“And you didn’t see anything that could have caused this explosion?”
“Absolutely not. Certainly not something that could destroy half a room and completely obliterate a person.” His voice cracked.
“She just disappeared into nothing?” Suter asked.
“That’s exactly what happened.”
“And you haven’t seen or heard from her since?”
“No.” He put his face into his hands.
“Your wife was a passenger on Flight 559 to San Francisco, the one that went into the river, correct?”
“Yes, she and Missy, our daughter, were going down to the Bay Area to visit some family friends for a couple days. What does that have to do with anything?” He looked up.
“Please bear with us, Mr. Harrington. Have there been any other odd occurrences since the airplane crash, since your wife and daughter were rescued?”
“What do you mean?” He did not look the investigator in the eye.
“Has your wife or daughter acted unusual or out of character since the accident?”
“No. Nothing.” He looked at his hands.
Bohannon leaned forward. “Mr. Harrington, our only interest here is to help you and your family. If anything unusual has happened, it would be best if you told us. The more we know, the more likely we can help.”
“If I knew anything that I thought could help, I would tell you.” He glanced at Bohannon, only to look away.
“Where is your daughter now? Is she still at preschool?” Suter asked.
“No. Missy is playing in her room.”
“Would you mind if we talked to her?” Suter asked.
“I would mind. She is only five years old, and she is freaked out about her mother not being here. I have not told her what happened, and I’m not going to have her grilled by two strange men. No way.”
“Daddy, where’s my bunny?” the daughter called from the back of the house.
“It’s right here in the living room. I’ll bring it to you in a minute,” he said, and then turned back to the investigators. “I don’t mean to be uncooperative, but I don’t want my daughter traumatized any further. She’s still dealing with being on that airplane.”
“We underst…” Bohannon’s eyes moved from Patrick Harrington’s face to the stuffed bunny floating in the air behind his head. As it moved toward the back of the house, the investigators’ eyes tracked it. Harrington followed their gaze to the flying toy. He lunged after it, plucking it out of the air. Turning back toward the couch, red faced, he opened his mouth and closed it again without uttering a sound. His shoulders fell.
“Is there something you want to tell us?” Suter asked. “I would think that might strike you as a little unusual, don’t you agree?”
“I can’t explain it.”
“Don’t try to explain it to us. Just tell us what’s been going on. Maybe we can help,” Bohannon said.
Bunny legs and ears flapped in the air of their own volition, trying to slip from Harrington’s grip. He slipped it under his thigh and held it there.
“Missy, come here,” Harrington called to the back of the house and shot a warning look at the detectives. “No interrogations. Just calm normal talking. That’s all.”
A blue-eyed blonde girl wearing a pink shirt dotted with daisies and a tiny pair of denim shorts walked directly to her father, took possession of the bunny and crawled onto his lap. She hugged the stuffed animal to her cheek and looked at the men on the couch.
“I thought we agreed not to call things like that,” Harrington said, talking to the top of her head.
“Sorry, Dad. Sometimes it just happens. Are those men here to help find Mommy?”
“That’s right. We’re going to help find your mom,” Suter said, his smile so fake and cold it repulsed Bohannon. “Can you tell me how you do that, how you call things?”
The little girl shrugged. “I just do, when I want something.”
“Have you always been able to do that?”
“Sure. Can’t you?”
“No. I can’t do that.”
“My dad says he can’t, but he used to. Mom said he was just pretending.”
“I see. We’ll try our best to find your mom for you. Would you be willing to help us do that?”
“Yes. I want her back.”
“Okay, if I think of a way for you to help, I’ll let you know.”
“Honey, you’ve got your bunny now. Why don’t you go play in your room and let the grown-ups talk for a minute?”
She slid off his lap and walked out of the room. After she was gone, Suter turned to the father. “Did her mother have this ability to make things come to her?”
“Yes, they both started doing it after they got back, after the accident,” Harrington said. “They acted like they had been doing it their whole lives—no big deal. I was so put off, it took me two days to ask Kathy about it. She thought I was kidding. It took days to convince her that I had never called anything, and that I had never seen her and Missy do it.”
“What convinced her?” Bohannon asked.
“I’m not sure exactly what did it, but, every once in a while, she would run into something about her life that was off-kilter.”
“Like what?”
“Well, she was a vegetarian before the accident but was surprised when we didn’t have meat in the freezer. She wanted to know where her Ford Explorer was. She rides a bike everywhere or borrows my Prius, or she did before the accident. She would never drive an SUV. Her mother called to check on her when she read about the accident, but Kathy claims her mother left the family when she was three and hasn’t spoken to her since. Kathy’s personality was pretty much the same, but the details of her life were different.”
“And Missy?”
“She seems pretty much the same, other than being able to make things come to her.”
“Is there a limit to the range of that ability?” Suter asked.
“I’ve no idea. Why would you want to know that?”
“Nothing. It’s not important. Would it be possible for us to look at the room where this explosion occurred?”
CHAPTER 43
BOHANNON THOUGHT IT looked like they were driving into the open maw of some black beast as he pulled into the sloping driveway in front of Sarah Gamble’s ranch house. The garage door was open, but no lights were on, and heavy clouds rolling in from the west hastened dusk and darkened the shadows inside. As he turned off the ignition, a light illuminated at the front door, and a burly man wearing heavy black glasses stepped onto the stoop holding open the sturdy screen door. He staggered to his right as a short bony woman shoved her way out from behind. She stomped down the two steps to the brick path that led to the driveway and click-clacked to the side of the passenger side of the car as Suter emerged.
She stood two inches from Suter’s chest and raised herself up on her toes to get even closer to his face. “Tell me that you are the police and that you have some news about my son,” she said.
“Would you mind telling me who you are, ma’am?” Suter asked, stepping back against the car.
“Are you the detectives who are looking into Jeremy’s disappearance?”
Bohannon walked around the back of his Caprice and joined them. “Ma’am, I’m Detective Daniel Bohannon of the Portland Police Department, and this is Ethan Suter of the FBI. We have been assigned to look into your son’s case, yes.”
“I’m Tonya Gamble, and this is my husband, Jack.” He walked up just as she turned to point. “We reported my son missing yesterday, and we have not heard a word since. What is going on?” She brushed at her brown bangs and glared at them.
“Mrs. Gamble, we are just starting our investigation. The best thing you can do right now is answer a few questions and then let us do what we do,” Bohannon said.
“Just starting your investigation? Do you realize it looks like a war zone in there?” Tonya waved her arm back to the front door. “Something went off in the kitchen and the living
room. It looks like someone was throwing grenades in there.”
“Mrs. Gamble, we were just assigned the case this afternoon. However, some of the preliminary work has already been done by other investigators. Background checks and traces on your mother—”
“Stepmother, Jack’s stepmother.”
“Background checks on your stepmother have been done. We have the information you provided, and we have cross-checked other reports and have some leads to follow.”
“What leads? What do you have?” Jack asked.
“Mr. Gamble, I can’t share that information with you. Let’s set some expectations here before we get off on the wrong foot. Generally it is inappropriate for us to share the details of an investigation with the family members while it is underway. The best thing you can do is answer our questions, and we’ll contact you if we need more information or if we locate your son and stepmother,” Bohannon said.
“That’s unacceptable,” Tonya said.
“It’s not optional,” Suter said, glaring at her, a subtle twitch pulsed below his right eye. His brow began to bead. “Now, you can answer our questions and help move this investigation forward, or you can go file a complaint and spend two weeks trying to get a bunch of bureaucrats to spank us.”
“What are your questions?” Jack said, holding up a hand to his wife.
Suter turned to Bohannon.
“We understand from your reports that Jeremy was visiting your stepmother for two weeks, correct?”
“Yes, we decided, after the airplane accident, that it would be best for Jeremy to stay here until we could drive up to get him. We didn’t want to put him on another flight so soon after the crash. Everything seemed fine until a few days ago when we lost touch with them. We couldn’t get them to answer the phone, texts or emails, nothing. Yesterday we decided to get on a plane to come up here to see what was going on.”
“So you arrived here at the house and then what?”
“We used the spare key Sarah hides out back and went into the house. That’s when we found the mess. Something had exploded in the kitchen and the living room, but there is no sign of Jeremy and Sarah. No bodies, no trace of them at all.” Tonya teared up.
“We’ve got the preliminary reports about the scene. We’re going to do a walk-through ourselves in a few minutes. Do either of you know of anyone who would want to harm Mrs. Gamble or your son?”
The couple shook their heads.
“Where are the two of you staying?” Bohannon asked.
“We’re at the Hilton downtown,” Jack said.
The detective handed them a business card. “Okay, we will be in touch. If you think of anything that would help, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Tonya wrapped her arms around her midsection trying to insulate herself from the cooling evening. She turned to go back to the front door of the house.
Bohannon jogged after her. “Ma’am, you can’t go inside,” he said, pointing to a placard on the door. “The house is a crime scene. Didn’t you see this when you first arrived?”
“No, the key we have only works on the back door. I’m freezing, and I need to go to the restroom.”
“The house is sealed while we investigate. I’m surprised the officers didn’t tell you yesterday. We’re done with our questions. Why don’t you and Mr. Gamble head back to your hotel, and we’ll be in touch.”
The couple didn’t bother with pleasantries or thank-yous. They simply walked into the dark garage, started a navy blue Ford Focus, backed up the sloping driveway. On the street, Tonya lowered her window. “Would one of you mind closing that garage door?”
Bohannon nodded.
“They don’t realize this was a crime scene even before they filed a missing person’s report?” Suter asked. “Didn’t your people tell them there’s a kidnap-and-assault warrant out on Grandma and the P.D. thinks she might be on the run?”
“Apparently not. I’ve got a call into the guys who handled the kidnap-and-assault case. Did you read the report on that?”
“Yeah, Grandma plastered some guy to the garage ceiling. Strange.”
“You want to go across the street and see if we can get anything out of the victim?” Bohannon reached into the backseat of the car and pulled out a folder. He flipped over a few sheets, ran his finger over one. “The guy’s name is Travis Johnson. Sounds like he got pretty shaken up.”
“Yeah, let’s go see if he has anything to say.”
*
Travis Johnson was a forty-five-year-old man going on seventy. He answered his front door, gazing out with unfocussed eyes and a slack expression, clearly medicated. While he looked frail, he wasn’t small, and Bohannon wondered how a grandmother managed to lift him to the ceiling of her garage.
“Mr. Johnson, do you have a few minutes to talk about the assault on Saturday?” Suter asked.
Johnson nodded and shuffled back into the house, leaving the door open, presumably as an invitation for them to follow, which they did. Johnson slow-walked them into a faux-wood-paneled den decorated and shag-carpeted back in the 1970s. He slumped into a recliner and left them to fend for themselves on an olive-toned leatherette couch.
“Can you tell us what happened to you at the Gamble residence Saturday?” Suter asked.
“Yes, I, ah…” He slurred, widened his eyes in an apparent effort to string some words together and sat back, exhausted from the effort.
Suter looked to Bohannon.
“I don’t think we are getting any long-form answers from him. Let’s just go with simple yes or no questions. Get him to nod or shake his head to respond. We’ve got enough from the report to do that,” Bohannon said.
“Be my guest,” Suter said.
“Mr. Johnson, you can just respond by nodding or shaking your head. Understand?”
He nodded.
“Now, according to the information you gave the officers who were here yesterday, Mrs. Gamble grabbed you in your driveway, is that correct?”
He nodded.
“She put you in a headlock and forced you across the street into her garage, correct?”
His eyes widened and watered. He nodded.
Bohannon pulled a folded sheaf of papers from his jacket pocket and read from it. “It says here in your statement that Mrs. Gamble grew wings and lifted you up into the rafters of her garage where she proceeded to cover you with a material she secreted from her mouth. Is that correct?”
Johnson lifted his chin and gazed off into a place only he could see. His eyes filled, and his voice trembled. “She was going to eat me.”
Bohannon paused, not knowing what to say. A minute later, Johnson’s gaze focused on the detective. The fear had passed or relented to some degree. The detective continued.
“We received an anonymous 9-1-1 call. A young woman and an Asian man came into the garage after you were taken. You reported they fought with Mrs. Gamble. You think they called?” Bohannon asked.
“Yes. They were the only ones who knew.”
Suter leaned forward, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two pictures.
“Is this the Asian man who was in the garage?” Suter handed him a photo.
Johnson’s eyes widened. “Yes, that’s him.”
“And is this the young woman?” He handed over the second photo.
“Yes. They saved me.”
CHAPTER 44
MARA SHIVERED AS she stared out into the dark warehouse from the illuminated island at its center. The thin mats they sat on in their makeshift classroom provided little insulation from the cement floor cooled by the fall evening. While it wasn’t actually cold outside, everything about the dark, drafty open space seemed to draw heat from her. She pulled her hair over her ears and twisted her cable-knit sweater so it sat closer to her body.
Ping startled her when he stepped out of the shadows carrying a small square space heater. “It won’t do much good to turn on the main heat,” he said, pointing to the silver ductwork crisscrossing the ceiling abo
ve. “By the time the heat made it down to us, we’d be gone. This should help make things a little more comfortable.”
“Where’s Sam?” Mara said.
“Playing basketball and allegedly doing his homework. He’s supposed to catch a bus out here when he’s done.” Ping flipped a switch on top of the heater and vertical elements inside began to heat up, casting a faint red glow on Mara’s cheek. He took his seat on the mat across from her and said, “So tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that I wish I had never gotten on that airplane,” Mara said.
“I’m not sure that would have changed anything. Being on the flight did not change who and what you are.”
“Do we really need to talk about that?” Mara looked down, picked at the corner of her mat.
“What do you think we are doing here? If you didn’t want to talk and learn about being a progenitor, why are you here?”
“I told you. I want control of my life. I want to deal with these strange creatures showing up at the shop.”
“Don’t you think it has gone beyond that now?”
“How so?”
“Tell me how you feel about your experience with the Sandovals. What do you think about what happened there?”
“Well, I felt good about being able to help. I hope he got home okay and that he is getting better. Why?”
“I think there is a lot for you to consider in that experience. It is the first time you acknowledged being a progenitor. Also you didn’t question that Mr. Sandoval was actually from a different realm or that he was Mrs. Sandoval’s husband.”
“I think you are overstating how much I have bought into all this.”
“What is it you have not bought into? Mrs. Sandoval asked you point-blank if you were a progenitor, and you did not deny it. You accepted the idea you might be able to help Mr. Sandoval, and then you did.” He paused to see if she would challenge his points and then continued. “Do you consider Mr. Sandoval to be Mrs. Sandoval’s husband?”
“Of course. Why not?”
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