Path of Secrets

by D. F. Hart

  “I didn’t give twelve years of my life in blood, sweat and tears with Seattle PD and stand for the dead just to come here and listen to you be an asshole,” she snarled as she got in the kid’s face. “You know exactly dick about the career you’re getting yourself into, buddy. You think it’s all glamorous, like some freaking movie. But this ain’t a movie. It’s not some damn video game. There’s no reset button. And your attitude will get somebody killed unless you pull your head out of your ass and realize what working in law enforcement really means.”

  And with that, Lizzie turned on her heel and strode out of the simulation room, leaving a stunned group and a chastened, embarrassed trainee in her wake.

  Shaking with rage, she headed down the hill to the start of the obstacle course to work through her anger.

  Two hours and two full trips through the course later, she’d managed to throttle back to just supremely irritated.

  ***

  Late that afternoon, Grant pulled out of his driveway and headed west toward Abilene. He’d selected guaranteed late arrival during his booking with a hotel about a half-hour from Fort Phantom Hill and was looking forward to the next day’s activities with Benji Patterson.

  Unbeknownst to him, the killer had just settled into his own hotel room in the small town of Albany, just south of Fort Griffin. He’d spent the day walking both historic sites and he’d already made his decision on when and how best to strike the next blow.

  As Grant drove, his secret stalker unpacked his overnight bag, then set an alarm before taking a nap.

  ***

  “How long before you get your certification paperwork?” Trish asked as the waiter poured their wine.

  “The folks at the testing center weren’t sure,” Joe replied. “But the printout I got had a website listed on it, so I’ll look into that and confirm. From everything I’ve heard, though, I should see the paperwork in the next few weeks.”

  “How exciting!” Trish exclaimed. “Honey, you already look less stressed out.”

  “That’s because I am less stressed out,” he told her, and kissed her hand. “With any luck, I won’t have to try to solve any more murders ever again. I can stick to simple stuff... like jewelry theft or insurance fraud.”

  “Or cheaters,” she pointed out. “There’s a great big market in catching cheaters, don’t forget.”

  He rolled his eyes and she laughed. “What? Just saying.”

  “I know, I know,” he answered. “Not really my cup of tea, but I suppose it could have some entertainment value.”

  They toasted and drank, then Joe asked, “So, anything exciting happen at the lab today?’

  “Not really,” Trish’s nose wrinkled. “Kind of slow, actually. Which is good, I guess. Less to process means less crime going on, right?”

  Joe nodded.

  “Hey, before I forget,” she said suddenly. “We’ve been invited up to my sister-in-law’s house for Memorial Day weekend. She said we can stay with her, or we can bunk in their lakeside cabin, our choice.”

  Joe’s ears perked up.

  “Lakeside cabin?”

  “Yep,” Trish confirmed. “Right on the water. You can fish right off the dock that’s connected to the back porch.”

  “I love to fish! Haven’t been in ages,” Joe said with longing.

  “You do? Me too!” his wife agreed, surprising him. “It’s so relaxing.”

  “Well, then,” he rejoined. “This day’s getting better and better. I passed my test, I’m having an amazing meal with my incredibly beautiful wife, and it sounds like we’ll be spending a long weekend on the water soon.”

  ***

  Grant arrived at Fort Phantom Hill a few minutes ahead of schedule on March thirtieth, and once again, Benji Patterson was waiting, leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to the entrance.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Patterson,” Grant began, holding out his hand.

  Benji eyed him up and down then shook Grant’s hand briefly. “Glad to see you wore hiking boots. There are rattlesnakes out here, you know. Let’s move, lots to cover.”

  As they walked side-by-side Benji casually asked, “So. Last time you hightailed it out of here in a hurry. Everything turn out okay?”

  And although the old man took great pains not to show it, his heart hurt for the young man when Grant answered sadly, “No. I lost my dad.”

  Benji cleared his throat to maintain his prickly exterior. “Oh. Sorry about that,” he began, and launched directly into the history of Fort Phantom Hill.

  “In 1851, the U.S. Army had eight regiments of infantry, consisting of ten companies each. They sent five companies of soldiers – about six percent of their entire infantry – to this ground you and I are walking around on to establish a fort. Phantom Hill was the result.”

  Benji paused for effect, then continued.

  “The soldiers walked here. Left Fort Belknap on November sixth and arrived here November fourteenth, some one hundred miles later. But some who started the journey didn’t make it. They got caught in a blue norther. One teamster with the Quartermaster’s wagons died from the cold, as well as twenty-seven animals.”

  “Wow,” Grant said thoughtfully.

  “Yep. Makes ya appreciate motor vehicles, don’t it?”

  “Yes, sir, it sure does.”

  Benji cackled.

  “Anyway, once they got here, they had to construct the fort out of whatever they could find. Started off livin in tents and moved to crude housing made out of rough logs and thatched roofs. Each material presented its own challenges. But the Army hired carpenters to travel out and help build, too. Over time some of the other buildings were made using stone, like the two-story commissary toward the back side of the fort that we’ll see. The thatched roof and second story walls are long gone now, but of all the forts here in Texas the commissary here was the most well-constructed.”

  “So why did the fort close?”

  Benji grunted. “Several reasons. For one, Comanche attacks in the region stepped up, became more violent. The Indian Agent at the post, Jesse Stem, was killed in February 1854 by Indians. And then Newton Givens, a first lieutenant in the Second Dragoons, finally ordered the fort closed on April fourth, 1854. He also set the fort on fire as he and his small garrison left. The place was used by civilians for a while, but by 1892 everybody had moved on, most of them to Abilene. A letter to the San Antonio Express that same year referred to Phantom Hill having ‘one hotel, one saloon, one general store, one blacksmith shop, and 10,000 prairie dogs.’”

  ***

  “You think we have time to see Fort Griffin today?” Grant asked when they returned to the parking lot.

  “Not and do it any justice,” Benji replied. “Griffin is on two hundred acres, so it’s more spread out and has a lot more to see than this one does. By way of comparison, Phantom Hill only covered twenty acres. And more’s been preserved at Griffin. We’ll head up there in the morning.”

  “So, what’s next?”

  “I was thinking dinner,” the old man said, almost to himself. “You’re welcome to tag along.”

  “Sounds good,” Grant said with enthusiasm.

  “Good, ‘cause you’re buying, sonny,” Benji proclaimed, and cackled. “Follow me.”

  Twenty minutes later Grant was pulling into a parking spot next to Benji’s truck.

  “This place has the best damn barbeque in the county,” Benji announced as he pointed at the sign. “Come on, you’re in for a real treat.”

  A tinkling bell over the door sounded as they walked in.

  “Hey there Mr. Patterson,” the lady behind the counter called out. “How are you today?”

  “I’m doing well, Isabel. I was just telling my friend Grant here about your delicious barbeque.”

  “I’m partial to it, myself,” she agreed with a grin. “You want your usual, Mr. Patterson?”

  “Yep,” he said, then gestured toward Grant. “And he’s buying.”

  ***r />
  Lizzie was sitting at a table in the commissary when she sensed someone approaching. She looked up and narrowed her eyes.

  “May I help you?” she asked Jones.

  “Um,” he stammered, and she could see the swagger he’d brought with him to Quantico had evaporated. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

  Lizzie’s left eyebrow arched.

  “It’s a free country,” she answered, keeping her voice cool and neutral.

  “Thanks,” he murmured, taking the seat opposite hers.

  Several moments of uncomfortable silence stretched between them before he blurted out, “I’m sorry I was such a dick to you.”

  She smiled. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step.”

  He swallowed hard. “No, seriously. I’m sorry. I was way, way out of line. And you were totally right about me. I had this... ideal, this vision in my head of what being an agent would be like. Not once did I ever picture anything like getting shot.”

  She gazed at him for several seconds, then softly said, “Apology accepted, Jones.”

  He blew out a sigh of relief. “Can I ask you questions about your time with Seattle PD?”

  “Sure. I’m happy to answer whatever you wanna ask me.”

  “How’d you get started in law enforcement?” was Jones’ first of several questions over the next two hours.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As they’d previously arranged, Grant swung by Benji’s place to pick him up at nine a.m. the following morning, which caused quite a stir among Benji Patterson’s neighbors.

  “He never has any visitors,” Adam Suernot, Benji’s neighbor at the end of the block, mumbled to himself as he waved when they drove past. “Kid must be here against his will or something.”

  He shuffled back up his front steps to go share his joke with his wife Shirley as Grant’s gray Toyota continued on its way.

  “Friendly folks on your street,” Grant observed as they left the small subdivision en route to Fort Griffin.

  “Hmph,” came the reply from his passenger seat.

  It’s gonna be a long day, I think, Grant internalized before he asked, “Any good breakfast places on the way?”

  “Waffle House about five minutes from here,” Benji revealed. “Take a right at the next light.”

  Within minutes they were walking into the Waffle House, where a tiny woman in her mid-fifties with bouffant hair and a plethora of pins and buttons on her apron waved merrily from behind the bar-height counter.

  “Benji! How’re you doing, sugar?” she called out as he approached.

  Grant almost fell over when he saw the old man smile at her but wisely kept his reaction to himself.

  “Fine, Beverly. How are you?” he answered, making his way to the far corner booth.

  “Have a seat, sugar, I’ll be right there with your coffee,” she sang out, then turned to the cook and rattled off the last order she’d taken.

  Grant glanced at Benji while pretending to look at the menu and was dumbstruck by his companion’s expression.

  Benji was totally focused on Beverly, his typical standoffish frown replaced with a small smile and a dreamy look as he watched her drop off plates of food to one table, then hustle back behind the counter to fill two glasses with ice water and pour a cup of coffee.

  Huh. Would you look at that. He’s in love, Grant realized. That thought was followed immediately by and he would probably be mortified if he could see his face right now...

  Grant gently cleared his throat to get Benji’s attention and spare the man any possible embarrassment in front of Beverly.

  “What?” Benji barked, his expression turning dour again just before Beverly pivoted and came to their booth with the coffee and waters.

  “What’s good here?” Grant asked.

  “I stick with the special,” Benji grunted.

  “Hi there,” Beverly said to Grant. “I know this cutie over here,” she indicated to Benji, smiling when she noticed his ears turn red, “but I haven’t seen you before. I’ve got a thing for faces. What can I get you to drink?”

  “I’ll take a coffee, please.”

  “And are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll take the special, Bev,” Benji said gruffly as he added creamer to his mug.

  “Hm. Pecan waffle, bacon, and hash browns for me.”

  She scribbled on her notepad. “How would you like your hash browns, hon?”

  Grant reviewed the options and selected ‘scattered and covered’ – Waffle House lingo for hash browns with cheese.

  “All right, I’ll get this order right in for ya’ll,” Beverly said, and walked away.

  “So,” Grant began, “we’re about an hour from Fort Griffin, right?”

  “Yep,” Benji answered after he took a sip of coffee.

  The two men fell silent, each lost in his own thoughts, and Grant was surprised at how quickly the food arrived. Beverly topped off their coffee and was rewarded with what Grant was certain was a rare wink/smile combination from his grumpy tour guide.

  Gonna have to ask him about that later, Grant thought to himself, and smirked.

  “What?” Benji said.

  “Nothing,” Grant replied evasively. “Just... really good food.”

  Twenty minutes later they were back in the car on their way to Fort Griffin.

  ***

  The lab was slow enough that Trish decided to pull up some cold case files and re-run fingerprint searches in the database. While that was in motion, she waded through and tidied up her email inbox, then looked at the clock and sighed.

  Not even ten a.m. yet...It’s going to be a very long day.

  ***

  Jones listened intently to Lizzie’s instructions.

  “You ready?”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “You can do this, Jones. I know you can. Just focus. Okay, here we go.”

  She walked over to stand next to the instructor, who gave the control booth the thumbs-up sign, and the simulation was underway.

  Twenty minutes later, when Jones had finally for the first time ever successfully passed the simulation, he whooped for joy - and caught Lizzie completely off guard when he abruptly lifted her off the ground and swung her in a circle.

  “Put. Me. Down,” she commanded after a moment of shocked silence, and he turned stark white.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled and set her down gently. “Got carried away.”

  She grinned in spite of herself. “You did good. Just... no picking me up. All right? High-fives work just fine.”

  “Okay,” the kid said, and grinned back. “Works for me.”

  “Nice work, Jones,” the instructor intoned. “Knew you could get through this one.”

  “Thanks to some tips I got,” Jones said, and looked at Lizzie with gratitude.

  “You always had the ability,” she told him. “You just needed to adjust the mindset.”

  “You’re due on the range, Jones,” the instructor reminded him, and he nodded his understanding.

  “Thanks again, Zim. See you later?”

  “Yep,” Lizzie confirmed, and watched him go.

  “Walk with me for a minute,” the instructor said cryptically, and motioned to the door.

  “Off the record - what are your thoughts about Jones?” the instructor asked her quietly once they were outside and he’d confirmed no one else was around.

  “Off the record?” Her eyebrows shot up.

  “Yeah. Off the record. Technically, I shouldn’t be talking with you about any other trainee, Lizzie. But you’ve been on the job a long time, and I am pretty sure you’ve got some good insights as a result. So, what about Jones? What’s your take?”

  “He’s got some good skills,” she replied thoughtfully. “And he’s improved since he got that fairy tale vision out of his brain. But to be honest, I just can’t get a feel for how he’d do under fire in a real-life situation. He might stand up just like he’s been trained to do, and he might fall completely apart. The
re’s really no way to know until you’re in that situation.”

  “I can’t either,” came the reply. “And that concerns me. I can usually tell which newbies are more likely to be a risk. Him, I just don’t know.”

  ***

  Grant’s eyebrows raised as they parked in front of the visitor’s center at Fort Griffin.

  “You weren’t kidding. This place is much larger than Phantom Hill.”

  “Yep,” Benji said. “It was established after the Civil War. 1867, to be exact. Settlers in this area were having run-ins with Comanches and Kiowas, so the U.S. Calvary came and built this fort.”

  “Interesting.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. Once the fort was completed, a settlement sprang up just down the hill from it. Started off being called ‘The Flat’, then later it took on the fort’s name. Lots of people you’ve probably heard of came through that town. Wyatt Earp first met Doc Holliday in a saloon just down the hill from where we’re standing. John Wesley Hardin frequented the town, as did Pat Garrett.”

  Grant scribbled furiously as Benji continued to speak.

  “Eventually, the town got so out of hand with its wild and wooly ways that it was nicknamed ‘Babylon on the Brazos’. So, the fort commander stepped in and took control of the town. He declared martial law and ran out the riff raff.”

  ***

  Donny walked out to his mailbox and his pulse quickened when he saw the envelope from the insurance licensing division of the State of Texas. He went back inside, set the rest of his mail down on the table and opened the correspondence from the state first.

  “Dear Mr. Atherton,” the letter began, “Congratulations on passing the required coursework and exam to hold an insurance license in the State of Texas. Your application has been received and is being processed.”

  “Good,” he said aloud as he read. “It’s in the pipeline. Not much to do now but wait.”

  He thought for a moment, then snatched up his phone and called Joe.

  “Hi there,” he said when Joe answered. “How’s retirement so far?”

  “Still very new,” Joe answered with a laugh. “And short-lived, as soon as I get my P.I. documentation from the state.”