“No one contacted me.”
“Why did Patrick’s body have a barcode tattoo on his arm?” Miller tapped his wrist.
“Did he? I never saw one.” John raised an eyebrow at Caliban. “You golfed with him.”
Caliban shook his head. “Never saw one either.”
Miller frowned. “So, you’ve never seen the cat before today, or the tattoo, or Ginger, or Ben’s watch, or know why Jack’s spending time with Ben?”
“No. I don’t.” John glared at Miller as he set Ginger on the floor.
“C’mon John!” Miller tapped his finger to his nose. “This whole thing smells fishy. You know more than you’re telling us.”
“Are you accusing me of something, Agent Miller?” His face reddened, his back straightened, and his legs were positioned to launch himself at Miller.
Miller didn’t blink. “Do you mean like obstruction of justice, or conspiracy, or trading top secret information? No, Mr. Fuller, we aren’t accusing you of anything. Not yet.”
John frowned. “Wait one minute. If Ginger jumped through that window, why didn’t my son? Ben looked afraid. What happened?”
Lovitsky’s eyes lowered.
Gendrick cleared her throat.
Miller grimaced. “I wasn’t sure what was happening, so I pulled my weapon. After the gunfire last night and today, I didn’t take any chances.”
John shook his head. “And apparently neither did Ben.” He took a big breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. How do we find Ben and the guy who looks like Jack?”
“We don’t know, John,” Miller said. “But we want you to stay at the McDugan house as our guest, until we can sort this out.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Am I under arrest?”
“No. We’ll have a few agents with you for your protection. You’ll need to stay close by should something new come up regarding Ben or Jack.” Miller’s eyes pleaded with his. “Honestly, I realize how shocking this must be, but we need your help. What do you say?”
John arched his eyebrows. Were these guys scamming him, or could Patrick have actually invented something crazy? At least Ben was still alive, but Jack? “Of course I’ll stay. I want to be there if they try to come back through again. I’ll need to let my wife know I’m staying over.”
“Absolutely,” Miller said. “As long as you remember our agreement regarding classified information. We know little about this technology, but I think we can agree it could be a serious threat to our national security.”
Caliban nodded. “What we’ve seen is unprecedented. Patrick had no authority to work on something so dangerous, especially not in his home. My team needs to examine his equipment thoroughly and run tests to determine what he’s created. If you remember anything about Patrick’s work, or his contacts, please let us know immediately.”
“I hear you. Just remember my son was kidnapped and needs our help. I want him back home. Unharmed.”
“I hear you.” Miller nodded to Gendrick.
The ride to Patrick’s house was a blur. The video, though unbelievable, proved Ben was still alive. When the dog jumped out of nowhere, he thought the FBI had altered the video. But Jack? Why? God help me if that wasn’t Jack’s voice.
Chapter 34
Inside the belly of Carlston’s First National Bank, Patsy bolted up the stairs and breezed past Loretta with a brief nod. She scurried straight to the first open teller. Marge, a handsome woman in her fifties, smiled back with perfectly pink lips. Patsy handed her a deposit slip and the stack of cash. “Please deposit this into my checking account.”
Marge smiled. Lipstick had smeared her top two front teeth. Patsy wanted to tell the woman to look in a mirror for Goresakes, but didn’t. She’ll figure it out sooner or later. Marge counted the money like a NASCAR pit crew changing tires, and handed Patsy a receipt, which disappeared into her purse.
Patsy frowned. Yesterday afternoon, the redheaded CSD agent had surprised her when he entered her office, closed the door, and asked her fifty questions. He wanted to know if anyone pretending to be ‘Ben’ or ‘Albert’ AKA ‘Patrick’ had contacted her. She told him they hadn’t, but she’d already promised to call Baum if they showed up. Agent Chandler told her to call him instead, since Dr. Baum had become unavailable. He passed her his business card with a twenty-four hour contact number.
This morning Agent Chandler had called at work, and told her he knew she was meeting Patrick at the bank at 12:30 and would be watching. Though surprised, she said nothing. She’d never told CSD about the bank appointment. Her eyes narrowed.
She stood in the center of the bank floor and considered her next move. She had five thousand dollars; did she still need the reward? Yes. When this was all over, she’d write a complaint letter to the Commonwealth about CSD spying on her. She might even return and take the bonds if her real father never showed.
Johnnie and Patrick hadn’t emerged from the basement vault yet. What took them so long? Wait! What if Patrick had been after the bonds all along? How could I have missed that?
The bank guard walked back to his desk and flopped into his ergonomic chair. What if she told the guard she’d made a mistake and Patrick had impersonated her father? The guard could arrest him for fraud, and she might still receive a partial reward. She fished Chandler’s CSD card out of her purse.
As Patsy moved toward the guard, Patrick and her bastard ex-husband skulked back into the main hall. They hesitated when they saw her and she knew immediately. “Guard,” she cried, “Stop them. They’re stealing my father’s bonds!”
Pete jumped up from his chair, banged both knees on the bottom of the desk drawer, and spilled hot coffee onto his lap. His mouth stretched as wide as a sinkhole and he fell back into his chair.
Loretta’s head swiveled from Patsy to Patrick, too stupid to understand her accusation.
Patsy raced to the guard’s desk. “Stop them. They’re robbing your bank!”
Pete pushed back in his chair, jumped to his feet, thumbed off his safety, and tried to pull his gun. He forgot to unbuckle the heavy-duty holster snap as his finger clawed the trigger. The bullet exploded right through Pete’s shoe. He fell to the floor moaning.
The tellers closed their windows, as the bank alarm sounded like a thousand trumpets on judgment day. She stared at the old liar who looked so much like her father.
Johnnie turned to Patrick, pointed his thumb at the exit door, and then hurried toward the guard’s desk.
Loretta said something to Patrick, but Patsy couldn’t hear anything but the alarm bells. She watched him escape into the daylight.
Patsy gripped her purse and frowned.
Johnnie rushed to the guard’s side and winced. “Let’s get that shoe off.”
Patsy smacked Johnnie on the back of the head with her purse. “Look what you’ve done, you bastard.” Her left eye began to tic.
He shook his head. “You little squirrel. This is all your fault.”
“You let him get away,” Patsy screamed. “Patrick has the bonds!”
The bank manager ran out of his office with a first aid kit and knelt next to Pete.
“The bonds are in the freaking vault,” Johnnie bellowed, as he slowly took off Pete’s shoe. “You have the key. Check for yourself.”
Patsy blinked. She stalked over to Loretta through the bedlam, and insisted Loretta escort her back to the vault. Loretta looked relieved just to be able to help. The alarm pounded against Patsy’s temples as she hurried downstairs to the vault.
Patrick slipped out through the front door of the Carlston bank and squinted against the bright sun. The alarm blared on the street like a bold accusation and the gun tucked into his waistband weighed five hundred pounds.
Adrenalin kicked through his veins. He wanted to run, but he willed himself to walk. Breathe. If he drew attention, and was apprehended, he may never get home.
As he rounded the corner and past the Cuckoo’s Nest, Jeanette stood outside her diner holding a coffee pot. Several of her customers had b
een drawn outside by the alarm, and goggled at the police car racing toward the bank.
Though shaken, Patrick grew concerned about finding Ben. He wished he could sprint to Patsy’s house, but knew his body couldn’t sustain a prolonged run. As he turned onto Maple, he searched for a cab, but found nothing but trouble. Chrissakes.
The brown sedan pulled up beside him and stopped. Patrick froze. Two men sat in the front seat. Hoss drove and the red-haired agent he knew as ‘Curly’ pointed a gun at him.
“Get in, Patrick.” Curly sneered, as his blue mole glistened in the direct sunlight. “It’s time we collected you.”
Patrick blinked. “I told ya the other day. You have the wrong guy.”
“Best get in the car if you want to see Ben again,” Curly said.
Patrick’s shoulders sagged. Out of options and hoping to find Ben, he climbed into the back seat. Curly, gun in hand, got out of the front seat and slid into the back on Patrick’s right.
Hoss drove one block and turned right. Their route took them away from the bank and Patsy’s house.
“Give me the watch.” Curly jabbed Patrick’s shoulder with the barrel of his gun.
“Where’s Ben?” he asked. “Take me to him and I’ll answer your questions.”
Curly shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m a CSD agent. I protect the Commonwealth from people like you. I decide whether you live or die, and I’m not optimistic about your future.”
“Neither am I, but here we are.” Patrick’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t get to bargain.” Curly pistol-whipped Patrick’s forehead. “I know you dipped your fingers into Albert’s deposit box. Give me the goddamn watch.”
His forehead pounded as blood dripped into his right eye. “I never saw the watch. Just papers.” Oh, God. I can’t help Ben if they kill me.
Hoss picked up speed as he pulled onto the county highway. The car jounced on a pothole and Patrick’s stomach lurched.
“Give Me the Watch.” Curly’s eyes bore into his.
Patrick grimaced. “Where . . . is . . . BEN?”
Curly hit him again.
Patrick grimaced in pain as he fell back against the car door. He slowly slid his left arm behind his back and grabbed the thirty-two tucked in his belt. Keeping his body between the weapon and Curly, he slipped the revolver along his left thigh and released the safety. Patrick blinked to clear his right eye and saw flecks of his blood had splashed Curly’s cheek.
“Ben has a portal watch,” Curly said. “He and Pizza Boy left you behind to deal with us.”
“What do you mean?” Patrick’s eyes swam from the knock to his head. He mopped his brow with his right sleeve.
“They disappeared through a portal at Patsy’s house.”
Patrick sighed and took a deep breath. Thank God. Ben has a portal watch, but where did they go?
“Chicken shits,” Hoss said, as he wrinkled his bulbous nose. “I think I winged one of ‘em.” Hoss turned right onto the highway toward Tampton.
Curly waved his gun around. “How many portal watches are there?”
Patrick rolled his eyes. “How would I know?”
Curly pointed his gun at Patrick. “Tell me the truth, or we’ll bury you down some country road.” Curly glanced out the front window. “Plenty of woods around here.”
As the CSD agent looked away, Patrick brought up his left hand and fired two bullets into Curly’s head.
The agent fell back against the door. His vacant eyes stared at Patrick.
“Fuck!” Hoss cried, as he looked over his shoulder and almost went off the road. “You shot my partner!”
Patrick’s ears rang and he felt sick. He’d killed several times at close range during the war, but decades ago, and never inside a moving car. Breathe.
He jammed the warm barrel of the thirty-two into the nape of Hoss’s neck. “Keep both yer hands on the wheel.” Patrick saw a small access road coming up. “Turn left.”
Hoss slowed and turned onto the single lane logging road. “Sure, sure, Patrick, no need to shoot.” Sweat ran down Hoss’s face. “You’ll need me alive. Maybe I can help you.”
As they drove down the dirt road, it became more of a woody trail. Curly voided himself and Patrick winced at the sharp smell.
Hoss grimaced. “He’s really dead isn’t he?”
“Park under the big pine tree on the left.” A small creek bed lay on the other side of the tree.
Hoss stopped and shut off the motor.
“Hands back on the wheel,” Patrick ordered.
Hoss complied.
“Did you shoot one of the boys?” Patrick asked.
Hoss watched him in the rear view mirror. “No. I shot through the portal, but it went high. I swear. ”
Patrick clubbed Hoss with his pistol hard enough to make him compliant. Patrick slid out of the car, opened the driver’s door, and pulled Hoss face down on the ground. “Don’t move.” He took Hoss’s gun, wallet, and phone. In the trunk, he found a shovel, rope, and the suitcase Miss Betsy had lent him.
“C’mon,” Patrick said, as he pulled Hoss up and walked him to the base of the large pine. “Sit.” When Hoss sat down, Patrick tied the agent’s arms back and around the tree. Using a pair of socks from his suitcase, he gagged Hoss.
Patrick searched Curly and kept his thirty-eight, phone, plus cash from both men’s wallets. After removing the batteries, he smashed their flip phones with the shovel. He dug a shallow grave in the sandy soil of the nearby creek bed and rolled Curly face down into the damp hole. Patrick tossed the phones and wallets on top of Curly, but kept their identification cards. Curly was agent Chandler and . . . Hoss is Hostetler.
As Patrick approached, Hoss’s eyes were wet. “Plenty of room in the grave for two if you don’t answer me questions. Understand?”
Hoss moaned.
Patrick remembered the interrogations he’d done in Vietnam. I never liked this part.
Hoss nodded.
“Ok. Let’s begin.” Patrick untied the gag.
Chapter 35
Patty woke in her bed and checked her cellphone. She received no messages from Ben or John, but CNN posted a story about a building fire in Carmichael. She ran her dry tongue over her gum incision and winced. Her meds had worn off, and she no longer felt dizzy. She’d dreamt Ben had returned home . . . with Jack.
Patty rolled out of bed, and stretched into her yellow robe. Her legs felt stronger as she went down the hall and opened Jack’s door. Someone had slept in his bed. She walked to the bed, pressed the pillow to her face, and sniffed.
She crossed the hall to Ben’s room, but found no one there. Kipper barked downstairs and a boy laughed. I know that laugh. Halfway down the stairs, she sat on a step and listened to their conversation in the kitchen. Ben spoke about his school and friends. Jack . . . asked about Lori. What was she like? What made her laugh?
Patty froze. Am I still asleep? If she moved, she might wake from the dream. Kipper rolled around the corner and barked at her.
Ben found her on the stairs. “Hi, Mom. Feeling better?” His eyes seemed wary.
“Yes, thanks.” She smiled. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyes searched past him, but saw no one else. “Is . . . someone with you?”
Ben glanced over his shoulder, held up his index finger, and turned back toward her. “I brought a friend.” He frowned. “Please don’t be angry with me or have a heart attack, but he looks a lot like Jack. Okay?”
“Jack?” She swallowed. “Why would I be angry?” Her right hand trembled.
“You always get upset and angry whenever I even mention him. I know you blame me for what happened . . . and I know it was my fault. I’m so sorry sometimes my insides hurt—”
“Where is he?” She felt woozy again.
Ben’s sad eyes turned toward the living room.
She knew what Ben needed to hear her say. “I—”
Jack walked into the foyer with a smile of pure joy. “Hi, Mrs. Fuller.”
“Jack?” My beautiful son. It felt like Christmas day and she’d just opened the most fantastic gift imaginable. She stood using the rail for support and walked to the bottom step to greet her s— Patty’s stomach lurched. “Jack is dead.” She narrowed her eyes at Ben. “Who have you brought home?”
Ben grimaced. “Mom, I can explain.”
The boy smiled. “My name is, Jack, but I’m not your son. I just look like him.” Jack took her arm. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
Patty let him lead her to the kitchen table. It felt surreal. She listened as Ben explained GranPat’s beacon, Albert’s visit, the portal watch, Ben’s time on Terra, their trust issues with the FBI, and how her father might be stuck in another universe. Ben may have left a few things out - like that awful hickey on his neck, but she believed them.
She knew what her father could do when he set his mind to something. “Okay. I understand, but your grandfather is in trouble with me when he gets back.” She cleared her throat. “He is coming back, right?”
Ben glanced at Jack and nodded. “We hope so.”
“Good.” She stood and turned toward Jack. “Okay, you. So you’re not my son, but you’re pretty damn close, and you’ve brought my Ben home. I need a hug here.” Her eyebrows rose.
“Yes, of course.” Jack opened his arms wide.
She hugged him as if two years of grief might melt away. It didn’t. She hugged Ben next. “Welcome home.”
Later, Ben, Jack, and Patty drank ice tea and nibbled homemade chocolate chip cookies. Patty’s jaw ached, but not enough to keep her from smiling. Ben and Jack acted like true brothers. Ben hadn’t been this happy since— her forehead furrowed. What if Jack could stay? Ben seemed worried about the FBI, but maybe she could fix that.
Kipper sat at her feet and whined.
“Ben,” Patty said. “Show me the portal watch.”
He obliged. She held it in her hands as Ben described how the mechanism worked. He sounded just as excited as her father did when he spoke of his science projects.
“This is an amazing invention.” Patty held the watch to her chest. “Don’t you think this technology should be shared? Doesn’t it make sense to give the watch to the FBI, and you can stop hiding. They’re probably already on their way here after seeing you open a portal.”
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