“Casey?” I whispered, waking her from a dead sleep. “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to go for a drive with me.”

With her hair splayed out every which way and her eyes still sealed shut, Casey definitely didn’t appear in any shape to keep me company. I nudged her again. “Babe, wake up. It’s 7:30.”

“Go away,” she mumbled, her limp hand trying to push me away. “It hurts when someone you love says mean things like ‘It’s time to wake up.’”

Smiling, I traced a strand of her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “I’ll buy you a coffee if you come with me.”

One eye emerged from under the pillow she’d placed over her face. “Starbucks?”

“Sure. Wherever. But no meet and greets. Strictly drive thru.”

“As if I want people seeing me like this. I look like I swallowed a blowfish.”

“You look beautiful.” I commented on this statement, or some variation of it, daily. That was my standard reply – the only reply.

She removed the pillow completely and raised her brow. “Why are you up so early? Can’t sleep?”

“Something like that.” In reality, I hadn’t slept a wink, knowing what was coming. “And it’s 7:30, which is not early for most people.”

She pulled the sheet up over her head, hiding until I yanked it clear off her body. “Ugghh,” Casey groaned.

“Let’s go. I’ll give you thirty minutes to get yourself ready.”

“Thirty minutes?! I’m not a magician, Jake.” Flinging the sheets off her body, Casey padded off to the bathroom grumbling, “But I’ll do what I can to not look like a troll.”

I grinned at her cranky response. “That’s all I ask.”

Waiting for Casey, I stood in the hallway, gripping my keys in one hand and, in the other, a twelve-year-old piece of paper featuring a list of cryptic directions pointing to a hidden location. Written from memory, it was a treasure map of sorts, but there would be no reward at this end of this path. I smoothed the worn paper with my fingers. The list was almost unreadable at this point and of no significant value to me. I certainly didn’t need it to get where I was going. Each line on this tattered parchment was burned in my memory for life. Truth be told, I only carried it with me now for emotional support. It was a reminder that I wasn’t crazy, and that where I was going was more than just a place that lived in my nightmares. It was real and as tangible as the paper in my hand. And after today, it would never be a secret again.

“You’re pulling in here?” Casey asked, scanning the surrounding area with a puzzled expression on her face. “Is this even a road?”

“Not officially. It’s a back way onto the property.”

“Whose property? Yours?”

“No. Not mine.”

I expertly dodged the overgrown flowering bushes and the branches hanging so low off the trees that they smacked my windshield on multiple occasions. The dirt road I was driving along led to a sprawling farm about twenty miles north of Santa Barbara. This seemingly tranquil place was anything but, however. Its grounds held a terrible secret.

I pulled up to a locked gate, put my Jeep in park, and hopped out.

“What is this, Jake? Are we supposed to be here? Isn’t this private property?”

I hadn’t been here in years, and it was possible that the lock had changed. If that were the case, I had a chain cutter that would get me through the gate. But, to my surprise, there was no lock. All that was required was unclipping the gate and pushing it open. I walked back to my Jeep and continued driving.

Casey’s eyes were fixed on me now. She seemed to get that more was happening than just a leisurely afternoon drive. I pulled to a stop.

Exiting the vehicle, I walked around to help Casey out and then stood for a moment, staring at the old structure and gathering my courage. Dragging a deep breath in, I walked to the barn and, as I had in countless dreams, laid my hand against the tattered paneling. It was parched and unyielding, not like in my nightmares where the wood planks had a heartbeat and blood dripped from the cracks.

“Does this place mean something to you?” Casey asked, gripping my arm.

I heard her words but was too caught up in the moment to immediately answer.

“Jake? What is this place? Why have you brought me here?”

“You wanted to know my secrets.”

Casey squinted, blinking out the sun, as she examined the barn.

“Do you remember on our honeymoon, when you asked what I was having a nightmare about?”

“Yes. I remember… you said ghosts.”

“This place here,” I said, gesturing over the farm, “this is where they live.”

“Live?” she asked, shifting positions and rubbing her arms. I could see the goosebumps traveling up them as she spoke. “What exactly are you showing me here?”

“My nightmare, Casey. I’m showing you my nightmare.”

She stared at me for the longest time, and I wasn’t sure if I should continue or wait for her to catch up. Finally she took a step away from both the barn and me. That was when I knew my words had sunk in.

“Did he take you here?” Her voice shook as she spoke.

“No. Not me. Others… five others, to be exact, and this is where they died.”

Again she took a step back, but now I could see real fear in her eyes. I grabbed Casey’s arms to steady her. “Shit. This was stupid. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

“No. I’m fine, just shocked. Give me a second to process, okay?”

I nodded, assuming the wait would be long, but Casey was a decisive woman and had a whole barrage of questions ready for me in a matter of seconds.

“How long have you known? Did Ray tell you about them? Are they buried in the barn?” The last question was whispered, as if she didn’t want the ghosts to hear.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the instructions, and placed them in her hand.

Casey unfolded the paper and I watched as she read the directions. “Is this what I think it is?”

I nodded, touching the wall of the barn. “A map to them. The boys who died here.”

“Where did you get this?”

“I wrote it… from memory… so I wouldn’t forget.”

“So Ray told you about this place, then? About killing these boys?”

“Yes.”

She pointed at the map. “How do you know he was telling you the truth? Maybe he lied to you. Maybe nothing is here at all.”

“He wasn’t lying, Casey. There was no reason for him to. As far as he was concerned, I was never leaving the basement alive. What did he care if I died holding his secrets?”

“But it doesn’t make any sense. He killed all the others at the house. Why here?”

“These were his first victims. He didn’t own that house when these guys were killed. Ray’s father used to work on this ranch and brought him here as a kid. He knew every inch of this property and knew that the land was so vast that no one would ever hear screams coming from this barn.”

She shook her head, either not yet willing to accept my explanation or just unable to fully process it. Studying the list of directions in her hand once more, something seemed to click into place for her, and she asked, “You’ve followed this map before, haven’t you?”

Yes, I’d been here before, even sitting by their graves and apologizing for my cowardliness. Why couldn’t I free them? What was this hold Ray had over me? Why did I insist on keeping his secrets? To lessen my guilt, I’d anonymously sent money to their families and prayed for their souls but I’d never had the courage to do the one thing they’d asked of me… until now. Today I took back control.

In that moment, a strange sensation crawled up my spine, raising bumps on my skin. They were here, crowding around, impatiently waiting. Had they known this was coming? Did they see me meeting with the FBI over the past few weeks and identifying them, not only by name, but also through their missing person reports? Had they watched as search warrants were secured and a recovery plan was put in place? Did they know about the memorial funds I’d set up in their names to help their families with burial costs or the interview I’d scheduled for the following day to publicly acknowledge the discovery of their bodies? Did they experience time the same way we did and if so, would they forgive me for taking so long to finally extract myself from Ray’s iron grip? And most importantly, once I gave them their peace, would they finally grant me mine?

Not trusting myself to speak, I answered Casey’s question with a nod.

Sensing my fragile state of being, she placed her hand on my chest and whispered, “Why? Why didn’t you just… just…”

“Tell someone?” I finished her question, shame licking up my heated skin. “I don’t know why.”

We stood silently, her expression twisted in pain…for me. She deserved more but the words were stuck in my throat. There was so much I needed to say to her but that required a courage I wasn’t sure I possessed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Casey traced my face with her hands as a tear trailed down her cheek. “Why are you sorry? There’s no reason.”

“There is. So many reasons. I’m so ashamed of myself, Case. I did this. I kept them here all these years. All I had to do was just tell someone, anyone. They had lives. They had families… people who loved them… people who still don’t know what happened to them. I was the only one who could save them, and I did nothing. I was such a fucking coward.”

Casey stepped even closer, hands still touching my face. “No one knows what it was like being you… how much you hurt. You did the best you could, and I will never look at you as a coward. You didn’t put them here, Jake. This… isn’t… your… fault.”

I clutched Casey to me, my throat holding back something between a howl and a roar. Why me? The two words I swore I’d never say threatened to escape through clenched teeth. They were weak words, pathetic, really, and didn’t deserve to be allowed passage. Yet my whole life could be summed up by that simple question. Out of everybody he could have chosen, why had Ray picked me?

People speak of fate – the predetermined course of a person’s life – but I’d always refused to believe I’d been placed on this earth solely to be the plaything for a demented killer. And so I worked to change my destiny, pouring my soul into music and making a name for myself outside of Ray’s demented control. I reconnected with my family and made lifelong and lasting bonds. And, most importantly, I opened my heart up to a beautiful woman and allowed myself to love.

I did all those things to prove that fate didn’t own me. But now I realized what a fool I’d been. I could change my destiny all I wanted, but I could never outrun my fate. Almost my whole life had been lived in his clutches. Ray’s secrets were now my own, and his crimes had become my cross to bear.

As if it weren’t bad enough that he’d taken away my freedom and my innocence, Ray had also taken any chance I might have had at a peaceful life by forcing his memories on me with his boastful claims of death and destruction. I couldn’t even close my eyes at night without the fear that his victims would visit me in my sleep. Jack, Anton, Ren, Wilson, and Felix. I knew their names and had seen their faces, both dead and alive. I knew the towns they’d lived in before Ray destroyed them and who their families were and what they’d been like in life. But I also knew what their last words had been, how they died, and where they were buried. I knew all this because Ray had bound me to them for all eternity.

And when I’d come home, a tragic shell of myself, I’d tried to forget, blocking them from my memory for years until one day they found their way through the barriers of my mind and infiltrated my dreams. They weren’t ghosts at all, but living memories forced upon me by the man to whose fate I’d been forever linked.

Yes, I should have told someone; but like Casey said, no one knew what it was like being me. There was no handbook for me to study or any tried and true path I could follow. I had to find my way through hell on my own, and the mistakes I made had brought me here into the loving embrace of the woman who was willing to forgive my sins for no other reason than because she loved me and trusted that my heart was good.

“I promised you answers, Casey, and I’m ready to lay myself bare for you, but first, there’s something I have to do. I’m not going to keep his secrets anymore. This ends today.”

I tipped my head in the direction of a row of SUVs driving toward us. They’d come in through the front gate at the main house, where they’d had to stop first to deliver the warrant. That’s where I was supposed to meet them too, but my need to follow the map was too strong. This was the last time I’d ever come here. After today, I would burn those morbid directions and never feel guilt for them again.

In response to Casey’s questioning stare, I replied. “They’re with me.”

* * *

Casey stayed behind for the rest of my journey, although she did put up a good fight. I understood she wanted to be there for me, but this was something I needed to finish on my own. James, who’d arrived in one of the vehicles, remained at the barn with Casey. I didn’t need him because the closer I got to the end, the stronger I felt.

I led the agents to the place on the map where the bodies could be found, and then stepped back out of the way and watched them work. Although there was some doubt amongst the FBI agents that anything would be found, I knew better. They were there, waiting. Soon their purgatory would come to an end, and then they would be free.

It had taken me a long time to right the wrong, but now that I had, my hope was that there might just be a little bit of peace left over for me. My fate might have been tied to Ray’s, but he didn’t have any more rights to our story than I did. I could, and would, change the narrative. He didn’t get to write the ending. I did.

About an hour into the dig, sudden activity caught my attention. I knew it then; I could feel it. They’d been found. The tightness in my chest instantly eased as I breathed out a sigh of relief. My voice low, I spoke to them for the last time. “Rest in peace, brothers.”

They were finally going home.

* * *

Later that night, Casey and I were nestled under blankets by the fire and sipping hot chocolate. It was one of those rare nights in Los Angeles where the temperatures had dipped down into the 30s. And yes, while I was aware that such a temperature was considered downright balmy in some parts of the country, here in Southern California, we were a bunch of ridiculous cold weather wusses.

“My toes are frozen solid,” Casey complained, before proceeding to prove it to me by running her ice-cubed digits along my leg.

“Stop it,” I protested, flinching away from her. “You’re going to give me frostbite.”

“Speaking of frostbite, I’m worried about the orange trees out back. Do you think they’re going to freeze over and die?”

I didn’t have a lot of experience with Arctic temperatures, but it seemed logical to assume that tropical trees would be as pampered and fragile as we So Cal babies were. “Probably, yes.”

“Maybe you should go out right now and pick the ripe oranges so they don’t all die and go to waste.”

“See, here’s where I question your use of pronouns. It sounded like you wanted just me to go into the frigid outdoors… to pick oranges for you.”

Casey laughed as she pulled the blanket higher. “Okay. You’re right. Let the oranges die a glacial death. If it’s a choice between juicy, colorful fruit and your ballsack, I’ll pick the family jewels any day. No way is this baby going to be an only child.”

“No way do I want it to be.”

“Really?” she said, gazing up at me with stars in her eyes. “You want more?”

“Well, let’s get this one out of you first, but yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, you weren’t real thrilled about this little one at first,” Casey whispered as she pointed to her extended belly. “I don’t want it to hear.”

Reaching my hands out, I cradled her stomach before bending down and kissing my baby. “I’m ready now.”

Casey ran her fingers through my hair, warming me with her loving gaze and gentle touch. “Ready for what, babe?”

“For him. My son. I’m ready to be a father.”