Glassford Girl: Boxed Set (Complete Series) (Time Jumper Series)

by Jay J. Falconer

  He grabbed his 9mm Beretta Nano from his conceal and carry holster tucked inside his beltline. He racked the slide to inject a round into the chamber, then went outside to investigate.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  Derek sat on the passenger side of the Impala’s hood next to Duane. His stomach was doing flip-flops while he stared at the burnt area in the grass. His legs felt weak and so did his heart.

  He couldn’t believe what had just happened to Emily. Not again. Not this quickly. Not after all the time he’d spent waiting for her to return. He exhaled slowly, thinking about the long string of sleepless nights wondering where she was and how she was doing. Then, before he got a chance to reconnect with her, she vanished. This time in front of three witnesses. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he never would’ve believed it.

  The first time it happened, he was in the back of the police van with her and handcuffed to the sidewall. That time he didn’t see anything—one second she was there and the next second she wasn’t. All that was left was a scorch mark and burnt metal. Her vanishing act helped him escape custody that day, but he never actually saw her disappear. Not like today when everyone witnessed the blue fire come and surround her. Whatever was happening to her seemed to be changing, but he didn’t know if it was a good thing or not.

  He’d ignored Miller’s advice and come to Duane and Nora’s house to see Emily anyway. He couldn’t help it. His heart was calling the shots at the time and his feet obliged. But what was really weird was that right after the two of them had come together, her face had lit up with panic. Then she ran into the middle of the grass and told him to stay back before she disappeared.

  Maybe that’s what caused it? Panic.

  If so, did he make her panic?

  If he did, then his questionable decision to come here when he wasn’t invited yet caused her to vanish. If that was true, then he was responsible for sending her away—again.

  Panic may have also been the reason she disappeared after the last time they’d been together. After the night he took her virginity. Maybe the whole sex thing was too much for her and she freaked out.

  In truth, he did get her a little drunk, but she seemed to be okay with it at the time. He knew for sure she enjoyed their time together in bed, but still, she might have panicked the next day.

  “Nora seems pretty damn furious with you,” Duane said, “and she doesn’t get that way for no good reason. Is there something you need to tell me?”

  Derek shrugged. “Beats me. I don’t know what’s going on here. All I can say is that this sucks ass. I don’t think I can sit around again for another year or two, hoping Emily will just show up out of the blue—literally. It’s just too hard, Duane. I’m not used to any of this. Every part of me aches right now.”

  “It’s called love, Derek. Get used to it. I think God has a twisted sense of humor when it comes to relationships. Sometimes I think he gets off on torturing us men, which may be the whole reason he created women in the first place. Just to mess with our heads.”

  “And our hearts.”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “I see what you’re saying,” Derek said, his chest hurting even worse than before.

  “But in truth, our lives just wouldn’t be the same without them, now would they?”

  “No, I guess not. But still, it doesn’t make any of this easier. Sometimes I wish I’d never met that girl.”

  “I hear ya. Been there a few times myself with Nora. Look, there’s always gonna be ups and downs in any relationship, even more so when you put a ring on their finger. Trust me when I say that. But I still wouldn’t change a second of it. I am who I am because of Nora. She completes me, and my kids are the whole reason why I get up with a smile on my face every morning.”

  Derek nodded. “Maybe someday I’ll have that with Em. But the way it’s going now, I doubt that’s ever gonna happen. How can you love someone and build a life together when they’re never around?”

  “Yeah, you’ve got your hands full with her. No doubt there, my young friend. But you still haven’t answered my question. Is there something you need to tell me? About you and Emily? Is there a reason why she keeps vanishing?”

  “I think it’s because of me.”

  “And why would that be true? Did you get physical with her?”

  “What do you mean? Like sex?”

  “No, the other kind. The kind that lands you in jail.”

  “Hit her? Are you serious?”

  “Well, did you?”

  “No. Of course not. I’d never do that. How could you ever think that?”

  Duane’s face went from friendly to stiff, his eyes focusing hard on Derek. “You better not be lying to me, son.”

  “I’m not lying. I swear to God. I love that girl. With all my heart. I could never hit her. That’s why this hurts so damn much. Besides, she just got back. You saw it. I didn’t do shit.”

  “Before she left, I mean. The last time she was here.”

  “No, not then either,” Derek said, pausing to select his words carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was admit having sex in Duane and Nora’s bed the night Emily was house-sitting for them. “She was being kind of moody, right before she disappeared, but I figured that was because—”

  “Because you what?” Duane interrupted, his jaw sticking out with clenched teeth.

  “We kind of fooled a—” Derek said, stopping his sentence when something caught his eye in the grass ahead of them. He pointed at it and swung his eyes at Duane. “Look!”

  Duane turned his attention to the blackened area in the grass. So did Derek.

  “What the heck?” Duane said, sounding confused and surprised at the same time.

  Both men jumped off the hood and landed on their feet.

  There was an inch-wide sphere of blue energy in the yard, dancing above the scorched circle where Emily had disappeared. It sizzled and crackled, making humming and buzzing sounds, like the noises Derek had heard coming from the Orange Man’s briefcase before it had exploded in Jim Miller’s backyard a couple of years before.

  The sphere expanded, growing from an inch wide to several feet across. When the bottom edge of the hovering energy sphere touched the ground, it instantly elongated into an ellipse. The air was now supercharged with energy, making the hairs on Derek’s arms stand on end.

  For a few seconds, there was a sucking, hissing noise, right before shimmering blue ellipse disappeared, leaving behind a body on the ground. It was a naked body curled into a ball.

  He looked at the unconscious person’s face—it was Emily. She was back!

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Jim Miller held his handgun in a firing position as he swung to the left, stopping next to his newly rebuilt and reinforced cement barbeque island. He kept his eyes on the back gate, scanning for movement. But there was none. So far there’d only been the one flash of movement earlier when he was standing inside the kitchen.

  Maybe the early morning moonlight was playing tricks on him. Wouldn’t be the first time. His senses and his nerves were perpetually on high alert ever since he’d shot the Orange Man in his backyard.

  Right then his memory flashed, replaying the same incident. His mind showed his right fist coming around and accidentally knocking Derek senseless after the kid stood up from behind the BBQ to protect Emily. The vision continued, showing Detective Alison and his partner sprinting from their stakeout position out front and arriving out of breath.

  Then the memory changed, showing the Orange Man’s body mysteriously vanishing into thin air, right before the briefcase exploded and ripped his house apart, nearly killing them all.

  Must be nothing, he thought after returning to reality, his eyes still monitoring the gate for signs. The shadows were calm and so were the night sounds. He lowered his gun and turned toward the door to head inside.

  Then he heard it.

  The grind of sand under a shoe.

  The scrape of cloth against wood.
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  The sudden pop of someone’s bones.

  He stopped walking and froze for a moment, never turning his shoulders or bringing his eyes to bear.

  Instantly the facts came together—those were human sounds and they were coming from the alley. Someone must have been crouched and hiding behind the gate. The intruder must have just shifted position or stood up slightly, making his bones crack.

  However, he couldn’t be sure there was only person beyond the fence. There could be more threats. If there were, he was outnumbered.

  His military training kicked in, keeping him focused and calm. He decided to change tactics to gather more information and gain the advantage. To do so, he needed to pretend he hadn’t just heard the noises.

  Miller slid the gun into its holster and then fished around in his pockets as if he was looking for something, hoping it would explain the reason for his sudden stop. A few moments later, he shrugged and continued to the door like nothing had happened. He went inside and moved into the kitchen, where he turned on the mini-TV sitting on the raised counter next to the home telephone. He didn’t care what channel the TV was tuned to but used the remote to crank up the sound.

  Next, he went to the fridge and opened the door, bending forward to grab a carton of OJ from the top shelf. He straightened and closed the fridge door, making sure the person outside could see him take a swig through the back window.

  After his swallow, he turned with a casual spin of his heels and went toward the hallway. On the wall to his left was one of the new video security system’s screens he’d installed after the explosion ripped the back part of his house apart. It was hanging next to the pantry and within reach, but he knew stopping to check the screen would’ve tipped his hand. So he decided to cruise past it. He stopped to take another long drink from the carton when he stepped into the hallway.

  The corridor he was in ran perpendicular to the kitchen and connected the three bedrooms on the left to the front room on the right. He went left, down the hall, and stood in the doorway of the master bedroom.

  The blackout curtains were closed as expected, providing him with effective cover for the next part of his plan. He turned on the overhead light but never left the doorway, figuring the curious eyes in the alley were now focused on the edges around the bedroom window where light was leaking out past the curtains.

  For a moment, his eyes locked onto another of the security system’s video screens sitting next to his bed, but he chose to leave it be. Instead, he put the juice carton down on the floor and crawled like a commando back down the hallway. It only took about twenty seconds to make it past the kitchen and scurry into the front room. He stood up behind the front door and pulled his weapon, knowing he was out of sight in all directions.

  Miller turned on the seven-inch LED monitor for the hard-wired security monitoring system he’d purchased after the Orange Man incident. The front door screen was the closest display to his planned egress point, and the most covert given the current circumstances.

  The wide angle night vision lens on the outdoor camera gave him a clear view of the area in front of the house. He switched to Channel 1 and checked the yard and street. No sign of anyone lurking outside. Nothing appeared suspicious: all the cars in the neighborhood were accounted for and in their proper location.

  He switched channels, showing similar views along the sides of the house. No movement there either. Next, he checked the backyard camera. Again, all clear, confirming what he already suspected. The person or persons in the alley was the only threat. Time to act, he decided.

  Miller dropped back to the floor and made his way to the window along the side of the house. It was positioned a few feet behind the side gate, the same wooden gate that Detective Alison and his partner had sprinted through during the Orange Man encounter. He opened the window and slipped outside, keeping his body low and pressed against the side of the house as he moved with his pistol in his hand.

  The stucco wall behind him pulled at the fibers of his shirt, but he kept inching toward the backyard until he came to the corner of the house. With a slender profile, he bent down and peered around the corner.

  The BBQ island was only a few feet away and would provide effective cover if needed. But he needed to wait and see what happened next.

  The backyard was still clear so he turned his eyes to the back gate. It seemed logical to assume the intruder was still watching the house from that position. Probably assessing the situation while looking for movement inside. Right now, Miller knew he had the upper hand but he needed to be patient. If he was careless now, he’d give up the element of surprise.

  “Gotcha,” he whispered, seeing movement again behind the gate. Then he heard a familiar set of sounds—the same grinding of sand he’d heard minutes before, followed again by cloth rubbing on wood. This time, though, it was followed by a nearly inaudible grunt and a sudden double thud.

  Miller identified every sound he’d just heard. The man in the alley had adjusted his footing—the grinding of sand. He’d cantilevered himself over the locked gate—the scrape of cloth and grunt. Then he’d landed like a cat on the balls of his feet—first one foot, then the other—making the double thud.

  Stealthy, but not stealthy enough, Miller thought.

  Jim took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was about to come next. He hadn’t been in a planned engagement since the shootout with the West Side Locos and Glassford Gatos in front of The Fourth Street Café and Eatery while protecting Emily the first night they’d met.

  Miller adjusted his hands on the pistol to use a tactical, two-handed accuracy grip, holding it low in front of him with the muzzle pointing at a forty-five degree angle toward the ground and away from his body.

  The footsteps in the yard were consistent and heavy as the intruder moved across his yard toward his back door.

  Miller spun around the corner of the house and brought his pistol into a firing position in one smooth motion. The cement BBQ island was now directly in front of him, providing cover for the lower half of his body.

  “Lost, are we?” he said in a firm, commanding tone, crouching down and resting his elbows on the top of the island.

  The man turned and looked at him, then froze.

  Miller couldn’t believe his eyes. The Orange Man was back. The man he’d shot multiple times. The man he thought he’d killed. The same man who then disappeared before his very eyes in spectacular fashion.

  Even though Orange Man was dressed differently than before, Miller knew it was him. His skin was the same strange carroty color, like he’d just come from a day-long appointment at a spray-on tanning salon. Plus, he was carrying the same two items as before—a pistol-like weapon in his right hand and a silver-colored briefcase in the other—a metallic one that Jim knew could explode and take out his house.

  “You again?” Miller said as his military training took over. His mind processed all of the facts in an instant like a machine, right before taking decisive action. His gun fired numerous times, using his own more lethal version of the classic Mozambique Technique. He called it the “The Miller Double-Triple.” The gun delivered four rounds to the chest and two to the head as he moved closer to the target.

  Orange Man dropped to the ground, sending his weapon and briefcase flying from his hands. He wasn’t moving.

  For the moment, it looked like Miller’s decision to up the number of rounds fired was the right call.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  “Mom? You there? Answer me. Please,” Baby Julius said inside Emily’s mind as her consciousness snapped awake in an instant after her most recent jump. Usually it took a while for her brain to clear its cobwebs and wake up, but not this time. She was on her side with the smell of dirt and freshly cut grass invading her senses. Her cheek could feel footsteps approaching as the vibrations worked their way across the ground and entered her skin.

  “Emily!” she heard a voice say. It was Derek’s voice.

  His manly tone triggered her
emotions and her attention. An instant later, Baby Julius—his energy, at least—became emotionally active when Derek’s call to her landed on her eardrums.

  She could see Derek and Duane approaching across the patch of grass. Just then, her mind turned in on itself, wanting to take in and process everything she was seeing and feeling. Her powerful focus shift happened at lightning speed, causing the men’s swift approach to somehow slow down to a frame-by-frame crawl.

  Behind the men was the Impala, parked in the same spot in the driveway after Nora brought her here from Scottsdale. It meant her plan had worked—she’d jumped away and then come right back, a feat that had only happened once before. But the previous time was an accident—this time she’d consciously controlled it. Or Julius had—she couldn’t be sure.

  She was still in Duane’s front yard and judging by the budding predawn light, she’d only been gone for a few minutes. All good news.

  Her son was emotionally bouncing around inside her like it was Christmas morning. The jumps didn’t seem to affect Julius like they did her. She figured it had something to do with the fact that he didn’t have a much of a body—not yet. It took a brain to have a headache, and a stomach for nausea.

  She’d only been pregnant for less than a week by her count, and Julius should’ve only been a bundle of cells. Yet she knew he was developing faster than a normal human, so he could be much further along than even she suspected.

  Her logic was telling her that he must be more than a glowing speck of life since he had a strong consciousness capable of communicating with her—and learning quickly. He’d even thrown a temper tantrum, which she figured caused the last time jump. The whole situation was mind-boggling and beyond her wildest imagination.

  I’m a freak, she thought. Which probably means he’s a freak. Nothing is ever going to be normal.