Page 29 of Innocence

“I am sorry. No.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think I’d want to be alive after that. I could smell the kerosene. I kept begging for the person to speak with me, to tell me why they were doing this to me, but they said nothing.”

“What is your name, son?” asked Noah.

“Gifford. Gifford Macklin. My friends call me Giff. I’m a student at UNO.” Noah nodded, pursing his lips.

“Will you allow my friends to see and speak with you?”

“Are you the only one who can?” he asked.

“For right now, yes. But if you say it is okay, they will speak with you as well.” The young man nodded, and Noah waved them over. “This is Gifford, Giff.”

“Giff, I’m sorry this happened,” said Ian. He nodded at the older man, still staring at his hands. “Did you hear anyone? See anyone?”

“No. I told the big man that they refused to speak to me. I was home from my classes, and that’s all I remember.”

“Classes?” frowned Nine.

“I’m a student at UNO,” he said. “Funny thing is, dying in a fire was almost my worst fear. Before I felt the fire, I had this thought that it would be okay because I would die from the smoke first and not feel the flames. I think I was right. I’m grateful for that.”

“There’s always something to be grateful for,” said Ghost. “Giff, did you have any enemies? Anyone who maybe was bothering you at school or work?”

“Not me,” he smiled. “I’m a total teddy bear. Or I was.”

“What were you studying?” smiled Gaspar.

“Divinity. I was going to be a minister,” he said, grinning at the men. “I guess that seems kind of old-fashioned, but I’ve always known it was what I was supposed to do. I tried to talk to the person, but they wouldn’t even give me a grunt.” He turned, looking around at the environment.

“Is there something you see?” asked Ian.

“No. I think I’m supposed to go now,” he said. “There’s a man over there that says it’s time for me to leave. Whoever did this, will you tell them that I forgive them?”

“I will tell them,” said Noah. The young man nodded at them, smiling as he seemed to vanish in a cloud of light and gold dust. “I will tell them as I have my fingers around their neck.”

“He wasn’t very big,” said Ian. “It could have been a man, woman, or teenager that did this. It wouldn’t have taken much to overpower him.”

“Maybe, but he said he walked into his apartment, and that was all he remembered. Someone had to have gotten him from his apartment to here. That takes strength,” said Ghost.

“True,” nodded Nine. “Let’s take a look at the area. See if the cops or firefighters have found any tire tracks, any signs of someone dragging a body. If they did, we might find some hairs or clothing scraps. Let’s find this killer.”

Five hours later, as dawn began to appear over the horizon, the men were still searching the area, trying to find a direction or area from which the body was brought to the cabin.

“Over here!” yelled Ian. The four men ran toward him, standing where he was near a dirt trail. “It’s feint, but you can see narrow, small tires like from a motorcycle.”

“That’s not a bike,” said Ghost. “That’s a moped.”

“Is that not a bike?” asked Noah.

“Not in this lifetime,” growled Ghost. “But it does explain how someone got him here. They could have strapped him to the back, maybe even tied his wrists around their waist and dragged him the rest of the way. Where do the tracks come from?”

“Over that way.” Ghost nodded, walking in that direction.

“Then that way we go.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Following the tire tracks for more than forty-five minutes, they finally found where the bike had entered. A remote dirt road not far from Back Bay Bayou. Someone had to be familiar with the area to know how to get to this tiny pathway to that old, abandoned cabin.

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