Patriot Deception: A Thriller Suspense Novel (Mason McCall Book 1)

by Ross Elder

  “You’re going to need to lay down for a while. Those are pretty powerful. Should knock out that headache, though. You need your rest.” She leads me up the stairs toward the bedroom. She’s helping me undress. It isn’t sensual, but clinical. I don’t like it. It’s hurried. My mind is starting to wander, and everything is taking on a strange, bluish hue, like halos, or auras emitting from everything, even inanimate objects. The closet door is a yellowish glow. Toni’s hands, a light green.

  She is helping me to bed. It feels so soft! It’s like a new bed. A different bed altogether, but it is my bed. Well, it’s the bed in my other place. God, these pills are amazing. These are like, I don’t know, party pills, or something. Man, I really want to have sex right now. Hey, look, there’s my girl. Ah, nice. She’s undressing. Her pants are off already. Now she’s slipping her panties down her thighs. She’s grinning. Don’t leave the top on, baby. Good. I can’t help her with the bra. My arms are like rubbery noodles now. I want to reach out and touch her. I can’t. My arms won’t respond.

  She’s here now. She’s crawling toward me from the foot of the bed. Over my feet, my shins, my knees. I feel the soft, tender flesh between her thighs as she straddles my hips. A mutual gasp fills the air as she lowers herself to me. The look in her eyes is almost hypnotic. Wafts of green and orange float away from her skin and fill the air above the bed. It’s beautiful. The colors are swaying, coming together. Not mixing and forming new hues, but slipping past each other like strings of smoke. Are we having sex? We must be. Her cheek is against my chest and I have the sensation of rhythmic movement, but I can’t feel anything. Where is she?

  I am drifting upward now, no longer on the bed and no longer under Toni. The colors part and create a tunnel for my transit. The tunnel is… I can’t describe it. Twisted? Like the inside of a wet towel being wrung out? I’m through it now. The other side is…nothing. I am in the darkness again. I am nothing, moving through nothing, with only the desire to remain nothing. I am home again. This is where I was born and where I shall return when I break the tethers holding me to that painful, mortal world beyond the dark.

  Visions appear in the distance, distorted and blurred. Bricks. Mortar. A wall. Now a face. A woman’s face. A voice, faint in the distance, speaks to me. Can I speak to others here in the void? Why couldn’t I? Here, I am a god; a master of secrets. I can do as I please. I can take, or give, as it pleases me.

  But, this face, this…woman, she wants me to please her. She wants me to help her. I feel compassion for her. Answers, she wants answers. But, what are the questions? Isn’t life nothing more than a series of unanswered questions? Are there any real and true answers? In this place, in my world of emptiness, I have no need for answers. I am the answer. Me. What is it, woman? Why are you trying so hard to interfere with my omnipotent reign over my universe? Be gone, ye pathetic creature. You have no place here.

  “Ow!” I know I spoke it. The darkness is gone but only for a nanosecond. Dark, then light, then dark again. This time, I am alone. Where has she gone?

  Chapter Seventeen

  September 16, 2016

  1350 hours

  Wandering toward the bathroom. Shaky. Unsteady. Weak. Eyes mostly closed. I really need to pee.

  “Easy. You’re still woozy.” Toni is at my side, holding my left arm to help steady me. I can’t even see her. My eyes don’t want to open.

  I am able to accomplish the task at hand but, frankly, nature takes care of much of that. I am just thankful I made it to the toilet. I did, didn’t I? One eye open. Yes! Thank God.

  “It’s gonna take a while to shake that off.” She is still holding me up, sort of. I am laughing and can’t control it. That’s just funny. “Oh! Not that, silly! I mean the drugs.” She’s laughing now too and smacked me on the behind for the exclamation point.

  “I’m all sticky.”

  “Yeah, well, that happens when people have sex.” She’s still giggling.

  “We had sex? You doped me up and took advantage of me in my weakened condition? That’s just wrong.” I’m mumbling, and my speech is slurred. I’m still high.

  “Come on. Back to bed, young man.” She’s so pretty. She was prettier with the halos and the auras, but she’s still pretty. She’s tucking me in. So sweet.

  Knocking. Knocking. Jesus, who’s knocking on the door? Go answer the door, Toni. It’s getting annoying. Where is she, dammit? My eyes struggle to open. With heavy lids, I glance around the room. It’s dark. An outstretched arm tells me Toni isn't in bed with me. Someone is still knocking. Before I know it, I’m up and slowly taking the stairs, holding on to the handrail tightly. Wobbly. I make it to the door. Tap, tap, tap.

  “Whoa! Well, hello there.” Mrs. Harris. Amanda. She quickly slips through the door and closes it for me. “Uh, having a rough day?”

  “I’m sleeping. Took some pills.” I’m walking toward the kitchen. The craving for coffee is overwhelming. “Want some coffee? I need coffee.”

  “You also need some pants.”

  “Huh?” Turning toward her, I glance down. Shit. What is it with me and being naked? I’m such a sicko. “Oh. Sorry. I…”

  “Don’t be sorry.” She’s smiling. Sort of that cat who is just about to catch the canary kind of thing.

  “God, I need a shower. Let me…” Hey, I’m on the floor. What the hell? I’m conscious, but I guess my legs gave out. Amanda is over me now. Touching my face. Slapping me, really. That’s not…

  “Hey! Hey, are you okay? Jesus, Ma…Morgan.”

  I’m getting up. She doesn’t want me to, but she is helping me anyway. The room has stopped spinning, so that’s good. Okay, I guess we are getting into the shower in the downstairs bathroom. Cool water, though, not hot. I hate it, and I tell her so. The shock to my nerves does help me focus, however. Oh, my God. She’s under the water with me. She’s removed her pants and blouse. Socks, panties, and a dainty, little bra, standing in the shower, soaping me up. She’s washing me. Everywhere. Yeah, even there. I’m confused, and things are getting weird.

  “Is this weird? I think it’s weird.”

  She’s laughing. Such a pretty laugh, but she’s focused on her duties and is doing a thorough job of it. Such care. Finally, she has turned the nob on the shower, and hot water is washing over us. Her bra and panties have turned translucent, and I start to stare before catching myself and forcing my eyes away. I know, we have been intimate in the past, and who knows how many times but, in this moment, I feel as though I should be respectful and allow her some modesty. Silly.

  Big, fluffy towels for us both. I turned away as she peeled off the soaked socks, panties, and bra to dry herself. She wrapped herself in the towel before helping me finish. She trotted upstairs for a couple of minutes and returned with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt for me, my bathrobe for her.

  The coffee is finished. Draped over her small frame, my robe is almost dragging the floor behind her. Two large mugs were retrieved from the cabinet and then we are on the couch, sipping coffee and trying to act as though her giving me a shower was a perfectly normal thing.

  “What is she doing to you?”

  “Who?”

  “That nurse. Toni.”

  “What do you mean? She’s helping me. Taking care of me. Trying to help me recover.”

  “By pumping you full of drugs so you can’t even walk? What kind of care is that?” Amanda looks almost angry. Certainly worried. “I’m not sure that’s helping you. You should be talking to people close to you, going places familiar to you, or even banging that waitress you always liked at the Wallace Diner. Something. Anything! But, she has you doped up inside this place.”

  I have no reply for her.

  “Call Max. He’s your friend. You need him. He needs to get you out of here for a while.”

  “I will.” I touched her knee through the thick robe. “I will, okay? I promise. I’ll send him a text right now.” I hope that alleviates some of her anxiety. I don’t want her to worry. I don
’t want to hurt her again, if I did, indeed, hurt her before.

  “And, go back to your doctor. See what he says about all of this drug therapy bullshit.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  She kissed me. It was fast and rough, and she wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. I could feel that through her lips. It was important, that kiss. A seal to a promise made, both past and present.

  I did text, Max. An hour later, he arrived and immediately raised his eyebrows at Amanda sitting curled up on the couch in my bathrobe. She ignored it before padding off to the bathroom to put her clothes back on. She left her panties and bra hanging on the towel bar and finally walked out with her shoes dangling from the fingers of her left hand. Max didn’t even ask for an explanation.

  “All right then. Get dressed. We’ll go grab something to eat, maybe have a drink. The Indians are playing Detroit tonight. Should be a good game.”

  It sounded enjoyable enough. Jeans and a t-shirt, running shoes, all set. In the parking lot, again, something felt off. Something out of place, or a different sound in the air, or some other thing. I think Max felt it too. He seems to be keeping an eye on things, scanning the lot, casually looking at the buildings. He was smooth. From a distance, you probably wouldn’t know he was observing his surroundings. I knew. I’m supposed to be that smooth and observant.

  We made it into the sports bar without being attacked by ninjas, or machete-wielding midgets. The way Max was acting, I assume he was worried about such things. He asked for a different booth after we were walked to a side table by the hostess. We stood there like idiots while the busboy cleared a booth for us. He sat facing the interior of the bar. I had to accept having my back to the crowd, which made me feel weird, but the high back of the booth at least alleviated any fear of having my skull bashed in by a beer bottle.

  We ate bar food; deep fried…things, sort of like egg rolls but filled with meat and spicy, southwest flavors. Max had a burger as well. I had one beer since I wasn’t sure how many drugs were still floating around in my system. They didn’t have any good brands anyway. Look at me, the beer snob. Max had two.

  Above Max’s head were squares of decorative glass turned on their points like diamonds. I could see some of the goings-on within the bar behind me, and that was comforting. Someone is there I think I recognize. I can’t place him. The early forties, maybe. Balding. Stocky build, but not athletic in appearance. Where have I seen him before? It’s troubling.

  The Indians crushed the Tigers, as they have been doing all season. Currently out of practice with rich, spicy foods, my stomach began doing summersaults and gurgling loudly. I indicated to Max it was probably time to head back home. He waved down a waitress. She approached the booth with a smile and stood next to me, placing her hand softly upon my left shoulder.

  “Sure you don’t want a nightcap, or something, honey?” She is far too young to use language like that. That should be a woman in her fifties being sweet and polite. When you are in your twenties, it just seems weird. She is cute, though. Max and I shook our heads, and she placed the bill on the table in front of me. She abruptly sat down on the few inches of bench available next to me. “You didn’t call me. That’s very disappointing.”

  “Me?” I wasn’t sure.

  “Yes, you, silly!” She elbowed me in the ribs lightly. She’s giggling, but I think she is also a little miffed.

  “Oh, uh, sorry. I think I lost your number. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.” I ripped the bottom of the bill off and slipped an ink pen out of her little, red apron. “Would you give it to me again?” She did, smiled, and rubbed her right hand along my thigh before taking Max’s money and sashaying back toward the bar.

  All I could do was shrug when max squinted his eyes at me questioningly. “I don’t know, dude. I really don’t.”

  “Yeah, well, women always were your weakness, brother. Gonna get you in serious trouble one of these days.”

  Since my memory is shot, I don’t know if it hasn’t already. That is kind of liberating. I’ll be able to make all those mistakes all over again! Fun.

  We’re chuckling as we make our way to the exit because Max keeps walking past women and saying things like, “How about this one? No? That one over there? Are you going to ask for her number? Do they know you like to walk around naked in public?”

  I heard it and felt it rather than saw it. He moved. The balding man I think I recognize. We were more than ten feet past him. I can feel it along my back and shoulders. He’s following us. How do I know that? Can Max feel it too? Does he know?

  To get back to Max’s car, we should go left after exiting. As we passed through the doorway, I took Max’s elbow in my left hand and tugged him to the right. I led him away from the door and walked away from the car and the bar. At the end of the building, I tugged him again and directed him around the corner into a small service dock between the two, single-story structures. Max whispered a sort of “What the fuck?” but I put my finger to my lips to quiet him. I backed up against the brick wall, and Max followed suit, getting to my right, placing me between him and the sidewalk. I can hear his footfalls.

  The man tried to appear casual as he cautiously rounded the corner of the building. He was fishing something out of the inside of his jacket with his right hand. Is he going for a gun? Who is this guy? The darkness of the alley gave me about a one second advantage. My right fist shot out, not waiting for any discernable command from my brain. My knuckles caught the man just below his lower lip and crashed into his sturdy chin. He went down hard. He was out.

  “Jesus! What the fuck, dude!” Max is scrambling around me to kneel next to the unconscious man.

  “Check his right hand! Check his jacket! Hurry!”

  Max does a modest pat-down of the man. He is starting to stir a little so I step closer, prepared to finish him with more blows if necessary. Max twists around so he can look up at me and holds up a pack of cigarettes. His creased brow tells me he is a little unhappy with the current situation. Oops.

  No. Wait. Something isn’t right. This guy is following us. I know it. I saw him. He was the shadow in the SUV parked outside my house. He’s been watching me. I know it as surely as I know…well, I don’t know very many things right now but, I just now this one thing. He is not an innocent. I’m rambling, explaining my mental processes and observations to Max. I don’t think he is buying into it. He is unsure, but he is nodding his head and trying to trust my judgment. It must not be easy.

  When Max stands, his jacket is pulled up in the back, and I see the end of a holster protruding from beneath it. He’s carrying a gun. I should have brought my gun, I suddenly think. We should all have guns, you know? Like Dodge City. Okay, maybe not, but I most certainly should have a gun. So, I quickly take Max’s. My hand went under his jacket, gripped the pistol, and slipped it from the holster in one, smooth motion. Max protested and tried to retain the weapon by grabbing the holster, but it was too late.

  The man is groaning and trying to roll over onto his side. He is trying to get up. Max grabs the man by his left arm and helps him to his feet. I think he will try to fight me, even though he is half-dazed. He looks like he can fight. He will resist, and he will attempt to escape but, why? Why would he need to escape from…me? What am I doing? I need to beat a confession out of this guy so badly. But, why does that make me feel kind of…giddy? Happy?

  I grab the front of the man’s shirt between his jacket lapels and push him back against the bricks. He is clutching at my left wrist with both hands, attempting to wrest it free from his clothing. He’s still a bit loopy, so it is ineffective. The muzzle of Max’s pistol raises and presses forward until it contacts the man’s forehead. All struggling ceases. It wasn’t a gentle press, either. It made a sound when the metal connected with his skull. That’s going to leave a mark.

  “Okay, okay, okay! Please! Don’t shoot!” The man is trembling, and his eyes are squeezed shut as though doing so will somehow stop a bullet.

/>   “Why are you following me?” I growl, mere inches from his face.

  “Upton! Roger Upton! He hired me to investigate you!”

  Seriously? Was it that easy? I thought I might have to clock him in the head with the pistol a couple of times, or, perhaps, put a bullet through his foot to extract the information. The way this guy is acting, I probably didn’t even need to punch him in the mouth. Softy. Apparently, he isn’t used to pain or fear. His hands are raised now.

  “Why?” Another growl, and I press forward with the pistol again for emphasis. Don’t worry, my finger is along the side of the gun, not on the trigger.

  “He knows! He knows you know!”

  “Knows I know what?”

  “That he isn’t who he claims to be, and…” He is pausing just a little too long for my tastes.

  “And? What? Fucking spill it!”

  “uh…neither are you.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  September 16, 2016

  2350 hours

  There’s been a lot of cussing and yelling. We are driving around in Max’s Taurus. Carl, the now bruised guy who was following me, is in the backseat with his hands zip-tied to the headrest of the front passenger seat. I’m sitting next to him. He keeps saying, “I don’t know” a lot. He’s figured out that we aren’t going to kill him, so he’s resisting our questioning. He even threatened to go to the police if we didn’t let him go. I tried intimidating him and telling him we would drive him out into the middle of nowhere and set him on fire. He didn’t believe me, I don’t think. When he said, “You watch too much television,” I cracked him in the back of the head with the muzzle of Max’s pistol. He complained, but he got the impression I was serious.