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He remembered that white lights called ghost candles are supposed to appear above the graves. He walked a little faster. The familiar owl called out again. It had become a comforting noise by this time. There, in the grass, near a grave with a rare stone marker, a patch of the white flowers bobbed in the night breeze. Bloodwort, they were called; an ugly name for such a pretty thing, though Adrian knew it was because the juice in the stem was red as blood. It was too cold and too late in the season for such blossoms, but here they were anyway, as they always were. Adrian's fingers stopped a few inches from the flowers and he glanced at the headstone. He couldn't make out the name on it. Was it right to take flowers off of a grave, even if they'd only grown here by themselves? He'd come all this way, and without them he'd have no way of proving it...And then he heard it: a low, plaintive cry drifting on the wind. He'd mistaken it for an owl's shriek before, but now there was no taking. Kidnapping? Press? What happened? No one told us.”“Well, it was a family dispute and nothing you need to be concerned about, but the guilty parties are locked up in prison – three in state prison and one in Federal lockup.”Nora spoke, “Well, we moved in about six months ago and realized we had only met the neighbors next door and across the street. We’re friendly and like to socialize. I made some chocolate chip cookies as a peace offering. We’d like to be friends and your property is on the other side of us. I didn’t realize there were so many homes in here.” Nora gestured toward the homes on the circle and the corner of the visible townhouse. I should have made more cookies.” She laughed.Gary added, “We know you have a runway here, too. We’ve seen and heard the planes landing and taking off, but I’m not complaining. I think it’s cool that you have that capability.”Dave chuckled, “Well, we welcome you, but I need to warn you about a few aspects of this place – not dangerous, but ....
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