by Adam Graham
Dave glanced at Naomi’s book on talking to kids about sex. What could he tell James that he wouldn’t get from school or church? Why did it matter if he talked with James?
Why was he so afraid of it?
He touched the book and absorbed its contents all at once. “Wow, I didn’t know that.”
He swallowed. There was something he could tell James. Something he needed to tell James. He swallowed. “God, give me strength.”
The Pharaoh reclined in his underground lair with Fournier and Varlock standing by his desk. “We’ve spoken enough of your failures, Varlock. You did bring in thugs we can use to fight Powerhouse and keep him worn down.”
Fournier said, “I take it you haven’t seen the news within the last twenty minutes. Big Gray caught twenty-five people who were wanted by the San Francisco police and has vowed to round up all of the wanted fugitives who have hidden in Seattle.”
The Pharaoh grimaced. “So, unlike Powerhouse, he’s not waiting for them to strike. Okay, get everyone that’s wanted by the police out of town.”
Fournier snickered. “It’ll hardly take an order to convince them, sir.”
“Now we have to formulate a new plan to get Powerhouse.”
“That will be difficult. Big Gray announced he’ll be pinch hitting for him for two weeks.”
Pharaoh slapped his forehead. Where was his liquor bottle? He glanced at Albert and growled. “We need to find out where Powerhouse is holed up and take him out. Get with someone who can check for satellite images. Varlock, assist Fournier with whatever he needs. Now, get out of here.”
Varlock gasped. “Me? Assist him? You want me to assist him? Him I am to assist?”
“Yes,” the Pharaoh said.
Varlock laughed. “As you wish. Let’s go, Fournier.”
The two left.
Farrow fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.
If he didn’t find Powerhouse and quick, all this scheming would have accomplished less than nothing as he would still have a dead daughter.
Powerhouse hugged Derrick. “I love you, son.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Derrick headed back to camp. James emerged from behind a boulder.
Powerhouse swallowed. “Hey, son. Everything going good at camp?”
“Yeah.” James hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets. “I’m the top scorer in soccer and getting b-better at archery. We’ve also been learning a lot in the Bible class.”
“Good.” Powerhouse escorted James to a boulder. “Son, it’s been a while since I’ve been by, and I’m sorry about it.”
James shrugged. “The other parents only ever come on visiting day.”
Powerhouse plopped on the rock, scanned the area to ensure it was clear of onlookers, and removed his helmet. “Sit down.”
James sat on the other side of the rock.
Dave swished the helmet around in his hands. So where to begin? “You remember when you were a baby?”
“Uh, no.”
“You were a cute baby. Though, you did have this habit of taking off your clothes all the time. That was embarrassing in public.”
James turned red. “D-dad.”
“Then in Kindergarten you were so excited to go on the field trip and go to the petting zoo. You got up extra early and rushed downstairs with your pants on backwards.”
“D-d-dad.”
“Your mom fixed you after waking me up and taking pictures.”
James snorted. “I’m not a little kid any more.”
Dave nodded. “That’s what’s so scary. To me, you turning thirteen feels like the Neogenic Nightmare from the Spider-man cartoons, except instead of mutating into a spider creature, my little boy is becoming a man.”
“We do that.” James patted Dave’s shoulder. “Don’t freak out.”
“When I was going through puberty, my dad and grandfather were both already gone, so I didn’t know what assistance I was supposed to give you or how to give it. Your mom got me a book that’s helped me. Some of this is technical stuff that neither of us wants to talk about, but it’s important. Here’s one thing you need to know first.” Dave put his arm around his son. “You’re changing and dealing with feelings, emotions, and temptations you’ve never dealt with before. It can be confusing and scary sometimes. That’s normal.”
James blinked. “It is?”
“Yeah, it is. What I want you to know is, no matter what, I love you and God loves you. I may not agree with every choice you make, but I’ll seek to be a safe person for you to consult.”
“Thanks.”
Dave sighed. Now to get into all the technical stuff.
Powerhouse zoomed upwards as he flew back to Bryerton. He dived as he did a loop de loop in the sky.
Powerhouse smiled. It’d been such a long time since he’d enjoyed a good flight. “Woo hoo!”
It was like riding the world’s greatest roller coaster, and he and Zolgron had it all to themselves. “Thank you, Lord.”
He zoomed down and landed in the backyard of his home, changed into mild mannered husband Dave Johnson and ran inside. “Hey Naomi!” Where was she? Wherever she’d gone, her vacation should be over by now.
Maybe the van was just pulling in. He headed out to the garage. Only his F-150 was parked there. I better call the dealership and make sure they get the new car here in time. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number.
The line rang five times.
“Hi, this is Naomi. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
Maybe she’d sent him some messages. He hung up and checked his voice mail.
After that turned up nada, he frowned. Maybe she’d posted something on her social networking. Dave pulled up her profile on his phone and gasped.
It’d been fifteen days since she posted. That didn’t ever happen. And, thinking about it, shouldn’t she have been back from her vacation a week ago?
Had he missed any notes? Dave marched into the bedroom and peered around. Guess not. He dialed her number again. “Come on, pick up.”
A phone rang by Naomi’s bed stand.
Dave gasped. She’d left her phone at home? She’d never do that—at least not of her own accord.
He opened his address book and called the entry listed under A.
“Polk here,” a voice answered.
“Agent Polk, this is Dave Johnson. My wife’s been kidnapped!”
Chapter 16
The Prime Suspect
Polk sat down across from Dave in the living room. “Dave, you need to call the police.”
“But you look into these things.”
“The FBI investigates kidnappings, but there’s not enough evidence of that. There was no ransom note and no voice messages. It’s true you didn’t notice any luggage or clothing missing, but she could’ve bought new ones, and you’ve admitted you don’t do the laundry. We checked your online banking and found she took a substantial withdrawal from your joint savings account. It doesn’t look she was kidnapped.”
“What does it look like?”
Polk cleared his throat. “I don’t want to speculate. The police will check and find out where she is. Where did she go on vacation?”
“She only said where she wasn’t going, to Paris.”
“I can check with the State Department and see if they have any news on her passport to any other countries, but that’s about it.”
Dave sighed. “Okay, I’ll call the cops. I wonder what they’ll think.”
Varlock’s platform boots pounded the linoleum floor of the Pharaoh’s underground lair. Pharaoh groaned and slouched in his office chair. Time for my daily dose of stupid.
Varlock grinned. “I don’t know how you did it, but congratulations, sir. I wish I’d thought of kidnapping the Johnson woman, framing her husband, and putting a big spread on the Seattle Guardian website.”
The Pharaoh snorted. So Varlock was under the impression every single story in the Guardian was personall
y his doing. “Would you mean the CEO of Powerhouse Incorporated?”
Varlock sneered. “So you didn’t know about this operation? How can you not know what’s on the Guardian’s website? You’re the boss.”
“I’m also running a legitimate corporation and a crime syndicate. I can’t follow every story we put out.” He pulled up the story, skimmed through it, and laughed. “So this guy told police he noticed his wife was missing one week after she was supposed to have returned from her vacation without her telling anyone where she was going. Fantastic. I need to find out if this guy goes to church and get that included in any future stories on this.” Nothing better than murderous Christian hypocrites. “Probably murdered his wife because she wouldn’t submit to him.”
“That makes him somewhat civilized.” Varlock stuck out his tongue. “If my people engaged in that grotesque practice known as marriage, the stronger spouse would eventually be obligated to murder the weaker.”
King Bel should force the war lord’s violent culture to assimilate into his empire’s peaceful utopia. The Pharaoh bit his lip. If the guy had killed his wife, why would he wait a week to report her missing?
That’d be up to the cops to explain.
Dave Johnson leaned towards the officer in an interrogation room. It was dimly lit except for a glaring overhead light.
The beefy cop leaned forward. “Let’s make this simple. Where did you hide the body?”
“I didn’t.”
“If you didn’t hide it, what did you do with it?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“So where did you leave your wife’s corpse after you murdered her?”
Dave gasped. He’d never do that to her. “I didn’t kill her! She’s alive, but I can’t find her. I want her back. That’s why I came to you.”
“So somebody else hid the body?”
“There’s not a body.” Dave quivered. There couldn’t be a body.
“Where were you while your wife was gone an extra week?”
“I can’t say.”
“Is that a fact? This is a murder investigation, pal. You better talk.”
Dave slammed his fist on the desk, breaking it in two. “Stop wasting time harassing me and find my wife!”
“Quite a temper you got there. Bet you could kill me right now. But I got a gun, so I suggest you tell me where you put the body.”
“Am I under arrest?”
Beefy said, “Not yet, but I am going to nail you for this, with or without your cooperation. You think you can get away with killing your wife and play us for fools? Get out. You disgust me.”
Time to go call his lawyer and sue Beefy out of a job. Dave stormed out of the police station and into a crowd of camera men.
“Mr. Johnson, did you kill your wife?”
“You expect us to believe your wife was missing for a week before you noticed? Why? What were you doing all that time?”
“How long did you torture her before you killed her?”
Dave ran as fast as he could without achieving superspeed, got in his car, and pulled out onto the road. Whatever would he tell the kids? Sorry, boys, I’ve misplaced your mother.
Twenty minutes later, he reached his street.
Outside his house were a ton of reporters.
“Drat.” Dave drove past his house, turned right down a side street, and parked behind a foreclosed house. He glanced around. No one in sight.
He got out of the truck, turned himself into a St. Bernard, and scampered down the street to his house. Once he’d superimagined the kitchen door open, he shifted back into Dave Johnson. Made it.
In the living room, he flopped on his blue leather chair and flipped on the TV. On the news, a blonde anchor smiled into the camera. “We’re talking about the disappearance of Naomi Johnson, the Powerhouse Incorporated CEO. Many people close to the police view her husband as a suspect in the disappearance. Bob Rice, do you think it’s justified?”
A middle-aged man said, “There’s no proof that nothing happened to Naomi Johnson, and her husband’s story is suspicious.”
“Something we should emphasize.” The host nodded. “If there was foul play, how bad could it be?”
“Usually, when a husband kills his wife, it’s brutal.”
The host said, “So, we don’t know for sure, but Naomi Johnson could potentially have been brutally murdered by her own husband. This is Cheryl McGee, and we’ll be right back.”
“No!” She wasn’t murdered somewhere. Was she? Dave jumped up and paced around the living room. His cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and swallowed. It was Carmella.
After he picked up, Carmella’s voice came across as sharp as it did the time he missed Derrick’s birth while watching the latest superhero film. “Dave, Randy and I just got back. We heard about Naomi on the news. How could you not notice she was a week late back from vacation?”
“Sorry! I was barely sleeping. I’ve been lucky if I knew what day it was. Once, I tried to make it to church only to find out it was Monday morning.”
“I can’t believe you lost Naomi! How could you?”
“There’s no good reason. I just got carried away.”
“So did Naomi!” Carmella’s voice grew higher pitched. “Powerhouse has a lot of enemies. She could be in real trouble.”
Dave swallowed. “You don’t have to tell me.”
Carmella blew out a breath in his ear. “Fine. Let’s pray about this.”
“Okay.” Dave closed his eyes. “God, I can’t believe I misplaced my wife like she’s car keys. I’ve been such a jerk. I’m sorry. Please bring Naomi home.”
Carmella said, “Lord, we lose perspective. Forgive us. Wherever Naomi is, keep her safe. Lead us to her. Give us wisdom. In Jesus name. Amen.”
“Amen.” Dave opened his eyes. “The media and the cops are convinced she’s dead and are busy blaming me instead of spreading the word about her disappearance and helping find her.”
“Dave, don’t you think Powerhouse could put those rumors to rest?”
The Pharaoh watched Powerhouse’s press conference on the television in his underground lair.
Powerhouse white-knuckled the mic in his hand. “I am convinced Dave Johnson is innocent. He’d no more kill my CEO than I would, and I’d never, ever do that. The media needs to stop hounding him and help me find Naomi Johnson. I’m committing my full attention to this effort, and I would urge law enforcement and media to do the same.”
The Pharaoh blinked. Something was wrong.
Powerhouse’s voice filled with emotion. “If Mrs. Johnson is listening to this, I want to assure her of one thing. We will find you, Mama Johnson. If the people responsible for her disappearance are listening, you will not escape my wrath. That is a promise.”
The Pharaoh grinned. Oh but he knew this fury.
It was what he’d felt when the Church had stolen his beloved, rational wife from him and had replaced her with a religious pod person. The Pharaoh leaned back. Powerhouse wasn’t talking about his CEO. He was talking about his lover. Powerhouse was sleeping with Dave Johnson’s wife.
Unless Dave Johnson was Powerhouse.
“Moron!” Pharaoh slapped his forehead. “Why would he hire a person with a French History degree and experience in mortgage banking as his CEO? Only one thing explains that, good old-fashioned nepotism.”
He held his chin. Unless Powerhouse worked for a rival interdimensional alien who’d hired her just as he’d gotten his job with a journalism degree and more cynicism than anyone on the planet. The simplest answer was probably the truth, though.
He flipped open his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Fournier. “I know who Powerhouse is. Dave Johnson.”
Fournier asked, “What will you do now that you know who he is?”
Good question. “I’ll need evidence to back up my hunch. I want one of your hacker friends to get me a full dossier on Dave Johnson.”
“Please take this as a friendly reminder from a collea
gue who doesn’t want to see our good relationship soiled. The last time I had an employer sink to kidnapping children and attempting to murder them, I walked.”
“Fournier, if we catch any of our associates hurting kids, you can ride with me to the police station. I’ve got justifiable ways of using this. Just get me the information.”
Naomi rode her stallion through the forest. “Cyrus, what should I do?”
Cyrus snorted. “Why are you bothering me? I’m a horse. Stick to horse business.”
Naomi sighed. That had always been the thing about talking to animals when she was growing up. They’d just let her talk. Now that wouldn’t work. Maybe she could talk but not to Cyrus. No, that’d be rude.
In the distance, dogs barked as dozens of men cheered.
It was a dog fight. This raid could get nasty quick. No sense in putting Cyrus in danger. She pulled on the reigns. “Whoa, boy.”
The horse stopped.
She dismounted. “Head back to camp and help yourself to your hay.”
“Food!” The horse ran off.
“Change into Justice Woman.” She transformed into her Justice Woman outfit and dashed through the forest.
She came across a barn and scanned it with her X-ray vision. A crowd of men surrounded a Doberman attacking a badly wounded pit bull.
Naomi snatched up a garden hose. “I need a spray attachment.”
It appeared.
She burst through the wall with the hose and blasted water at both dogs.
A man with leathered skin stood. “What do you think you’re doin’ here?”
“I’m shutting this down.”
“We got a different opinion. Boys.”
Seven men at the front stood up. One had a rifle and pointed it at her.
“Too bad your gun is jammed.”
Rifle guy clicked the rifle’s trigger uselessly.
The leathered man sneered. “Get her, boys.”
