He posed the thought again. Who are you?
“Knock knock,” said a raspy voice.
Bruce pounded on the door again, jumping him out of his skin. “Are you kidding me?!”
“That was Jared again. He’s onto us!”
Jon squirmed on the toilet. “What did he say?”
“He said I better call him and tell him what’s up or he’s gonna rat on us.”
“He’s bluffing, he knows no one will listen to him.”
“Yeah, but what if they do?”
“Look. Even if we tell him what’s going on, he won’t turn us in. He’s just saying that because he’s nosey. Call him back. Tell him you have the flu—or tell him I’m here, I don’t care.”
Jon could almost hear the gears turning in Bruce’s head, even through the bathroom door. “All right,” he said at last. “I’ll call him and tell him I’m sick.”
Jared could be trusted to keep a secret, but he was also a bumbling fool and prone to sticking his foot in his mouth. If Bruce did decide to confide in him, Jon was reasonably sure he would keep his lips shut. What he wasn’t sure of was whether or not Jared would ditch out of school and come to where the action was. It didn’t matter. He would be gone soon.
Once again he took in a breath and let it out slowly. His mind emptied almost immediately, and it felt like his consciousness expanded to fill a gymnasium. The feeling took him by surprise, but he gave into it. There was a squelch followed by a voice in static. “Be advised suspect’s vehicle was found near...” It trailed off and disappeared. The voices were trying to tell him something. He was sure of it. Had the police found his father’s truck? He’d parked it at a convenience store three blocks over. Did they have a list of people he might turn to? If they made the connection, it would lead them straight to Bruce’s house.
“Cases and cases of it,” said a voice that sounded like his.
“I’m in this thing,” said a male voice.
“Bill, bill, bill, birthday surprise,” said another in a sing-song rhythm.
His equilibrium shifted, and a phrase formed. It had no voice. “We will help you.”
Who? Who are you? he thought.
His consciousness floated in the darkness; his body felt transparent and warm, as if he could let go and slide out into the nothingness that had enveloped him. In the distance there was a buzz, then an answer to his question came as a thought. The thought was not his own.
It said, “We are you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
David climbed in the passenger side of the Channel Seven News car and was immediately greeted by Karen’s perfume. It had a sweet quality with a hint of spice. His eyes breezed past the slit in her skirt where her bronze leg peeked out. It was hard not to notice how beautiful Karen was, but easy to resist the temptation to gawk; she couldn’t have been further from his type: demanding, self-absorbed, career-minded, and devious; the kind of woman only a man like Brad Knight could tame. David didn’t care for games. He and Sharon preferred a relationship that was open and honest, they never held anything back. But Karen and Brad seemed to enjoy unraveling each other’s secrets as much as they enjoyed chasing down a good story. It certainly made them exciting to watch. It was like having a daytime soap opera on twenty-four, seven. Next to them, he and Sharon probably seemed boring, but that was okay with him. He liked boring.
A loud knock jumped David out of his skin. He twisted around and looked out his window.
Nerd’s exasperated face floated just outside the glass. “I need to talk to you!” he screamed.
David rolled the window down. “You scared me half to death, Nerd.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, gasping for breath, “but I have to talk to you. I’ve been waiting for you to come in, and you weren’t here for very long, and I just found out you were leaving with Karen.”
“Take a breath, Nerd. You caught me. I’m not going anywhere.”
Nerd sucked in some air. “Do you remember Canary?”
He did. But it was not a name he cared to discuss openly. That name was connected to a secret only Nerd knew, a secret he had kept from the FBI when they had inquired about his involvement in the Boston bomb threat. “I do,” he said with a fiery glare, “how about we talk about him later?”
Nerd bent his lean form over and saw Karen in the driver’s seat. “Oh. Hey, Karen.”
“Hi, Nerd.” David heard the smile in her voice. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Great! David thought. Things weren’t already bad enough. He flipped the latch on the door handle. “I need a second with Nerd.”
Her hand snatched his forearm. “Are you keeping something from me?”
“Nothing news-worthy,” he said. It was a half-truth. It was worthy of news, but only the tabloid kind. After the bomb threat, when police found the body of his best friend Alex Blackstone shot to death on the tarmac of Bangor International Airport, not two hundred yards from where Air Force One had landed, some analysts had suggested that an assassination attempt had been made, that the terrorists intended to set off a real bomb and blow up the president’s plane, even though no evidence of a bomb was found. But after late-night talk shows and political humorists had finished with the talking point, no one dared to bring the subject up again for fear of ridicule. It was relegated to the conspiracy theory drawer, and David was happy to let it stay there. Only once did he consider letting the secret out, when it had come to light that he and Alex were childhood friends and the FBI investigation seemed to take on a new life. But Karen had come to his rescue, if you could call it rescue. She made an impressive case to the viewing public that David was getting guidance from supernatural messages. She got witness after witness to sit in front of the camera and make the case so well that it had even become acceptable to say that God might have been the one sending the messages.
“What are you up to, then?” she said, releasing his arm.
“Nothing I care to share.”
“David, be straight with me. If Nerd is keeping a secret, you might as well tell me what it is. I can break him in two minutes with a turkey sandwich and a Yahoo.”
She was right. Why had he told Nerd about Alex and the assassination attempt? It made sense to tell his wife; he was grieving, and he needed her to understand. But why Nerd? He could have been vague when the topic was brought up. He didn’t have to explain where he was when he had gotten Nerd’s text message tying Alex to the bomb. Why had he opened his big mouth and spilled it to the one person least able to retain a secret under duress?
“If I let you in on this,” he said, pointing a finger, “you can’t breathe it to another living soul. Understand? I mean it, Karen.”
“I think you know by now that I would never do anything to put you at risk.”
David studied her. Could he trust her? She had never betrayed his trust before, even though she’d had several opportunities to do so. And it was her reporting that had turned the tables for him on the bomb scare trials. If the FBI had had their way, they would have burned him at the stake like a witch. Not to mention, if there was one person capable of keeping a secret, it was Karen Knight. She bathed in secrets.
David gave her a nod and climbed out of the news car. She came around from the other side. The carport was empty, with only the sound of traffic passing by on the interstate just beyond the concrete wall.
Nerd gave a meek look at Karen, and David addressed it. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can talk in front of Karen.”
Nerd rubbed his puffy, red hair back and made a slight attempt to correct his almost chronic slouch. “Despite what she says, I can keep a secret.”
“I know, Nerd. I just think it’s time she knew the whole story.” God knew she’d find out anyway, at least this way, he would have some say in the matter.
She gave an expectant look at both of them.
“I’ve told you about everything that happened here in Boston,” David began, “but what you don’t know is, I travelled to Maine with Alex.
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Her eyes grew. She understood the implication of where he was headed.
“Nerd sent me a text message while we were in the car on the way. His hacker friend Canary had connected Alex to one of the bombs. Alex figured out that I was on to him and left me for dead in the woods. When I woke, the messages, ones I had seen earlier, guided me to the hangar at the end of the Bangor runway. And that’s where I shot him dead with his own gun.”
Shock slid down Karen’s face. “You? You killed him?”
As the emotion of what he had done attempted to overtake him, as it had so many times before. He fought to keep his composure. The guilt and the pain felt as fresh as if it had all just happened.
“I knew something was eating at you, but I never imagined. I’m so sorry, David.”
“Anyway,” he said, hoping the subject would change, “that’s what I’ve been keeping from you.”
She spared him further questioning on the topic of shooting his best friend, and instead posed the question: “If Alex was there to assassinate the president, where’s the bomb, or was there a bomb?”
“There was, but someone got to it before the authorities arrived.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. They came in a mover’s truck in plain clothes. They were probably the same people who employed Alex.”
“Why didn’t you tell the FBI about this?”
“I don’t know, Karen,” he said exasperated. “I was scared. I didn’t know how deep their connection to the government went. I was worried about my family.”
“You were worried that if you told the FBI about them, they would be mad and come after your family? You just stopped what had to be a multi-million-dollar venture. I think they were probably already mad at you.”
“I know. I’ve thought of that every day since. The only thing that gives me any peace is something Alex said to me while we were standing in the woods. He said the bombs in Boston weren’t meant to go off. This wasn’t a normal terrorist attack. These people aren’t necessarily killers.”
“Not to burst your safety bubble, but you just said they tried to kill the president and everyone on his plane.”
“Yes. But I don’t think that’s how it was supposed to go down. They were desperate.”
Nerd raised his hand up slowly in front of him. Karen and David stopped and looked at him.
“Canary said that.”
David cocked his head. “What?”
“Canary said the same thing. No one was supposed to get hurt.”
“And how does Canary know that?”
“He apparently works for them. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
“What? Wait a minute, if he’s on their side, why did he give you information on Alex and the detonator?”
“I think he did that behind their backs; that’s why he’s going into hiding.”
David didn’t know how to process the information. But Karen did. There was an unmistakable fire in her eyes. “You have a source connected to the organization behind the Boston Bomb Scare?”
“This isn’t a story, Karen,” David said.
Her face scrunched.
“Promise me you won’t do anything with this without asking me first.”
“Do you know how big this is?”
“Please, Karen.” Had he made the wrong call? Was this too big of a scoop for her to pass up?
She bit her lip.
“Canary had a message for you, David,” said Nerd, timidly.
“Me?”
“He said, ‘Save Jon Blake.’”
Again, David found himself unable to process.
“He’s on the news,” Nerd said, “I spent the morning looking up information on him. He’s...”
David stopped him. “Yeah. We know about Jon Blake. He’s on the run for killing his father’s girlfriend.”
Nerd’s forehead lifted and took his brows with it.
“You’re a little late. I got a message about him this morning.
“A message? Like a message?”
“Yeah. Karen’s trying to drag me to his house.”
Her face soured.
“That’s exciting,” said Nerd, with childlike eyes.
“Exciting isn’t the word I would use for it.” There was a flash of memory. He remembered the kick of the pistol in his hand, and the hollow pop. He remembered his best friend slumped over in the seat of the luggage cart. Guilt and anger waged war inside his chest. Was there no other possible outcome? Did Alex have to die? He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the images back. “Anyway,” he said, “what do you suppose Canary has to do with Jon Blake?”
“He didn’t say. He just said save him.”
“That was his whole message?”
“Well, he was also curious if your messages really come from God.”
“Hmm. That’s odd.”
“Yeah.”
“Did he have anything else helpful?”
“No. We didn’t talk long. He said he was going off the grid. I don’t think I’ll hear from him again for a while. Maybe never.”
Karen spoke up. “So, you have no way of contacting him for follow up questions?”
David grimaced. “Karen, please.”
She heaved a sigh. “Okay. Then let’s all go see what we can dig up at the Blake residence.” She gestured to Nerd. “There has to be some story I can use in all this.”
Nerd’s shoulders sank. “I can’t come. Coldfield wants me to train my replacement today.”
Karen started around the vehicle. “Then hop on the computer and see if you can learn more about Canary. There’s a good chance all this is tied together.”
Nerd gave a nod like a bobble head.
David slapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll keep you up to speed, okay, bud?”
Nerd’s head continued to bob.
David and Karen hopped in the news car, and Karen set the GPS for the home of Jon Blake.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jon looked around the lavishly knickknacked living room. Where had Bruce gone off to? “Bruce?”
“In the kitchen, dude.”
Jon passed through into the kitchen and found Bruce sitting at the table with the phone next to him.
“What’d you tell him?” he said, peering out the window at the street.
“I said I was sick, and coughed some.”
Jon’s brows rose. “Did he buy it?”
“Seriously? I’m like the worst liar in the world.”
Jon sat down across from him. “He didn’t buy it.”
“He said my fake cough was as believable as a kung-fu voice over.”
“Great.”
“He’s coming over.” Bruce had an expectant look.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Jon with a shrug, “I won’t be here.”
“What? Where you going?”
“I don’t know, but I can’t stay here.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on one.” His eyes fell on a stack of letters on the kitchen table and his mind whispered, “Bill, bill, bill, birthday surprise.” No, he thought. No way. He picked the stack up and noted the return address for the top envelope. It was from the cable company, definitely a bill.
He slowly lifted his eyes to Bruce. The expression on his face must have had a mix of crazy in it, because Bruce gave him a double take. “You finally snap from the pressure, or have you come up with a crazy plan I’m going to hate?”
Jon tossed the stack down in front of Bruce. “Pick those up.”
Bruce flinched. “O-kay.”
“The top one is a bill, right?”
Bruce looked at the address. “Yeah.”
“Check the second one. Is that a bill too?”
Bruce slid the top one aside. “Yeah. You’re point?”
“The third one is a bill.”
Bruce slid the second one aside. “Wow. You’re amazing, Jon. What are the chances we would get lots of bills in the mail?”
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�Fourth one: birthday surprise.”
The third letter fell to the table, revealing the fourth. Bruce gave an incredulous look. “Birthday surprise?”
“Birthday surprise,” said Jon with false conviction.
“Sorry, man. It’s something from the Army, and it’s addressed to my mom. Nice try.”
“Open it.”
“It’s to my mom. She’d kill me.”
Jon gritted his teeth. “Open. It.”
His friend’s lips twisted. “Fine.” Bruce ripped the edge off the envelope and pulled the letter out. His eyes scanned down the page; a thick silence filled the room.
Were the voices right? Had they predicted this event? Jon struggled for a breath as he leaned forward on the table. “Well?”
Bruce looked over the top of the letter and his expression said it all.
The voices were right.
Jon’s gaze grew intense.
“Okay. Seriously,” said Bruce, dropping his hands down on the table and crushing the letter in his grip. “Was this day not weird enough for you?”
“What does it say?”
“It’s from the army. It says my dad is coming home three weeks early.”
“In time for your birthday.”
“Yeah. Just in time.” Bruce stared at his friend. “Dude, that’s not funny. How did you do that? Did my mom tell you about this? My mom told you, didn’t she?”
What was he going to tell him, that voices in his head were predicting the future? Not likely. If he had any credibility with Bruce at the moment, it would all go out the window with one word of voices and predictions. “Yeah,” said Jon with a forced laugh, “your mom told me.”
Bruce’s expression remained the same. “How’d you know this was about my dad coming home? It could have been anything.”
Way to go, Jon, he thought. They probably get letters from the army all the time. “I guessed,” he said with a shrug.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed further. He was obviously not buying it.
“I’m just messing with you, man. Your mom and dad were talking on Facebook the other night and he...” Jon stopped in mid sentence. He ducked down as a police cruiser came to a stop in front of the house.
VOICES: Book 2 in the David Chance series (Suspense, Mystery, Thriller) Page 4
