Mismatched

by Chautona Havig

  Warren led the man through the house and into his office. “I thought we’d talk here, but first maybe you’d like something to drink? Coffee? Juice—I think I have pomegranate and V-8.”

  “Water would be great, thanks.”

  Gesturing toward a chair, Warren offered the man a seat and went to get the proffered water. He returned within a minute or so, glass in hand. “Here you go. I’d offer cookies or fruit or something, but I’ve been too busy to shop lately—research does that.”

  “That’s a great opening for my questions, if you don’t mind. How do you conduct your research?” Ernie pulled open a laptop and held his fingers poised to type.

  “Well, I have to find a story worth pursuing, first. That’s always the hardest part.”

  Ernie nodded. “Do you have a current—of course you do. You just said you’re researching. What is your current project?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Warren rested his elbows on the armrests and templed his fingers. “Leo Hasaert.”

  “And who would that be?” The little man removed his glasses, polished a lens, and replaced them.

  “He was in a criminal gang—bikers in Colorado—”

  “So, you religious types are against bikers…”

  “No,” Warren corrected, “but this group happens to be criminals. If they wore polos, chinos, and drove BMWs, I’d still call them criminals.” Without waiting for a response from Ernie, Warren continued. “This man met Jesus, through another biker, I might add, and turned himself in.”

  “Sounds like a death sentence.”

  “It was. How he survived, no one knows, but the Kasimirs did try to kill him.”

  Ernie whistled low. “Kasimirs. That’s more than just ‘a bike gang.’ Those guys are ruthless.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And this guy, Lee, he—”

  “Leo. He changed his whole life. It’s marvelous. I want to know more about him—tell his story.”

  “So what kind of research do you have to do to write about someone like that? Can’t you just interview him?”

  Here Warren tensed before continuing. “Well, usually that works as a beginning. I still do research on a person’s background, talk to people who knew him before his conversion, things like that.”

  “You said usually.”

  “You are very perceptive.”

  Ernie shrugged. “It’s my job.”

  “Well, you’re correct. Usually, I start with an interview, but until just recently, I didn’t know how to find Leo Hasaert.”

  “Couldn’t you just do an Internet search?”

  “The man’s court documents were sealed. The only channels open to me were illegal ones, and from what I could tell, those might not have been fruitful. Trust me, I looked for months.”

  “So, how did you find him?”

  He shifted in his chair, watching Ernie curiously. “I would be curious to know why you want to know.”

  “Well, this is about how you work, what you do, your methods. I might need it for the article, but I might also need to know how to do it to find a subject for my next article.”

  “Sorry if I seem a bit suspicious. When it comes to people’s privacy, I can become a little…”

  “Cagey?”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  Ernie shrugged. “Considering you have to invade it to get what you need, it only seems natural that you might find it awkward to discuss.”

  Warren shifted again and nodded. “Exactly. With Leo, it became a matter of daily Internet searches. I used my usual service, but I also checked Google daily myself.”

  “And he just showed up out of the blue?”

  “Yep. On a blog. It was the strangest thing. One day the only thing you could find had been written around the time of his arrest and trial and the next a single blog post showed up. It’s gone now, but it mentioned the town where he lives, so I started making calls.”

  “And…” Ernie leaned forward. “How was the interview? Are they usually what you expect, or do people often surprise you?”

  “I haven’t contacted him yet. In an effort to stay unsearchable, he appears to have an apartment with paid utilities and no phone, cable, or cellphone.” Warren leaned back and propped his feet up on the printer stand next to his computer desk. “I’ll be flying there in a day or two to see if I can find him. Someone that recognizable should be easy to spot.”

  “What did people do before the Internet,” Ernie mused. “Can you imagine the time and frustration it would take just to locate someone?”

  Warren stood. “I should see if I can find a notebook of my father’s. It’s upstairs. Do you mind?” He stepped around the desk. “I think you’d enjoy seeing the kind of research an investigator had to do back then.”

  “That’d be amazing. Sure!”

  Warren didn’t hurry. He walked through the house, climbed the stairs to a bedroom, and pulled a phone and a SIM card from his pocket. He slipped the card in the phone and punched a number. “Hey… how are you? Busy?”

  The woman on the other end asked him to hold and then gave muffled orders to someone before she returned to the conversation. “Got everyone hopping. I take it you’re not home yet?”

  “Nope. Just doing a little work before I fly back to my latest assignment.” He sat on the edge of the bed, and closed his eyes. “Miss you.”

  “Really… that’s a first.”

  He chuckled. “If you mean my admission, I concede. If you mean the fact, you’re wrong.”

  “So you’ve missed me before…”

  “Yep.”

  “Any idea when you’ll be home?”

  She never asked where home was—something that made him appreciate her even more. “When we’re done.”

  “Always so precise.”

  “Did you get a chance to read about Paul?” The moment he asked the question, he regretted it. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m starting to see why you care. Don’t agree, but I do see why.”

  “Tell me why.” Even if it’s just so I get to hear you talk a little longer.

  As he listened, Warren stepped outside the door and crept toward the stairs. Ernie hadn’t left the office. Good.

  “I just think that any religion that people would die for has to make people want others to see how important it is to them. I can see that.”

  “Well, I’ll take that.” Despite his disappointment that she couldn’t see the deeper truths of Scripture, Warren kept his tone confident.

  “I found something else.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not supposed to be going out with me.”

  “You knew that.” We discussed this. Friendship with the world is adultery against God.

  “Yeah, but I found more than the adultery thing. Unequally yoked, light and darkness… You, my friend, are a very bad Christian.”

  “It’s not a marriage,” he objected, “so I think I’ll risk it.”

  She laughed. “No, it’s certainly not that. I wouldn’t marry a man who couldn’t tell me where he went on his business trips. I think I would discover a nasty jealous side and fast.”

  As lighthearted as the words were, they cut. He swallowed a sigh and forced a chuckle. “Then, once we get the faith thing squared away, you’ll have to give me a healthy ultimatum, won’t you?”

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  “I’m serious.” He hadn’t been, but he was now.

  “I meant,” she murmured, “tempted to fake a conversion to get you to quit. I’d get more time with you that way.”

  “If I thought you were the kind of woman who would fake a conversion, I would never have taken you out.”

  He glanced at the clock on his phone. “My time’s up.”

  “Glad you called.”

  He closed his eyes. Me too. More than you’d ever know. “I’ll call again as soon as I can.”

  “I’d call you, but…”

  “That’s how it has to be,” he agreed. �
��Have a good weekend.”

  “I want another steak dinner when you get back.”

  The temptation to bargain hit hard. “Deal—if we can read through a bit more Paul.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “How so?” Get off the phone. Too long!

  “You’re always showing me Peter or Paul or James or Luke. You never just try to show me the one guy that you claim matters most.”

  Duh! “You’re right. We’ll talk Jesus.” Without waiting for a response, he powered down the phone and removed the SIM card again. Love you.

  Empty handed, Warren jogged downstairs and strode across the house to the office. Ernie stood near the bookshelves, examining one of his books. “Sorry, just can’t find it.”

  “That’s okay. I appreciate it anyway.” Ernie pointed to the full color picture on the back of the book. “Not a very flattering picture of you—puts ten years on you.”

  Warren nodded, running his hand over his short, stubbly hair. “It’s the hair. My stylist cut too much off this time.”

  “You’ve been working out, too.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t let yourself get flabby just because you’re getting older.”

  Ernie slid the book back into the empty place on the shelf. “It’s amazing what a little Photoshop can do, isn’t it?” He picked up his laptop case. “I’ve got to get going. I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me. Can’t wait to write this article.”

  “I bet you can’t.” Warren followed the man to the door. “Have a safe flight home.”

  Ernie turned and smiled. “You too.”

  At the end of the street, Ernie pulled out his phone and punched Jenk’s number. “Hey, got it.”

  “Good. Anything good on it?”

  “Looking now,” he said as he plugged the thumb drive into his laptop. “Guy found Leo about the time we did. I missed something, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  Ernie winced. Jenk’s hot temper had boiled over in the past three days. “They pulled that blog post—or so this Whitfield guy says.”

  “What? That seems weird.”

  “I thought so. I’ll check for pings and trackbacks when I get a minute, but I thought I’d tell you.” He typed Leo into the search bar and waited for the computer to find any use of the name. “It’s going to take a while—lots of files.”

  “Call me when it’s done, then.”

  “Gotcha. On my way to the airport.”

  “Should we send Trina in?”

  “Nah,” Ernie said, smiling. “The guy is going to Fairbury to find Leo. He won’t be home anyway.”

  “We should have blown up that stupid apartment.”

  “If you blow it up, he has no reason to return.”

  “Whatever. Just get back here. The reports are piling up. We had a shortage last night.”

  “I’ll see who is outselling the others. You might have another Leo on your hands—so to speak.” Ernie winced. That was the wrong mental picture to give his boss at present.

  “Whatever.”

  The phone went dead.

  Ernie waited for the next stoplight before he punched out a text to JENk.

  SINCE WE’RE NOT BLOWING UP THE APARTMENT, WE MIGHT WANT TO PUT EYES ON IT FOR A WHILE.

  The reply came before the light changed.

  GOTCHA

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Five sat around the table, hands stuffed with cards. At Leo’s turn, he hesitated, uncertain. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get this. Maybe you should play without me.”

  Allison leaned over and pointed to a King. “Your best shot.”

  “You just want me to play so you can play again,” he teased as he played the card.

  She shrugged and drew. “Not hardly.”

  Mark’s phone buzzed. He took one look at it and stood, stacking his cards. “We’re out. Gather the bags. In the car in five.”

  Eva’s eyes widened. “Are we in danger?”

  “Not at all,” Mark assured her. “We just got news that the house we wanted is clear. Keith’ll meet us there.”

  Rod led his wife to their room and came out carrying bags. “Is this why we don’t unpack?”

  “Exactly. We can just up and go.” Mark stepped into the utility room and woke Brian. “Time to roll.”

  “Keith call?”

  “Yep.”

  In minutes, they loaded both vehicles and split the occupants. Mark took Leo and Allison in the Durango, backed out of the driveway, and wove through the residential streets to the parkway. Once they hit the toll road, Allison watched Mark relax. She glanced at Leo and stifled a sigh. The tension there nearly killed her.

  “Is there any other reason to move us other than this house you wanted? I just wonder why it is so much better.”

  “It’s in Stoneyhill—closer to Rockland. We’re considering our options on how to get you your life back. We think we’re going to have to put the word out that he’s somewhere he’s not or something.”

  He opened the opportunity for her to ask about future plans, and Allison took it. “Okay, but then what? You get the ones who come after him this time, but what about next time? When will he be safe?”

  “We’re making plans for that too.”

  “Such as?” Leo cut into the conversation with a bite that unnerved Allison. “How can you make plans to keep someone from coming after me and killing me—or jerking me from my home—such as it is—at gunpoint and before dawn?”

  “Well, we’d do that again if we have to, but our goal is to ensure you never need to see us again.”

  “That,” Leo muttered, “I can get into.”

  “Leo, knock it off.”

  “Allison, we really don’t get offended. If it keeps him fighting to fight us too, we’re up for that.”

  “You saved my parents’ lives. You got them out before whoever it is did what they did and blew up—” she choked before she whispered, “our home.” Allison turned to Leo. “Forgive me for being grateful that I still have them.”

  “Unless they blew up the house themselves.”

  “Why would they do that? If they wanted to torture us, they’d kill the parents. If this was about—” She turned and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Allison?”

  Her eyes slid to the rearview mirror. “Yes?”

  “Have you ever seen what they did to him?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Horrible.”

  “Did he tell you how they found him?”

  Leo’s head shot up. “Don’t!”

  “She needs to under—”

  “No she doesn’t! How cruel can you be?”

  Allison’s eyes darted back and forth between Leo’s face and the eyes in the rearview mirror. “Tell me.”

  “No.” The word reverberated through the car, ricocheting off each ear until Mark nodded.

  “Fine.”

  “No, it’s not fine. What—”

  “He knows you better than I do, Allison. If Leo thinks you can’t take it, then it’s not going to help. Just trust me when I say he has reason to distrust us.”

  The car whizzed through the night, each town passing with little notice by the occupants. Allison slept, her pillow resting against Leo’s side. Leo stared out into the darkness, thinking.

  “Leo?”

  “Yeah…”

  Mark’s voice lowered a bit. “Allison asleep?”

  “I think so.” He nudged her. “Allison…”

  She hardly shifted. He waited, nudged again. “Yeah, she’s out.”

  “Sorry about the thing with Mary Fenwick. I thought she’d understand better. If she knew that a nice old lady like that died because—”

  “It’s fine. You didn’t keep going.” Leo fought the desire to stay antagonistic. “Look, I want to believe you guys. I do. I just—”

  “I meant it when I said it doesn’t matter to us. Our goal is to keep you alive. How you feel about that is really inconsequential to me.”

  �
�Why, though. Why would you care if I live or die?”

  A mile passed and still Mark didn’t reply. Leo had given up expecting an answer when Mark said, “Because no one should go through what they’ll put you through if they find you.”

  “Why you? This can’t be cheap. Why would the government—”

  “We’re not government, Leo. We’re a business.”

  “So, I should expect a bill when this is all over?”

  Mark laughed, choking it down as Allison stirred. “Sorry. No, I’m not going to send you a bill. A portion of our usual fee is reserved for people who need our help but can’t pay.”

  “How do you find out about them—us.”

  “Depends.” Mark took a swig from his water bottle and shifted in the seat before he continued. “Sometimes we see something in the news and our researchers send out investigators to see if there’s a danger. Most of those come back, negative.”

  “Other times?”

  “Public defenders, law enforcement, court documents—lots of things. We’ve been watching you and the Kasimirs since we saw that you weren’t entering WITSEC.”

  “Watching me? In Fairbury? You’re kidding.”

  Mark flipped on his blinker and exited before answering. “Look, I can’t explain everything that I do. I can just promise that we were ready to jump in the minute you needed us to. We just have to give law enforcement time and reason to capture those who want you.”

  “You’re wasting your time. They’ll just come again later. There will be more, and more. The Kasimirs is a bigger organization than you can imagine—than even I know. They won’t stop, because if they do, it shows them as weak and others won’t fear crossing them the next time.”

  “I know this stuff, Leo. Trust me, I know. I know when they’ll move, what they’ll do, and how they’ll do it. I will know exactly when and where to have FBI waiting for them when they come for you, and this time, when you testify, you’ll go into WITSEC.”

  “What? How can you know this?” Though he wanted to believe—needed to—it seemed inconceivable.

  “We are well-placed, Leo. We know.”

  He sighed. Witness Protection. Not looking over his shoulder anymore—it sounded wonderful. Leo’s eyes slid down to Allison. He’d have to leave her, but it might be best. Maybe with him gone, she’d be safe.