Marcus says something I can't hear to the policeman, who proceeds to release me from my restraints.
"But, she can't go into the house until I get word from the station," he says before storming off in anger. These local vs fed pissing contests do not amuse me.
I shrug and turn away from the house, facing the graveyard. If I can't go into the house, I will know who is buried in this cemetery. Taking the last few steps to cross the street, I lift the latch on the fence and enter.
The name Holden adorns each of six identical headstones in two rows of three. I do not recognize the names in the first row, so I move to the second. Placing my hand on the first headstone, I stop.
RYAN HOLDEN - 1970-2007 - Death by suicide. Branded a Terrorist.
Who would write such an inscription on a gravestone? I take a few steps to the next grave.
SCOTT HOLDEN - 1979 - 2014 - Death by suicide.
As I move toward the final stone in the row, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Do you understand now?" I hear James ask from nearby as my eyes find the name.
JAMES HOLDEN - 1981 - 2006 - Killed in gunfight with F.B.I. agents.
James Holden? This can't be. I spin to face the voice. James stands near the fence, less than ten feet away from a gravestone with his name on it.
"Let me show you inside," he says, extending his arm towards me.
Behind him, the cops and FBI and TV crew watch me and it's clear none see him. Blood rushes to my head and a wave of nausea passes over me.
"How can this be?" I still do not understand.
"I was born here," he says. "Ray is my brother."
The world goes black and I feel myself falling and falling.