Gatekeeper by Debra Glass Read Free Book Online Page A

the man behind the counter.
    He stood and laid a well-thumbed biography of Pat Cleburne on the counter. Slightly disheveled, with a gray crew cut, unkempt Vandyke beard and wearing a tattered Radiohead concert T-shirt, he looked out of place in a Civil War relic shop. One of his eyes had been blacked and was shadowed with an angry purple bruise. He looked like a thug. But the fact was not lost on Jillian that she looked even more out of place here.
    “Can I help you?” At least he was friendly.
    “I’m looking for a button.” She made a circle with her thumb and forefinger. “About this big around with the letters CSA on it.”
    “Do you want dug or non-dug?”
    Jillian bit her bottom lip. “I’m not sure.”
    “Dug means it was dug up. Out of the ground. Most likely from a battlefield site. Non-dug means it was passed down—or robbed from a grave.” He winked with his good eye. “Those are usually in better condition.”
    Robbed from a grave? People actually did that? Jillian shuddered and an ugly image of Amy bound and unconscious intruded into her head. She pushed it away. “I think I’m looking for a dug button.”
    “That’ll save you some cash.” He reached under the counter and pulled out a box. Inside, several gilt buttons were displayed on a red velvet cloth. “Most of these were dug right here in Franklin,” he said proudly. Although he had gray hair, he had the enthusiasm of a teenage boy about him.
    Jillian searched the box for one like she’d found mixed among the contents of Amy’s purse. There were several. She pointed at one which most resembled the one Theo had taken. “What about that one?”
    “These are running around four hundred fifty bucks but I can give you ten percent off if you pay cash.”
    She hadn’t thought of that. It would be prudent to pay in cash so there wouldn’t be a paper trail. All she had was her debit card but she didn’t have time to run to the bank. She couldn’t believe she was considering doing something illegal. But exchanging this button for Amy’s was the only way she could get back in contact with the ghost.
    “I only have a debit card.” She fished it out of her brown leather wallet and handed it to him.
    “That’ll work.” He swiped the card, returned it and began drawing up a handwritten receipt. “What’s your interest in the war between the states?”
    She started to tell him that she hadn’t been much of a history student but then thought he might be of help in finding her ghost’s identity. “I…I was at Shy’s Hill earlier.”
    “Oh yeah.” The guy’s eyes lit up, giving the black eye an odd, macabre glow. “Battle of Nashville. December 16, 1864.”
    “You’re a Civil War buff?” She slipped the debit card back into her wallet.
    He scowled. “I’m no buff. I’m Matt Gregory. I’m a military historian.”
    “Great,” Jillian said and deposited her cumbersome bag on the countertop. “Jillian Drew.” She shook his hand—then instantly regretted telling him her real name.
    “Who’s your buddy?” he asked, giving Boo a pat on the head.
    “That’s Boo,” she said shortly. There was no time to explain. “I’m trying to find out information about an officer.”
    “An officer? What’s his name?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “An officer wouldn’t have worn buttons like this one.” He pointed to the one with CSA on it.
    “No?” That didn’t make sense. Why was her ghost attached to it then? “Maybe he isn’t an officer. He has three stars on his collar.”
    “Wreathed?”
    Jillian tried to remember. She closed her eyes and an image of the surly soldier flooded her thoughts. She focused on the stars. “Wreathed. Yes, they were wreathed and the one in the center was somewhat larger.”
    “He’s a brigadier.”
    “A general?”
    Matt nodded.
    “But he looks so young,” she unintentionally mused aloud.
    Matt studied her for a moment. “You keep talking about this guy in the present tense. It’s like you