“That’s probably a pretty good field to be in,” I reasoned. “Just about everyone needs one.”
“I imagine it isn’t difficult finding a position,” Miles added.
“Yeah, uh… it’s not too bad,” the man said.
He was overly optimistic in his statement. It was very bad after he was injured, lost his job, and couldn’t work for six months. It’s a good thing we hired him. Or, rather, one of our managers hired him. He’s starting work at one of our garages on Monday.
“That’s got to be a tough job though,” I said. “It’s probably easy to get injured.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
I got nothing from that, but it was easy to read into.
“What garage do you work at?” Miles asked. The guy’s eyes lit up again.
“AutoPro, on Aspen and Redfern.”
“No kidding,” Miles said. He looked slightly surprised, and more than a little concerned. “You were injured there?”
“No,” I answered, surprising the guy. “He starts Monday.”
“How—how do you know?” the guy asked. His name was Mike Peters.
“Because I don’t remember you, and we have a new guy starting Monday,” I replied. That was the truth, if not quite all of it. “Are you Mike?”
“Yes, Mike Peters,” he said, no less surprised.
“It’s great to meet you, Mike,” Miles said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I’m Miles Bannerman, and this is my wife, Anika.”
“Small world, huh,” I said, as he stared at us in shock.
“Yes, it… is,” he agreed.
The light on the second register ceased to blink. There were a few quiet exclamations of relief in response. Then our own line began to move, and several customers cheered.
“You weren’t injured working for us, but you were injured,” I prompted Mike. “Was this at your last job?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “It’s been six months, though. I’m fully recovered now.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I replied. “Were you out of work for long?”
“About six months,” Mike admitted.
“Are you serious?” I exclaimed, even though I knew he was. “You were out of work for six months?”
“Yes,” Mike said, and shrugged a little. “It did give me time to recover, though.”
And worry about how to make ends meet, and what would happen if he couldn’t find another job.
“We’re glad to have you working for us now,” Miles told him. “AutoPro has an excellent safety record, workman’s comp, and medical insurance. It doesn’t sound like you had those in adequate supply, previously.”
“No, I didn’t,” Mike acknowledged.
“How did you get by?” I asked.
“Well, I uh… we managed the best we could,” he said.
He was telling the truth. But the truth elaborated on that for him.
“You’ll do better than that, working for us,” Miles assured him.
“I can hardly wait,” Mike smiled.
“Start tomorrow then,” I said. He looked surprised. “Well, why not? If you want to, and you can, why wait?”
“Probably because Frank set Mike’s start date for Monday,” Miles smiled. “There’s no reason for that to be set in stone. If you’d like to start tomorrow, I’ll call Frank and make that happen.”
“Yes, I’d like that, are you sure?” Mike said, stumbling over his words.
“Of course,” Miles said. “By the time you get there, Frank will be expecting you.”
“Thank you,” Mike said, his eyes alight with anticipation.
“Let’s give Mike a ride home,” I suggested to Miles. “I’m sure he’s anxious to tell his wife he’s starting tomorrow.”
“How about it, Mike?” Miles asked, as Mike considered it. He looked indecisive. “Do you mind if we give you a ride?”
“The temperature is dropping fast,” I pointed out. “There’s no sense getting frostbite.”
“I’d hate to take you out of your way,” Mike said.
“How far out of our way could you possibly take us?” I asked. “You did walk, after all. Otherwise you wouldn’t be wearing snow boots.”
“You’ll be doing us both a big favor if you let us do this,” Miles reasoned. “Otherwise, she’ll worry about you until tomorrow morning, when she hears that you arrived safely at work.”
Mike smiled, and laughed a little.
“Alright, thank you,” he said. “You know, you sort of remind me of my daughter.”
“Just don’t tell me she’s two, and I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, and he and Miles both laughed.
The lines were moving steadily now. We continued to chat with and get to know Mike as we waited for our turns. I didn’t get any more truth from that. He was telling the truth, for one thing, and I already had what I needed anyway.
We gave Mike a ride to his house. I was relieved to know he and his family didn’t lose their home while they were without his income. The truth was that he and his wife had mortgage insurance, which made all the difference. He didn’t volunteer this of course, and I didn’t ask. But I knew anyway, and was glad.
Once we dropped Mike off, Miles pointed our SUV in the direction of the Lodge. He also squeezed my hand, and glanced at me.
“Well?” he wanted to know.
“As far as who wanted the phone delivered, it’s a dead end,” I replied. “Mike was on his way to buy milk, when he was approached by a guy he never saw before. He gave Mike a story about why the phone needed to be put inside the car, the make and model of the car and where to find it, and why he couldn’t do it himself. He said he’d pay Mike fifty dollars to do it.”
“What was the story he used to convince him?” Miles wondered.
“The guy said his friend lost her phone. He told her he’d pick up a pay-as-you-go, and leave it on the floor of the backseat so it would be less likely to be seen by anyone passing by. It took him forever to find one, and he was running late now. If he didn’t hurry, he wouldn’t make it to class. He had a big exam, and couldn’t afford to miss, but his friend needed the phone. He talked in a rush, and begged Mike to drop it off for him. The guy was convincing, and Mike was glad to have the extra money.”
“Did you see this truth?” Miles wondered.
“I see it,” I replied. “The guy was about five foot eight. Brown hair, clean cut, in his twenties. He was thin, and wore wire-rimmed glasses. He was outside, so he had on a coat. It was forest green and black, ski jacket style, not wool or dress. He could be a student, he did have a backpack, but I didn’t recognize him. I will if I ever see him.”
“Good,” Miles said. “I wonder if you’re likely to, though. Whoever the powerful guy is that’s behind all of this, he doesn’t live in Glen Haven. If this guy works directly for him, he may not either.”
“Right, because you’re the only powerful guy here. This other guy could be located anywhere in the country. Or out of it.”
“There are too many pharmaceutical research companies for that angle to be of any use either,” Miles said. “But, we have the phone.”
“Right,” I said. “I’m not discouraged. We do have the phone. Our guys have the equipment to track the location of any call that comes in. Josh’s voice is similar to Dillon’s. We’re ready.”
“Dillon isn’t likely to head back to his car anytime soon,” Miles pointed out.
“Not if he follows his usual Wednesday routine,” I agreed. “Let’s make up the dinner we skipped, tell our friends what happened, and wait for Jackson to call.”
“Sounds good. As soon as there’s anything to report, we can trust that he will.”
Chapter 24
The scent of coffee filled the room, and beside me I heard the keys of the laptop as Miles typed. He paused and absentmindedly brushed his fingers through my hair, as he read.
“What time is it?” I mumbled, stifling a yawn.
Before he could answer, my eyes shot open a
nd I sat up abruptly.
“Did Jackson call?”
Miles’ eyes were filled with sympathy, and he smiled only slightly. I was about to get bad news.
I clapped my hands over my eyes, then thought better of it and covered my ears.
His smile was genuine now, although he rolled his eyes a little. He set his laptop aside and hugged me, as I collapsed against him in disappointment.
“It’s seven-thirty, to answer your first question,” he told me. “To answer your second, I spoke with Jackson about an hour ago. No calls were made to the phone left in Dillon’s car.”
“Because location services were turned off,” I said, feeling sick inside.
“You’re probably right.”
“But… we couldn’t take the phone to our office complex unless the ability to track its location was off,” I reasoned. “Not unless we wanted this guy to know we’re involved.”
“And we couldn’t track a phone call, should one come through, unless the phone was at the office.”
“Even if Dillon himself was on the phone, I can’t imagine him getting the mastermind to reveal his identity,” I comforted myself, and Miles.
“Our only chance was to determine where the call originated,” Miles agreed. “Even then… who’s to say it would have come from a location anywhere near the guy we’re after.”
“How about fingerprints?” I asked hopefully.
“None. Not even Mike’s.”
“He was wearing gloves, and so was the guy who gave it to him,” I remembered, as discouragement settled over me.
“We still have a team keeping an eye on Dillon, his house, and his car,” Miles said encouragingly.
“What are the chances that this guy will try leaving another phone, or that the outcome will be any different even if he does?” I wondered pessimistically.
“For all college-guy knows, Mike turned off location services and kept the phone,” Miles reasoned. “There’s a good chance there’ll be another attempt. Maybe this time, the drop will be made by college-guy himself, or another person with direct ties to whoever’s behind this.”
“We can hope, anyway,” I sighed.
“You don’t sound like you have much of that. You know a lot of things I don’t. So what haven’t you told me yet?”
“This guy is as careful about leaving no trail, as Dillon is at leaving no evidence. If he sent someone who could track back to him, he’d send them along with a hollow tooth and a cyanide capsule.”
“So you were paying attention to that World War II documentary after all,” Miles couldn’t help smiling.
“Of course,” I replied. “History became much more relevant and a lot more interesting to me after meeting you, and searching through the estate together. I’m not kidding about how careful this guy is, though.”
“Are you saying there’s no chance he’ll slip up?”
Miles was serious, he was looking to me to answer that, not trying to point out that I couldn’t possibly know whether or not there was. The truth was… I did know.
“Yes. That’s what I’m saying.”
I sighed, and he hugged me a little tighter.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Then… you’ll unlock the last of the truth you were given, and we’ll go from there.”
“I just hope when we get to that point, we have somewhere to go,” I said glumly.
“We need to accept that either we can figure this out, or we’re not supposed to,” Miles said.
“We’re not supposed to?” I asked in surprise.
“Or, we can figure this out. It’s one or the other.”
“You’re right,” I finally said. “That’s the truth. It’s either possible, or it isn’t.”
“If it isn’t, you have to let yourself off the hook,” he said seriously.
“Alright. I know, you’re right. It won’t be due to any failure on our part if Dillon gets away with this. But… if he does, will you be able to accept it and move on?”
Having been wrongfully accused himself, I couldn’t imagine this would be easy to let go.
He had to give that some thought before he could answer.
“If I have no choice… ask me then.”
***
I went over the last of the truth and found nothing of any use to us.
We waited in vain for another phone delivery attempt.
I went over the truth again, slowly, meticulously, knowing there was nothing to find, but… refusing to believe it, because that truth was all we had. That, and Aaron’s and Phillip’s word, which would do as little to exonerate them, as Miles’ father’s did to exonerate Miles, a hundred and forty-six years ago.
After a week of this, Miles called it. He said no more. I don’t mean he stopped talking, I mean he said “no more.” It was time to accept defeat, and focus all our efforts on minimizing the damage caused by Dillon’s crimes.
Phillip and his family were doing well. There was that, and we were thankful for it. It rankled though, that they had to maintain false identities in order to ensure their continued well-being.
Aaron and his family were still waiting for a trial date, although that’s not what the government called it. They referred to it as a hearing. But Aaron was on trial, no matter how it was phrased.
March 6th came. The pups were hours away from their eight-week birthday, and it was time for two of them to go home. Tryon hugged Ed to his chest, and laughed as the puppy licked his cheek over and over. Doreen hugged Lacey, a look of complete happiness on her face. I smiled as I watched them, and so did Miles. His smile lit his eyes, but not as much as usual. I sighed and hugged him hard. I didn’t have to ask in order to know he was struggling to accept defeat, and move on.
“You can come visit anytime,” Mom said. She saw the same thing I did, but interpreted it differently.
“Thanks, Mom,” Miles smiled. “We’ll do that.”
The next day, the service dog pups bid Chip farewell, then we loaded them, their mother, and Fidget, into the SUV and drove them to the Center.
It was hard to say goodbye. But to see their bright, intelligent eyes taking everything in as they looked around them and met the trainers… when I remembered they had a purpose in life just like we all do, and they were on their way to fulfilling that… I was able to hug Fidget, while Miles hugged me, and I was okay.
About that, anyway.
We drove back to the Lodge, ordered pizza, then invited our friends over.
Xander brought Spaz with him, and John and Annette brought Linux. The pups played with Chip until they wore themselves out, then sat on the floor industriously chewing Nylabones with Chip, Fidget, and their mother.
We chatted for a while, but inevitably the topic of conversation returned to the case none of us were able to let go of for long.
“We’re missing something. We’ve got to be!” Xander exclaimed. He sat beside Jenny on one of the family room couches, tapping his foot in agitation. By all appearances, even days later, he was taking the news harder than we were. A movie played on the huge TV, but none of us were paying much attention. Our pizza was growing cold too, untouched for the most part.
“We aren’t,” I replied. “There’s nothing. I’ve unlocked all the truth, and… there’s nothing. No evidence, no truth left to unlock...”
“No exoneration, no conviction, no justice,” Miles said quietly, rubbing his forehead.
“And no one’s tried to deliver another phone to Dillon?” Annette asked.
I shook my head, answering her question, even though it was obvious no one had. We would’ve told her and the rest of our friends, otherwise. But, she was desperate for something, anything, just like we all were. I could totally relate.
“What if we rearrange some pieces?” John wondered. He didn’t appear agitated, but he was intensely focused. “Maybe… I don’t know. I don’t know what exactly, but maybe the pieces are there, they just need to be put together.”
I considered whether it would be kinder t
o rip that Band-Aid off—again—and say that no amount of rearranging would make any difference… or say nothing, and allow our friends a little false hope.
“The pieces we need are missing,” Miles replied, taking the Band-Aid route.
His eyes were troubled. Even though he knew that was the truth, he was still working everything over, trying to find something. The lack of resolution in this case left all of us feeling dissatisfied and unsettled.
“Don’t you know a guy?” Xander turned to John. “That hacker dude, who—”
“No,” John said, giving him a silencing look. Xander made a face, crossed his arms, and turned away.
“No,” Miles agreed. “Besides. We know there’s nothing there to find.”
Annette sighed in frustration. Jenny rubbed Xander’s shoulders in an effort to calm him.
“Well… look on the bright side,” I said. “Dillon didn’t get off completely free. He’s always going to wonder why the wall is blue.”
That actually made our friends laugh, and Miles smiled.
“And… maybe that guy will do what he said he would if Dillon lost another fall guy,” said Annette.
Xander looked hopeful. Jenny looked like she could live with that. John was lost in thought again, desperate for a solution to our glaring lack of evidence.
“I know there’s no proof,” Miles said, as he ran his hand through his hair. “I just… can’t accept that there’ll be no justice for Aaron and Phillip.”
“We need a confession,” Xander said firmly. Again.
“How do you intend to get one?” John asked patiently. We had this conversation many times over the past few days.
“He’d have to give his permission for it to be recorded,” Jenny reminded him.
“Can you manipulate his vocal chords and make him admit it?” Annette suddenly wondered.
The rest of us began to laugh as we imagined it, and so did Miles.
“I don’t even want to know what kind of sounds he’d make if I tried,” he replied, and we laughed harder. We laughed so hard, Jenny doubled over, clutching her ribs. It was fortunate I had nothing to say, because I couldn’t hold onto a breath long enough to catch mine.
“It’s more likely he wouldn’t make any sound at all,” John managed to get out, as he took off his glasses so he could wipe tears of laughter from his eyes. “He’d stand there with a panicked look on his face, clutching his throat, believing the force was real, and Darth Vader had hold of him.”
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