For not the first time in his life, Timothy Swift looked out over the blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean and wondered how he’d ended up back home. After countless attempts to leave the area and start a life for himself elsewhere, including even leaving the country and working for NCIS out of Washington, he still seemed to find himself right back where he started - Lockeport, Nova Scotia.     

It wasn’t that Lockeport was a particularly bad place to be. The small fishing town held about 500 people; mostly fishermen, retail owners, teachers, municipal workers and artistic types. Like any small town, you could walk to the grocery store and run into at least four relatives, five close friends, and any number of people you went to church with. It was a community with a long history, darting back to the 1700s, and many families had been there for generations, including the Swift’s. 

Timothy held no relation to the famous Jonathan Swift, which was something he had often needed to remind his literary friends. At the age of 38, Tim had been married, had a son named Tyson, and then became a widower when his wife died in a suspicious car accident. It was suspicious because Tim still wasn’t convinced that it had in fact been an accident. After the death and investigation had consumed him for the last several of years with NCIS, he had been advised to let it rest and take some time off to grieve. Not one to rest easily, Tim had turned in his badge and moved back home to Lockeport with his son, where he could investigate his wife in peace. 

Finishing his coffee, Tim turned back to enter the two-bedroom cottage. He had acquired the house from an uncle who didn’t need it anymore now that he had moved to a senior’s residence, and Tim had made it into a comfortable home for himself and his fourteen-year-old son. Rachel had died when Ty was twelve, and the boy had not been dealing well with the loss. Tim hoped that being here with extended family would help. 

Tim found his son in his room deep in a book, focused on whatever he was reading. “I’m headed to the office, son,” Tim announced, getting barely a nod of acknowledgement in return. 

With a sigh, Tim headed out to his 2012 Volkswagen Jetta and drove to town. It was a short ten-minute drive to his new Private Investigator office which was above a coffee shop. Apparently years ago, it had held a clinic right in the heart of downtown. 

Tim strapped his shoulder bag around himself and locked the car as he walked into the cafe. It had become a morning ritual to go in for his first coffee, flirt with the baristas, and then make his way upstairs to his office. 

“Good morning, handsome,” Destiny was chipper this morning, moving behind the counter like she’d been born for the job. She was in her late-twenties, had blonde hair that was tied back into a braid, and eyes that locked on Tim’s the second he walked in. 

 “Hey there,” he greeted her tiredly. “Please tell me the coffee is fresh.” 

“Always is for you, darlin’. You look like you could use it.” She reached for the pot and poured the hot liquid into a tall paper mug. “Something eating at you this morning?” 

“You could say that, yeah.” Tim paid for the drink with cash, as always, and took the cup from her, putting a lid on it to keep it warm. “Ever feel like you’re running on a treadmill? You’re going fast, but you’re getting nowhere, and it’s exhausting?” 

“Not really, but then I love what I do,” she said with a smile. “I thought you did too.” 

“I do,” Tim said with hesitation. “Things have been slow lately though, and I can’t help but wonder if this town really needs a PI...” 

“Timothy?” a voice came from behind him and he turned to see Ruth McInnis, the town’s librarian. She was short and round, but her warm eyes looked up at him with recognition. “It is so good to see you again!” 

Tim smiled as he stepped into the woman’s hug. He had known her since he had been a little boy and he knew her daughter well, considering that the two of them had dated in college. Most of the town had thought that they would get married, including both of their families. But things had not exactly turned out that way. Tim seriously hoped that the reunion would be a pleasant one, instead of the awkward feelings that were rising now. 

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. McInnis. I hope you are well?” 

“Oh please dear, call my Ruth... Surely we are at that point now in our friendship, hmm?” 

Tim laughed a bit and nodded. “I’ll try. Out for coffee this morning?” 

“I am indeed. Would we be able to talk for a moment? I actually have something that I would like your help with... professionally. But I’m afraid ya might think me off my rocker.” 

“Sure, we can do that. Why don’t we find a table,” he suggested, leading the way to a corner table. “Is there something wrong at the library? Is Laura alright?” 

“She is just fine, Timothy. This will not be hard for you, will it...? If you are working on an investigation for me?” 

Tim hesitated briefly and shook his head. He didn’t expect he would get a positive reception from his ex-girlfriend, but enough time had passed. Surely they would be able to act like adults by now, right? “I think we should be fine,” Tim insisted, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. “What’s going on?” He asked as they sat down at a table. 

“The thing is... my cat Chester, ya remember him?” 

“Of course,” Tim nodded. He remembered the black kitten running around the library when he was in college. He was honestly surprised the animal was still alive. 

“He’s been terribly ornery as of late. It don’t matter what I do. He isn’t acting like himself.” 

“How long has this been going on?” Tim couldn’t help but wondering if she didn’t need a vet instead of a PI. 

“A few nights, but here is the troubling part...” Ruth paused for dramatic affect and looked at him seriously. “He refuses to go downstairs to the basement. He wasn’t even go near the door. Just hisses every time I or Laura go near it.” 

“I’ll come over and look downstairs. We’ll see what’s got Chester so spooked,” Tim promised. If he wasn’t so desperate for work, and if there wasn’t so much history between them, TIm would probably have passed on the case and moved on. But something inside him told him that he needed to see this through. If nothing else, then to close a chapter of his life that he had kept locked shut in the past, unfinished. 

A few hours later, Tim stepped into the small public library and felt a wave of memories wash over him. Countless hours of his youth had been spent studying at the wooden tables that were still in the same spots, twenty years later. He hadn’t been back to the library since he’d finished college, mainly because of the breakup with Laura. 

It had been a whirlwind romance that had ended in heartbreak. Tim had loved her deeply, but in his early twenties the idea of settling down scared him. It wasn’t long after that, however, that things had developed with Rachel, before he’d shipped off with the Navy. He hadn’t seen Laura McInnis since. 

Feeling something rub against his leg, Tim looked down to see Chester. The cat was definitely bigger than he’d once been, but was just as friendly. It seemed like he remembered Tim too. 

“Hey buddy, how are ya?” Tim asked, leaning down to pet the cat. Chester responded by nuzzling closer to him happily. 

“So, the rumors are true,” the female voice made Tim stand up straight again. Laura hadn’t changed a bit. She was still beautiful in black hair hanging straight down her back. Her emerald eyes roamed over him as if processing his actual presence. 

“Laura...” Tim said awkwardly. Several years later, and she still made him speechless. How could he have been such a fool? “It’s good to see you again.” 

Chester weaved through Tim’s legs and then, as if sensing the tension, went to sit protectively beside Laura. “I was sorry to hear about your wife,” she said softly. 

“Thanks,” Tim exhaled a bit. May as well get that subject out of the way. “I’m still not convinced it was an accident, but I seem to be the only one of that mindset.” 

“You have a son too, right? He’s what... thirteen by now?” 

“Fourteen,” Tim nodded. “Tyson. You’ve been keeping track of me?” He couldn’t help but tease, if anything but to ease the tension. 

“My mother keeps me informed,” she replied, but Tim could have sworn he saw her blush. “Look, I’m sorry she’s wasting your time. I’m sure there’s nothing down there but boxes of books...” 

“Then I’ll get paid to look around at boxes of books, hmm?” Tim shrugged. 

“I’m not crazy,” Ruth insisted as she joined them then. There is something wrong down there.” 

“We’ll figure it out, Ruth,” Tim promised and looked over at Laura. “Won’t we?” 

“You expect me to go down there with you?” Laura looked at him with surprise. 

“If I find something, it would help to have a witness. Chester is still adorable, but he can’t testify in court with me, now can he?” 

“You haven’t changed,” Laura muttered and followed him down the narrow stairs to the basement. 

Rows of boxes lined the basement as they walked downstairs. As Tim started opening the boxes, the smell of old books filled the room. Laura stayed quietly behind near the door, letting him poke around. As they went further down the rows, Tim couldn’t see anything out of place until he came to the back room. The right on the wall made him stop short and suck in his breath. 

“Laura!” He called back, and she stopped beside him, gasping. She put a hand on his arm and held it there. 

On the wall was a white board with a timeline drawn across it. Pictures of Rachel Swift before she died were hanging around the board with dates. Written in red marker was the message:

It was no accident. You’re next, Swift. 

Below the message was a symbol of a bull with horns and a gun drawn through it. Shaken, Tim got out his phone and took pictures of the wall. Then he called 911. 

Hours later, the police had finished combing through the basement for information and evidence. They had told Tim he could consult on the case with information, but he was not to take action if a suspect was determined. Tim had contacted NCIS in Seattle, and they’d vouched for Tim’s alibi at the time of his wife’s death, since he was in Ramadi, Iraq at the time. The entire Navy Seal Team 5 could corroborate his story. Lockeport police took his involvement in the case much more willingly after that. 

Laura and Ruth McInnis were shocked and shaken at the incident. Why had the killer chosen their library to several his truths? Why would Tim be next? What about Tyson? And what did the symbol mean at the end of the message? These questions and more haunted them as the police packed everything up and told them to close the library while an investigation begun. When they were free to go, Tim drove Ruth, Laura and Chester back to his office, with tea delivered from downstairs by Destiny. 

“You should call Tyson,” Laura suggested as they sat in a collective state of shock. 

“And tell him what? ‘Hey son, I was right’?” Tim asked incredulously, drinking his tea. 

“And tell him that his father needs him close by,” Laura corrected. 

“So they can kill him when they come to kill me. Even better.”

“Timothy dear, she’s only trying to help,” Ruth mediated. “And she’s not wrong. Your son needs to know what is going on.” 

Chester crawled up into Tim’s lap and nuzzled against him, and he pet him to try and calm down. “I’m sorry. It was just the last thing I expected to see down there. I didn’t mean to bite your head off,” he looked at Laura. 

“I know, Tim. It’s fine,” she nodded back. “I just think you should be with your son right now.” 

“I’m sorry about the library being closed down for the investigation,” he sighed, drinking his tea. “Hopefully they can finish it before too long.” 

“Do not even worry about that, dear,” Ruth shook her head. “Laura is right, though. You should tell Tyson about this before he hears about it elsewhere.” 

Tim knew they were right and took out his cell phone, calling his son. He had no idea how he was supposed to tell him that his mother had in fact been murdered, but he knew Ty needed to know the truth.

Laura and Ruth left so that they could have some time alone, but not before Tim had given Laura a current business card so that they could keep in touch. Lost in the daze of his thoughts, he didn’t realize how significant this invitation of contact was until much later. 

Ty came into the office and instantly asked what was wrong. TIm directed him to a chair and told him everything, holding nothing back. When Ty had realized the danger of what Tim did for a living, he’d made Tim promise to be completely honest about it if he was in danger, and Tim took that promise seriously. As he told his son what they had discovered in the library basement, he could see the questions forming already before they were asked. 

“So you were right all along? It wasn’t a car accident?” 

“No son, it doesn’t look like it. And just this once, I wish I wasn’t right.” 

“Are they gonna let you help?” 

“Yeah,” Tim nodded. “They know I’ve been working on this since it happened. I took a picture of the board so I can work through it and see if my timeline agrees with it.” 

“You said there was a symbol?” 

Tim couldn’t help but smile. His son was like him in so many ways - stoic, intelligent, and very good at compartmentalizing. IT was how they had moved on amidst all the questions surrounding Rachel’s death. “I thought that might interest you. I took a picture of just the symbol for you.” 

As Ty looked over the picture Tim sent to his phone, Ty’s eyes narrowed. “This looks really familiar. There’s some books I found at home in the attic... I’ve been reading them, and this symbol was in there.” 

“What books are those?” Tim asked curiously. 

“A bunch of journals from the 1800s... by some past relative of ours named Colin Swift.” 

Intrigued, Tim and Ty went out to the car and drove back to the house. Ty went straight up to his room and came back down with a pile of books in his arms. 

“I had no idea these were up there,” Tim shook his head, reaching for one of the books. 

Ty picked up another one and turned it to a bookmarked page. “Here, see?” Ty showed the page to Tim. Sure enough, the symbol was right there amidst a description of one of the most notorious gangs in the 1870s - the Renegades.

The sun rose as Colin Swift pushed open the saloon doors and walked in. The Twisted Horseshoe was busy as it always was, with people like Colin getting their caffeine before starting a long day of business. Sure, most businesses could make their own coffee on the premises of their office, but how else would one hear the town gossip of the day before? 

On the stage in the centre of the saloon, three young dancers swayed to the music playing from the pianist and fiddle player in the corner. That was the beautiful thing about living in the East Coast of Canada... there was always live Celtic music playing everywhere. Of course the other nice thing was the gorgeous women on stage. 

One of them, a girl of about eighteen, winked at Colin as he walked in, making him grin back. Maggie May was his latest conquest and the whole town knew it. There were no secrets in Lockeport. The fact that they had spent the previous night together would be in the gossip section of the local newspaper by morning. 

An older man stood behind the counter where he had stood for decades, serving drinks to patrons coming in. “Pops” was renown for his perfect memory and his friendly nature. He was like everyone’s grandfather, and Colin often wondered what Lockeport would be like without him. 

“G’day Colin. Yer usual?” Pops asked, reaching for a mug. 

“Please, Pops. How are ya today?” Colin asked as he sat on a stool. 

“Doin’ just fine, son. Seems yer a bit distracted this mornin’, eh?” Pops asked with a grin. 

Colin cleared his throat, turning back to the counter. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been looking at the stage. “Sorry, Pops.” 

“Ya know I’ll just hear about it by the day’s end... might as well ‘fess up, boy.” 

“She’s a pretty little thing, what can I say?” Colin grinned, taking the mug full of coffee, with a splash of whiskey in it as always. 

“Mornin’ gentlemen,” Sheriff Mitchel McCreary greeted as he sat on the stool beside Colin. “Whiskey straight, Pops.” 

Both Colin and Pops looked at him with surprise. Mitchell usually drank the same thing as Colin in the morning. If he was drinking straight whiskey, something was wrong. “What happened, Sheriff?” Colin asked. 

“Up late last night, so I’m runnin’ on plenty of caffeine. Another blasted bank robbery.” 

“Anyone hurt?” Colin asked, getting out his notebook immediately. 

“You’ll want ta talk to George Bradshaw, the banker,” Mitchell told him. “He was shot in the incident and spent the night in the clinic after Miss Amelia patched him up. They may be able to help us.” 

“Consider me on it, Sheriff,” Colin promised. “Any initial impressions?” 

“Yes, in fact... but I think ya’d better hear that straight from George. You’ll be needin’ to keep extra care on this one, Pinkerton.” 

Colin winced and finished his coffee. Tipping his hat to Maggie May on the way out of the saloon, he made his way across the street to the clinic. Finding Amelia in the front office, she led him to the recovery room where George was sitting on his bed, eating breakfast. 

“Ah good, yer here,” George looked at him with relief. “Where were ya last night when we needed ya?” 

“Uh...” Colin stammered. He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt at not having been there to help. “I ain’t too sure ya want me to answer that, my friend.” 

George shook his head, clearly reading between the lines. “One of these days, Colin, you’ll settle down.” 

“Not likely,” Colin disagreed with a smirk. He couldn’t help but notice a frown on Amelia’s face as she mixed medicines in the corner. Was she jealous? “Mitchell said ya had somethin’ for me?” He looked back at George. 

George handed him an envelope and Colin opened up the letter to read its contents: 

Dearest Pinkerton, 

We’ll get what we deserve. 

One way or another

No matter what it takes. 

Signed on the bottom was the symbol of a bull with a rifle through its horns. Colin looked up apologetically at George, who had been caught in the crossfire. He’d known that his debt collectors would make sure his debt was paid sooner or later, no matter what the cost.

The Twisted Horseshoe was hopping again for the weekly town dance. A live band played, a singer sang, and Pops was behind the bar as usual serving drinks to everyone. It seemed the whole town was there, having a good time and forgetting about the week’s troubles. 

Colin flitted from one dance partner to another, unable to get more than one song in with the same woman. Maggie May tried to keep him for a couple of numbers, but was always thwarted by someone else, claiming that she could have him whenever she wanted. It was tiring being a lothario. 

It was also extremely informative. During each dance, Colin used the opportunity to find out more about the bank robbery by the Renegades. Women were more than willing to tell him what they knew. 

“I saw ‘em from the bakery, darlin’. There were three of ‘em and they all wore masks and gloves,” Jolene told him. 

“It was awful! I was jes’ gettin’ some supplies from the grocer when one of ‘em told me ta stay inside!” Rosa claimed. 

“The leader kept shoutin’ at poor ol’ George inside the bank,” Lucy informed. “Ya could hear it clear across town! Surprised ya didn’t go help!” 

The information gained importance too as the evening went on. While dancing with Rebekah she said, “One of ‘em asked me if I’d seen ya recently. I told him I hadn’t. I’d never betray ya like that, darlin’.” 

“The younger lad, I could tell by his voice, said they was tryin’ to find you,” Ashley said. “When I asked why, he said ya owed ‘em some money. Are you in trouble, sweetheart?” 

With each question of concern, Colin redirected the conversation to the men and tried to find out more about their identity. He now knew that there had been three of them, including the younger man, and they’d gone into the bank looking for access to his account. When George had refused, they’d shot him and broken into the vault. 

A woman with black hair and revealing clothing sauntered towards Colin. He apologized to Natalia, his current dance partner, and took the hand of the other woman. “Hello there. Do I get to know the name of the woman I’m dancin’ with?” 

“Ya can call me Jan fer now, darlin’, and I hear ya want to know more ‘bout the Renegades?” As she spoke, she slid her hands down his sides and pulled him in close. 

“I do, yes ma’am. Think you could help me out?” Colin asked, caressing her lower back. 

“I sure can, but yer gonna have to trust me. Think ya can?” She leaned in and kissed behind his ear as she whispered, “I can show ya the hideout...” 

Grinning, Colin rested a hand on her butt cheek and squeezed it. “It would be an honor.” He knew there was a chance of something going wrong, but he also knew he needed to talk with the gang face-to-face. “Can we go now, darlin’?” 

“It would be better to go now in the dark,” she agreed and led him out of the saloon. 

Colin followed her towards the outskirts of town where the hills surrounded the area. He had ridden here many times before on his horse, but he had no clue where she was leading him. When they stopped in front of the mines, he grew anxious but reminded himself that this was the inside story chance he had been waiting for. 

They meandered their way through the tunnels of mines and down several steep slopes. Not one for being skilled with navigation, Colin wondered how he would find his way back out again. As they walked, Jan kept her hands on him, keeping contact at all times. 

She started kissing him as they finally entered the cold room in the back of the mines. Before he knew it, he was back against a wall, tied to a post. He hadn’t even felt her reaching for a rope. 

“What are you doin’?” Colin broke away from the kiss, looking at her with surprise. 

“We can’t be too careful, darlin’. Yer askin’ too many questions, and I’m sure my boss will be interested ta know why.” 

Stunned, Colin stood at her as she patted his cheek and walked away. All that was left to do was wait and wonder about what would happen next. 

Tim was back at the library Friday morning with Laura McInnis and Detective Bill Kennedy. While the library was closed for investigation anyway, they had agreed to work there instead of at the small police station. They were currently sifting through video footage from the security camera in the main entrance and the basement for the past week. After a string of robberies in the area a while ago, Laura had had the camera installed. Now, she was glad she had. 

“So what we’re looking for is anyone suspicious at all,” Bill was explaining. “Anyone going towards the basement, or spending more time looking at the room more than the books.” 

Chester sat comfortably atop Tim’s lap, ready to put his two cents in as he meowed after every sentence. “I swear that cat is a traitor,” Laura muttered.

“It’s not my fault he remembers me,” Tim said with a grin. “I think he missed me more than you did.” 

“Wow,” Laura shook her head. “You’re really gonna go there? Now?” 

“Guys, could we?” Bill interjected, looking between them. 

“Sorry,” they both muttered and turned back to the screen. 

They watched in silence as people came in and out of the library. Many of them were people Tim recognized, and he almost felt as if memories were floating past him on the screen. Every familiar face came with a story; some with fondness, some with regret. 

Chester watched just as closely while Tim stroked the cat’s fur. It was a source of comfort as he watched each face closely. When the cat’s claws suddenly dug into his legs though, Tim winced and told Bill to pause the tape. Laura gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. 

“What?” Tim asked, looking at her. 

“Him... he...” Laura stammered, staring at the screen in shock. 

Tim turned back to the screen and saw the man leaving the basement. He had grey hair that was balding on the top of his head. He wore round spectacles and had a grey beard. As he realized who he was looking at, Tim almost fell off his chair. “There’s no way...” 

“Someone help me out here. Who are we looking at?” Bill asked curiously. THe detective had only been in town for the past couple of years, so he was unfamiliar with the locals still, he had admitted. 

“Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” Tim looked at Laura. “You said he died when you were in your teens...” 

“I... I thought he did...” Laura stammered in shock. 

“Hello?!” Bill pressed them further. 

“That is Andrew Lexington,” Tim answered for Laura. “He was a close friend of the McInnis’s for as long as I could remember.” 

“He was like a second father... after mine passed away. I can’t believe he lied to us... to my mother...” 

“Or that he’s involved in my wife’s death, or targeting me, or involved with some gang from the 1870s...” Tim agreed in disbelief.

“Gang? You figured out the symbol?” Bill asked curiously. .

“My son did,” Tim nodded. “He found some family memoirs in our attic and we’ve been reading through them. Seems our ancestor had some run-ins with the Renegades. How is it possible that two-hundred years later, the gang is still active and after us?” 

“With town re-enactors and the increase of western novels lately, you’d be surprised.” Bill shrugged. “Seems like everyone now is discovering a native or someone that fought in the civil war in their background...” 

“I don’t understand,” Laura admitted. “Andrew loved you, Tim. Heck, he loved us. I thought he and my mother would get married someday but they never did. Why did he lie? Why would he want to kill you? Or your wife?” 

Tim pet Chester, trying to think of any answers, but his mind was blank. He then remembered one of his last conversations with Andrew. He looked over at Bill and said, “I think we need to process this... can we have the night to talk this over and get back together tomorrow?” 

“Sure,” Bill nodded, closing the laptop. “I need to let the team know we have a suspect. We’ll reconvene in the morning.” 

“Thanks, Bill. Laura, let’s take a walk and get out of here.” Tim stood, noticing that laura still seemed shocked, and he had a feeling that she needed some time as much as he did. 

As Bill left them, Tim led Laura and Chester out of the library. “We need to talk,” he told her and she wordlessly followed him out to the car.