Noble stepped out of the car, found his keys and headed for the door.
What was that?
Noble paused for a moment, his keys ready to enter the lock and allow him entry into his home. Was that movement?
Noble whirled.
Nothing.
Noble frowned and turned back to the task at hand.
There, out of the corner of his left eye. A shadow. Something moving, stepping out into the street.
Noble turned his head and saw only the street, but just as he was about to turn back to the door he saw the shadow again. He held his gaze, trying to take in what he was seeing out of the corner of his eye.
A shape, roughly the size and shape of a man. If he had to guess it would be that the man had wide shoulders and was about six-foot-four. Tall. The man had to weigh 250, maybe more? There was something odd about his head, too.
He was wearing a hat. A wide-brimmed hat.
Noble turned one more time to look at this head-on, but again he saw only a tree, the driveway, the street. Nothing else.
The things Whitlock had said to him about weird people observing his movements had seeped into Noble’s subconscious. That was it. Noble was tired and the facts of this particular case were running around and around inside his head. Now he was seeing things.
Noble shook his head and unlocked the door. When he was inside, he closed the door behind him and locked it. He quickly peered out the window, moving the narrow curtain aside.
He gasped.
Something moved, ducking behind the tree there. A shadow. Definitely.
Noble blinked and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked again and saw only the tree. If there were shadows, they were from the tree itself.
"I need sleep," Noble whispered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, dear," Noble said. "Just saying that I need to get some sleep."
Just then there was a small stampede down the stairs. In seconds, three small dogs were dancing and leaping all around Noble's feet. There were the two older dogs and the latest addition, a golden-haired puppy.
"Hello guys! Yes, daddy is home," Noble said and began his ritual petting of each dog. "How are you guys?"
After getting plenty of canine affection, which always brightened his day, Noble kicked off his shoes and trudged up the stairs. Olivia was on the sofa watching TV, her smartphone near her right hand. She smiled at him and the tensions of the day eased. Noble leaned over her and kissed her deeply.
"You are a sight for sore eyes," Noble said.
"And I bet you can't tell me anything about your day, can you?" Olivia said.
"Nope," Noble said and he slowly made his way around the coffee table and then shooed the dogs out of his spot on the sofa. He settled back and the curly blonde dog, Cookie, curled up in his lap. "But it's a doozy. I wish I could tell you more."
"That's OK," Olivia said. "You're home and that's all that matters."
They held hands for a couple of hours and watched television. Noble barely noticed what was on the tube. His mind was alternating between drifting toward sleep and wondering about Francis Duveen.
***
Hours later, the house was quiet and dark and they were in bed. Olivia snored softly on her side of the bed. Cookie was in the middle, nestled between their pillows. At their feet was Henry, the puppy, his nose draped across Olivia's legs and his back paws across Noble's feet. On the floor, at the foot of the bed, was Zuska, the fox-like Pomeranian who was the oldest of the hounds.
Noble lifted his head and looked around, bleary-eyed, sure that he had heard something that had awakened him. Noble had been deep asleep, dreaming his normal nightmare-free dreams. But something had awakened him, he was sure of it, as if someone had shaken his shoulder. Noble rubbed his eyes.
Noble looked around and the dogs were sleeping contentedly. He would have thought if there had been movement one of them would have also heard it or felt it and that would have woken them up, too.
There was a soft creaking sound from the hallway.
Noble's blood froze.
The shadows were deep. The television was off. Noble held his breath. Waiting.
There was another creak.
Henry raised his head and sniffed the air. He turned his little head back over his shoulder and looked a Noble. Then he got to his feet and walked over, stepping on Noble's chest, and licked his face.
"Henry!" Noble whispered, putting his hands up to ward off the tongue. "Stop!"
Henry cocked his head and panted, which made it look like he was grinning. His tail wagged.
There was another creak. This time it was on the stairs.
Henry froze, turned his head and let out a deep growl.
"Sshhh," Noble said, reaching out and petting Henry behind his ears.
Now Cookie raised her head and growled. Before too long there would be three barking dogs. The noise would be deafening and wake up Olivia.
Noble put his leg on the floor and sat up. Olivia was still breathing deeply in her sleep. Noble got to his feet, immediately feeling naked in just his boxer shorts. He reached down and pulled a pair of sweatpants off the floor and then got a T-shirt out of the laundry basket. Cookie and Henry followed him, dropping onto the floor behind him.
Noble walked slowly, dreading each creak in the floor of the bedroom. No matter how hard he tried, he always ended up stepping on the squeakiest floor boards. He soon faced the hallway.
Darkness.
Nothing but darkness.
Then the darkness moved.
Noble gasped. Henry barked and then let loose a cascade of them. Cookie joined in, began growling and then let out a hoarse bark. Zuska was on her feet now, heading toward them, toddling in her own way.
"Shhhh," Noble said.
He stepped into the hallway and then closed the door behind him quickly, trapping the dogs back there. He felt very alone now, but the last thing he wanted was anything to happen to them. He hoped to deaden any sounds and not wake Olivia.
"Hello?" Noble said, immediately feeling foolish for doing so. Sure, if there's an intruder in the home, the first thing would be to alert that person to the fact you are awake.
The darkness moved again. For an instant, Noble saw reddish eyes hovering in the shadows. Noble felt his stomach clench. He suddenly had to pee very badly. What the hell had red eyes?
The eyes watched him for just a moment. Noble was sure that his sanity was slipping. The saliva inside his mouth dried up instantly. He hoped he was dreaming.
Then the shadow moved again - fast. Noble heard the stairs creaking and then the very distinctive sound of footsteps down the stairs.
Noble's paralysis broke and he ran down the hall, the barking of the dogs now loud behind the closed door. He reached the top of the stairs, looked down and saw a shadow move around the corner and vanish.
Now there was nothing.
Silence and darkness down there.
Noble ran down the stairs. He reached the bottom and turned on lights. The dining room. The foyer. The living room. The kitchen. Even the small bathroom near the garage door.
Empty.
"Jesus," Noble said, running his fingers through his hair. His hand came away slick with sweat. He realized he was winded because he had been holding his breath almost the entire time.
Noble did another walk through, and then he started checking the windows. He reached the sliding door on the side of the house that led to the small patio. Beyond the patio was a short bit of grass, then a sidewalk, then another strip of grass and then the street.
Someone was standing beneath the tree near the road. Noble could see the red eyes again.
Now his fear was gone. If this was someone who had meant him harm, they would have done so when he was standing there in the hallway. Noble was angry. Someone was fucking with him. He unlocked the sliding door, turned on the patio light and stepped outside.
"Who are you?" Noble called. "What do you want?"
The shadow person ducked
back behind the tree. Noble ran to it and jumped around to the other side.
No one was there.
There was no way someone could have run off without him seeing. Noble stood there for a moment, looking around. Darkness. The breeze blew the trees and bushes as the shadows danced in the street lights. Above him were the stars and the infinite darkness of space. Noble felt very small and very vulnerable.
He walked back to his house, shut the sliding door and locked it. He shivered, rubbing his arms.
He was going crazy. This case was already making him crazy.
Noble went around the house and began shutting off the lights. Dining room. Foyer. Living room. When he got into the kitchen, he paused to get a drink of ice water from a pitcher inside the fridge. When he closed the fridge, he froze.
Olivia and Noble had a magnetic poetry set on the door. It was a list of random letters, words, and phrases and you were supposed to use them to create poems or messages to each other. Olivia and Noble preferred making jokes and nonsense phrases.
What was spelled out on the door was far from nonsense. It was, however, very troubling. Noble knew for certain that this message had not been there when he left yesterday morning and he was fairly certain it had not been there when he came home.
LISTEN TO HIM.
Chapter Three
Noble stared at the message for several minutes. Surely it had already been there. This was just coincidence. His mind was racing, he was probably still asleep. The dogs had started barking at the kid around the block coming home late. That had, in turn, triggered some kind of episode of sleepwalking.
That was it.
This wasn’t happening.
Sure, the dogs were barking at a kid. The one with the loud car.
He believed none of that, but it was what he was going to tell his wife when he went back to bed.
LISTEN TO HIM.
To who? If it had already been there, what the hell did it mean? It wasn’t very funny if it was supposed to be a joke or a message from Olivia.
Tired and officially freaked out, Noble reached out and rearranged the letter magnets with a sweep of his hands. Then he headed back upstairs deliberately not looking out any of the windows. Moments later he was back in bed, fending off the licking tongues of Henry and Cookie. Zuska put her paws up on the bed and went away satisfied with a scratch behind her ears.
"What was that?" Olivia asked.
"Hmm?" Noble asked, pulling the covers up to his chin.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Noble said. "The dogs were barking and I thought I heard something. It was just that kid coming home late in his hot rod. Always wakes up the dogs. I got a drink and then came back to bed."
"Mmm," Olivia replied and then she pushed Cookie and Henry aside to snuggle in closer.
Noble put his arm around her and put his head down on the pillow. He thought he'd have trouble sleeping, but that turned out not to be a problem. He was off in dreamland a few moments later.
***
The next morning the strange incident had faded in Noble's mind. He was almost convinced he had dreamed the entire thing. Olivia did not ask him anything more about it and he figured that either she had been asleep when she asked him in the first place or he really had dreamed it all.
Noble rushed through his morning activities such as walking and feeding the dogs and then getting some of his own breakfast. He kissed Olivia and bolted out the door. His mind was active, full of ideas about the case.
Francis Duveen. A mysterious man who had shown up at the International terminal at O'Hare Airport out of nowhere. Described as a plain-spoken man with a beard and nice suit, he had caused little fuss. However, he carried with him identification for a country that, as far as anyone could tell, had never existed on this planet. For reasons that no one could seem to make clear, the people who were questioning him decided to put him up in the attached O'Hare Hilton and the next morning the man had vanished. Completely. As if he had never been.
The next day Homeland had been called and later that afternoon, Noble had been put on the case. His mission was to talk to the people who had either worked or been at the airport while others tracked down the man who was believed to have pulled off some miraculous escape from the hotel.
Noble figured that the guards had fallen asleep and the man had just walked out the front door, but if others wanted to think it was miraculous, let them.
Fortunately, they had kept the hotel room pristine since the incident. Noble was headed there first. Then he would be back in his office watching security video. The man had been caught on numerous cameras throughout the airport and the interview had been recorded. Perhaps some light would be shed on this. Noble had not discarded any theories including the theory that someone at the airport had been working with this guy.
Traffic was bad, but Noble was too lost in thought to care. Half-an-hour later he pulled up into a parking space at O'Hare. He was out of the car and headed to the hotel minutes later.
The hotel manager, a guy named Wilson, was supposed to meet him at the front desk. He was an older gentleman who had worked for the Hilton Company for a long time. This was supposed to be the nice calm job to have before he retired. The hotel itself was a structure of glass and steel located right on the O'Hare campus, just outside and connected to the terminals via walkways. The hotel sat on a kind of island and all around it was the busy chaos of the airport. Hotel rooms had great views of the runways and control towers to anyone who wanted to watch planes take off and land. Cars came and went to the departure and arrival gates and guests at the hotel relaxed in comfort inside soundproofed rooms.
"Hello, Mr. Wilson," Noble said as he stepped up to the front desk. "I'm sorry to bother you with this today, but I hope you realize how important this investigation is."
"I do, Mr. Randle," Wilson said. He had a deep, but rough, voice as if he had spent far too much time in his younger days smoking. "I'm just sorry that this happened in my hotel."
Wilson led him to the elevators and soon they were on the fifth floor. The room was at the far end of the hall and the windows overlooked the terminal across the way and, just past that, were the runways. Someone could probably sit in a hotel room like that and time the takeoffs and landings of the various air carriers. The thought sent chills up and down Noble's spine.
The room still smelled of cleaners and disinfectant.
"This room hasn't been cleaned since the incident, correct?" Noble asked.
"No, sir," Wilson replied. "I knew right away that this was a crime scene as soon as I heard what happened. I had this room shut down."
"Have there been guards on the door since then?" Noble asked as he stepped into the room.
"We have cameras on the room and the door and we send regular security patrols up here to check the room," Wilson looked embarrassed. "We don't have the staff to keep someone one up here twenty-four seven."
Noble nodded but said nothing. So much done to try to increase security and to hear that this place couldn't afford to have someone here full time was discouraging. Then again, Noble mused, the hotel should never have been put in this situation to begin with.
Noble walked through the room. On the left was the king-sized bed. It was made. Not even a dent to show someone had sat on the thing. To the right was a low dresser and on that was a large flat-screen television. He leaned in and noticed that someone had already dusted the TV for fingerprints. Noble could see that a number of prints were highlighted in the powder. Maybe they'd get lucky and Francis Duveen would have been fingerprinted and those would be in a database somewhere. If the man was mentally ill, he might have been admitted somewhere and been fingerprinted. It gave him a bit of hope.
Noble walked all the way to the end of the room. It was decent sized, but not huge. At the far end was a small writing desk and there were two comfy-looking arm chairs. In between those arm chairs was a very low circular table. There was nothing on any of the chairs. Nothing had fallen betwe
en or under the cushions.
He checked the dressers and closet. All empty. He opened the drawers of the small night stand - barren save for the standard Gideon Bible.
Noble got down on his hands and knees and lifted the edge of the blankets and peered under the bed. He then removed his cell phone and turned on the bright light and shone it through the darkness beneath. He saw only air and a little bit of dust.
Noble stood up and sighed, shutting off the light on his phone and dusting off his pants. Wilson was hovering in the doorway, watching him. Noble nodded in his direction and went into the bathroom next.
Noble checked the sink. The plastic cups were still in their shrink-wrap. The soap was still in the plastic. The tiny shampoo and conditioner had not been opened. He pulled back the shower curtain and the tub was completely dry, white and shining in the bathroom light.
Noble came out of the bathroom and put his hands on his hips.
Nothing.
What did he really expect? There had already been an investigation here the very next day when Duveen had vanished. What had he hoped to find?
The truth was that Noble liked to try and get into the head of the people he was tracking. He had come here hoping to get some indication of who this guy was. Even if there had been a Duveen butt-print on the bed it would have meant that the man was real and was here. If Noble could get some kind of fix on this man, to establish who he was, what he had done, that he had done something normal at some point, maybe he could make some guesses as to what he was doing now. Maybe Noble could guess where Francis Duveen was, what he was doing.
Right now, it appeared that a man had appeared from nowhere and then vanished into nothingness. Meanwhile, Noble was seeing shadow people inside and outside his home and mystery messages on his fridge. He also had TSA agents who were offering strange men hotel rooms instead of locking them up.
Nothing made sense.
"Well, thanks, Mr. Wilson," Noble said, heading for the door. Wilson looked relieved. "I appreciate you taking the time to let me in here."
The Man From Taured Page 3
