Hinton makes note of his disappointment and moves on to his next topic. “Joe, let me ask you about politics. Do you follow politics?”
“A little. I can’t vote or anything.”
“Of course. Did your mom and dad and brother vote?”
“Definitely.”
“Oh, really? Do you know for who?”
“They all voted for the president.”
“Hmm, okay.” Then, with a lighter tone, Hinton asks, “‘you ever want to be president when you grew up?”
“Nah, that’s too much responsibility, too much arguing and debate.”
“Yeah, I’m not a fan of that myself. So what did you want to be when you grew up?”
“A pastor; or a minister, like my dad.”
“Really! Not a businessman?”
“No.”
“But ministers don’t make much money.”
“I know, but I don’t care too much about making a lot of money, I want to do something more worthwhile.”
Hinton, “That’s very honorable. What about a policeman or law enforcement like your brother?”
Joseph, “Nah. That’s Jimbo’s dream.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He’s wanted to be a cop or something since the beginning of time.”
“Okay. Any reason why, perhaps an uncle or someone on the force?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Mr. Phelps, who was FBI also, maybe ’cause of him. But it seems to have started with some sick turtles we got when we were kids.”
“Sick turtles.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember what is was, but I know that everybody was upset with Dad, and Jimmy was determined to find the turtle man.”
“I see. Joe, you don’t like arguing, do you?”
“I sure don’t.”
“Is there anybody that doesn’t like you or perhaps has a grudge against you?”
“No.”
“Any one you don’t get along with, that argues with you?”
“Not really.”
“No one at school that doesn’t treat you well?”
“Not really. I mean, there were a couple of guys who use to poke at me some.”
“Yeah? What where their names?”
“Uh, Rich Rallings, and a guy we just called Duck.”
“Duck? You don’t know his real name?”
“No. Something Dutton or Dutch or something.”
“Is that why you call him Duck?”
Joseph, in a light tone, “No. We call him Duck ’cause he’s always smacking people on the back of the head!”
Hinton, a bit amused, “Oh, I see. Well, that can’t be pleasant. Do you argue with him as a result of that?”
“No. I just avoid him.”
“Ever get tired of that?”
“No. I mean—well, yeah.”
“Ever figure a way to make him stop smacking you on the head?”
“No. But he hasn’t done it for a while. Maybe it’s over.”
“Ever think of asking your brother to take care of it?”
“One time Jimmy saw him picking on some other kids and he told him to cut it out.”
“And?”
“And he did, but after a while he started up again.”
“So why didn’t you tell Jimmy about you?”
“Jimbo’s overprotective enough, and he’s always had perfect grades, so I didn’t want him to get in trouble for fighting. I kinda made up my mind that if it ever started again I’d tell him; but it’s no big deal really, I don’t see Duck but once a week at most; and like I said, he’s stopped messing with me.”
“Hmm, okay. And how do you and Jimbo get along?”
“He’s awful and should be arrested immediately!”
“What? Oh, funny. You’re a smart funny kid aren’t cha?”
Laughing, Joseph says, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. But seriously,” he sobers to a smile and says, “He is the best brother in the world. I love him.”
Surprised, Hinton exclaims, “Wow! You don’t hear that all the time. Hell, you never hear it!”
Joseph, “Well, it’s true. Especially, lately.”
Intrigued Hinton pushes a little, “He never gave you wedgies, or wet willies or atomic wedgies?”
“No! What’s an atomic wedgie?”
“You know what a wedgie is, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well with an atomic wedgie, the goal is to get the victim’s underpants band pulled up all the way up to their head!”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. Sadly I am not. Ideally you cover the top of the head and over the eyes to create a blindfold.”
For some reason this description coming from Agent Hinton causes Joseph to crack up laughing, which in turn brings a slight smile to the seasoned agent’s face.
From the kitchen, Robert hears his son laughing, and dons a smile of his own.
Hinton brings the interview back on track however with the question, “So, I’m gonna assume James has never done that to you.”
“No way! I mean, sure we wrestle around, but never in a mean way.”
“So, you never argue with him?”
“Oh, we argue sometimes, but just over stupid stuff, nothing serious. Our folks would kill us both!”
“I see. And what about them, do they argue much?”
“No. I mean, not much. Not compared to most at least”
“How often would you say?”
“Hmm … they might get into it once a month or something.”
“A month! That is low. And are they bad, I mean, do they shout, slam doors, or leave the house in fury?”
“No! Nothing like that, just disagreements over words. Well, maybe some shouting—Oh, Dad did leave the Phelps house in a huff yesterday, but that was ’cause of the door.”
“The door? This door?”
“Yeah. That’s how our door got broken, you remember? The firemen broke it in, and Dad was upset ’cause we didn’t think to use the hide-a-key.”
“Oh, I see. But he doesn’t usually storm off?”
“No, that was unusual for him. He’s just been more stressed out lately.”
“Okay. ’Cause of work?”
“Yeah.”
“So Joe, when your parents are upset, how does that make you feel?”
“I hate it.”
“Do you ever talk to anyone about it?”
“You mean them?”
“Or anyone?”
“Oh, they know I hate it. They hate it too! They are always working on improving, you know.”
“Yeah. Anyone else? You discuss how you feel with anyone else?”
“Other than Jimmy? Nah. I mean, other than God.”
“You talk to God?”
“Yeah, everyone does. I’m just not swearing at him!”
Hinton smiles at his comment and says, “Good point. Do you feel comfort in talking to God?”
“Definitely!”
“And does he answer you? Tell you what to do?”
“Yeah, yeah; he does.”
“Can you hear him … talking?”
Joseph laughs. “No, it’s not like The Ten Commandments or anything! It’s more like I feel his leading.”
“How is that?”
“I don’t know if I can explain. It’s like, you have a thought; it’s your thought, but you can tell that it’s come from somewhere other than your usual thoughts.”
“Like a hunch?”
“Kind of. It’s more like, you know something is right, like– Have you ever had a dream where, you’re in a strange home, but you know that—well, in the dream at least—you know that it’s your home?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“It’s like that. It’s a thought and a feeling of what’s right, what you should do; only it’s not necessarily what you want to do, but you just know that it is the right thing to do.”
“Hmm, so because it’s the right thing you feel it’s the thing you should do?”
“Yeah.
” Looking through his notes and his file folder, Hinton then asks, “So, when you wrote down what you were hearing people say, how did God tell you to do that?”
“I, uh … I don’t know. I mean, I was just a little kid. I just enjoyed understanding what people were talking about, what they were saying. To be honest, I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to understand people speaking in tongues.”
“I see.” Hinton stops for a moment and thinks. He looks at his notes, pages back and forth a few times; then, in frustration, just sets all of it on the floor. He rubs his head and neck and asks, “Joe, has anything happened, or have you been able to hear anything since that time?”
“Not a word, sir. Believe me, my mom checks every few months.”
Hinton looks at Joseph and ponders for a moment. Then he leans forward and says, “Joe, do me a favor. Sit back, relax and look at me for a moment. I want to ask you a series of questions using just your memory, not your conscious thoughts. Okay?”
Joseph turns himself to sit in the chair properly and says, “Okay.”
“So, don’t think, just answer yes or no; the first thing that comes from your memory. Okay?”
“No problem.”
“Now, as a point of concentration, to keep you using your memory rather than thinking about what I’m asking, look at the pen in my hand, but only on the silver parts; just relax and let everything but the silver parts fade out of your mind.”
“Ooookay.”
“Now, I want you to think about the day you heard people talking in tongues.”
Feeling relaxed, Joseph says, “Oookay.”
“Do you remember what they said?”
“No.”
“Do you remember who was talking?”
“No.”
“Do you remember where you were standing when you heard it?”
“No.”
“Are you thinking about these answers?”
“No.”
“Is this a waste of time?”
“Yes.”
“Son of a–”
“Mr. Hinton!”
Hinton gets up and says, “I’m sorry kid. I’m– This case is just … Humph.” Shaking his head, he says, “Okay, I’m done. Don’t discuss what we’ve talked about ’til I’m finished talking with everyone.”
“Sir, may I ask you a question?”
“Sure. What is it?”
“Why are you all doing all this?”
“Why? ’Cause nine years ago you said the President of the United States was going to die today! Unfortunately you did not bother to tell how, or what from. Frankly I wouldn’t give a cra– Uh, I wouldn’t care if you had not proven to be right almost every time!”
“But, sir–”
“And so, there are a lot of people whose job is to see to the safety of the president.”
“But, sir–”
“And now, we have proof that at least one foreign or domestic terrorist knows and believes you!”
“But–”
“And so, my young friend,” says Hinton, closing his folder and officially ending their interview, “here we all are, doing our jobs, trying to keep the president alive!”
“But, Mr.– Uh, Agent Hinton, nothing can stop him from dying.”
Hinton stops what he’s doing and says. “What?”
“I mean, there’s nothing anyone can do to change that he’s going to die. It’s, um, a foregone conclusion.”
“Well, not if we can help it.”
“But you can’t, sir.”
“Joey, we have to try.”
“But why, sir? What God said was going to happen for him is and HAS happened! The people he spoke through were only using words in future tense, but I understood it to be an understood and accepted truth.”
“So, there’s nothing we can do? We should just step aside and let this play out!”
“Sir, it’s not on this level or of the realm of the things we can change or control. Not like this. You understand that don’t you? It’s like, like,” pointing at his wrist, “trying to stop eight forty-five!”
Hinton looks at his watch and sees that it is 8:44, and then looks at Joe.
Joseph shrugs as if to say, “Why would you even endeavor to try?”
• • •
Back in the kitchen, James has finally walked over to talk to Lauren, who maintains her position looking out of the kitchen door window.
Standing next to her with about a foot between them, he quietly breaks his own silence using his best Humphrey Bogart voice, “So, who are you, where did you come from, and what were you before?”
She turns her head and looks at him with a curiously amused but confused expression.
Feeling he missed the mark, he offers, “That’s Bogey from Casablanca.”
Lauren, softly, “Oh, I recognize the line. It’s your impersonation that could use a little work.”
“I … wouldn’t use the word impersonation so freely, if I were you.”
“Touché, touché. And I am very sorry about all that, but you know what?” She turns towards him, “You will simply have to forgive me.”
“I will, will I?”
She steps into his personal space and answers, “Yes! First of all, Jimmy-sunshine, I was under orders, and I know you, of all people, wouldn’t want me to be insubordinate and disobey a direct order.” She looks over and sees that Joanna and Robert Market are looking the other way, and steps even closer, essentially trapping him between her and the end of the counter, “Secondly, you know how we met, that collision, I could never have staged that! Never mind the fact that you still owe me for not letting you hit your head on that car!”
Very comically James replies, “Right, right, right. You’ve got a point there.”
“And lastly,” she glances to see if anyone’s looking, and steps to within inches of his face, whispering, “and perhaps most importantly, you’re a decent guy James Market, and that’s what decent guys do!” James swallows hard, as she continues talking so very close to him, “If you were to remain angry with me over this–”
“Angry?”
“… you could ruin my opinion of men in general; cause, right now, I’m inclined to think you’re one of the better ones.”
James takes a deep breath, and wriggling out from his pinned position into the corner, speaks at barely a whisper, saying, “Lauren, I am sorry, but I was never angry, honest; just, really, really confused. When it appeared that all we shared was a, was a sham! I felt like my best friend had–”
“Stabbed you in the back?” interjects Lauren.
“More like in the heart,” says James.
He goes to reach for her hand when, in walks a smiling and relieved Joseph followed by a very discomforted and uneasy Agent Hinton.
Their hands just barely graze as she turns around towards Hinton and asks, “Who do you want next?”
Hinton notices their close proximity but makes nothing of it; He is preoccupied by the sobering comments Joseph made.
James misreads his concerned expression as some kind of disapproval, and in an attempt to cover any awkwardness for Lauren, says, “Well, Miss Coles, I’ll go and get my journal, then.”
She cannot help but smile and slightly shake her head over his considerateness.
But Hinton says, “Actually, hold on a minute.” James freezes in his tracks, nervous about what Hinton’s about to say to him, but instead, Hinton pulls out his walkie-talkie and calls Sandoval in from the back yard, and then says, “I need to go over something with Agent Coles first.” James is relieved.
When George Sandoval arrives, he says good morning to everyone. Joanna, ever the hostess, of course, offers to prepare him some breakfast. But due to his outdoor station he must decline.
Hinton says, “George, cover this position, I need to speak with Agent Coles. Excuse us.”
The two exit the room and go to the front door to talk. Hinton is obviously disquieted. Lauren looks at him with anxious curiosity as to what he found in Josep
h.
Suddenly he just blurts in vintage Hinton frustration and annoyance, “Mother Theresa has told more lies than that kid!”
Lauren, “What? So you believe him!”
Hinton, “Even worse! I think he’s got this whole thing figured ahead of any of us!”
“Really!”
“Oh, he’s no fool, Lauren, or a pawn; in fact, he’s smart as a whip!”
“I think so too, but what do you mean? What did he say?”
“Well I tell you this, nobody has fooled this kid into saying any of this stuff, and nobody pressured him either.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive! His mind is not receptive to suggestion, nor is he unaware or disconnected from his support system.”
“Which means?”
“He is not vindictive or punitive, and he considers the good of the whole in front of what might benefit himself!”
“Wow!” she says with considerable satisfaction, “he’s just a terrible subject if you’re trying to use him for any kind of conspiracy or plot.”
“Exactly! You can’t trick ’im and you can’t trust ’im not to go running to Mom, Dad or even big brother!”
“So how do you figure he’s got this figured out ahead of us?”
“It’s something he said about how he believes this is gonna turn out.”
“Well?”
“Well, I don’t want to stake my career on it or anything, but– Do me a favor first. What about this stranger that was supposed to come here and die; did your team dig up anything on him yet?”
“Oh, uh,” she checks her PDA, “Carlson. I don’t know, I’ve been outta touch while– I only confirmed his name five minutes ago.”
“Well, get in touch!”
“Okay, but its not even nine a.m. on a Sunday. What’s he got to do with this?”
Hinton, who is pacing again, is impatient and too deep in thought to answer her.
She dials Mary Sorensen’s cell phone number and to her surprise Mary answers on the second ring, “Lauren?”
“Yes Mare. How are you doing?”
Hinton stares at her with his palms up as if to say, “What are you doing? Who cares how she is!”
She whispers to him, “Alright!” then says, “Listen Mare, I need to know what you found on Gary Carlson, the guy I confirmed this morning as the stranger in my notes.”
The Journal: A Prophecy, A President & Death Page 28
