by Erik Carter
She took a couple more quick, deep breaths, trying to slow her heart.
John continued to bounce on his feet. He stomped his right foot.
“I want candy. Please, please, please!”
“No, Andy!”
She just wished it would stop. That kid voice. She needed a break. Ten minutes. Just ten minutes to calm down, to gather her thoughts about Felix. Should she take time off work? Schedule some more appointments back in Lawrence?
She needed to talk to John.
“You’re so mean. I’m hungry. I want candy!”
Jane grabbed his shoulders.
“You know what I want? I want my brother. I want John.”
He brushed at her hands.
“Stop it.”
She squeezed tighter.
“I want to see John.”
His eyes went left to right. Frightened. His mouth opened.
She grabbed even tighter. “I want to talk to my brother. Where is he?”
He pushed at her hands, squirmed away from her. Tears formed in his eyes. “Leave me alone!”
She shook him hard. “Have you seen John? Huh? Have you, Andy?”
She was shaking him so violently now that his head swung about.
He swiped her hands away. “Stop it!”
He ran off. To the living room. Dropped onto the couch and pulled his legs in. The fetal position. He sobbed.
And Jane realized what she’d done.
Oh my god…
She ran to the couch, dropped to her knees beside him. He shuttled away from her.
“Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”
More sobbing. Louder. His face was between his knees. He held his arms protectively over his head.
Jane felt sick.
What had she done?
She sat on the couch beside him, reached out to him. He moved farther away.
“Andy, I’m so sorry. Janey didn’t mean it.”
“Leave me alone…” he said pitifully between sobs.
She reached out again, touched his shoulder.
“You know Janey would never do anything to hurt you, right?”
He shrugged. But his crying lessened somewhat.
She drew closer, put an arm around him.
“She wouldn’t,” she said and pulled him in. “Janey loves you. And John. And Rebecca and Walter.”
He let his head go to her shoulder.
She kissed the top of his shaggy hair.
He sniffled and put an arm around her, nuzzled his head against her neck. His warm tears dribbled onto her chest.
She rested her cheek on his head. “Shh. Shhhhhh…”
She rocked him gently and started singing.
“Hush little Andy don’t you cry. ’Cause Janey’s gonna sing you a lullaby…”
Jane wiped a tear away. She was embarrassed that she’d cried in front of Melbourne and Yorke.
“And that was the last time I’d seen John until today,” she said. “When I woke up the next morning, I found a note, signed by John. It said that he and Felix were on a mission and that Felix needed John to drive him to California. That he’d come back to Kansas after the mission was completed. John stole my car. He’s never even had a driver’s license. They arrested him five days later for the first robbery.”
“And you’ve been on the run ever since?” Yorke said.
Jane nodded. “I came back to California, and I’ve been laying low. So my father doesn’t find me. Under-the-table jobs. Apartment I pay for in cash.”
She looked at her brother again through the glass. She’d done it all for him. She’d do anything for her twin.
Melbourne crossed his arms. “Let’s hope somehow all that you’ve done for him will help to bring Jonathan back out.”
Jane sat on one side of the table with Melbourne and Yorke. And across from her was John.
Only a couple feet away.
It had been so long since she’d been this close to him. And yet it wasn’t him. It was Felix. It was surprising to Jane how easily she recognized John’s alters based solely on the way he held his face. She’d only met Felix once, but she recognized him immediately. His body language was more precise than John’s. He was more poised than the other alters. And there was a strong sense of purpose in his eyes.
Jane looked at Melbourne.
He nodded. “Go ahead.”
Jane turned to her brother. “Felix, do you recognize me?”
John shook his head. “I am afraid I do not.”
“I’d like to speak to John.”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“Jonathan,” she said.
Still he didn’t respond. His eyes turned to Melbourne and Yorke. “Who is this ‘Jonathan’ you are all seeking?”
“Look at me, Felix,” Jane said. “Really look at me. Are you sure you don’t recognize me?”
At first, John was exasperated. But then he squinted, confused. He studied her.
“You know,” he said. “Somehow I believe I do recognize you. But I fail to recall how.”
Jane’s spirits lifted for the first time in a long time. Just the smallest glimmer of hope.
She reached into her packet and took out a photo—the image of her and John from college. The one she kept on her desk. She’d taken it out of the frame. The two of them together, her arms around his shoulders, both smiling.
She handed him the photo. He studied it, his eyes still squinting.
Then John’s hands flew to his head.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Paulie stood in the living room of his estate, preparing to leave. Huge, floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room’s angular, modern decor with the pinkish light of dusk as the sun began to disappear. He and Danny’s figures cast long shadows onto the furniture.
Paulie threw on his jacket.
“And you’re sure they saw both of them?” he said to his son.
“Absolutely,” Danny said. “First, John was taken in, and now Janey walked in of her own free will. They said her hair’s black now.”
Danny scoffed.
Paulie buttoned the jacket.
“Let’s roll.”
Paulie stepped outside to the wraparound, cobblestone driveway with a group of men behind him, including Danny. There were several cars parked along the drive, and he, Danny, and his driver went to the Rolls-Royce.
There was a flash of light, something at the gate at the end of his drive. His men had seen it too. Urgent voices.
It was a small caravan of vehicles, luxury machines like those lining Paulie’s drive. Several men, all wearing suits, stepped out of the cars and approached his gate.
The silver-haired man leading the group was Angelo Alfonsi.
Paulie hesitated, and his instinct pulled himself toward the small gun strapped to his ankle. But he restrained.
There were noises from his boys, metallic sounds as they grabbed their guns. But Paulie waived them off, giving them a look that told them to keep their weapons at bay.
He did so because Angelo had his hands in the air as he approached the gate. The hands of all his men were also visible and free of guns. Walking beside Angelo, on either side of him, were his sons, Mateo and Marco. This was an unorthodox move for sure, but whatever Angelo had in mind, it was nonviolent.
At least for the moment.
Paulie and his men slowly walked down the drive. Angelo waited on the other side of the gate, his hands remaining in the air, as they approached.
As Paulie drew closer to his visitors, he saw a neutral expression in Angelo’s green eyes. He stopped a couple feet from the gate.
They were face-to-face for the first time in at least five years or so. And only the third time ever.
“There has been too much bloodshed,” Angelo said. “And I want you to know that it is not of my doing, but it is my fault. For not reeling in my boy.”
He motioned toward Marco, who shifted uncomfortably and looked away from Paulie.
“He’s the one,” Angelo continued. “He
hired El Vacío to track down your son.”
Paulie could have pulled his gun from his ankle holster and shot Marco dead right in front of his father.
But he restrained.
Marco continued to look away.
“And you came here to turn him over to us, I hope,” Paulie said in jest, controlling the rage that coursed through him.
“You know I can’t do that, Paulie. What I’m offering is our help in returning your son to you. Whatever assistance you need, we’re at your disposal. It can’t change what my son has done, but it can put an end to the violence.”
Angelo looked at Paulie for a moment before continuing.
“From one father to another,” Angelo said, “I want you to know that my intentions here are noble. Omertà.”
Paulie turned to Danny, standing beside him, then looked to his other men and back to Angelo.
“I accept your offer,” Paulie said. “And you can start making things right immediately. Come with us to the Hall of Justice. We’re paying a little visit to the DA’s office.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Felix was in the darkness. A void.
For a moment, he was frightened. But only for a moment. Because although it was a strange place—surreal and empty—there was something familiar about it.
He heard a voice.
“Hello, Felix.”
It was the same voice he’d been hearing lately. The voice that had tormented him so. His mania.
A figure materialized. A man. Felix’s height. Shaggy hair. He wore bizarre, square-framed spectacles.
And somehow Felix knew the man’s name. He said it.
“Jonathan?”
The other man nodded.
“What is happening?” Felix said. “I do not understand.”
“It’s time for me to return,” Jonathan said.
Felix was completely perplexed, but an overwhelming desire overcame his confusion.
He couldn’t fail his goals.
“No!” Felix said. “My mission…”
Jonathan put his hand on Felix’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Felix. I won’t let history forget the people who died. I’ll figure out a way to get the truth out about the quake. A better way. A peaceful way.”
“But—”
“You have to trust me,” Jonathan said with a pure, meaningful look in his eyes.
And for some reason, Felix did trust him.
Felix fell asleep.
Jonathan Fair blinked his eyes. His chin was resting on his chest, and as he looked up, he saw his sister and two strangers sitting across the table from him.
His sister.
He hadn’t seen her in what felt like forever, not since Felix had convinced him to drive him to California on his quest.
“Jane!”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached out across the table. He took her hands.
The room around them was small, dingy, and with the large mirror on the wall to his left, he recognized it as an interrogation room.
A bearded man and a blonde woman sat on either side of Jane. Official-looking people. Cops.
“Jane,” he said. “I think I’ve lost time again.”
“You have, John,” she said. A tear fell down her cheek.
“Something happened, didn’t it?” he said, looking at the other two. “Something with Felix.”
The man spoke. “Jonathan, my name is Tim Melbourne, and this is Hanna Yorke. Your alter, Felix Lyons, has broken out of Napa State Hospital and committed multiple robberies across San Francisco the last several days. Do you have any recollection of these activities?”
John looked away and thought hard. Everything was so unclear. Foggy.
“I was researching the 1906 earthquake cover-up. In Topeka. And…”
He stopped and thought for a moment.
“And a new alter came out. Felix. He said he was strong enough to complete the mission, to get the message out about the truth I’d discovered about the quake. He needed my help. Coordination. And a ride to California.”
More thinking.
“He robbed a bank he said belongs to Abe Ruef. I tried to convince him not to, but he overpowered me. Took over completely from me and the alters. I didn’t know Felix would do something so radical. I thought he was going to make speeches or something. The police captured him. We went to… to Napa State Hospital. ‘Innocent by reason of insanity.’ I pushed Felix away at this point and took total control.”
Melbourne held up a black-and-white photo. “Did you meet this man at the hospital?”
“Yes,” John said, nodding as more recollection flooded him. “Lee Kimble. He was a… prosecutor.”
More memories came back to John. Long talks with Kimble at the cafeteria and in the common space.
“Lee took an interest in my earthquake findings. Someone with a shared interest in history. He believed my theory.”
“And was this when Felix returned?” Yorke said.
John thought about this.
“Yes, as a matter fact it was. Kimble started asking me about multiple personality disorder. He was very curious. Everyone always is. And he asked about the personality who had landed me in the hospital. He ... he wanted to meet Felix. And then...”
He stopped. Because now he had to think hard. The memories were getting foggier.
“Then the two of them began having conversations. Felix and Kimble. Felix grew stronger and kept the rest of us away when the two of them would talk.”
“Were you ever able to hear what they were talking about?” Melbourne said.
“Just once. I was pulled through for a moment. Just a few seconds. What Felix was saying sounded familiar to me. He was talking about something that couldn’t be felled. Not ‘filled.’ ‘Felled.’ Like, knocked over. He said people kept trying to bring it down, but they couldn’t. Even nature couldn’t bring it down. And then Kimble said something like, ‘Then that will be our safe house. Isolated. Far from the city.’ Then I faded out again.”
Melbourne and Yorke looked at each other.
“You shared your theory with Kimble,” Yorke said. “What did he share with you?”
“He told me he didn’t commit the crime he was sentenced for.”
“Everyone’s innocent in jail,” Melbourne said with a grin. “Or a state hospital, in this case.”
John shook his head. “Kimble didn’t just say that he was innocent. He said he was set up. That he was framed. By Beau Lawton.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
El Vacío wore a shaggy Beatles wig, a pair of cheap plastic glasses with square frames and no lenses, and a tie-dyed T-shirt with big white letters that read, Where, Oh Where Is Jonathan Fair?
It was almost completely dark, the sky still faintly pink. The air was already a bit cool. He stood among the teeming mass of people on the steps of the San Francisco Hall of Justice.
If he’d thought the mob mentality was disturbing back in the Financial District when he’d witnessed Jonathan Fair’s arrest, here it was positively revolting. A circus atmosphere. Vendors selling the souvenir shirts and glasses. People with deranged, perpetual smiles and nothing better to do with their time than latching onto this phenomenon, which evidentially gave them some sense of worth. Scum-sucking reporters staring at the building, idly discussing angles with their cameramen as they awaited the latest activity.
El Vacío had his own reasons for monitoring the building. Of course, he knew that the cop had already brought Jonathan Fair in. But not long ago, Fair’s sister, Jane, had also entered the building. When the deputy marshal had made her announcement to the press, she’d ask that Jane come in to help them break through to Jonathan. This meant that they likely had Jane and her brother in the same room.
Which would complicate things further for El Vacío...
If he chose to raid the building.
Suddenly there was a bustle of activity in the crowd. All of the reporters rushed toward Bryant Street, their cameramen in tow,
turning on their cameras’ lights.
A fleet of luxury vehicles slowly pulled up, parking among the cars and news vans. A rear door on a Rolls-Royce opened. And out walked the massive Big Paul, head of the Fair family. He stood for a moment, buttoning his jacket and looking at the Hall as the reporters approached him. Then he glanced to his left, where someone else was exiting a limousine. It was Angelo Alfonsi, San Francisco’s other mob boss, Big Paul’s rival.
The two men gave each other a nod. And then they both headed toward the Hall, meeting up and walking together as the reporters converged upon them.
The crowd shifted toward the men as they worked their way toward the building, hounded by the media. El Vacío moved with the crowd.
Almost nothing surprised El Vacío in his line of work, but a collaboration between the Fairs and Alfonsis was extremely unexpected.
And it might very well change his plans entirely.
Chapter Forty
Dale bolted up in his chair. He glanced at Yorke. She shifted uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry,” Dale said to Fair, “but did you just say that Kimble told you he was set up by Beau Lawton?”
Fair nodded. “Before he and Felix started talking, Kimble began opening up to me. He told me about his problems with Lawton. They’d been best friends when they were both climbing the ranks in the DA’s Office. Lawton felt threatened by Lee. And when their office was working the Red Riding Hood case, Lee was arrested after they found the red sweatshirts and girls’ underwear in his apartment. He told me Lawton had access to the apartment. Lee had given him a key, a place to stumble back to on the weekends. Lawton also had access to the crime scenes. Lee said Lawton was the only one with access to both the evidence and his apartment.”
“Why would Lawton do it?” Dale said.
“To eliminate the competition. Lee said Lawton’s dream was to become DA.”
Dale faced Yorke. “You did say that Beau was power-hungry.”
Her face was long, eyes confused. She slowly shook her head.
