CHAPTER 55
THE UNTHINKABLE
The trial of Cheryl Windsor continued the following morning without the defendant, who had pulled off the ultimate escape—to another planet. The judge called us into chambers and told us that in addition to losing the defendant the court reporter had gaping holes in her transcriptions and all the backup tape recordings had somehow been erased. In light of this he said he had no choice but to declare a mistrial. He further commented that if Martin Windsor was alive, as the evidence seemed to suggest, the whole matter was moot anyway. After he had informed the jury of the mistrial, the case of the State of Texas vs. Cheryl Windsor came to an end and Wilkerson indicated it was not likely to be reopened. He also said the DA was dropping any plans to prosecute Paula as well, since Cheryl Windsor had been vindicated.
When I got home, Rebekah was talking on the telephone to a police detective. Her eyes were red and she looked pale. Marcia, Mark, and Reggie were crowded around her. When Marcia saw me, she got up and came running over to me. "Daddy. Have you found Peter?"
I scooped her into my arms and replied, "No, honey. I'm sorry. I was at the courthouse."
Reggie said, "They found his car somewhere near Palo Pinto. They've got a search party out looking for him. They think he might have been swept away in a flash flood."
My heart sank. He couldn't be dead. It just wasn't possible. Tears welled in my eyes.
"I just wish I'd have been home," Reggie said. "I'd have gone with him."
I couldn't believe Peter had drowned? So many times I had lectured the kids about staying away from high water. They knew not to drive when there was flash flooding. As a child I had been nearly swept into a creek in a flash flood in the Mojave Desert. I had told them that story many times and warned them of the danger of rushing water. I sat down next to Rebekah and put my arms around her. "Maybe's he's okay," I said.
"If he were alive, he'd have called by now," she replied.
"He may be in a hospital or—" I didn't know how to finish the sentence. It had been nearly 18 hours since he left the house. If he were alive, he'd have called or someone would have called to tell us where he was. Rebekah began to cry hard. I held her tightly fighting off my own tears. The door bell rang. It was Paul Thayer.
"I've sent some men out to help the police look for Peter," Paul said."They'll sweep the whole area. If he's out there, they'll find him. "
"Thanks, Paul. I really appreciate your help."
"Agent Barnes is also out there. The FBI is helping in the search as well."
"Do they think it's a kidnapping?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Well, with people disappearing left and right, until they find him, they have to consider the possibility of an abduction."
"Oh, my God!" Rebekah exclaimed. "Why would someone take Peter?"
A chill suddenly shot through me. Had the aliens taken Peter? No. That couldn't have happened. He hadn't seen anything. At least nothing that hadn't been erased. I thought back frantically to everything he'd done with me that day at Possum Kingdom Lake. When I was being hypnotized by Dr. Gerhardt we had made him leave the room, but what if he hadn't left? What if he had been just outside the door listening. Could he have overheard my recollection as to what had happened? Did he know about our encounter with the frogmen and seeing the spaceship take off? The only way I could find out would be to contact Mo. I slipped away and put in a call to him. He didn't answer, of course, so I left a message on his recorder.
That night neither Rebekah nor I slept. We stayed up all night talking about Peter, reminiscing about what a wonderful son he'd been, and waiting by the telephone for news of the search to find him. When the sun began to rise in the east, I decided to drive out to where they'd found Peter's car. I was hoping to find one of the FBI agents so I could quiz them. I was curious as to whether they had any evidence of an abduction—particularly an alien abduction. Mo hadn't returned my call which was odd. Nearly eight hours had passed since I called him. In the past he'd always called me back within a few hours. Maybe that meant Mo didn't know what had happened to Peter and was doing his own investigation. It was just going to be a waiting game, I could see that.
When I got to the staging area for the search, I ran into Detective Perkins. "Sorry about Peter," he said. "What a weird thing to happen."
"Thanks. Any news?"
"Nothing so far. No body yet. That's good."
"Yes. Is there anybody out here from the FBI?"
"Agent Barnes was here. I think he and his partner went to Denny's for breakfast. You probably passed it on your way here."
"Yes, I did. I'm going to look at Peter's car and then, I guess, I'll go join them."
"Good idea."
Peter's car was a wreck. The exterior was scratched and battered like it had been in a war zone. All but the rear window had been busted out, one headlight was smashed, and two tires were flat. It made me sick to think Peter had been trapped inside it in the raging flood. It would be a miracle if he were alive. Dejected, I headed back to Denny's to see Agent Barnes and his partner. When I got there the waitress advised me that I'd just missed them. Since I had no idea where they'd gone and I hadn't eaten breakfast, I decided to stay and eat. While I was drinking a cup of coffee and searching the newspaper for news about what had happened the previous night, I looked up and saw Mo standing over me. He looked distressed. He said, "I got your call. I decided I'd better meet you in person."
"You did," I said in shock. I knew a personal visit was bad news—like the military vehicle pulling up in front of your house and two uniformed officers stepping out. It meant my worst fears were reality—either Peter was dead or—
Mo sat down and began. "I'm sorry, Stan. I just found this out. I guess Peter was with you when you saw Dr. Gerhardt and you were hypnotized."
"Yes, but we made him stay in the other room," I said.
Mo looked away and continued, "Apparently, his curiosity got the best of him. He left the door cracked and listened. He heard everything and there was no opportunity to erase his memory."
"He wouldn't have said anything. He wasn't a threat," I said frantically.
"They can't take any chances, Stan. There's too much at stake. He knew too much. . . . They'll treat him well."
Tears welled in my eyes. "How do you know that?"
Mo shrugged and replied. "The Tarizonians are an honorable people."
"Honorable? How can you say that when they're seducing women into fraudulent marriages and then stealing their children?"
"Because they could just randomly take any child they wanted and we would be powerless to stop them. Hell, they could kill us all and move their entire population here and there's not a damn thing we could do about it. Trust me, Stan. I've seen how powerful they are. What you've seen so far are just parlor tricks."
I closed my eyes, fighting off an urge to scream and wail in agony. Finally, I asked, "Will I ever see him again?"
Mo swallowed hard. "I don't know. They might let you communicate with him somehow, once they're sure they can trust you."
"God, I hope so. He must be so scared. Can you imagine waking up and finding yourself on another planet? Oh, Jesus!"
"He'll be okay, Stan. They've promised not to harm him. . . . I've heard Tarizon is a very nice planet—a lot like Earth."
"Rebekah will never see him again. That will kill her."
"It's better she thinks he's dead. She'll get over that. People get over death."
"But how can I live with that secret—knowing that he's alive and not being able to tell Rebekah?"
"You'll have to. You have no other choice."
I just looked at Mo in disbelief. I'd lost my son and there was nothing I could do about it. Mo left without further conversation. He said they'd be in touch with my first assignment. I couldn't imagine what it would be. Finally, I paid my bill and drove home.
Rebekah was in bed fast asleep. I looked at her and wished I could wake her up and tell her everything. Having to keep such a dark sec
ret was going to be a daunting task, yet the aliens seemed to have eyes and ears everywhere, and according to Mo were omnipotent. I didn't seem to have any choice but to do their bidding. I remembered Dr. Gerhardt's words: fear is a great motivator.
As I drove home, depression engulfed me. I'd become nothing more than a lowly slave to these alien intruders. I wondered if it might be better just to expose this diabolic alliance even at my own personal peril—put and end to it now! . . . But was that even possible and what would be the consequence if we didn't cooperate with them? I didn't know enough to answer these questions now, but I'd keep my eyes and ears open hoping to learn enough to some day know what to do. And if exposing the Tarizon Repopulation Project was what needed to be done, then I'd do it no matter what the consequence. In the meantime, I'd do my job as best I could and pray to God these Tarzonians were honorable people as Mo had assured me they were.
EPILOGUE
Complete honesty in marriage will likely lead to an early divorce. At least that's my experience. In the beginning I told Rebekah everything but it soon became apparent she couldn't handle many of the perils and predicaments I often found myself in. She was a worrier and panicked easily. If I had told her everything she'd have gone crazy with worry and driven me nuts in the process. Our marriage wouldn't have survived. So over the years when I came home at night I talked less and less about work and if there was a problem I wouldn't tell Rebekah about it until it had been solved. This had worked well and helped us make it to our twentieth anniversary, but the secret that I shouldered alone this day could well destroy us.
It was a cold drizzly day in March 1991when family and friends had gathered at St. Ann's Catholic Church for a funeral mass. It was Peter who was supposed to be in the coffin that lay on the table in front of the onlookers who had gathered to pay their last respects. I say supposed to be in the coffin because this coffin was empty. The official story was that Peter had drowned in a flash flood. He was driving Rebekah's car, got into some high water, and was swept away into a storm drain. When the car was found, Peter wasn't in it. Speculation was that he left the vehicle and tried to swim to safety but drowned in the process. His body was never found.
At sixteen Peter had developed into a handsome boy with a slender build, dark hair, and olive skin. He looked more like Rebekah than me, but he had my easygoing personality and independent spirit. God had also blessed him with a natural charisma and a near genius IQ. He had everything going for him in this, his sophomore year of high school—an accomplished debater on the school's championship debate team, a varsity swimmer, and a member of the student council. But now he was missing and presumed dead. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to keep my composure. This was all too much for any parent to bear. Rebekah looked over at me with bloodshot eyes. I tried to force a smile, but couldn't manage it. Her empty gaze went back to the coffin.
Over my shoulder I saw my law partner, Paula Waters. She looked at me sorrowfully. She knew better than anyone what I was going through. She loved me and I loved her. But our love was like a rose that lacked an essential mineral and would never blossom. It was not our fate to be man and wife, yet our bond was too strong to allow us to drift apart. For me it wasn't so bad because I had Rebekah and the kids, but Paula didn't have anyone she truly loved before she met me. She'd married Bart, and they were good together, but it was a marriage more of convenience than passion.
I looked back at Peter's casket as the funeral mass began. Father Michael, who had known Peter well over the years, gave the mass. In his homily he spoke of spending time with Peter at summer camp and youth retreats he had attended. I thought back to one of those retreats that I had been a chaperone. We had gone to Lake Murray in Oklahoma and everyone was taking a swim. Peter saw the water mocassin first and pointed excitedly to its head sticking out of the water. I almost laughed out loud as I recalled how quickly everyone frantically evacuated the swimming hole. Peter and I hadn't moved. We knew the snake wouldn't bother us if we left it alone. Everyone was amazed at our nerve, particularly Peter's friends who thought him somewhat of a hero over the incident. Rebekah looked at me, probably wondering how I could be smiling at a time like this.
When the moment came to hear from those who wanted to say a few words about Peter, a long line formed at the lectern. Reggie was the first to speak. He said, "What was most remarkable about Peter was his respect for everyone he encountered. He loved to talk with anyone who would listen. Whether it was the school principal or the janitor, it didn't matter. Peter treated everyone with respect and admiration. He was never judgmental or condescending. He loved everyone and everyone loved him. I will miss him."
Reggie smiled and then nodded to Marcia who was next in line. She was fourteen but with three older brothers she had matured early. Her face was solemn as she began to speak. "Peter was not only my brother but he was my best friend. We spent a lot of time together and would talk endlessly about everything. He always had time for me no matter how busy he was. I couldn't have asked for a better brother."
Marcia broke into tears and someone handed her a handkerchief. She left the lectern and took a seat next to Rebekah. Mark was next. He got up, swallowed hard and said, "What I remember most about my brother Peter was his imagination. He loved to write and tell stories, particularly science fiction and fantasy. We played a lot of games together, talked about exploring space, and planned trips to far away places that we wanted to visit some day. He often said he'd like to be a lawyer like Dad or maybe even a writer. I think he could have done either one. I think he could have done anything he wanted. Goodbye, Peter. I'll miss you."
When the mass was over, there was a reception and then we went back to the house. It was very late that night before everyone left and we were alone. After saying goodbye to the last of the relatives and friends, I went into the living room where Rebekah was lying on the sofa staring up at the ceiling. I loved her with all my heart and soul and it killed me to see her suffering the way she was. I wanted so much to tell her the truth—to reveal to her the secret that was weighing so heavily on my mind, body and soul. But that was unthinkable. For anyone who discovered the truth would suffer the same fate as Peter.
*****
WHAT HAPPENS TO PETER TURNER?
. . . the shocking story of Peter Turners abduction by aliens . . . the sci-fi/fantasy adventure of a lifetime for young and old alike!
THE TARIZON TRILOGY
by William Manchee
Tarizon: The Liberator, Vol 1, September 2008
Tarizon: Civil War, Vol 2, September 2009
Tarizon: Target Earth, Vol 3, September 2010
Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8 Page 55
