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  "I understand Doctor. How many sessions do you plan to have with Virginia?"

  "As many as she is inclined to participate in. It's apparent to me that she has no real interest in the life of Frank James nor is she a proponent of past life regression. I must assume then that there is a monetary incentive of some kind for her to participate. That I presume, is where you come into the picture, William. I'm making no moral judgments here. I simply want to clarify our respective positions on the matter."

  "Incidentally, she mentioned that she participated in past life therapy sessions with a Doctor Robert Albrecht some years back. I'm not familiar with him. Where does he practice?" "In Chicago," Willy lied. "Robert is a friend of mine actually. I had originally intended to send Virginia to him."

  "And you did not . . . . Why?"

  "Plane tickets, hotels, car rental. The expense was beyond my means. I chose the alternative. To find a practicing therapist here on the Islands. Fortunately, I found you." "I see. Well, let's see where this goes, William. I assume you'll be listening to the tapes. Feel free to phone me with any other questions or concerns."

  "Will do Doctor and thanks."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Marcus and Willy were at their usual table at Rum Jungle when Cracker arrived late the next evening. "Hello sweetie," she said as she sat down next to Marcus and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I hope you enjoyed last night as much as I did." "You two can get a room later," Willy said. "I'm anxious to hear what happened during your second session with the good Doctor. Do you have the recorder?"

  "Yes right here," she replied dipping into her handbag. “It's yours as soon as I get the $500 cash I was promised." "Here you go," Marcus responded, pulling a roll of crisp twenty dollar bills from his pocket.

  "Oh my, I was expecting Willy to pay me. I don't want to take your cash, honey. You keep it for now. I'll think of a way for you to work off the debt," she said, placing her hand on his knee.

  "I did a bit of research on the James Gang Northfield Minnesota Raid last night," Willy interrupted. "Turns out there was a Hanover's Clothing store in Northfield, across from the bank, in the late 1800's. That convinces me that what Cracker saw was the Northfield Bank Raid attempted by the James Gang in September of 1876. I've got to admit that I'm utterly fascinated by all this. Do you recall any part of what you experienced this time Cracker?"

  "Yes," she replied. "More than I did the first time anyway. Can't say that I share your fascination with the James gang Willy but if there's money to be made, I'm all in." "And what's your opinion, Marcus?" Willy asked. "Let's play this out and see where it leads," Marcus replied. "It may be a crock but I've come this far, so I'm in." "Good enough,” Willy replied turning the recorder on. “Let's listen to tonight's session."

  This is Doctor Peter Billingsley. It is August 1st, 2014 5:45 in the afternoon. My subject is Miss Virginia McCracken of Pearl City, Hawaii. This is our second session. I have induced a hypnotic trance state, and Virginia is resting comfortably on the couch in my study.

  "I'll fast forward through the preliminary to get to the meat of the matter," Willy said working the recorder.

  "Where are you now?"

  "On a farm. I think I own this land. Looks like we raise corn and chickens. The house is not finished yet. It’s in the process of being built. Anne says we’re trying to finish the roof before my mother comes for a visit."

  "What are you doing now? What do you see around you?"

  "I am sitting in a chair outside the house. My wife Anne is cooking something on a stove."

  "What year is it?"

  "I don't know. It’s late fall or early winter. I'm not sure which. It’s chilly, but there’s no snow on the ground."

  "Are you near a city?"

  "The area we live in seems very remote. I don’t think we go into the town much. We keep to ourselves. My son lives here too."

  "What is the name of the town?"

  "Fletcher."

  "What is your son's name?"

  "Robert."

  "What is going on around you?"

  "Nothing other than what I just described."

  "Go forward to a significant event that happened later in your life and tell me what you see."

  "I’m at a carnival. Cole is here as well. I work here I think."

  "What kind of work do you do?"

  "I’m on a small wooden stage with a worn tarp as a roof. There’s a number of folks in front of me. An audience I think. It’s some kind of traveling show."

  "What are you doing?"

  "I am telling my story to these people. Cole and I are being paid to tell our stories."

  "Are you referring to Cole Younger?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you tell me how old you are?"

  "I look like I’m in my sixties. I have a white mustache and beard. I'm wearing a faded brown three-piece suit. I have a narrow black tie on and a tall black hat on my head. I'm wearing black leather boots that have seen better days."

  "What kind of stories are you relating to your audience?"

  "About train, stagecoach and bank robberies."

  "Robberies that you committed?"

  "Yes, myself and others. But I seem to be worried what effect these tales will have on young men who see train robbers and outlaws glorified."

  "Do you know the date?"

  "1903. The summer. Hot, dry and dusty."

  "What town are you in?"

  "I don't know. Possibly in Missouri."

  "Are there other people with you that you know?"

  "Not that I can see."

  "Do you know your name in this lifetime?"

  "Frank. Frank James."

  "Is your family there with you?"

  "I don't see them."

  "What is Cole doing?"

  "Standing next to the stage. He must be speaking next."

  "If you committed train and bank robberies why are you a free man?"

  "I don't know. But people are treating me like I'm some celebrity."

  "What else is going on around you?"

  "Nothing other than what I just described."

  "Go back to an earlier significant event in this life. What do you see?"

  "I am peering in the back door of a large house. I count five women and eleven men inside."

  "What are these people doing?"

  "Some of the women are in the laps of the men. The men are Union soldiers. I think that we aim to kill them?"

  "Who is we?"

  "Jarette, Bloody Bill and Poole."

  "Why do you want to kill them?"

  "They're blue bellies. We can't risk shots from here as we might hit a woman. Jarette is dressed in a Federal uniform. He is riding up to the house. Two sentinels come out to question him."

  "What is he saying?"

  "I can't hear. I am too far away."

  "What is happening now?"

  "Soldiers are coming out of the house. They must think Jarette is a Union commander. Shots ring out from the trees. Blue bellies are falling dead. Fire being returned. It is a slaughter. I enter the house from the back door. Jarette and Poole enter from the front. Jarette says not a woman shall be touched. We are wild beasts yes, but we war on wild beasts only."

  "Do you wish to continue?"

  "No. Not now. I don't want to see any more of this."

  "I will count from five down to one. At the count of one you will awaken refreshed and reinvigorated. Five, four, three, two, one. How do you feel Virginia?" "Great Doc. I feel like I just had a splendid night's sleep," she replied, stretching her arms over her head. "How did I do?" "Very well. Very well indeed," Billingsley replied. "Virginia, how much do you know about the history of the James Gang and Frank James, in particular?"

  "Just what I heard on the tape. That and what Albrecht related to me years ago," she said quietly. Removing his glasses, Billingsley continued. "You've not studied up on that time period nor read any books about the James gang?"

  "Not at all. This wild west outl
aw stuff doesn't interest me, Doc." "Tell me more about your sessions with Doctor Albrecht? Where were they held?" "In Southern California. La Jolla. At an office in his home." "How did you meet Doctor Albrecht? Were you referred to him?"

  "Yes. I was having these horrible panic attacks and vivid nightmares, but my regular doctor couldn't find anything medically wrong with me. He referred me to a psychiatrist who was no help at all. The shrink referred me to Albrecht."

  "Was Doctor Albrecht of any measurable help to you?" "In a manner of speaking, yes." "Tell me about it," he said thoughtfully.

  "I didn't care for him. Bit too much of an over the hill hippie for me but he did help. After four or five sessions with him, my panic attacks subsided. I can't remember the last time I had one."

  "What do you attribute that to?" Billingsley asked. "In an early session Albrecht regressed me to a former life I had as a young girl living on the prairie with my family. A group of hostile Indians attacked our home and murdered my mother and my father. They carried my sister and me back to their camp. We were both raped and knifed to death." "That's horrible," Billingsley exclaimed incredulously. "Did you experience the death scene from that life?"

  "Yes, although I didn't feel any pain or discomfort. It was like watching the experience from a distance. I don't know if any of that actually happened, but my anxiety and panic attacks did disappear. I continued seeing him out of gratitude, and that's when the Frank James saga began. After that, I stopped seeing him."

  "How so?"

  "I didn't realize it initially, but Albrecht was utterly enthralled with my Frank James life. He kept encouraging me to go back to that life again and again. Wandering through his library one day, I realized that he was doing this for his sake, not mine. He had book after book after book about the James Gang arranged on the shelves. That and every magazine and movie ever made about Jesse James piled on a table."

  "Ah, so you became disenchanted?" Billingsley declared. She shook her head. "No. I became pissed off!" "You were angry because he was charging you for sessions you felt were being conducted solely for his gratification?" he asked.

  "That's about the size of it," she said. "I did pay him for the initial therapy but not for the subsequent James sessions. Once I told him that I wasn't there for his satisfaction, he agreed not to charge me. On the way out the door, I think I called him a crackpot."

  "And you haven't seen him since?" "No, but as time went by, and I moved to the Islands he phoned and emailed me incessantly." "Did you answer his queries?" Billingsley questioned. "Nope. After a while his inquiries stopped. I hadn't thought about him in years until Marcus and Marjorie found me."

  "Who is Marcus and Marjorie?" "Marcus Reno is Willy's partner. Marjorie Remick is a former coworker of mine and a friend of Marcus." "I see. And they persuaded you to see me?"

  "Yes."

  "If as you say you're not interested in this outlaw stuff why then are you here?" "Marcus promised me a cut of any proceeds," she replied sheepishly. "Proceeds?" "Yes. If any James gang gold is found, I receive a cut." "I see," Billingsley replied, turning off the recorder.

  "Oh great, now Billingsley knows what we're doing," Marcus exclaimed. "He's sure to contact Albrecht." "Can't be helped," Willy replied. "It may not make a difference, in the long run. He already knew that Cracker visited Albrecht in the past. She mentioned it to him during their initial session, and I confirmed it during a recent phone conversation. You worry too much, my boy."

  "Fine,” Marcus replied. “Let's get back to the recording. Unfortunately, none of what we just heard is of particular help to us."

  "As I recall," Willy continued, "late in life Frank made a few stage appearances. One that I remember reading about concerned a traveling stage show that he and Cole Younger appeared in. The other bit is probably a raid and killing of Union soldiers Frank participated in as one of Quantrill's Raiders."

  "Who was Quantrill?" Cracker questioned. "He was a Confederate guerrilla who ambushed Union patrols and supply convoys. Quantrill was the leader of perhaps the most savage fighting unit in the Civil War. Jesse, Frank and Bloody Bill Anderson all rode with him in their early days."

  "I do wish Billingsley would steer you to the events and time periods relevant to what we're looking for. Perhaps that will occur in the next session. Let's meet back here tomorrow evening, same time, for round three," Willy said.

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Robert's phone rang while he was enjoying a cup of tea on his deck. "Doctor Robert Albrecht please?" the voice announced. "Speaking," Robert replied. "This is Doctor Peter Billingsley of Honolulu. Pardon me for the interruption doctor but are you familiar with a gentleman named William Boggs?"

  "Yes, quite familiar," Robert responded with a chuckle.

  "Good, then I have the right Robert Albrecht. May I bend your ear for a minute doctor regarding Mister Boggs and his associate a Virginia McCracken?" "Of course, but please call me Robert."

  "Well, Robert," Billingsley continued. "Let me explain why I'm calling. I've been treating a patient referred to me by William Boggs. Her name is Virginia McCracken. Both my patient and Mr. Boggs mentioned that you treated Virginia in the past. Is that accurate?"

  "Yes, I treated her some years ago." "Did that treatment include past life regression therapy?" Billingsley continued. "Yes, it did."

  "I certainly don't want to violate doctor/patient confidentiality but let me just say that she is seeing me for regression therapy also."

  "I see," Albrecht replied. "Can you share any details of your progress to date? In particular, has the name Frank James arose in any of your sessions?" "I'm hesitant to supply details Robert as you can certainly understand but yes, that name has come up. I've considered asking Virginia to sign a waiver allowing me to share the information she has related, but I have not done so as of yet."

  "Why the waiver, Peter?"

  "I'm writing a book on spiritual regression and I may want to include snippets from her sessions in the narrative. Perhaps with her permission we could collaborate on the project Robert?" "That's a possibility. I might be interested," Robert replied hesitantly. "For now, did Virginia perhaps mention another young man involved in this with William Boggs?"

  "Yes, she did. She stated that a Reno I think his name was contacted her. Let me check my notes. Ah, yes a Marcus Reno and a Marjorie Remick were the ones who initially got in touch with her. Is that important?"

  "It is to me yes," Albrecht replied. "Did she or Boggs mention where Marcus was currently living?" "No, and if she did I couldn't in good conscious relate that to you." "I understand Peter."

  "I guess that's it then," Billingsley concluded. "I merely wanted to verify that Virginia had indeed consulted with you in the past. Please give my suggestion on collaborating with me on the book some thought." "I will Peter and thanks for the call."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Ice Cream was Tisdale's favorite food. Vanilla-chocolate swirl with steaming hot fudge. He didn't like being interrupted while enjoying his daily sugar break but the ringing phone might be a client with a job. "Tisdale, its Robert Albrecht," the voice said. "Hey Doc," he answered. "What have you got for me today?"

  "I need you to get back over to the Hiwakulani. I have it on good authority that William Boggs and Marcus Reno are staying on Oahu and that they've been in contact with Virginia McCracken. I need to know where they're staying. In particular, I'm interested in where Marcus is staying. You will recall that your contact Holly Sullivan stated that Boggs and Reno had been to the condo she shares with a Marjorie Remick?"

  "Sure. I remember Doc."

  "Good. Track down these two women at the hotel and find out where Boggs is staying. I suspect that Reno is with him. Those two ladies probably know where their motel is. I'll email a recent photo of both Willy and Marcus. Don't try to contact them directly, just call me with the information."

  "Will do Doc. I'm on it."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Marcus and Willy were walking al
ong Ala Moana Boulevard on their way to the Rum Jungle for their third meeting with Cracker. "I'm thinking about going to the Hiwakulani to try and make things right with Marjorie," Marcus said. "I was getting into being with her, and I don't like the way things ended."

  "What about Cracker?" Willy asked with a grin. "It appears you're getting into her too." "That's just business, Willy. Just business."

  "Do what you must, Marcus, but don't take your eye off the prize," Willy replied. "We're getting closer to finding out where Frank and Jesse hid the gold." "I still don't buy all this past life crap Willy. If I'm honest with myself, I've only hung around this long because of Marjorie. Cracker's a hoot for sure, but even she doesn't believe in any of this. She's just along for the ride as well."

  "Well, I have enough faith in this for the both of you. I spoke to Billingsley this morning, and he's impressed with the results so far as well. This is my last shot, Marcus. My last pull of the brass ring. I'm convinced there's something to all this."

  "Think about it—Frank and Jesse buried a couple million dollars of gold coins and bars in a ravine in the Wichita Mountains in 1875. Frank may have recovered a small part of the treasure around 1907 but dies in 1915 taking the secret of the location with him. Cracker was born in 1978 and appears to have been Frank in a prior life. What's not to love about this? Suppose this is true. Here it is over 100 years later, and we're on the hunt for the gold. If we're successful, we'll all be rich. And just think of the story we can tell."

  "Well, I'll stick around for a while longer, Willy, but I'm having second thoughts about the way we've screwed Albrecht. He's a crackpot for sure but a harmless one. I took his money and have given him nothing in return. I say we send him copies of the tapes to fulfill my end of the bargain."

  "Up to you, my boy. I'll make a copy of the recordings for you. Do with them as you please. Now let's grab a drink while we wait for Cracker."

  ≈≈≈≈≈≈

  Namaste: It sounds as though Marcus may be softening up a bit.