not at all," Grayson said. "Just out for a walk."

"Nice dog," Donatelli said, crouching to pet the mutt. "Friendly."

Crater wagged his tail as Donatelli scratched behind his ears, but Grayson shifted uncomfortably.

Eleanor stepped forward. "We were just heading back to the mansion. Mr. Webb was introducing himself."

"Well, welcome to the neighborhood," Donatelli said, his tone neutral but pointed.

Grayson nodded quickly. "Thank you. I should be heading back." He called the dog, and Crater followed reluctantly.

Rebecca turned to Eleanor. "I'll make some coffee," she offered hesitantly. "You and Detective Donatelli probably need a moment."

Eleanor gave her a reassuring smile. "That would be wonderful, Rebecca. Thank you."

As Rebecca disappeared into the mansion, Eleanor turned back to Donatelli. He crossed his arms, his expression concerned. "What's going on? You left my office saying something about Miriam, and now I don't see her anywhere."

"She's missing," Eleanor said, her voice low but steady. "I heard her calling, but she's not here."

Donatelli frowned. "Missing? Do you think she —"

"She's still a functioning spirit," Eleanor interrupted. "But she's not free. Something's holding her."

"What kind of something?"

Eleanor hesitated, her gaze drifting toward the vineyard where Grayson had disappeared. "I don't know yet. But there's more to this than we're seeing. And that man? He's part of it."

Donatelli's jaw tightened. "Grayson Webb?"

"He's Cornelius Webb's descendant," Eleanor said. "And Cornelius had a dangerous history tied to this land. If his great-nephew is here now, it's not a coincidence."

Donatelli exhaled. His instincts were on alert. "Maybe — maybe not. We can't jump to conclusions."

Eleanor's gaze lingered on the darkening horizon. "Miriam is missing and needs my help. I'm going to suspect everyone."

*****

The private suite in one of New York's upscale hotels reeked of cigar smoke and tension. Three men sat around a polished mahogany table, their drinks untouched as they reviewed the botched escape plan. Tony "The Hawk" Romano, a high-ranking figure in the New York mob, slammed a folder onto the table, the papers inside spilling out like his frustration.

"This was supposed to be clean!" Tony growled, his Bronx accent thick. "Run the bus off the road, grab Doyle, and disappear before anyone knew what happened. Now we got nothin'! No Doyle, no leverage, and a freakin' circus on the news."

"Calm down," said Salvatore "Sal" Ricci, his consigliere, leaning back in his chair. He was the voice of reason, but even his patience was wearing thin. "We underestimated someone. That's all."

"Someone?" Tony shot back, pacing. "Who? Like Jack Lexington? That Chicago snake's been keeping his hands clean for years, but this feels like his kind of move."

Sal shook his head. "Lexington had no reason to get involved. He helped put Rossi away. Why would he risk it all now?"

"Then who?" Tony demanded. "This wasn't random. Whoever did this knew our plan, knew the route, and swooped in like they were a damn SEAL team."

Vito Greco, the operation's boss, was at the head of the table. He'd been silent, his dark eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing its prey. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, calculated. "What about Doyle himself? Could he have sold us out? Played both sides?"

Sal frowned. "Possible. Doyle's got connections everywhere, but he wouldn't have staged this unless he had an escape plan. Where's his plan now? He's missing, too. All our feelers say he's off the radar."

The room fell silent until Tony spoke again, quieter this time. "You think it's the Chinese?"

Vito's gaze sharpened. "Zhang Wei?"

Tony nodded. "Rumor says he's got a grudge against Doyle. The yacht bust cost him everything. It's taken him ten years to get back on top. If anyone's got the resources and the motive, it's him."

Sal leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "If Zhang Wei's involved, this isn't just about Doyle anymore. It's about revenge, and Zhang doesn't care about making deals or territory. He plays for blood."

Vito exhaled slowly, his mind working through the possibilities. "And he's smart enough to keep us guessing. What better way to stir the pot than to make us think Lexington's behind this?"

Tony gritted his teeth. "So, what do we do? We just let Doyle rot in some Chinese dungeon while Zhang sets up shop?"

Vito's expression hardened. "No. We find Doyle. And when we do, we send a message — loud and clear — that no one crosses us. Not Zhang Wei, not Lexington, no one."

Sal cleared his throat. "We need to be careful. If the feds sniff out a war between us and Zhang, they'll crush us both. And if Lexington gets wind of this, he might come after us just to protect his reputation."

Vito nodded. "Then we keep this quiet. Find Doyle first, figure out who's behind this, and take care of it before anyone else knows what's happening."

Tony smirked, though there was no humor in it. "And what about Lexington? If word gets out that we're pointing fingers at him —"

"Make it subtle," Vito interrupted. "Let the whispers spread just enough to distract him while we handle the real problem."

As the men finalized their strategy, a courier entered the room, his face pale. He carried a small box, setting it on the table before retreating without a word.

Vito opened the box carefully, his jaw tightening as he stared at its contents. Inside was a severed hand, the cufflinks still attached to the wrist unmistakably belonging to Vince Rossi.

Tony cursed under his breath while Sal leaned closer, his expression grim. "A message."

Vito closed the box, his voice ice-cold. "Not just a message. A declaration. Whoever did this isn't just taking Doyle. They're erasing him — and us — from the game. This is just the beginning."

Author Notes Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld


Chapter 3
Veil of Secrets - Chap 3

By Begin Again

The forensics lab buzzed with activity, the faint hum of machinery blending with the murmur of voices. Garth leaned against the edge of a counter, his arms crossed as he watched the lead forensic analyst, Dr. Olivia Marks, review the evidence.

"Our findings don't align with the preliminary reports," Olivia began, her tone grave.

"What do you mean?" Garth asked, straightening slightly.

"Original police reports suggest that two buses collided — one fell into the ravine, and the other rolled near the highway. It sounded straightforward at first. But —" Olivia tapped on her keyboard, pulling up a series of side-by-side images on her monitor. "The physical evidence from the two buses doesn't align with a single collision."

Garth frowned. "Two buses, one accident scene — it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure one bus rammed the other."

"That's what someone wanted us to think." Olivia pointed to the screen, highlighting tire marks and debris patterns. "Look here: the angles, the force of impact, and even the debris trajectory — none of it matches. These buses didn't collide. Someone staged this to look like they did."

Garth's voice sharpened, "Staged? Why would someone go to that much trouble?"

"The prison bus," Olivia said, her voice steady. "Its damage shows deliberate impact — consistent with being run off the road. The orphanage bus, on the other hand — its damage looks controlled. It was as if someone wanted to create chaos without targeting the passengers directly."

Garth exhaled, his mind racing. "So, two separate accidents disguised as one? To what end?"

Olivia clicked through more images, revealing tire tracks in the forest. "Two distinct sets of tire tracks tell the story. The first set, closer to the crash site, is fresher and matches vehicles that could've staged the orphanage bus accident. These tracks lead to the forest where Doyle and Rossi escaped."

"And the second set?" Garth asked.

She pointed to a satellite view of the area. "About a mile out, obscured and intentionally covered. These tracks don't match the first group. They're older but precise, suggesting another party lying in wait — most likely, whoever intercepted Doyle and Rossi after their escape."

Garth's jaw tightened as the weight of her words sank in. "Two groups," he muttered. "One sets up the chaos, and the other moves in to take Doyle and Rossi."

Olivia nodded. "That's the theory."

Garth's mind churned. "If Doyle's gone, one of these groups has him. But which one?" He clenched his fists, the frustration evident in his tone. "The mob had every reason to break him out — he's their key to expansion. But what if the second group isn't a rival? What if they're tied to something else entirely?"

"Something bigger?" Olivia suggested.

"Or something worse," Garth added darkly. "We need more than guesses. Keep working those tire tracks, Olivia. We need to know who was there and why."

*****

Later that evening, Garth, Donatelli, and Danni gathered in Donatelli's office. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air. The tension was high as Garth delivered forensics findings.

"So, we're looking at two separate groups," Donatelli said, pacing. "One staging the orphanage bus crash to create a diversion, and the other targeting the prison bus to get Doyle and Rossi."

Danni, perched on the edge of Donatelli's desk, folded her arms. "Any idea who these groups are?"

"Not yet," Garth admitted. "But the level of coordination? This isn't amateur hour. Someone with serious resources is behind this."

Donatelli ran a hand through his hair. "If it's the mob —"

"Don't go pointing fingers at Frankie," Garth snapped. "And I've got my doubts about Jack as well."

"Cool your jets, Cowboy." Donatelli lifted his coffee mug to his lips, savoring the aroma as much as the taste. "As I was about to say, the New York mob was our first guess. DeLuca has been hearing rumblings about people trying to make connections in the area. Doyle has connections with them; they'd have every reason to want him out. If they want in, he'd have the connections. But now —"

"Now we're looking at a second group," Danni finished. "Which complicates everything. What's their motive?"

Garth leaned forward, his voice lowering, "The mob might've been outmaneuvered. If it wasn't them, then who? And more importantly, why?"

Danni tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Jack Lexington could be a target here. The New York mob might frame him to shift attention away from themselves."

Donatelli frowned. "Jack's kept his hands clean enough to avoid this kind of fallout, but he's not exactly innocent. This would be the perfect setup if someone wanted to take him down."

"What about allies?" Danni asked. "Does Jack have anyone in New York who could give us insight into what's happening?"

Garth hesitated before speaking, "He's got a friend — Marcus Bennetti. He's a retired detective but still keeps tabs on the underworld. If anyone knows what's going on, it's him."

*****

Donatelli tapped his pen against his notepad, his mind racing with the implications of the forensics report and Garth's intel. "We've got two separate groups — one foreign, one domestic. And most likely, one of them has Doyle and Rossi."

"If Doyle is involved, it's not just about expanding into the territory. There's big money to be gained," Garth snarled.

"The art scene has been quiet. I'm not saying it's not that, but neither Dylan nor Eleanor have mentioned any rumblings. And I know they both are keeping close tabs on the situation," Danni interjected. "Could the pharmaceutical company have switched gears after we shut down the pageant deal?"

"I doubt it. They wanted to stop the advancement of drugs, not increase illegal sales. There's no money to gain in that process," Donatelli responded.

"What's left, then? What other corruption was Doyle involved in?" Danni asked.

Garth and Donatelli exchanged glances, both nodding. "Smuggling! Human trafficking — he was in deep." Garth tipped his Stetson back on his head. "He almost sold Megan, Eleanor's niece, didn't he?"

"Yup, that man didn't care who or what he destroyed. If I remember correctly, a lot of internationals got swept up in that bust."

You mean, instead of women, they've switched to children?" Danni shivered. "Like the missing boy?"

Donatelli sighed. "We have no leads. But if one of these groups is connected —" Before anyone could respond, a sudden chill swept through the room. Papers fluttered slightly, and Danni's coffee cup rattled on the edge of the desk.

Eleanor materialized.

Her expression was serious, her usually composed demeanor tinged with urgency. In her hands, she held a small, worn shoe. She stepped forward, placing it gently on Donatelli's desk.

"What's this?" he asked, his gaze flicking from the shoe to her face.

Eleanor's voice was laced with tension, "I found it near the rose garden at the mansion. I think it belongs to the missing boy."

Garth stepped closer, leaning over the desk to examine the shoe. "How can you be sure?"

Eleanor's expression didn't waver. "Look at the photo." She gestured to the file Danni had brought earlier. "The stitching, the color. It's identical."

Danni picked up the boy's photo and held it next to the shoe. Her eyes darted between them. "She's right. It's the same."

The room went silent again as the weight of Eleanor's discovery settled over them.

"Where exactly did you find this?" Donatelli asked, breaking the tension.

"Near the rose garden," Eleanor repeated. "I haven't been able to find Miriam either. She's still missing. I've been searching for her, but there's no sign of her. Trust me — this shoe, it's a sign. She was trying to protect him. I know it."

"Protect him from what?" Garth asked, his skepticism clear.

Eleanor hesitated for a moment before meeting his gaze. "Something darker than I've felt in a long time. It's not just human hands at work here."

Garth let out a low whistle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Great. First the mob, now some supernatural spookiness. Forgive me, Eleanor, but they didn't cover ghosts in FBI 101." He shook his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry, but this entire case seems surreal."

Danni, ignoring Garth's sarcasm, focused on Eleanor. "You think Miriam found the boy? That she was hiding him?"

"I do," Eleanor said firmly. "She must have sensed the danger and tried to keep him safe. But something went wrong. I can feel it."

Donatelli picked up the shoe, turning it over in his hands. "If this boy was at the mansion, and Miriam was involved, then whoever's behind this might've taken her to get to him."

"Which means they're desperate to cover their tracks," Danni added. "And it wasn't random if the boy was at the mansion. Someone brought him there."

Eleanor's expression darkened. "And they're still looking for him. Miriam wouldn't give him up easily. That's why she's missing."

Garth's jaw tightened. "Then we need to figure out who's behind this, and fast."

Donatelli nodded, carefully placing the shoe back on the desk. "The first step is confirming that this shoe belongs to the boy. If it does, it gives us a direct link between him and the mansion."

"And Miriam," Eleanor said softly. "She's trying to reach us, but something's holding her back."

Donatelli tapped the shoe against his palm, his gaze distant. "If the boy was at the mansion, and Miriam was involved, this might be bigger than we thought."

Eleanor's form flickered, her frustration evident. "This land has always been a magnet for darkness, Matthew. The shoe is just the start."

Garth leaned back, crossing his arms. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you saying this has happened before?"

Eleanor hesitated — a shimmering glow outlined her body. "Not like this. But the mansion's history is complicated. Especially when it comes to Cornelius Webb."

Danni tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "Cornelius Webb? I've heard the name — he's tied to the Webb Estate next door, isn't he? Rebecca mentioned the family once."

Eleanor's expression darkened. "He's more than tied. Cornelius Webb is why the town hung Miriam on her wedding day."

The room fell silent. Even Garth, who rarely held back, looked momentarily stunned. The revelation about Cornelius Webb and the town's past actions had sent a shockwave through the room, leaving everyone speechless.

"You mean —" Danni's voice trailed off, her wide eyes locked on Eleanor.

Eleanor nodded — her voice heavy. "Miriam wasn't just some random victim of a mob. Cornelius framed her. He coveted the land this mansion stands on — the vineyard, the caves beneath it. He wanted it for his own purposes. When Trevor — Miriam's husband — discovered the truth about Cornelius' activities, Cornelius killed him. Then, he accused Miriam of witchcraft and murder. The town turned against her, and they hung her before she could clear her name."

Garth let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. "And now Rebecca owns this place? Dammit, Eleanor, how does something like that not come up sooner?"

"It wasn't relevant until now," Eleanor replied calmly. "Cornelius' obsession with this land didn't end with his death. His spirit lingers. And now that his great-nephew, Grayson, has inherited the Webb Estate, I fear Cornelius is using him to continue his schemes."

Donatelli rubbed his temples, piecing the information together. "So, Cornelius wanted this land for what? The caves beneath it? What's so special about them?"

Eleanor's voice grew quieter, "They were used for smuggling — decades ago — alcohol, artifacts, and, at one point, people. Cornelius had big plans for the tunnels. Plans that Miriam disrupted when she and Trevor uncovered them."

Danni's expression turned grave. "If Cornelius is still influencing things, and Grayson's involved, that makes this even messier."

Garth's jaw tightened, his hands forming fists. "If Grayson's snooping around Rebecca, he'd better have a damn good reason, or I'll make sure he regrets it."

Eleanor placed a calming hand on Garth's shoulder. "He may not even realize the full extent of what's happening. Cornelius has always been manipulative. Grayson could be a pawn in his game."

Donatelli tapped his pen against his notepad again. "We're already juggling two mobs and a missing boy. Now, we have a vengeful ghost and a possible accomplice in Grayson Webb. Fantastic."

Eleanor's gaze shifted back to the shoe. "This boy's disappearance is tied to all of it. Miriam must have sensed the danger and intervened. That's why she's gone."

"You think Cornelius is involved in all this?" Danni asked.

"I do," Eleanor said firmly. "And if Cornelius is manipulating Grayson, then Rebecca's at risk, too. We need to act quickly."

Garth pushed away from the counter, his anger simmering. "First thing's first —we confirm the shoe belongs to the boy. After that, we need to keep an eye on Grayson. If he's working with Cornelius, I'm not giving him the chance to hurt Rebecca."

"Or Miriam?" Donatelli added.

Eleanor's form flickered again, a sign of her frustration. "She's calling for help, Matthew. She's trapped somewhere close but hidden. I'll find her."

Danni's voice broke the tension, "And what about the boy? If Cornelius or someone else is tied to his disappearance, then the mansion might not be the last place he was taken."

Donatelli stood, his mind already racing with the next steps. "We've got too many threads and not enough answers. Let's confirm the shoe and keep digging into the mansion's history. Eleanor, if you pick up anything else from Miriam, let us know immediately."

Eleanor nodded, her form steadying as her resolve grew. "I'll keep searching. But tread carefully, Matthew. Whatever we're up against, no one is safe."

As Eleanor vanished, the room grew colder, the weight of her words settling over them. Garth broke the silence with a muttered curse, his frustration evident.

Garth growled, "Two mobs, a missing boy, and now a ghost hunt. What the hell did Doyle get us into this time?"

Donatelli shot him a look. "It's a powder keg. And we're sitting on top of it."

"This was supposed to be a simple winding down after the new year; now we're knee-deep in something, and it's not my downtime with Rebecca."

Donatelli offered a grim smile. "Welcome to Bayside, Cowboy."

Author Notes Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld


Chapter 4
Veil of Secrets - Chap 4

By Begin Again

Eleanor materialized outside the small cottage, her form shimmering faintly in the pale light of the overcast sky. The cool breeze carried the scent of damp earth and the faint aroma of the vineyard. Milo crowed from atop the low stone wall, his sharp call breaking the silence. He tilted his head, eyeing Eleanor with a familiarity that made her smile.

"Good morning, Milo," Eleanor greeted softly. The rooster flapped his wings and hopped down, strutting toward her with the confidence of an old friend. "Yes, I've missed her too," she murmured, crouching slightly as Milo clucked, pecking at the hem of her dress.

Willow, the ever-patient donkey, brayed from the garden's edge and began a slow, deliberate walk toward Eleanor. His large, expressive eyes held a sadness that echoed Eleanor's own feelings. He nuzzled against her, and she scratched between his ears before producing two carrots, to the donkey's surprise.

"I know, Willow," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You wonder where she's gone, just like I do. I wish you could tell me what you've seen, if someone came here or if she left on her own." Willow brayed again, his ears flicking back as if responding to her plea.

Milo let out another sharp crow and flapped onto the stone wall again, facing the cottage once more. Eleanor followed his gaze, her expression tightening. Once so full of life, the cottage felt eerily still, its windows darkened and its door slightly ajar.

As she approached the cottage, a faint sensation brushed against her awareness — a familiar yet faint presence. "Miriam? Was that you?" She stopped and looked around, waiting for some kind of response, but none came.

The cottage door creaked as she pushed it open, the sound echoing through the still air. Inside, dust motes floated lazily in the pale shafts of light filtering through the cracked shutters. The faint scent of lavender and Miriam's essence still clung to the air, but something was amiss — an absence that felt like a void.

"Miriam?" Eleanor called, her voice a mixture of hope and dread.

From behind her, Milo crowed sharply again, a note of alarm in his cry. Eleanor spun around, her gaze sweeping the room, her senses on high alert. But the space remained silent, save for the faint rustle of the wind through the vineyard beyond.

She turned to the door and glanced at Willow, who stood steadfast, his ears twitching as if listening for something only he could hear. "Don't worry, old friend," she said softly. "We'll find her. Somehow, we'll bring her back."

Eleanor's gaze swept the room, and she felt the faint traces of Miriam's presence, like echoes of a song far in the distance. She closed her eyes, letting herself attune to the memories imprinted here.

She could sense Miriam tending to Donatelli when he had been on the brink of death. The memory was vivid —Miriam's gentle hands nursing him back to health, her quiet determination to save him as though it might atone for the life she couldn't save.

Another flicker — Miriam talking to Willow, her donkey, as she fed him carrots. Her voice was soft, almost musical, as she shared stories of the vineyard's past. Eleanor smiled faintly, recalling how Miriam always found solace in simple acts of care.

Eleanor moved deeper into the room, and the memories shifted again. She could feel Miriam walking the rows of the vineyard, her footsteps deliberate, her touch reverent as she ran her fingers over the leaves. And then there was Rebecca — Miriam's warmth as she bonded with her granddaughter, showing her the secrets of the land, planting seeds of courage in a young woman who barely understood her own strength.

But most poignant was the connection Eleanor herself had shared with Miriam. In this very cottage, Miriam had confided her darkest secrets — the weight of Cornelius's betrayal, the guilt she carried for leaving Antonio, and the quiet, unshakable love that had kept her bound to this place for so long. Eleanor's chest tightened, the absence of her friend cutting deeper with each memory.

Yet now, there was nothing — no trace of Miriam's presence, no whisper of her spirit. Something was blocking their connection — a barrier Eleanor couldn't pierce. Frustration and worry gnawed at her as she paced the small room.

"What's keeping you from me, Miriam?" she murmured, her voice soft but insistent. "What or who is holding you back?"

She turned toward the door, preparing to leave, when something flickered in the corner of her eye. Eleanor froze, her gaze snapping to the large, ornate mirror propped against the far wall. The glass was dull and cracked in places, but for a moment, she swore she saw a figure.

"Miriam?" Eleanor's voice rose, hope and disbelief mingling.

The figure moved — faint, barely there — and then vanished, leaving only the mirror's distorted reflection behind.

Eleanor stepped closer, her heart pounding. She reached out, her fingertips brushing the cool surface of the glass. It felt ordinary, lifeless, yet she knew what she had seen.

Pressing her palms flat against the mirror, she closed her eyes and whispered, "Miriam, I am here. I won't stop searching for you. I swear it."

The silence pressed around her, heavy and unyielding. Eleanor lingered a moment longer before lowering her hands. She took a step back, her resolve hardening. Whatever force was holding Miriam, it wouldn't win. She would find her — she had to.

As she turned to leave the cottage, a faint chill swept through the room. Eleanor paused, glancing back at the mirror, but it remained still, its surface reflecting only the empty space.

*****

The mirror's surface pulsed as if alive, reflecting a distorted version of the cottage. Miriam stood within, her ethereal form glowing faintly against the oppressive darkness. She pressed her hands to the glass, feeling its cold, unyielding barrier.

Her thoughts turned to Antonio, vivid memories playing like a slideshow in her mind. The warmth of their baby in her arms as Antonio's laughter rang out beside her. His whispered promises of forever. And then the searing pain of their final goodbye — his voice breaking as he begged her to stay, her heart shattering as her father dragged her away.

"I never stopped loving you," she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "I tried to come back. I tried to make it right."

A sinister laugh echoed through the space, and Cornelius materialized behind her. His presence seemed to leech the light from the room, the shadows around him twisting unnaturally.

"Still clinging to that ridiculous sense of defiance, are we?" His voice dripped with venom. "You should have accepted your fate long ago, Miriam. Instead, you linger here like a ghostly parasite, clinging to a legacy that isn't yours."

Miriam turned to face him, her chin held high despite the weariness of her features. "You mean Trevor's legacy? The one you tried to steal when you murdered him? The one you couldn't touch because he outsmarted you, even in death?"

Cornelius' smirk faltered, his expression darkening. "Trevor was a fool. A sentimental fool who didn't understand the power this land holds. He squandered its potential, just as you do now."

"And yet, it's beyond your grasp," Miriam said. "Because he trusted me. He ensured you'd never get your claws into what was his."

Cornelius' form flickered, his anger visible. "You think you've won something? That staying here, tethered to this place, is some kind of victory? You've sacrificed everything — paradise, peace, your family — for what? To keep me out? You're a shadow, Miriam. A fading echo of a woman who should have stayed silent."

Miriam stepped closer, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I stayed because someone had to. Because you couldn't be allowed to desecrate what Trevor built. You've already taken too much."

"I've taken what was mine by right!" Cornelius snarled. The mirror trembled with his fury, ripples distorting its surface. "The vineyard should have been mine from the beginning. Trevor was weak, just like you. You were both so easy to destroy."

Miriam's voice dropped, cold and cutting. "You didn't destroy us. You murdered us. You tricked a town of frightened fools into hanging me, but you couldn't break my spirit then, and you won't now."

Cornelius's laugh was sharp, almost gleeful. "You think your spirit is unbroken? You've wasted your afterlife in this miserable prison. Meanwhile, I've grown stronger, feeding on the hatred and fear that this land breathes. And now, with Rebecca here, the pieces are finally falling into place."

Miriam's hands clenched into fists. "Rebecca will never fall for your lies, Cornelius. She's stronger than you think."

Cornelius stepped closer, his form looming over hers. "Strength? Don't delude yourself. She's just as naive as you were — ripe for manipulation. And once I claim this land, she'll have no choice but to surrender."

"You'll never claim it," Miriam hissed. "Not while I'm here."

Cornelius's expression twisted with rage. The mirror's surface darkened as he raised a hand. Shadows erupted from his palm, wrapping around Miriam like chains. "You think you can stop me?" he roared. "You're nothing! You're just a stubborn ghost clinging to a past you can't change!"

The chains tightened, but Miriam's voice rose above his. "And you're nothing but a coward, Cornelius. A bitter, pathetic coward who couldn't create anything worth keeping, so you steal from those who can."

Cornelius let out a furious snarl, his grip on the chains faltering. Miriam's light grew brighter, pushing back against the encroaching darkness. Her voice softened but lost none of its resolve. "You can rage and scheme all you want, but you'll never take this vineyard. Not from me. Not from Rebecca."

Cornelius staggered back, his form flickering as the glow around Miriam intensified. "You think this changes anything?" he spat, his voice trembling with fury. "You've delayed the inevitable, nothing more. I will find the boy. And when I do, even your precious Rebecca won't be able to save him."

Despite the slight dimming of Miriam's glow and her waning strength, she remained resolute, her unyielding gaze a testament to her determination. "You'll never find him. And even if you do, he'll see you for what you are — a monster," she declared, her voice unwavering.

Cornelius sneered, his form stabilizing. "We'll see, Miriam. We'll see." With that, he dissolved into the shadows, leaving Miriam alone in the mirror.

She staggered, her light flickering as exhaustion set in. But she forced herself to stand, her thoughts turning to Antonio. He was her last hope, the one connection she had left to the strength she needed.

"Antonio," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Please, I need you."

Author Notes Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Antonio - deceased grandfather of Rebecca and Miriam's first love
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld


Chapter 5
Veil of Secrets Chap 5

By Begin Again

 
 
The air around the vineyard was heavy and still. Antonio felt it when he crossed the invisible threshold that separated the outside world from his hallowed ground. He hadn't been here before — not physically, not in life — but it felt familiar in a way that unsettled him. This was no ordinary vineyard. It was a place where the veil between the living and the dead was thin, and the spirits of the past often made their presence known. He crept among the rows of vines, their winter skeletons casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. A cool breeze carried a faint fragrance that stirred memories he'd locked away for decades.

Memories of Miriam.

She had called to him in words and emotions so raw and vivid he couldn't ignore them. For days, he had resisted. What reason did he have to answer now, after all these years? When she had left him in Italy with their daughter, he had told himself he'd hate her for abandoning them. But the hatred never came — only a hollow ache. And now, that ache was pulling him to this strange, foreign place where her presence lingered — haunting him.

But where was she? How could he find her? What did she want?

Antonio stopped near a stone fountain — its basin dry but etched with intricate designs that seemed older than time. He glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the empty vineyard. For a moment, he wondered if he had made a mistake. Perhaps her call had been a dream, a cruel trick played by his own yearning. Yet, deep down, he knew it wasn't.

"Miriam," he whispered — her name a prayer and a plea.

The sound of his voice startled him. It had been so long since he'd spoken her name aloud. It felt foreign, too big for the small space between his lips, yet too small to hold all the emotion tied to it. He waited, straining to hear — to feel — anything in response. But the vineyard remained silent.

He stepped forward, his boots crunching on the frost-covered ground. The air grew colder with each step, and his chest tightened. He stopped again, glancing back toward the rows of vines behind him. Was he being watched? He couldn't tell. The shadows seemed to shift, but there was no movement beyond that.

"Miriam," he tried again, louder this time. "I'm here. Tell me where to go."

"You don't need to shout," a woman's voice called from behind him.

Antonio pivoted, his heart hammering in his chest. Standing a few feet away was a woman he did not know. She was slight, her posture confident but unthreatening, her face illuminated by the moonlight. Her expression was careful, almost curious, as though she were trying to decide whether to approach him further.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice rougher than intended. "How did you know I'm here?"

The woman stepped closer, hands held at her sides. "I'm Eleanor. Like you, I'm a friend of Miriam's." She paused, studying his reaction. "You must be Antonio."

His breath caught. "How do you know my name?"

Eleanor hesitated, weighing her words. "Miriam's in trouble. Something beyond me."

Antonio's jaw tightened. "Where is she? Why isn't she here?"

"It's complicated," Eleanor admitted, her voice soft but steady. "She's here, but she's — trapped. Held by someone who doesn't want her found."

A shadow crossed Antonio's face. "Trevor?" he muttered, the name dripping with disdain. "He's the one who took her from me."

Pain contorted Eleanor's expression. "Yes, Trevor brought her here, but he's not why she stayed. Another man — one with a black heart —" Eleanor sighed, not sure how much Antonio wanted to hear. "She's been waiting for you."

Antonio took a step back, his fists clenching at his sides. "Why now?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why did she wait until now to call me? She left me. She left me and our daughter."

"Not by choice," Eleanor said firmly. "She sacrificed everything to save her family, which cost her more than you know. Miriam's been fighting to keep this vineyard safe and everything she loved from being destroyed. She needs help — your help."

Antonio looked away, his shoulders sagging. "I don't know if I can help her. Why can't you help her? You say you are her friend. After all this time, why me?"

"I don't have the power or the insight into what has happened. But I sense that you do."

"You expect me to battle something I know nothing about? I'm not like you. My ethereal life has been tending my grapes in solitude and peace."

"Is that what you tell yourself, Antonio? Have you blocked out all memories of Miriam? Closed your heart to the love you shared?"

"The love she threw away," Antonio spat but instantly lowered his voice. "I tried." His voice was ragged. "She forgot me." The sense of betrayal cut deep, leaving a wound that had never fully healed.

"Never!" Eleanor pressed. "On her wedding day, as she fulfilled her father's wishes, Cornelius Webb murdered her husband."

Anthony gasped at the thought but still couldn't open his heart to Miriam. "A tragedy, but then why stay? Why not return to what we had?"

"She couldn't," Eleanor whispered.

"Was it money? I would have sold everything to bring her home."

"It wasn't money, Antonio." Eleanor knew the pain and agony she was about to inflict on this dear man, but there was no other way. "It was greed and lies."

Antonio shook his head in denial. "Not Miriam — her heart would never succumb to that."

"You're right. It was Cornelius Webb and the town folks. With the death of her husband, they believed she murdered Trevor to claim the estate. They rallied together, without proof or justice, and hung her from the oak tree in her wedding dress. They cheered until her last breath."

The moan that came from the deepest bowels of Antonio echoed across the vineyard as he dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "No, tell me this is a lie. Not my sweet Miriam."

Eleanor felt the earth suck all the warmth out of the air and the ground tremble as Antonio continued to moan in despair. Finally, he stumbled to his feet, his eyes sunken and empty. "So, I am too late. I have failed her."

"No, it's not too late, Antonio. You must trust me. She's fallen into the hands of someone evil, but I hear her calling. You are here, so she must have reached out to you."

"I'm — I'm just a lost spirit tending my vineyards. I don't have any spiritual powers."

Eleanor stepped closer, her voice softening. "You came here. That's enough for now. Stay, Antonio. Let her know you're here. Let her feel your presence even if you don't know what to do. It's more than she's had in years."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with doubt and hope. Slowly, he nodded. "I'll stay. For now."

Eleanor's lips curved into a small smile. "That's all she needs to hear."

She turned, walking back toward the mansion, leaving Antonio alone by the fountain. The wind picked up again, rustling the vines, and Antonio felt something shift inside him. For the first time in years, he believed that he might see Miriam again. He might finally find the answers he'd been looking for all this time.

*****

Antonio watched Eleanor's figure dissolve into the moonlit mist, her presence leaving a void as the chill of the vineyard deepened. The frost-covered vines whispered in the night breeze, and for a moment, he stood still, unsure what to do next.

The ground beneath his boots felt heavier, as though the earth resented his presence. He turned back toward the dry fountain, his thoughts tangled with questions and doubts.

Then he heard it — a low, guttural chuckle that seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Well, well. I wondered when you might crawl out of your self-imposed exile."

Antonio spun, his fists clenching at his sides. A man stepped forward from the shadows, his movements fluid and confident, like a predator stalking prey. His dark coat swayed slightly in the breeze, and his piercing eyes glinted with malice.

"You must be Cornelius Webb," Antonio said, his voice steady despite the unease in his chest.

The man smirked, tipping his head mockingly. "I see my reputation precedes me. And you — you must be the forlorn lover summoned by that meddlesome spirit."

Antonio's jaw tightened. "Where is Miriam? What have you done to her?"

Cornelius' smirk widened into a grin, cold and calculated. "Oh, Antonio. You are so quick to assign blame. I merely inherited this delightful predicament. Miriam's plight is her own doing — or have you forgotten how she came here?"

Antonio took a step forward, his fists tightening. "Your greed, your lies murdered her. And now you keep her here, trapped like a trophy."

Cornelius' eyes darkened, his grin fading. "Careful, Antonio. You speak of things you cannot possibly understand. This land — this vineyard — belongs to me. It always has. You? You're nothing but an unwelcome guest."

Antonio's voice rose, echoing across the empty rows. "I am here because she called me. Not you. Not your lies. Miriam has more strength than you'll ever understand, and she's still fighting against whatever you've done."

Cornelius' laughter rang out, sharp and mocking. "You think you're her savior? A man who couldn't even hold on to her in life?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Go back to wherever it is you've been hiding, Antonio. You're meddling in affairs far beyond your comprehension."

But Antonio stood his ground, his eyes blazing with determination. "I'm not leaving until I find her. Whatever you're hiding, whatever darkness you've brought to this land, I'll uncover it. You've underestimated me, Cornelius."

The air between them grew heavy, a tension sparking like static. Cornelius's expression twisted into a sneer as he leaned in closer. "Then let this be your first lesson — this vineyard is mine. And those who challenge me rarely leave it in one piece."

Before Antonio could respond, the shadows around Cornelius seemed to ripple and shift. The air turned icy, and Antonio felt an invisible force push him back hard enough to make him stagger. By the time he regained his footing, Cornelius was gone, leaving only the lingering scent of decay and the faint sound of mocking laughter.

Antonio stood alone, his breath coming in shallow gasps. The confrontation had left him shaken but not broken. He looked back toward the house where Eleanor had disappeared moments ago.

"Whatever it takes," he murmured, his voice firm. "I'll find you, Miriam. I promise you and your friend."

The vines whispered again, their skeletal forms swaying under the moonlight as if acknowledging his resolve. Antonio squared his shoulders and began walking toward the mansion, his determination renewed.

*****

Rebecca parked her car at the edge of the mansion's long driveway, her headlights cutting through the thick fog that clung to the vineyard. The house loomed ahead, its silhouette sharp and foreboding under the moonlight. Every instinct told her to turn back, to wait for Garth or Eleanor. But the gnawing fear for her grandmother drove her forward.

She stepped out, the cold biting her cheeks. Her boots crunching against the gravel seemed unnaturally loud in the still night. Rebecca glanced around nervously, half-expecting to see something — or someone — lurking in the shadows.

"Miriam," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "Please, let me find you."

The mansion stood eerily quiet as she approached. Pushing the heavy front door open, a rush of cold, stale air blasted Rebecca's cheeks. The grand foyer, once so vibrant with Miriam's presence, felt empty and lifeless. Rebecca hesitated, her hand resting on the doorframe.

"Grandma?" she called, her voice echoing through the empty halls.

No answer. Just the creak of wood settling and the faint rustle of the wind outside.

Rebecca stepped inside, her eyes darting toward the parlor where she'd last seen her grandmother's things. The room was just as she'd left it — books scattered on the table, a teacup resting on the armchair. But Miriam was nowhere to be found.

She turned toward the staircase, her heart racing. "Miriam?" she called again, her voice louder this time.

The night had grown colder, the fog thickening around the mansion as Rebecca wandered through its darkened halls.

"Miriam," she whispered, her voice catching in her throat. "Where are you?"

Her footsteps echoed against the floor as she reached the parlor. Her eyes scanned the room, her heart sinking at the stillness. Books lay open, abandoned, and a faint layer of dust had already gathered on the mantle. It was as if the house itself had surrendered to despair.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she collapsed into the armchair by the cold fireplace. Her head fell into her hands as sobs wracked her body. The weight of everything — her grandmother's disappearance, the eerie silence of the estate, the inexplicable pull that had brought her back — was too much to bear.

"Rebecca?"

She jolted upright, startled by the voice. Grayson Webb stood in the doorway, his expression soft and concerned. He carried a lantern that cast a warm, flickering glow over his face.

"Grayson?" she stammered, hastily wiping her cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

"I was out walking," he said smoothly, stepping closer. "I saw your car and thought I'd check in. Are you all right?"

She wanted to tell him to leave, to say she was fine and didn't need anyone's help. But the lump in her throat wouldn't allow it. All she could do was shake her head as tears spilled over again.

Grayson knelt beside her, his voice low and soothing. "Hey, it's okay. You're not alone."

Before she could think, he had taken her into his arms. The warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his breathing drew her in, grounding her in a way she hadn't felt since Miriam's disappearance. She momentarily let herself lean into him, clutching his jacket as if it were a lifeline.

"You'll find her," Grayson murmured, his voice soft but confident. He ran his hand across her hair and down her back, pressing her gently against him. "Whatever's happened, we'll figure it out. I promise."

Rebecca froze. She pulled back abruptly; her face flushed. "I — I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling. "I shouldn't have —"

Grayson's gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. "There's nothing to apologize for, Rebecca. You're scared, and that's okay. But you don't have to do this alone."

Her stomach churned with confusion. A part of her wanted to trust him, to believe in the comfort he offered. But another part, sharper and more cautious, warned her to tread carefully. Eleanor's wariness of him echoed faintly in her mind.

"Thank you," she managed, stepping away from him. "But I should go. There's — there's something I need to check upstairs."

Grayson's smile was patient, almost paternal. "Of course. If you need anything, just call me. I'll be nearby."

Rebecca nodded quickly and slipped past him, her heart pounding as she climbed the stairs. She didn't stop until she reached her grandmother's bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind her. Leaning against it, she took a deep, shaky breath.

What was wrong with her? She barely knew Grayson, yet she had let herself fall apart in his arms. The thought made her skin crawl.
 
*****

Grayson stood in the parlor, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His gaze wandered over the room, his eyes landing on a photo of Miriam on the mantle. He stepped closer, picking up the frame and studying it with a calculated expression.

"So much history in this house," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "And so many secrets."

"Secrets that don't belong to you," a sharp voice said.

Grayson turned, his smile widening as he saw Eleanor near the window.

"Eleanor," he said smoothly, setting the photo down. "I didn't realize you were here."

Her gaze was cold, her posture rigid. "I could say the same for you.

Grayson chuckled, unfazed. "I was only checking on Rebecca. She's upset about her grandmother, understandably."

"She doesn't need you," Eleanor snapped. "She has a boyfriend."

Grayson's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That explains why she was in my arms only moments ago, sobbing, needing someone to comfort her."

Eleanor's jaw tightened. "I won't let you manipulate Rebecca. Whatever you're planning, it won't work."

Grayson shrugged, his smirk returning. "Planning? I thought I was being neighborly. Why would you say that?"

Eleanor stared at the young man. "You're a Webb. That should be a good enough answer."

He picked up his lantern and strode toward the door. "Good night, Eleanor," he said over his shoulder. "Please tell Rebecca goodnight for me, too."

Eleanor glared after him, her fists clenched. As the door closed, she vanished, her focus shifting to Rebecca upstairs.

Author Notes Eleanor - ghost detective
Jenna - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam - a spirit from days gone by
Antonio - deceased grandfather of Rebecca and Miriam's first love
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld


Chapter 6
Veil of Secrets Chap 6

By Begin Again


The last few rays of the setting sun glimmered across the horizon as Grayson stoked the fire in the stone fireplace. The flames mesmerized him as he swirled the amber liquid in his highball glass. The faint scent of lavender clung to his shirt. He inhaled and sighed, unable to stop his lips from whispering her name. "Rebecca."

He closed his eyes, reliving the moment when her tearful eyes had met his, her voice trembling as she'd thanked him. The memory expanded in his mind, painting a picture of what could be. He felt the heat rise in his loins as he imagined her moaning beneath him as he pleasured himself. Her soft flesh would become his playground, where his every need would be satisfied. His future — master of both estates — building an empire greater than Cornelius Webb could have ever imagined.

As his mind wandered, he imagined her smile greeting him at the end of a long day, a life heralding his ambition yet establishing him as a dignified aristocrat, respected and worshiped, especially by his wife behind closed doors.

Rebecca's vulnerability had stirred something in him, something unexpected. Instead of merely wanting to find the forgotten treasures, he wanted to claim the power that would put the entire countryside at his feet and her in his bed.

Grayson's lips curled into a smirk as the room grew colder, the flickering firelight casting shadows that danced against the walls. He took another slow sip of his drink, savoring the smoky burn as he stared into the flames. The chill gnawed at the edges of his awareness, but he brushed it aside, too immersed in his thoughts of conquest to care.

Finishing his drink, he stood and took the poker to stir the logs. Feeling the cold settling around him, he muttered, "Darn howling wind. It's almost as if the window is open." He tugged the heavy drapes aside, revealing the securely latched window. His frown deepened, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "Ridiculous! Drafty old house." Desiring the warmth of his liquor, he poured another.

"Yes, it is ridiculous, but it's not the house I refer to," Cornelius snapped. "It appears the lawyers scraped the bottom of the barrel to find someone to inherit my home."

Grayson spun on his heel, his eyes narrowing at the tall figure emerging from the shadows. The man's dark coat billowed slightly as though stirred by an unseen wind, and his piercing gaze carried an unsettling weight.

"Who the hell are you?" Grayson demanded, his voice dripping with disdain. "And how did you get in here?"

The figure stepped closer, his movements deliberate and confident. "I'm someone you should respect, young man. I am Cornelius Webb," he said with a sly smile, "and you are trespassing on my legacy."

Grayson barked a laugh, setting his glass down with deliberate precision. "Cornelius Webb, the dead uncle? Forgive me if I'm unimpressed. You might have been someone once, but now, you're just a ghost. A whisper of a man who failed to finish the job."

Cornelius's smile remained, though a cold edge sharpened his features. "You speak with the confidence of a man who believes he is in control. Tell me, Grayson, what do you truly understand of the game you've stepped into?"

Grayson crossed his arms, his smirk widening. "Enough to know you couldn't win it while you were alive. What makes you think you can stop me now? Rebecca's vineyard, the treasures —it's all within my grasp. I'll take it and build an empire that will make your pathetic ambitions look like a children's fairy tale."

Cornelius's gaze darkened, the air thickening around them as the shadows seemed to close in. "Ambition without understanding is a fool's errand. Do you think you're the first to dream of power, to see these estates as stepping stones to greatness? Men like you have come and gone, their bones buried in the very tunnels they sought to control. I'd be happy to introduce you to them sometime." His evil laugh reverberated through the room.

Grayson stepped forward, his arrogance unshaken. "I'm not like the others. I have the intelligence, the drive, and the vision to finish what you couldn't. You're nothing more than an obstacle — a relic."

Cornelius's smirk disappeared, replaced by a glare that cut through the room's chill. "Your arrogance will be your undoing, boy. You may see yourself as a king, but you are little more than a pawn in a game far older than you. The treasures of this land come at a price, and I wonder if you're willing to pay it."

Grayson's voice dropped to a low growl. "I don't need your approval, and I certainly don't need your warnings. Stay out of my way, Cornelius, or I'll make sure you regret it — even in death."

Cornelius's form seemed to swell, the shadows deepening as his voice turned icy. "I regret nothing. Least of all, creating the means for my legacy to endure. You'll see, Grayson. This land has a way of devouring men like you. And when it does, I'll be there to reclaim what is mine."

The temperature plummeted further as Cornelius dissolved into the darkness, his laughter echoing faintly in his wake. Grayson stood still, his chest heaving as he fought to quell the chill gnawing at his resolve.

"Reclaim what's yours?" Grayson muttered, his lips twisting into a sneer. "We'll see who claims what."

He drained the rest of his drink in a single gulp, his mind spinning with plans to outwit Rebecca and her spectral protector. Whatever Cornelius thought he controlled, Grayson was determined to make it his own — no matter the cost. He held an Ace that no one knew about and wouldn't until he was ready to reveal it.
 
*****
A forgotten rundown motel, Restful Nights, sat at the edge of Bayside city limits, a relic of another time. Nearly forgotten since the new highway rerouted travelers miles away. Its faded sign, boasting "Comfort & Privacy," flickered erratically, the "o" in "Comfort" long since burned out. A neon "No Vacancy" sign blinked on and off, though only two cars sat in the cracked asphalt parking lot. One was a rusting sedan belonging to the owner, its rear bumper sagging to one side. The other — a car with New York plates — belonged to Althea Cascio, scared and confused. The mob knew where she was and why, but no one else did.

A biting wind whipped through the barren lot, rattling the loose siding on the motel's exterior. Paint peeled from the doors, revealing gray wood beneath, and a lone porch light buzzed faintly, attracting a halo of moths.

The motel room was suffocating — the thin, peeling wallpaper pressing in on her like a vice. Faint water stains bled across the ceiling. The air smelled of mildew and stale cigarettes, clinging to every surface like an unwanted guest.

A Formica table stood crookedly in the corner, its legs uneven on the worn carpet. On its surface sat a crumpled newspaper featuring Travis's photo under the bold headline: Missing Boy Still Not Found. Another picture displayed a scrap of paper with the hastily scrawled words, "I've been kidnapped." Police had nothing to verify or deny it, but on the side of precaution, the newspaper released the photo and note.

Althea hadn't written the note — it had come with the threat from the mob — but she couldn't bring herself to throw it away. It was a cruel reminder of the stakes.

Scuffed and held together by fraying straps, her suitcase sat open near the bed, its contents spilling out — a tangle of worn clothing mixed with a grocery bag containing a loaf of white bread, an opened pack of bologna, and a few empty water bottles. She'd tried to eat earlier but couldn't stomach more than a bite.

The bed itself was no better. The mattress sagged in the middle, the thin quilt stained and faded. Althea sat at the edge, her body hunched, as though the weight of her thoughts had crushed her down. Her hands trembled as she spread the forged will and birth certificate across her lap, the stark black letters leaping off the page at her.

Her son's face flashed in her mind, his curious brown eyes and how he'd cling to her when he was scared. Travis. The thought of his tiny hands reaching out for her, terrified and alone, nearly made her collapse. She'd do anything to get him back — anything. But at what cost?

She picked up the birth certificate, staring at the names printed neatly on the faded paper: Mason Webb and Angela Cascio — her parents. She felt like she was looking at someone else's life and lineage. Cornelius Webb was her grandfather. The man she'd grown up hearing whispers about — ruthless, cold, and cunning. And now, through no fault of her own, she was tied to his legacy, trapped in a game she didn't even know she was playing.

Her gaze shifted to the will. Its neatly forged lines declared her the rightful heir to a portion of the Vineyard. She knew it wasn't real — just another tool the mob had crafted to use her like a pawn. But could she even use it? Could she stand in front of a lawyer, a judge, or Rebecca herself and claim a heritage that came at the cost of her son's freedom?

The burner phone, a gift from Tony "The Hawk," sat on the bedside table. A lawyer's name and number were saved in her contacts. She picked it up, her thumb hovering over the call button. What would she even say? The words formed and crumbled in her mind like dry leaves.

"I'm Althea Cascio. I — I believe I'm entitled to a portion of land called The Vineyard. My birth certificate —" She stopped, her voice breaking in the silence. That wouldn't work. The lawyer would ask questions — questions she couldn't answer without exposing the mob's role or her desperation to find Travis.

She tried again, her voice firmer this time. "My name is Althea Cascio. I have documents proving my connection to The Vineyard. I must speak with someone about protecting my rights — and my son." Her throat tightened, tears threatening to spill over. How could she ask for help without giving too much away? How could she trust a stranger with something this dangerous?

Her thoughts spiraled. She imagined sitting across from the lawyer, sliding the papers across the desk, and seeing the skepticism in his eyes. What if he reported her? What if the police came before she had a chance to save Travis? She had been warned about police involvement. She would never see her son again.

But then, her son's voice echoed in her mind — soft, frightened. "Mommy, I want to come home?" Her heart clenched, and she straightened, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. She couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.

She picked up the phone again and stared at the screen. This time, she pressed the call button, the dial tone ringing in her ears like a countdown to her fate.

A voice answered. "Henderson & Co. Law Offices. How can I assist you?"

Althea swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "My name is Althea Cascio. I — I need legal counsel regarding an inheritance. It's urgent."

The receptionist's voice was polite but brisk. "I have an opening with Mr. Henderson. Are you available for a consultation tomorrow morning at 9?"

Althea hesitated, her hand tightening around the phone. "Yes," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Tomorrow morning at 9."

As the call ended, Althea set the phone down and stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. Her face was pale, her eyes hollow, but there was a flicker of resolve there, too. For Travis, she'd face whatever came next. Lawyer, mob, or law enforcement — she had no choice but to step into the storm.

Author Notes Eleanor Bennett- ghost detective
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, and falling in love with Donatelli
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie)
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge and current inmate at Joliet State Prison
Vince Rossi - mob lawyer
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Donatelli
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - new girl in town and Jenna's assistant
Miriam Cascio - a spirit from days gone by
Antonio Maggio - deceased grandfather of Rebecca and Miriam's first love
Trevor Cascio - deceased owner of the estate
Joseph DeLuca - detective
Cornelius Webb - deceased and responsible for hanging Miriam long ago
Grayson Webb - grand nephew of Cornelius
Jason DeLuca - retired detective
Frank DiVito - retired gangster-childhood friend of Garth
Sam -Frank's right hand man
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" Romano - mobster
Salvatore "Sal" Ricci - consigliere of the New York mob family
Vito Greco - the mob boss
Zhang Wei - Chinese underworld
Althea Cascio - mother of Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis Cascio - missing boy


Chapter 7
Veil of Secrets - Chap 7

By Begin Again

Althea pushed open the heavy glass door, the small bell overhead jingling faintly. She stepped inside hesitantly, her heart racing as the door swung shut behind her. The air smelled of faint lemon cleaner. Her eyes swept the room, noting the artwork on the walls and the receptionist typing briskly behind the desk.

A woman sitting by the window glanced up from her magazine and smiled briefly — Jenna. Her easy, friendly demeanor made Althea feel slightly less out of place — but not by much.

"Here to see Mr. Henderson?" Jenna asked, setting her magazine down.

Althea nodded, clutching her bag tightly. "Yes."

Jenna tilted her head slightly. "First time?"

Althea nodded. "Something like that."

Jenna's smile widened. "Don't worry. He's great. My name is Jenna, and I run the Event Studio — just down the street. I'm just waiting for my friend, Rebecca — she's in with him now. Phillip Henderson has been our family lawyer for years."

Althea's breath caught. Rebecca. Her eyes darted to the office door. She silently scolded herself — "Slow down. There certainly must be more than one Rebecca in this town." Yet, she couldn't help but wonder if it could be her half-sister, the one she'd never met, and the owner of The Vineyard. She suddenly wanted to leave, but her legs refused to move.

Before Jenna could say anything further, the office door opened. Rebecca stepped out. Her expression was thoughtful. She held a folder in her hand, nodding slightly to the older man who followed her. "Thanks, Mr. Henderson. Let me know if anything changes."

"Of course, Rebecca. I'll be in touch."

Rebecca turned toward Jenna, her face softening into a smile. "Hey, Jenna. I didn't know if you waited or went on without me."

Jenna picked up a folder lying on the table. "I finalized some paperwork for the Maxwell event this weekend." She glanced at Rebecca's folder. "Everything set?" Not waiting for an answer, she added, "I believe Mom and Danni should be here soon."

Rebecca nodded, glancing briefly at Althea. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, but Rebecca's gaze moved on without recognition. "I've got to drop this work order off for the Vineyard, but then I'm ready. I've brought my appetite today."

Althea froze, her breath shallow. The casual mention of the Vineyard made her stomach churn. She wanted to say something—anything—but fear tightened its grip on her throat.

Rebecca smiled at Jenna. "I'll take the work order next door and meet you outside."

Jenna nodded, glancing at Althea with a polite smile. "Good luck in there." She followed Rebecca to the door and then stopped. "Go ahead, Rebecca. I forgot to leave the magazine."
 
She returned to where she had been sitting, mouthing a quick "sorry" to the receptionist.

Althea's heart pounded, and her hands trembled as she clutched her bag. The receptionist's voice broke the silence. "Ms. Cascio? Mr. Henderson will see you now."

As Jenna opened the door to leave, she heard the receptionist and turned as the woman she'd been talking to entered Mr. Henderson's office.

"Cascio? Hmmm — didn't know there were any other Cascio's in Bayside." Jenna mumbled to herself and then quickly forgot about it.

*****

The office was cozy but professional, with shelves of legal books lining the walls. A large desk dominated the room, its surface impeccably neat except for a notepad and a fountain pen. Mr. Henderson, a calm and composed man in his sixties, gestured for Althea to sit. "Ms. Cascio, welcome. Please, have a seat."

Althea perched on the edge of the chair, her bag clutched tightly in her lap. Her voice wavered as she spoke, "Thank you for seeing me."

Henderson offered a small smile. "What can I do for you today?"

Althea opened her bag with trembling hands, pulled out her official birth certificate, and stared at the names of her mother and father. Next, she took the forged will from her purse and placed both of them on the desk — the documents looking oddly insignificant against the polished wood. "Umm — I believe I'm entitled to a portion of the Vineyard. These documents show my connection to it."

Surprised, Henderson picked up the papers, adjusting his glasses as he inspected them. His expression remained neutral, but his sharp eyes flicked to her face.

After scrutinizing them, he spoke, "This birth certificate states that you are Angela Cascio's daughter. And Mason Webb is listed as your father. Is that correct?"

Althea nodded, her throat dry. "Yes."

Henderson tapped the will thoughtfully. "This document claims that Angela Cascio is a beneficiary of Trevor Cascio's estate. May I ask why this is only coming to light now?"

"My mother — she didn't want to claim it. There was — bad blood between her and Mason. She didn't think it was worth pursuing."

Henderson studied her carefully. "And what has changed now?"

Althea hesitated, the weight of her son's absence pressing heavily on her chest. "Circumstances. I have a son, and I need to provide for him. I thought this — might be the way to do that. My mother has passed, and it's just me and my boy."

Henderson leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "Ms. Cascio, I'll be honest with you. Cases like this can be complicated, especially when other stakeholders are involved. Are you prepared for a potential legal battle?"

The thought of public scrutiny made Althea's pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper, "I — I'll do whatever it takes."

Henderson nodded. "Very well. I'll need to verify the authenticity of these documents. If everything checks out, we can proceed. But I must warn you, this will not be easy."

Althea nodded numbly. "Thank you."

*****

As Althea stepped back into the waiting room, her legs felt shaky. She glanced toward the door, glimpsing Rebecca and Jenna chatting just outside. Her chest tightened, but she forced herself to look away. Stalling for time, she moved toward the receptionist. "Could I have one of Mr. Henderson's business cards, please?"

"Certainly." The receptionist smiled and handed Althea a card. "Have a nice afternoon."

*****

Althea opened the door and, with her head down, hurried down the street away from Rebecca and Jenna, bumping into Danni and Eleanor as they approached. She mumbled a barely audible, "I'm sorry." Then she continued her hasty retreat, ducking into a small shop a few doors away.

Danni watched Althea's retreating figure, always the detective, before replying, "Someone new in town, I guess."

Eleanor, her gaze thoughtful, tilted her head. "There's something about her — something familiar."

Rebecca shrugged. "She was in the waiting room when I left Henderson's office. Jenna, did you talk to her?"

Jenna nodded. "Just briefly. She said her name was Althea. She seemed nervous but nice enough."

Eleanor's expression darkened. "She's connected to the Vineyard. I felt it."

Rebecca frowned. "Connected how?"

"I'm not sure. Did you get her full name, Jenna?"

Jenna rolled her eyes. "I know I heard it, even sounded familiar, but this mommy brain of mine can't remember anything lately for longer than a minute." She laughed. "Maybe eating will revive my brain cells. Let's go."

Rebecca laughed. "I'll second that notion. I'm starved."

Danni chimed in, "When aren't you hungry?"

"You girls, go ahead. I'll be just a moment." Eleanor turned and walked toward Henderson's office.
 
*****

Eleanor stepped into Phillip Henderson's office with an air of concern. She had encountered Althea earlier and couldn't shake her unease. After convincing her companions to grab a table without her, she approached Phillip as he prepared to leave for lunch.

"Phillip," she began, her tone both friendly and probing, "do you have a moment to talk?"

Phillip hesitated, caught off guard, but nodded. "Of course, Eleanor, but it will have to be quick. I was just heading out." He smiled, "I can't be late for a lunch date with the boss."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed as she searched Phillip's face for a clue. "But you're the boss, Phillip."

"Tell that to my brother. He might be retired, but he still thinks being the oldest gives him the edge."

Eleanor laughed. "Now I understand. I have just one question, so it'll only take a minute. The girls are waiting for me at the restaurant, too."

They stepped back into the inner office. Eleanor took a seat, her eyes scanning his expression. "I just ran into someone — Althea, I believe her name was. Something about her didn't feel right. Can you tell me anything about why she was here?"

Phillip shifted in his chair, a flicker of nervousness crossing his face. "Eleanor, you know I can't disclose information about my clients, no matter how long we've been friends."

Eleanor leaned forward, her gaze piercing. "I understand, but she seemed — troubled. I can't explain it, but I know there's more to this than you say. Is she in danger?"

Phillip's hand fidgets with the edge of his desk. "Danger? She didn't indicate anything like that to me, though she does seem like the nervous type. Maybe that's what you sensed. Do you ever take a rest from being a detective?"

Eleanor stood and turned to leave but stopped and looked at Phillip Henderson with disappointment etched on her face. "Something tells me there's a connection between the young lady, The Vineyard, and Rebecca, though I know you can't tell me anything."

Henderson's eyes narrowed. "What makes you say that if you don't know the woman?"

Eleanor chuckled and waved her hand as if brushing the thought away. "It's nothing. Just these feelings I get sometimes. I'm sure you'd tell someone if trouble loomed."

Phillip moved from behind his desk closer — to Eleanor and touched her arm. His eyes met hers, and unspoken words hung in the air.

"Be careful, Eleanor," he said cryptically, his voice low and deliberate. "Not everything is as it seems, and some shadows are darker than you know."

Eleanor paused, her mind racing with the implications. "Phillip, if you know something that could help —"

Knowing he'd already said too much, he shook his head, cutting her off. "I've said all I can." His tone was firm and final. "Take care of yourself, Eleanor."

She stepped out of the office, her unease growing as she headed toward the restaurant. Phillip's words lingered in her mind, an ominous prelude to whatever lay ahead.

As she entered the restaurant, her mind swirled with questions and concern for those she loved. She'd learned to trust her instincts, and Phillip's cryptic words cemented her fears — more trouble was looming on the horizon.

Author Notes Flash Summary and Characters -
Prologue -- Bayside's darkest criminals escape during a staged bus accident
Chapter 1 - Eleanor senses trouble at the Vineyard and discovers Miriam is missing
Chapter 2 - Rebecca meets her new neighbor, Grayson Webb , and the New York Mob realizes they have been double-crossed by the Chinese, Zhang Wei
Chapter 3 - Garth and Donatelli piece together forensic findings, and Eleanor finds a child's shoe at the Vineyard that belongs to a missing boy.
Chapter 4 - Eleanor searches for clues as to where Miriam may be, and Cornelius Webb holds Miriam captive within the mystery mirror
Chapter 5 - Miriam's lost soul begs Antonio to help her, and at the Vineyard, he is confronted by Cornelius Webb. Grayson Webb takes advantage of Rebecca's fears and makes his first move to win her heart and steal the Vineyard.
Chapter 6 - Cornelius's spirit clashes with his nephew -- both determined to claim the riches hidden beneath the grounds of the Vineyard , and Althea Cascio is alone in a motel -- fearful that the NY Mob will murder her son, Travis, if she doesn't do what they want concerning the Vineyard



Main Characters -
Spirits from the past -
Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli
Cornelius Webb - Miriam's nemesis and murderer
Miriam Cascio - Trevor's murdered bride, Rebecca's grandmother and protector of the Vineyard
Antonio Maggio - Rebecca's grandfather and Miriam's first love

Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and potentially interested in Rebecca
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and escaped prisoner from Joliet State Prison.
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and escaped prisoner
Grayson Webb - grand nephew and recently inherited the Webb Estate
Althea Webb Cascio - mother to Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis - missing boy

Criminals -
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" - Salvatore "Sal" and Vito Greco -- the New York mob



Chapter 8
Veil of Secrets - Chap 8

By Begin Again

Antonio moved cautiously through the rows of gnarled vines, his breath clouding in the chill night air. He felt an unfamiliar pull — a faint and fragile presence beyond what he felt for Miriam, like a whisper carried on the wind. It was as though someone was reaching out to him, their emotions raw and desperate. This was a new sensation, and he wasn't sure he understood it.

He stopped near an old stone well, his gaze drawn downward. There it was again!

He felt more than heard a child's voice — not words, but emotions — fear, loneliness, and a heart-wrenching plea for help.

Antonio pressed a hand to his chest, the sensation overwhelming him. "A child," he murmured aloud, the realization startling him. "A young boy, I think."

Moonlight glinted off something small and metallic wedged between the stones. He knelt and pulled it free — a tiny toy soldier. His throat tightened as memories of his own loss surfaced, unbidden and painful.

"Who are you?" Antonio whispered, his voice trembling. "Come to me, and I will try to help."

The cold intensified, and shadows danced at the edge of his vision. He spun around, startled, as Eleanor materialized, her expression grave.

"You feel him, don't you?" she asked softly.

Antonio nodded, still uncertain what was happening. He held up the toy soldier. "A child — a young boy, I think," he said, his voice quivering with his emotions. "Who is he? Why was he here?"

Eleanor's gaze lingered on the soldier, her spectral form flickering. "I don't know his name, but I sense that Miriam is connected to him. She might have hidden him to protect him from someone or something. Maybe she is with him."

Antonio's jaw tightened, anger flashing in his eyes. "Could Cornelius be involved?"

"It's possible," Eleanor replied softly. "But I sense there's more to this than even Cornelius knows."

Antonio stood. The toy soldier clutched tightly in his hand. "I didn't come here to watch Miriam suffer. And now a child."

Eleanor tilted her head, her gaze distant. "Trust what you're feeling, Antonio. You might be their only hope. I've tried, but so far, I've failed to reach her."

"Eleanor, I don't even know where to start." He looked toward the cottage and the barn. "I feel drawn in that direction, but is it a clue or just her familiar presence?"

"I, too, have felt a powerful pull and questioned if she was reaching out or if it was just everything she touched." As they walked, Eleanor noticed a change in Antonio. His nervousness settled, and he became calm. Was it determination that enveloped him?

Suddenly, Antonio stopped, his gaze shifting from place to place. Wide-eyed, he faced Eleanor. "Something is pulling on me. Not physically, but my body senses a need. Does that make any sense?"

Eleanor reached out and touched his arm. "It does. Stay calm and let it come to you. This is not something you can force. If it is Miriam or the child, the connection must come from them."

He stood motionless, almost as if frozen in time, with his eyes closed, yet his lids flickered from time to time. After a few moments, he opened his eyes, surveyed the area, and took slow, cautious steps toward a small, ivy-covered cellar door.

The broken padlock hung loosely, the door slightly ajar. He hesitated, his breath visible in the icy air, before pushing it open. The hinges creaked, breaking the heavy silence.

He hesitated and turned once again to face Eleanor. "I — I feel her, Eleanor. The sensation is weak, but somehow I know it is her, and she was not alone."
,
"Do you feel another presence? The child?" Eleanor hesitated, reaching deep into her body for answers, before asking, "Or is it something dark and threatening?"

"A chill — maybe fear — but not evil." He swallowed hard, biting his lip. "I've not walked this path before, but if it's Miriam, I must." Without any further words, he descended into the cellar. It was dim, illuminated only by slivers of moonlight filtering through the cracks above. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, disturbed by his presence. Antonio's eyes fell on a trail of footprints in the dust — some of them small — leading deeper into the cellar.

He followed them to a corner where the footprints abruptly stopped near a stack of old crates. On top of one lay a scrap of paper. Antonio picked it up, his breath catching at the crude charcoal drawing of a woman with long hair holding hands with a small boy.

"Miriam," he whispered, his throat tightening. "You found him."

The realization hit him like a wave. Miriam had been here. She had found the boy, protected him, and left behind traces of her presence to guide him. Antonio stared at the drawing, feeling a mixture of awe and urgency.

A soft rustling behind him made him turn sharply. Eleanor stood at the entrance to the cellar, her eyes wide with concern.

She surveyed the cellar, allowing her own senses to mingle with those with the cellar walls. "Miriam was here," she said, stepping closer. "Do you feel the presence of the boy?"

Antonio nodded, holding out the drawing. "Miriam found him. She hid him here. But why?"

Eleanor looked at the drawing, her expression unreadable. "The boy is terrified. Whatever he's running from, it's powerful. Miriam must have sensed the danger and acted."

Antonio's fists clenched. "If Cornelius is involved —"

"It's possible, but we can't be certain," Eleanor interrupted. "There's more to this than we understand. We need to find Miriam and the boy before it's too late."

Antonio's gaze hardened. "Then let's keep going."

Eleanor saw a light flicker in the mansion as they exited the cellar. "Antonio, I need to go to the house. Do you want to come?"

He closed his eyes for a second and then allowed them to open slowly. He stared at the drawing of Miriam and the boy. "Go if that is where you need to be. The cottage — you said that was her home. Maybe —" He couldn't finish his sentence and turned away.

"I understand, Antonio. Your newly discovered abilities can be overwhelming. Rest at the cottage. I'll be but a few moments."

He nodded, attempting to hide his grief yet understanding that she knew and understood.
 
Grazing in the garden, Willow brayed and shifted, moving closer to the cottage door.

A calmness slipped over Antonio as Eleanor disappeared. He patted Willow's back, feeling a warmth in his heart. "Are you welcoming me into her home, my friend? Do you keep watch over who comes and goes?" Scratching the mule between his ears, Antonio felt in control again, and he made his way toward Miriam's home.

The moonlight bathed its crumbling facade in a cold glow, and the air grew heavier as he approached. He hesitated at the door, his hand brushing the worn wood. The faint scent of lavender drifted toward him — a reminder of Miriam.

The door creaked open under his touch. Inside, the room was still and thick with dust. Something drew him deeper, his gaze landing on an ornate mirror propped against the far wall. Its surface shimmered faintly, alive with a strange energy.

Antonio's breath caught as he approached. Then he saw her.

"Miriam," he whispered, his voice breaking.

Her form appeared in the mirror, faint and ethereal. Her hands pressed against the glass, her eyes filled with sorrow and urgency. Antonio reached out instinctively, his palm meeting the cold surface.

"Miriam, what's happening?" he asked, his voice trembling. "Why are you here?"

Her gaze dropped to the toy soldier in his hand, her expression softening. Her voice came through faintly, a desperate whisper. "He's Angela's grandson. You must protect him, Antonio."

Antonio's heart pounded. "Angela's grandson? Why is he here?"

Miriam's hands trembled as her voice grew more urgent. "The boy — his name is Travis. Cornelius mustn't find him. It's more important than you realize."

Before Antonio could respond, the mirror's surface darkened. A cruel, mocking laugh filled the room as shadows rippled behind Miriam. Cornelius materialized, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Miriam!" Antonio shouted, slamming his palm against the glass.

Cornelius gripped Miriam, pulling her deeper into the shadows. "You can't save her, Antonio," he sneered. "Or the boy. They're mine."

Miriam's eyes locked on Antonio's, desperate. "Save him!" she cried, her voice piercing the void. "Save Travis!"

With a final, agonized cry, she disappeared into the shadows. The mirror returned to its lifeless state. Antonio fell to his knees, the toy soldier still clutched in his hand as despair overtook him.

The room grew colder, and a faint shimmer signaled Eleanor's return. She materialized beside him, her face etched with concern. "Antonio, what happened?" she asked.

He looked up, his eyes filled with anguish. "I saw her, Eleanor. Miriam — she's trapped in the mirror. Cornelius is holding her there. She said the boy was Angela's grandson. His name is Travis."

Eleanor's expression turned grave. "Angela's grandson? That means — he's connected to Miriam's family." She hesitated as the thought settled into her mind. "And to you."

Antonio gripped the toy soldier tighter. "I don't understand. How can this evil man trap Miriam? I can't lose her again."

Eleanor placed a calming hand on his shoulder. "We won't let that happen. But did you see the boy?"

"No, but she screamed for me to save him." Antonio's gaze shifted to the mirror. "Do you think he is hidden, and Cornelius is searching for him, threatening Miriam?"

"Cornelius knows about Travis, and he'll stop at nothing to take him and the vineyard."

Antonio nodded, his resolve hardening. "Then we find the boy. And we protect him. Whatever it takes."

Eleanor nodded. "It's time I tell Garth and Matthew what we know."
 
*****

The police station was quiet, the low hum of the fluorescent lights punctuated by the occasional shuffle of papers or telephone calls. Garth leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples, while Donatelli flipped through his notebook, his coffee growing cold beside him.

Donatelli leaned forward, addressing Garth, "Has any of your team been able to get any leads on who master-minded Doyle and Rossi's escape?"

Garth tossed his Stetson on the nearby chair. "Nope. The team's been drawing blanks at every turn." He stared at the ceiling tiles. "Everyone is tossing out ideas, but no one has anything firm to suggest they were involved."

"What about Frank?"

"What about him?" Garth snapped. "If you're thinking of pointing a finger —"
:
"No! I'm not!" Donatelli snarled. "Give a guy a break, will ya? I wasn't pointing any fingers at Frank. I thought he might have heard something through his connections."

"Now that's grasping at straws — asking the underworld about a crime, especially one involving one of their own."

"At this point, I don't care who gives me anything to work with — the longer Doyle is out there, the deeper this will get."

"I agree. The man belongs behind bars forever, but somehow, he has manipulated the system once again and is free, planning who knows what."

"It took a lot of leverage, manpower, money, and skill to pull off two simultaneous crashes, a major escape, and not leave a trace. That screams the mob to me."

"It does. Maybe a new faction trying to take over the Chicago area, including Bayside, since Frank is retired and Jack Lexington is small potatoes compared to New York."

"Those two sets of tire tracks — it doesn't make sense unless another group outsmarted the first one, meaning Doyle and Rossi aren't where they thought they would be."

A faint chill swept through the room, and both men stilled. Garth glanced at Donatelli, who raised an eyebrow. "She's here," Garth muttered.

Eleanor materialized in the corner, her spectral form shimmering faintly. " And good evening to you, Garth. Sorry to bother you two, but we need to talk," she said without preamble, her voice urgent.

Donatelli leaned back, his expression skeptical but focused. "This better be good, Eleanor. Finding Doyle is my priority. And things aren't going very well."

"It's about Miriam and the boy," Eleanor said, stepping closer.
 
Garth frowned, his posture straightening. "Rebecca told me you haven't been able to reach Miriam. Isn't it possible she just decided to return to her afterlife as originally planned?"

"No! She would never leave Rebecca like that." Eleanor sighed. "Besides, there's evidence that the missing boy is connected to Miriam."

Donatelli chuckled. "Don't tell me I've got people out looking for a missing boy — the same boy that the shoe you found belongs to — and he's a ghost, too! The reporters will have a field day!"

Eleanor glared at Donatelli. "You can't be serious — making fun and doubting me." She looked around the office. "By the way, where is Danni? Or isn't she privy to your top-level meetings, either? After all, she's a ghost."

"Whoa! Eleanor, calm yourself. He was just teasing you. We all have had our doubts, which you erased, but it is a little unnerving to learn there are more ghosts than people running around."

"You'd be surprised, Garth, but I'm not worried about the average spirit. Most are here watching over loved ones. They mean no harm."

"Except to make me think I'm going crazy." Donatelli took a swig of his cold coffee and made a face. "Ugh! That stuff's as scary as you telling me that the bad guys are ghosts."

Eleanor glared at Donatelli and Garth before snapping her fingers. Two large steaming mugs of coffee appeared on the desk.

"Oh, you're a godsend, Eleanor. It's the Moroccan kind that Danni gets me." His hand reached for the mug, and the two mugs disappeared. "Hey, bring them back."

"Not until you promise to hear me out and stop with your jokes. This is very serious." She glanced toward Garth. "Since it involves Rebecca, I thought you'd at least listen."

Garth's eyes met Eleanor's, and the smile slipped from his face. "Come on, Donatelli, listen up. Eleanor has never led us astray. I might not understand it all, but I'm willing to listen. Besides, that's the only way you are going to get that coffee."

Donatelli nodded. "Okay, you have my full attention — after I get the coffee."

Eleanor snapped her fingers, and the mugs reappeared. Eleanor moved closer — her expression serious. "Now that I have your attention, here's what you need to know about Miriam and the boy."

Author Notes Flash Summary and Characters -
Prologue -- Bayside's darkest criminals escape during a staged bus accident
Chapter 1 - Eleanor senses trouble at the Vineyard and discovers Miriam is missing
Chapter 2 - Rebecca meets her new neighbor, Grayson Webb , and the New York Mob realizes they have been double-crossed by the Chinese, Zhang Wei
Chapter 3 - Garth and Donatelli piece together forensic findings, and Eleanor finds a child's shoe at the Vineyard that belongs to a missing boy.
Chapter 4 - Eleanor searches for clues as to where Miriam may be, and Cornelius Webb holds Miriam captive within the mystery mirror
Chapter 5 - Miriam's lost soul begs Antonio to help her, and at the Vineyard, he is confronted by Cornelius Webb. Grayson Webb takes advantage of Rebecca's fears and makes his first move to win her heart and steal the Vineyard.
Chapter 6 - Cornelius's spirit clashes with his nephew -- both determined to claim the riches hidden beneath the grounds of the Vineyard , and Althea Cascio is alone in a motel -- fearful that the NY Mob will murder her son, Travis, if she doesn't do what they want concerning the Vineyard
Chapter 7 – Althea gives the will and birth certificate to the lawyer saying she is part heir to the Vineyard and Eleanor bumps into her and senses something is not right



Main Characters -
Spirits from the past -
Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli
Cornelius Webb - Miriam's nemesis and murderer
Miriam Cascio - Trevor's murdered bride, Rebecca's grandmother and protector of the Vineyard
Antonio Maggio - Rebecca's grandfather and Miriam's first love

Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and potentially interested in Rebecca
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and escaped prisoner from Joliet State Prison.
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and escaped prisoner
Grayson Webb - grand nephew and recently inherited the Webb Estate
Althea Webb Cascio - mother to Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis - missing boy

Criminals -
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" - Salvatore "Sal" and Vito Greco -- the New York mob


Chapter 9
Veil of Secrets - Chap 9

By Begin Again

"Antonio saw her." Eleanor exclaimed.

Garth frowned, his posture straightening. "Antonio? I'm the new kid on the block, so catch me up, Eleanor. Is this Antonio, someone I should know?" He glanced in Matthew's direction. "You know this guy?"

Donatelli shrugged. "That name's a new one to me."

A knock on the door caught everyone's attention. It opened, and Danni entered, all smiles with Tango at her side.

Donatelli chuckled. "Since when do you knock?"

"Since I have an FBI agent with me. He might be able to knock down walls, but as far as I know, he hasn't accomplished the ability to pass through them."

Tango laughed. "Nope, she's got one up on me there."

Danni giggled. "Man, I'm so far up the ladder on my capabilities over you that you might as well stop counting." She turned to Eleanor. "You've got a serious look. Something going on that I haven't heard about?"

"Yes, and I was about to fill the boys in, so it's good that you and Tango are here. They've got a lot of catching up to do — like learning about some people involved in Miriam's disappearance."

"Who are we talking about?" Danni's attention shifted into detective mode. "Anyone new besides that woman we saw outside Henderson's office?"

"Yes, and no — for the guy's benefit — when Rebecca and Jenna left Phil Henderson's office, his next client went in and left before we even reached the restaurant next door. She was in such a hurry, she almost knocked us off our feet.

"She sure did. Eleanor and I got a strange vibe from her."

"You bumped into someone new in town and instantly categorized her as trouble? That's called profiling, and it's wrong." Donatelli lifted an eyebrow toward his partner. "It's frowned upon in this department."

"I wasn't profiling her. I just got a sense that she was in trouble. You can even ask Jenna. She said the woman acted nervous while waiting to see Mr. Henderson."

"Okay, so what does this nervous woman have to do with Miriam and our possible missing boy?"

"Antonio —" Eleanor started again.

Donatelli jumped in again. "Now, who's Antonio? How many new people are in this sleepy town?"

Danni laughed. "The town's not sleepy, Matthew. It's just you — always a day behind."

Eleanor tapped her fingers against the window. "Can I get your attention long enough to explain?"

The room fell silent, and they all stared in her direction. "Great! Now, as I was saying, Antonio is or was Miriam's first love before she was forced to come to America to marry Trevor. They had a child together — a daughter named Angela."

Danni gasped. "I remember! He's Rebecca's grandfather, right?" Her head snapped toward Garth. "Why didn't you tell us he was here?"

"Maybe because it's the first I'm hearing about it." Garth inhaled sharply and expelled the air — long and slow. "I'm assuming he's dead. Any other dead people walking around Bayside?"

"Now that you asked, there is, and he's a bad one — Cornelius Webb."

"Hold on — that name sounds familiar." Donatelli tapped his pencil against the desk. "Webb — the estate property that runs beside the Vineyard, right? And the guy talking to Rebecca when I stopped the other day — wasn't his name Webb?"

"Yes, it was. He's Grayson Webb, the grandnephew of Cornelius Webb, and another person you should keep your eyes on," Eleanor said. "But first, I need to explain a few things that you might have difficulty swallowing, but trust me, it's happening."

"Can you give us the condensed version first?"

"Sure can! On Christmas Eve, Miriam tried to warn us that trouble was coming, but none of us took it too seriously until she disappeared. I used all my powers to connect to her, but all I got was faint voices calling me. But Antonio, who was blissfully living in the hereafter, did feel Miriam calling for help and forced himself to step back into this earthly world. Everything is strange, and he's experiencing new things — things even a spirit has difficulty understanding. Anyhow, he made a connection between the missing boy and Miriam."

"How? We have nothing to go on other than a shoe — not even a name."

"Now, here's the part you're just going to have to trust me with. Antonio discovered Miriam trapped in a mirror."

Donatelli choked on his coffee and spewed it across his desk. "Trapped? In a mirror? This is a joke, right?"

Danni grabbed a roll of paper towels and wiped up the coffee, muttering, "You humans — can't even swallow coffee without making a mess."

The detective glared at her and smirked. "Excuse me, but warn me next time when you want me to swallow some garbage about someone being trapped in a mirror."

"It's not garbage, Matthew. Antonio saw her, and she told him the boy was in danger. Cornelius Webb grabbed her before she could get any further, and the mirror went dark."

"So you want us to believe that there were two spirits inside the mirror, and they were talking to another spirit on the outside? What did you put in that coffee, Eleanor?"

Garth folded his arms, his tone cautious. "So, let me get this straight. Antonio has never come back before. Not once. But now he's here because Miriam is trapped and reaching out to him?"

"Yes," Eleanor said. "And because of Travis. Antonio felt his presence first, and Miriam confirmed it."

The room fell silent as Donatelli and Garth processed this revelation. Finally, Donatelli spoke, his tone skeptical but curious. "You're telling us that not only is Miriam trapped in a mirror, but Antonio — a ghost who's stayed out of the earthly realm until now — is suddenly a key player in all of this?"

"Yes," Eleanor said, her voice steady. "Antonio saw Miriam in the mirror. She told him about Travis and begged him to save him."

Garth leaned forward, his brows furrowing. "This mirror thing — ghosts trapping other ghosts —it's a lot to take in. We've accepted a lot about you, Danni, and Miriam. But this —"

"I know it's hard to believe," Eleanor said, her tone softening. "But it's the truth. Cornelius is holding Miriam in the mirror at her cottage. He's using her to find Travis."

Donatelli rubbed his temples, exhaling slowly. "And this boy, Travis. You're saying he's Angela's grandson?

"Yes," Eleanor said. "And his connection to the Vineyard makes him a target for Cornelius. Miriam hid him to protect him, but Cornelius is trying to use her to find him."

Donatelli sat up straighter, his gaze sharpening. "Wait a second — the shoe you found. You're saying that was Travis's? And that Miriam hid him?"

"Yes," Eleanor said. "She risked everything to keep him safe. But Cornelius is closing in."

Garth sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So we've got a vengeful ghost trapping other ghosts, a missing kid with ties to the Vineyard, and a possible mob connection that won't stop looking for him. Great. Just another day in Bayside."

Eleanor's form flickered as she spoke. "This is bigger than you realize. If Cornelius finds Travis, he'll use him to gain control of the vineyard and everything it represents."

A lightbulb suddenly turned on in Garth's brain. "This boy —Travis — you're saying he's connected to the vineyard. How?"

Eleanor glanced at Danni, who she knew had already processed that answer, and then back to Garth. "Haven't you been listening? His grandmother is Angela Cascio."

Garth felt like a ton of bricks had fallen on him. "Angela Cascio? Rebecca and Allie's mother?"
Before anyone could answer, he answered his own question. "That means his mother is Rebecca's sister. Does she know any of this?"

"She doesn't know. And actually, they're half-sisters because her father —" Eleanor paused, and Danni gasped.

"Blow my freakin' mind — her father is a Webb." Danni yanked on Tango's arm, shouting, "That woman is related to both families. But wait a minute, if she's Travis's mother, why hasn't she been in here screaming about her missing boy?"

Tango glanced at his boss. "I've got that one. Someone is stopping her."

"But there's no one who would stop me if my son was missing."

"Think about it, Danni. We've got some heavy action in play at the moment. Some powerful people organized Doyle's escape without leaving a clue, people, spirits or not, are disappearing, and a boy — a key player with both families — is missing. I don't know how much she knows, but I'd bet she's mighty terrified for her son's life." Tango shrugged. "At least, I know I'd be. If it's the mob and they don't know Travis is missing yet, they will soon and then all hell's going to break loose."

Donatelli leaned forward, tapping his pen against his notebook. "And you're saying Antonio is out there trying to help?"

"Yes," Eleanor said, her voice firm. "Antonio feels the weight of his past. He couldn't protect Miriam then, but he's determined to protect her now and Travis."

Garth let out a slow breath, his expression grim. "All right, Eleanor. We'll bite. Where do we start?"

"The Vineyard," Eleanor said urgently. "Miriam hid him somewhere she thought was safe, but Cornelius is searching. And the mob or whoever is behind this might be closing in, too. We don't have much time."

Donatelli jotted a note in his book, his skepticism melting into resolve. "Fine. We'll check the mansion and the vineyard. But if Cornelius is as dangerous as you say, you need to be careful, too. I'm not sure how you go to war against a ghost."
 
*****

After the pow-wow with Garth and Donatelli, Eleanor said her goodbyes, using the door for a change. She knew the spiritual world was difficult to swallow, but she hadn't expected so much resistance from the guys. After all, how many cases had they worked on together, yet they still resisted the possibilities except for accepting their existence?

As Eleanor walked silently along the street, her thoughts drifted to Travis. She knew Miriam would have put him in a safe place, but being so young and finding himself alone must be terrifying.

She turned a corner and was drawn to two people under a flickering streetlamp. The same vibes she'd felt the other day outside Phil Henderson's office swept through her again. It must be Travis's mother.

Eleanor's body faded into the darkness, and she drifted closer, unnoticed. Her gaze narrowed as she recognized Grayson. Althea stood by the streetlight, her posture stiff, while he leaned against the car door, totally at ease.

His confident demeanor and practiced smile made Eleanor's energy pulse with suspicion. She lingered, her ethereal presence allowing her to observe without drawing attention.

"I've done everything they asked," Althea said, her voice shaky but firm. "I've signed the papers, claimed the vineyard. Now I want my son."

Grayson's smile widened slightly, though a flicker of surprise crossed his features. "Your son?" he said smoothly, testing the words. "I wasn't aware there was a child involved."

Althea crossed her arms, her tone growing sharper. "Of course you weren't. They kept him hidden from everyone. Said it was insurance that I'd do what they wanted."

Grayson's eyes glinted with interest, though his expression remained calm. "And where is your son now?"

Althea hesitated, her hands clenching into fists. "He was supposed to be safe where they left him. But now — I can't find him. He's gone."

Eleanor saw the faint tightening of Grayson's jaw, a telltale sign that he was processing this unexpected information. His voice, however, remained smooth and reassuring. "I see. That must be incredibly difficult for you. But perhaps I can find a way to help."

Althea's shoulders sagged slightly, her guarded stance softening as she misread his concern. "I don't know who else to turn to. I thought they would bring him back once I did what they asked, but they're ignoring me now. I just want my son."

Grayson reached out, lightly touching her arm in a gesture of reassurance. "I'll see what I can do. But you have to trust me, Althea. I'll need to know everything if I'm going to help."

Althea hesitated again, torn between caution and desperation. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. I'll tell you everything. Just find my son."

Grayson's smile returned, but Eleanor could see the calculation behind it. As he leaned closer to continue the conversation, Eleanor's form flickered with agitation. His charm was a facade, a mask for his true intentions.

She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible even to her own senses. "Althea, you're trusting the wrong man."
 
*****

After Althea climbed into her car and drove away, Grayson remained by the streetlamp, his mind working through what he'd just learned. He pulled out his phone, his calm demeanor slipping slightly as he dialed a number.

"It's me," he said when the line connected. "We've got a complication."

Eleanor's spectral presence hovered nearby, her attention fixed on his every word.

"The woman they brought in? Althea? She has a kid —a boy. And apparently, he's missing."

The voice on the other end said something inaudible, and Grayson chuckled softly. "No, they didn't know either. She's starting to panic. This could be a problem for all of us."

His expression darkened, his next words dripping with intent. "If the boy's gone, someone has him. Find out who and quickly. Maybe you can use Doyle as leverage."

Grayson ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket. He turned and walked away, his polished demeanor once again intact. Eleanor remained in the shadows, her unease growing.

Author Notes
Flash Summary and Characters -
Prologue -- Bayside's darkest criminals escape during a staged bus accident
Chapter 1 - Eleanor senses trouble at the Vineyard and discovers Miriam is missing
Chapter 2 - Rebecca meets her new neighbor, Grayson Webb , and the New York Mob realizes they have been double-crossed by the Chinese, Zhang Wei
Chapter 3 - Garth and Donatelli piece together forensic findings, and Eleanor finds a child's shoe at the Vineyard that belongs to a missing boy.
Chapter 4 - Eleanor searches for clues as to where Miriam may be, and Cornelius Webb holds Miriam captive within the mystery mirror
Chapter 5 - Miriam's lost soul begs Antonio to help her, and at the Vineyard, he is confronted by Cornelius Webb. Grayson Webb takes advantage of Rebecca's fears and makes his first move to win her heart and steal the Vineyard.
Chapter 6 - Cornelius's spirit clashes with his nephew -- both determined to claim the riches hidden beneath the grounds of the Vineyard , and Althea Cascio is alone in a motel -- fearful that the NY Mob will murder her son, Travis, if she doesn't do what they want concerning the Vineyard
Chapter 7 -- Althea gives the will and birth certificate to the lawyer saying she is part heir to the Vineyard and Eleanor bumps into her and senses something is not right
Chapter 8 - Antonio finds clues to the missing boy and finds Miriam trapped in a mirror and Cornelius dragging her away



Main Characters -
Spirits from the past -
Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli
Cornelius Webb - Miriam's nemesis and murderer
Miriam Cascio - Trevor's murdered bride, Rebecca's grandmother and protector of the Vineyard
Antonio Maggio - Rebecca's grandfather and Miriam's first love

Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and potentially interested in Rebecca
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and escaped prisoner from Joliet State Prison.
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and escaped prisoner
Grayson Webb - grand nephew and recently inherited the Webb Estate
Althea Webb Cascio - mother to Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis - missing boy

Criminals -
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" - Salvatore "Sal" and Vito Greco -- the New Yor


Chapter 10
Veil of Secrets - Chap 10

By Begin Again

Grayson didn't do mornings. Bayside's nightlife might have been sparse, but it at least afforded him the comfort of anonymity. The brightness of the early day grated on his nerves.

Yawning, he tightened his grip on the steering wheel, forcing himself to focus on the winding country road. Cornelius's threats echoed in his mind, setting his teeth on edge. He'd heard rumors about Cornelius haunting the estate, but he didn't put much stock into it until he confronted him/ Even then, he dismissed him as a typical bluster of hot air. After all, what actual harm could a ghost do? To him, Cornelius Webb was a relic, a loud and desperate ghost trying to hold onto a crumbling legacy.

"Dead men shouldn't make demands," Grayson muttered.

The car ahead slowed abruptly, breaking his train of thought. Irritation flaring, his hand hovered over the horn when his gaze caught the vanity plate: DA LWYR.

A slow smirk spread across his face. "Henderson," he murmured.

Grayson's curiosity raged as the car turned into the Restful Night Motel's cracked parking lot. He drove past the lot and parked in a nearby vacant lot concealed by overgrown trees. Shutting off the engine, he slipped out of the car, his movements smooth and calculated. He returned to the motel on foot, keeping to the shadows.

Near the rusted beverage machine, Grayson spotted Phil Henderson standing by his car, with a leather briefcase in hand, speaking with a visibly distraught Althea. Her shoulders sagged, and Grayson could hear the tension in her voice even from a distance.

"I'm not saying it's impossible," Phil said, his voice measured, "but proving the validity of this will is going to be complicated."

"It's not a forgery!" Althea snapped, her voice cracking. "Why won't anyone believe me?"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you," Phil replied gently. "But the timing — the sudden appearance of this claim — will raise questions. People will scrutinize every detail, and if they find even one inconsistency —"

"I don't care about the scrutiny!" Althea's voice rose in desperation. "I need this to work. If it doesn't —" She hesitated, her hands trembling. "They have my son."

Phil froze. "Your son? Althea, what are you talking about?"

"They took him," she said, tears pooling in her eyes. "They said if I don't do what they want, they'll kill him." She turned her back on him, trying to stop the tears.

"Althea," Phil began cautiously, stepping closer. "If your child is in danger, you must go to the police. Who has — "

She spun around, her eyes wide with fear. "No!" she interrupted, her voice frantic. "You don't understand! If I go to the police, they'll kill him! You're my lawyer — you can't tell anyone."

Phil's jaw tightened, his frustration evident. "I'm bound by confidentiality, but this changes things. You need to think carefully about your next steps. This isn't just about the Vineyard anymore."

"It's always been about the Vineyard," Althea hissed. "It's the only way I can get him back."

Behind the vending machine, Grayson's mind churned. Althea's desperation was dangerous, and now Henderson knew far too much. She was unraveling, and it would ruin everything if Phil decided to act on her revelation.

"This is going to blow everything wide open," he muttered.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed swiftly. "It's me," he said coldly. "Henderson's a problem. He knows too much."

"What do you want us to do?" the voice on the other end asked.

Grayson glanced back at Phil and Althea. His tone dropped, sharp and decisive. "Run him off the road. Make it clean. He's driving a late-model silver Cadillac sedan. License plate DA LWYR. Highway 17 — coming into town. Grab the briefcase and make sure there are no loose ends."

"Understood," came the reply before the call ended.

Grayson slipped his phone into his pocket and quickly returned to his car. As the silver sedan left, he drove back to the motel, pulling into the lot casually as if he'd just arrived. Althea sat on a bench outside her room, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking as soft sobs escaped her.

*****
As Phil's car disappeared down the road, Eleanor materialized in the motel parking lot but was out of sight. A sudden chill rippled through her, and her vision blurred.
Flashes of an accident filled her mind — Phil's car swerving violently, dust and gravel flying as it careened down a steep embankment. She saw a briefcase flung against the passenger seat and the stark silhouette of buffalo grazing in a nearby field.

Her voice trembled as she whispered, "No — no, no, no." Pressing her hands to her temples, she forced herself to focus. The vision grew sharper. It hadn't happened yet. There was still time.

Staying in the shadows, she pulled out her phone and dialed Donatelli.
"Matthew," she said, "there's trouble. They ran Phil Henderson off the road.

Donatelli's voice was instantly alert. "What? Where? How do you know this?"

"I can't explain everything," Eleanor said quickly. "I saw it. It hasn't happened yet, but it's going to. All I know is that it's on a rural road, and buffalo are grazing nearby."

"Buffalo?" Donatelli repeated, already grabbing his keys. "That's Landry's place out on Route 17. I'm on it."

"Go now, Matthew," Eleanor urged. "They're after his briefcase. If you don't get there in time —"

"I'm going," Donatelli interrupted, already heading for his car.

She had lingered, observing Grayson approach Althea, uneasy about his intentions.
He carried a grocery bag in one arm, his expression warm and concerned as he approached her.

"Althea?" he called softly.

Startled, she looked up, her tear-streaked face twisting in confusion. "Grayson? What are you doing here? Please, leave me alone. I can't take any more."

He gestured to the bag. "I thought you might need some essentials. I had to pick up a few things and figured I'd check in on you."

She blinked, her mind too clouded to question his sudden appearance. "It's been a lot," she admitted, her voice cracking.

Grayson sat beside her, placing the bag at her feet. "I could tell when I saw you yesterday. This is overwhelming, but you don't have to face it alone. I'm here to help." He put his arm around her shoulder.

Her gaze dropped to the ground, her fingers twisting the tissue in her hands. "Henderson said proving the will is real will be nearly impossible. If I can't prove it, I'll lose everything — my son."

"You won't lose anything," Grayson said gently, brushing her back. "You've already been through enough. Let me take some of the weight off your shoulders."

Eleanor, unseen in the shadows, observed the exchange. Her ethereal form flickered faintly, her unease growing. "You're a liar, Grayson," she whispered to herself. "Althea, he's not someone you can trust."

*****
Phil rounded the bend in the road, Althea's desperate words ringing in his ears.

"They have my son. If I don't do what they want, they'll kill him."

He gripped the wheel tighter, his mind racing as he replayed their conversation, each word steeped in panic. He verbally shouted, as if Althea could still hear him, "Althea, you need to tell the police!" as he pounded his fist against the steering wheel.

A black SUV appeared in his rearview mirror, gaining speed and closing the distance between them. Phil tensed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The first bump jolted his car, sending his tires skidding along the gravel shoulder. He wrestled the wheel back under control, but the second hit was harder, more deliberate.

"What the —" Phil muttered, gripping the steering wheel tightly as his heart pounded against his chest.

The SUV closed the gap, bumping the rear of Phil's car. His tires skidded on the gravel shoulder again.

"Come on, come on," he muttered, pressing the accelerator, but the SUV was relentless.

Another car appeared, speeding toward him, swerving into his lane, and cutting him off. Too late, Phil realized what was happening. He slammed on the brakes, skidding uncontrollably.

The SUV behind him surged forward, slamming into his rear bumper with enough force to send him spiraling off the road. His car plummeted down the steep embankment, dust and debris filling the air as it crashed into a tree. The impact crumpled the front of the vehicle, the airbag deploying with a harsh thud.

Phil lay slumped against the airbag, groaning as pain shot through his side. Blood trickled down his temple, blurring his vision.

The two vehicles stopped at the top of the hill. Two men emerged, their movements hurried and focused as they descended toward the wreck. Phil barely registered the sound of footsteps as they approached.

Slightly out of breath, the first guy huffed, "What about him?"

"He can't recognize us, so get the briefcase and move," the other one barked. "We don't have much time."

The first guy rushed to the mangled door on the passenger side and pulled, but it wouldn't open. "The doors jammed."

"Break the damn window," the second man barked.

Checking for something to use, he saw a large limestone rock buried in the ground. Kicking with his shoe, he worked it loose and threw it at the window, smashing it with a single blow. His partner poked at the shattered glass with a big branch. Pieces of glass rained onto the car's interior as the first man reached in, yanking the leather briefcase from the passenger seat.

Phil stirred, his voice hoarse. "W-what — what are you doing?"

"Shut up," the first man growled, tossing the briefcase to his partner.

The second man hesitated, glancing back at Phil. "He's seen us."

The first man pulled a gun from his waistband, the metal glinting in the fading sunlight.

"Wait—" Phil started, his voice trembling, but the gunshot cut through the air.

The sound echoed across the embankment as the bullet struck Phil. He cried out, his body slumping back against the seat.

The briefcase lock broke with a snap, spilling papers onto the dirt. One of the men bent down, grabbing what he could.

"These have her name on them," he said, squinting at the text. "Althea Cascio."

"What's that?" the second man asked, glancing over his shoulder.

The first man picked up another document, his brow furrowing. "A birth certificate. Althea Cascio — Same last name as Rebecca Cascio."

The second man froze. "You're telling me she's connected to the Vineyard? How come Grayson didn't tell us that?"

"Get used to it. We're on a need-to-know basis. Just grab the papers, and let's get out of here."

Before either could process the implications, the faint sound of sirens reached their ears. The two men exchanged a panicked glance.

"Cops!" the first man hissed. "We gotta go."

They raced to their cars at the top of the hill and sped off just as Donatelli's squad car appeared. He skidded to a halt near the edge of the embankment, throwing the car into park as he jumped out.

"Damn it," he muttered, his gaze darting to the fading taillights of the fleeing vehicles and then to the tracks of Phil's car before it went over the cliff. He could hear the approach of more sirens, but he wasn't waiting for the others. "Sorry, DeLuca. You gotta learn to drive faster if you want to keep up with me."

Descending the slope, Donatelli approached the crumpled car, his eyes taking in the shattered glass and the scattered papers littering the ground. Phil was slumped against the airbag, blood trickling down his temple. Blood soaked his shirt, spreading from a wound in his upper chest. Donatelli carefully checked for a pulse.

"Still alive," he murmured, pulling out his radio. "Dispatch, this is Detective Donatelli. Single-vehicle collision on Route 17 near Landry's farm. Gunshot wound. The suspects fled the scene. Request medical assistance."

"Hang in there, Phil," Donatelli murmured.

His eyes fell on the scattered papers and the abandoned briefcase. He crouched, picking up one of the documents. Dirt streaked it, but the name "Althea Cascio" was clear.
 
*****

I'm sorry if the proofing isn't clean. I've been in bed for three days, and my head still isn't clear. Thanks for reading and pointing out any errors.

Author Notes Flash Summary and Characters -
Prologue -- Bayside's darkest criminals escape during a staged bus accident
Chapter 1 - Eleanor senses trouble at the Vineyard and discovers Miriam is missing
Chapter 2 - Rebecca meets her new neighbor, Grayson Webb , and the New York Mob realizes they have been double-crossed by the Chinese, Zhang Wei
Chapter 3 - Garth and Donatelli piece together forensic findings, and Eleanor finds a child's shoe at the Vineyard that belongs to a missing boy.
Chapter 4 - Eleanor searches for clues as to where Miriam may be, and Cornelius Webb holds Miriam captive within the mystery mirror
Chapter 5 - Miriam's lost soul begs Antonio to help her, and at the Vineyard, he is confronted by Cornelius Webb. Grayson Webb takes advantage of Rebecca's fears and makes his first move to win her heart and steal the Vineyard.
Chapter 6 - Cornelius's spirit clashes with his nephew -- both determined to claim the riches hidden beneath the grounds of the Vineyard , and Althea Cascio is alone in a motel -- fearful that the NY Mob will murder her son, Travis, if she doesn't do what they want concerning the Vineyard
Chapter 7 -- Althea gives the will and birth certificate to the lawyer saying she is part heir to the Vineyard and Eleanor bumps into her and senses something is not right
Chapter 8 - Antonio finds clues to the missing boy and finds Miriam trapped in a mirror and Cornelius dragging her away
Chapter 9 - Eleanor fills in Garth and Donatelli and Grayson confronts Althea



Main Characters -
Spirits from the past -
Eleanor Bennett - ghost detective
Danni - jr. ghost detective working with Matthew Donatelli
Cornelius Webb - Miriam's nemesis and murderer
Miriam Cascio - Trevor's murdered bride, Rebecca's grandmother and protector of the Vineyard
Antonio Maggio - Rebecca's grandfather and Miriam's first love

Bayside's Community --
Jenna Bennett - Event planner, Eleanor's daughter, Maggie's mother, Donatelli's love
Matthew Donatelli - Bayside's lead detective and Maggie's father
Rebecca Cascio Stillwell - recently inherited the Vineyard after discovering her adoption
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent and widower (Allie) and potentially interested in Rebecca
Joseph DeLuca - Bayside detective
John Doyle - Ex-judge, nemesis to all, and escaped prisoner from Joliet State Prison.
Vince Rossi - mobster and Doyle's cellmate and escaped prisoner
Grayson Webb - grand nephew and recently inherited the Webb Estate
Althea Webb Cascio - mother to Travis and half-sister to Rebecca
Travis - missing boy

Criminals -
Zhang Wei - once involved in human trafficking with Doyle, seeks revenge for his career losses after Doyle's downfall from the Judge's bench.
Frank DiVito - retired gangster and childhood friend of Garth
Sam - Frankie's right-hand man and friend
Jack Lexington - Chicago kingpin
Tony "The Hawk" - Salvatore "Sal" and Vito Greco -- the New York Mob

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