by W.H. Harrod
Terrance steered the Cherokee onto the interstate heading east towards Kansas City while simultaneously becoming aware of the excessive amount of time spent lately in his vehicle. This trip, extending over the next several days, would only serve to reinforce this observation. By his best estimation, the trip to Harmony, Illinois, required, at least, sixteen hours of driving to get there and back.
Terrance had hoped that most, if not all, of his planned foray into real investigative journalism could be handled via the Internet—but no dice. The online archives went back no more than seven or eight years in most instances. Heeding Mrs. Bidwell’s warnings to not let on to anyone his interest in anything regarding Howard Douglas left him only one alternative, to get in his trusty Cherokee and head out. He realized that with each additional step this whole thing became more perilous, especially in relation to his future as an employable human being. But he wasn’t about to stop, this story had potential, and he knew it.
After he left Mrs. Bidwell’s, he’d devoted most of his time getting approval for, or informing people of, his investigative trip to Missouri. Or at least, that’s where he told everyone he intended to go. Maintaining his pact with Mrs. Bidwell, he couldn’t tell them the truth about going to Harmony, Illinois, to check out a Mr. Howard Douglas. After he visited with his still irritated boss to convince him of the necessity for him to personally go down to southern Missouri and root out the truth about Joseph Right, he checked with the professor to find out when he needed to be available to carry the bet to Kansas City. The professor planned on making a run at this coming Friday’s Pick Six, so he had to be back by no later than mid-day Friday to handle that little chore. The professor even went so far as to make Terrance promise to be available. He had “a real good feeling about this one,” he said. That left but one person to inform of his false agenda, Jess. Terrance considered telling her the whole truth, but chose not to at this time, deciding to be consistent with his intrigue for the moment. Besides, she’d worry if she knew the whole truth. So really, I am lying for her benefit, he rationalized. Still it worried him—they ought to try to straighten things out between them before too much longer. Terrance made a mental note to do that as soon as he finished with this assignment.
With hundreds of miles still ahead of him, Terrance allowed his mind to wander among the many areas that might be of the least bit of interest to him. He reflected on his job, of course, and how he mostly hated it. This weird story with all its potential for disaster appeared as a life raft to him at the moment. He’d been adrift upon the vast sea of a meaningless existence for what seemed forever. He needed this.
In no particular order, thoughts about Jess, thoughts about law school, and thoughts about the professor’s big plans and dreams occupied most of his thinking. He even thought about his being adopted and speculated on whom his real parents might be. Were they still alive? Did they know his whereabouts? Had they ever taken the time to find out what he looked like? Would they ever try to make contact with him? Would he? Finally having allowed his brain free reign for several hours, his thoughts settled into thinking about what he planned to do once he reached Harmony. Or maybe more importantly, what could he accomplish without announcing his presence and intentions? This required some forethought.
Terrance waited until the St. Louis metro area reflected in his rear-view mirror before he set about constructing a plan of action. He had to gain access to old newspapers right off, but he realized going to the local newspaper office only increased the likelihood of tipping someone off. The public library provided the solution to this problem, for they had every copy on file for the last hundred years, most likely. Going back to 1981 and 1982 should be a snap. He also planned to go by the local high school and check the yearbooks for the late ‘60s and early ‘70s to see what information might be available there. Realizing all this could take a lot of time, he decided to direct his efforts to the time periods most likely to provide the information he sought. That should get him started and once he got going, surely, other ideas would surface.
Terrance’s earlier high level of excitement began to wane as he drove on through the late afternoon. He looked forward to finding some shelter for the coming night as the late fall sun ended its long day’s journey by descending lower on the fading horizon appearing in his rear-view mirror. Suddenly, he thought about Jess. Right now, he missed her—her calmness, her sense of equilibrium. An obvious thought occurred to him, What are you doing away from home on this crazy adventure? Why aren’t you home with Jess? Why aren’t you satisfied with what you have? Then, just as quickly, the thoughts vanished. Terrance’s ambitions wouldn’t allow such idle notions to remain for long. Jess had told him before, “One day your limitless ambition might very well be your undoing.”
“But,” he said aloud as the Cherokee journeyed into the heart of the state of Illinois, “Somebody will know I’ve been here. They will, at least, know that I gave it my all. Very possibly, I’ll fail in my quest to be a success, but I’ll have tried.”
A road sigh appeared—HARMONY 67 MILES. No more time for second guessing now; another hour and he would be in the game. Searching the center console, he retrieved a fake driver’s license that he remembered to bring from home. He purchased it from the friend of a friend of a friend over a year ago for what reason he couldn’t remember, but it looked legitimate, and as far as the people he came into contact with in Harmony, his name would be James A. Walker of Topeka, Kansas.
CHAPTER TWENTY
