George Hartmann Box Set

by Kelly Utt

  "What's my wife's name?" I ask.

  "Alessandra," he says smugly. "Do you really think I'd forget the name of the woman who was the best lay of my entire life? I'll tell you what, it was amazing. She's so flexible. And the things she does with that pretty little mouth of hers..."

  Now it’s time to punch him. I squat and hit him square in the nose. I want it to bleed. And it does. Blood begins to run down into his mouth and around the sides of his face, all the way to the back of his head. I suddenly realize that this means there will be blood on the carpet. I don’t much care. Clive Roland had this coming. We’ll have to deal with the carpet later.

  I shake my hand twice in the air as I look at my uncle and my father-in-law. Roddy nods his head up and down for me as if to say he would've done it if I hadn't. I step back and take a moment to think.

  It's interesting that he didn't refer to my wife as Ali. I'm sure her name was in the news as Alessandra since that's her full legal name. And she's known as Alessandra professionally. Only her friends and family call her Ali. Maybe that means he's just trying to run a con here. Or that he doesn't actually know my Ali at all. God, that would be such good news. But then again, if she was having a relationship while I was away in Korea, maybe she told her partner to call her Alessandra. Maybe doing so allowed for more emotional distance. I sure wish I could ask her right now. We’re working in the dark.

  "When exactly did your so-called relationship take place?" I ask.

  "I'll do you one better,” Clive says. "I have a picture of Alessandra and me together. It's right here, saved on my mobile phone. In my pants pocket. Pull it out and I'll show you the picture."

  I look at Roddy and he moves his head, telling me to go ahead and get the phone.

  I again squat next to Clive as he gestures to indicate which pocket his mobile phone is located in. I reach in his pocket, but the phone is pushed down deep and it’s hard to get to. I reach further, shifting my full attention to retrieving the phone when suddenly, Clive uses his entire body strength to rock forward and headbutt me square in the temple. I fall backward, reeling from the pain as Roddy and Liam jump into action.

  Roddy surges forward and gives Clive four powerful blows to the head. His boxing skills are evident and they’re coming in handy right now.

  My father-in-law leans back, then Liam moves forward to take a turn. He places two blows on the side of Clive's head followed by an uppercut to the chin.

  We back up, looking at Clive to see what he's going to do next. He moves his head slowly, working to absorb the pain. He doesn't show any sign of backing down.

  Clive looks at me without making eye contact with Roddy or Liam.

  “Now I see what's going on here," he says. "You're not very tough at all without your guard dogs. No wonder your wife wasn't satisfied. She must have turned to me so she could find out what it was like to be with a real man.”

  I lurch forward to go at him again.

  Roddy puts his hand up to stop it.

  "What's wrong?" Clive asks. "Your guard dogs won't let you touch me?"

  Clive tilts his head back against the carpet and laughs hard. He doesn't seem phased by the blood oozing out from multiple places on his face and head.

  "He's trying to get a rise out of you, George,” Roddy says. "He's not worth it. Don't let him agitate you."

  I take a few deep breaths and try to focus on the information I intend to obtain. If he thinks I have guard dogs, then so be it. Might as well make good use of every resource at my disposal.

  "Grab that mobile phone out of his pocket,” I say quietly to my uncle, careful not to use his name.

  Roddy steps forward first and puts both hands down on Clive's chest so there's no chance of him headbutting Liam like he did me. Once he’s secure, Liam reaches down into Clive’s pants pocket and pulls out the phone."

  "Passcode?" Liam asks, holding the phone up in front of Clive’s face.

  "Why don't you untie my hands and I'll type it in for you?" Clive asks, knowing full well that’s not going to happen.

  "I don't think so,” Liam replies. "Passcode?"

  "Fine," Clive says. “I want you to see this photo. I won't delay you any longer. I can't wait to see the look on George’s face when he sees me with his precious wife."

  I grimace in response as he toys with me. He’s making me so pissed off. So very pissed off.

  Clive tells Liam the passcode and it works on the first try.

  "Open up the camera roll,” Clive instructs. "It's right there. The first one. I had it queued up and ready for that hot reporter this morning. Pretty soon, this picture of me and Alessandra is going to be all over the news."

  Liam goes to the camera roll and pulls up the photo. When I catch a glimpse, I can tell from a distance that a group is pictured. It looks like six or seven in total. Liam and Roddy are closer, so they get a better view.

  “It looks like a digital picture was taken of a printed photo,” Liam reports. “As if someone took the printed photo and laid it out on the table then used a smartphone to take a picture of it. You can tell by the glare and the way the light hits it.”

  Roddy takes Clive’s phone out of Liam’s hand, then walks over and picks up the gun from the nightstand. He places it near Liam on one of the beds.

  "Watch him while George and I step outside,” Roddy says to my uncle.

  This can't be good. Roddy probably wants to step outside with me so Clive doesn’t get the satisfaction of seeing my face when I lay eyes on the picture of him and Ali together. If there was nothing to Clive’s claim, Roddy wouldn’t be pulling me out of the room. My heart sinks. I don't want to see the photo. I don't want this to be true.

  We step outside and close the door to the motel room behind us. Roddy exhales and leans his head all the way back as if trying to frame the situation in his mind before articulating his thoughts. He looks at the phone again, then shakes his hand reluctantly and hands the device over to me.

  There, in front of my eyes, is a photo of Ali next to Clive. She has a beer in her hand and she's leaning up against him. He has a beer, too, and looks like he's in hog heaven with her by his side. The only saving grace is that the two of them are pictured amongst a larger group. The image does, in fact, appear to have been taken around the time I was in Korea. I can tell because Ali had her hair cut above her shoulders in a classic bob. It's the only time in all the years I've known her that her hair has been so short.

  “That's her,” I manage to say. "That's Ali, isn't it? You see this, too, right?"

  “Yes, that's my daughter,” Roddy confirms.

  "That haircut…" I say

  "I know," Roddy says. "That was the only time in her life she's worn her hair that short.”

  I become filled with frustration and I stomp my feet on the concrete sidewalk a few times. I never expected this. Of all the things I could've encountered today, this is not one I would have ever seen coming. Hell, the whole life lived in Ancient Greece is less surprising to me than this.

  "Could it have been digitally manipulated?" I ask.

  "Maybe," Roddy says. "I'll get some tech guys on it. But it looks authentic.”

  "Okay," I say. "This doesn't mean they had a romantic relationship. This is just one picture. They’re with a group. Ali is friendly. Maybe they just posed like this for the picture and that's the end of the story."

  “Maybe," Roddy says.

  We look at each other for a long minute, neither of us sure of the next best move. The sun is still beating down on us and the warm air is making me perspire.

  "Let's get back in there," I say. "Might as well get this show on the road."

  We return to the room. The scene looks exactly like we left it. Liam hasn't helped Clive sit back up. He’s still laying tipped back onto the floor, bruised and bloody.

  "Get him up," I say.

  "How did you like that?" Clive asks me. "Does seeing that help you imagine my hands on your wife? Because I really hope it does."

&n
bsp; "What happened between you two?" I ask.

  "So, you want the gory details? "Clive snarls. "I thought you'd never ask."

  "I'm asking how you met… How you knew her," I say forcefully, cutting off his line of attack.

  Clive smiles as blood drips down onto his lips. It strikes me that he looks like Joker from the Batman movies. I think it's the crazy eyes. I wonder what his mental status really is.

  "We met at a bar,” he says. "I was a bartender. She was a lonely, neglected Air Force wife whose husband wasn’t around to keep her warm at night. What was a good samaritan like me to do? You can thank me later."

  I can't stand how smug he is. Damn.

  I try to think where he might have gotten this information if not from personal experience. I don't believe there’s been any public information released about the time period when I was out of the country. But I don't know that for sure. Several different articles have been written about me. Although, even if Clive did meet Ali as he claims, that doesn't mean they had a relationship or that anything untoward went on.

  "Let's get right down to it," I say, again stepping forward and making myself big to look intimidating. "What do you want?”

  "That's easy," Clive says. “I want to see my boy. And I'll need to collect that child support check, of course."

  I shudder at the thought.

  "Then why did you run them off the road?" I ask.

  "I didn't plan on it," he replies.

  He sounds serious about this part. Strangely, I think I believe him.

  "I tracked Alessandra down and just wanted to talk. When she saw me, she got spooked and took off. I followed her, again, because I wanted to talk. I didn't expect her to freak out like that and flip her vehicle. That was all on her."

  "Do you realize she's in surgery right now and we don't know if she's going to make it?" I ask. "If you really did know each other and if you ever cared for her at all, I hope you feel some remorse for what you've done."

  Clive looks serious for a moment instead of snarky like he has the rest the time we've been questioning him. Maybe he really does know Ali and really does care what happens to her. Maybe he was just trying to talk to her.

  Without saying anything, Roddy pulls out his pocket knife and opens up the blade. He steps forward and grabs a wad of Clive’s short hair. With a few short swipes, he cuts off a section then holds the hair exposed in the palm of one hand as he uses his other hand to close the knife and put it back in his pocket.

  "Hey, what in the hell?" Clive asks in defiance.

  I nod my head up and down at Roddy.

  I can see my father-in-law scanning the room for something to put the hair in. Liam sees, too, and has an idea. He walks to the sink and opens up a small bar of soap that's packaged and waiting on the counter. He dumps the soap, then hands the plastic packaging to Roddy. Roddy immediately understands and stuffs the clump of hair into the soap wrapper, folding it in half so no strands spill out. He places the package in his pocket then looks back at me with a satisfied smile, letting me know to continue.

  "We’ll know soon enough if you fathered a child," I say to Clive.

  "Fine by me," he proclaims. "The sooner, the better."

  If nothing else, it seems like Clive believes his own story. Or, he's a very good actor.

  "How did you find us?" I ask, continuing my line of questioning.

  Clive looks up at me, blood still caked on his face and in his hair. His sinister smile returns and I can tell he wants to taunt me some more.

  "Wouldn't you like to know?" he replies. "But I'm not telling."

  "You realize we have ways of getting you to talk, don't you?" I say, raising my fists in the air and pumping them together in front of me.

  "What, are you going to sic your guard dogs on me again?" he asks. "Because from where I'm sitting, I don't think you have it in you to fight like a man all on your own."

  I narrow my eyes and do my best to look intense.

  "How did you find us?" I ask again.

  "That's for me to know and you to find out… Maybe. Someday. That day is not today. I don't care what you do to me. There are some secrets I'm not telling."

  I glance at Roddy and Liam now. I've tried not to look at them because I want to seem in control, but I need Roddy's guidance. He nods his head forward and closes his eyes, telling me to continue. I turn my focus back to Clive.

  “Did you have anything to do with what happened in Ithaca?" I ask.

  I hate to give him any more information he could use to terrorize my family with, yet I need to see his reaction to this question. I need to figure out how all of this is connected. It doesn't seem like a coincidence. That would be one hell of a coincidence.

  Clive smiles once more and looks like he's really enjoying this. I think about his record and the fact that he's probably spent a lot of time in jail while having to pose as threatening in order to survive. Then again, I’ll bet it’s hard to say what’s posing and what's not. He did the crime they got him into jail in the first place.

  "You mean last winter when a guy broke into your fancy-schmancy mansion and took my boy with him while leaving your boy untouched in the same room? I don't know. You do the math. Does it add up?"

  I can't hold myself back. I rush towards him and place both of my hands tightly around his throat. The chair stays upright this time, but I use all of my might and I lift Clive off the ground by the neck. I hold him up so high in the air that the chair dangles below. I squeeze as hard as I can. I want to squeeze the life out of him. I know what I'm doing and I continue on anyway. I'd rather spend my life in prison if that's how it turns out than let this creep get his filthy hands on Ethan.

  Roddy rushes towards us and I can tell he's thinking about whether or not to intervene. He's the one who ended the other guy in our driveway without a hint of remorse, so I doubt it's taking a life that he's concerned about.

  Clive passes out and goes limp in my hands. I know I have a matter of seconds to decide whether I'm going to take his life or drop him and let him live. I turn and look at Roddy. He's leaving it up to me. But I can tell he feels hesitation. His eyebrows are raised, waiting to see what happens. If you wanted Clive dead, his facial expression in this moment would show it.

  That simple cue from Roddy allows me to take a breath and think about my choice. We don't even know if Clive is telling the truth. It's possible he got all of this information from news reports, doctored a photo and exaggerated his relationship with Ali, then came after us as an opportunist looking to secure a piece of our fortune. If that's his story, he probably doesn't deserve to die. He seems serious about not intending to run my family off the road. Maybe he's just an asshole who is so used to acting like one that he ended up in over his head.

  I release my grip and Clive falls to the floor with the chair below him. His head flops against his chest and his body begins to slide down under the ties which are holding him.

  "Do you think he's telling the truth?” I ask as I look at Roddy and Liam for answers.

  I’m highly impressed by their composure. Neither one of them looks too upset by what's happening, which lets me know they’ve seen a lot worse. Especially Roddy. My father-in-law stays cool and level headed in every situation I've seen him in so far. And I’ve seen him in situations which would make other people crumble. But not Roddy. He's a formidable foe, that's for sure. I'm glad he's on my side.

  "I don't know,” Liam says. "If I had to guess, I'd say he did know Ali in some capacity, then heard about us on the news and decided to use their acquaintance as a means to extort some money."

  "If that's so," I say. "Then why did he seem so comfortable with us taking hair for a DNA test?"

  "Good point, "Liam says. "That doesn't quite jive with my theory."

  "And what about the break-in? Could he have been the getaway driver who was there that night?"

  "It's possible,” Roddy says.

  "Right," I say reluctantly. "On one hand, I'd be glad to find that gu
y. On the other, I don't want any of the rest of what Clive says to be true, so I hope it's not him."

  I look down at Clive and it appears that he's barely breathing. I lean in closer. He's taking very shallow breaths.

  "Should we be giving him CPR?" I ask.

  I immediately feel bad about asking that question. A predator doesn't consider giving CPR to his prey.

  "No, "Roddy says. "He'll probably recover. "

  "What about Greece?" I ask.

  The thought crossed my mind, so I gave it a voice. I figure the three of us are so tightly bonded by this point that I can say anything in front of them.

  "You're wondering if this guy could be one of the people who harmed your family in Ancient Greece, correct?" Liam asks. “Assuming your memories are real.”

  "Yes, that's right,” I say. "I know how it sounds. You're my guys. Who else am I going to ask? Somehow, I doubt we’re going to be relaying the details of this afternoon's events to Marjorie or Ali."

  "Yeah, I'd say we've crossed a line and can’t turn back,” Liam confirms.

  "Alright, let's talk through scenarios,” Roddy says. "Clive isn't going anywhere anytime soon.”

  Liam places the handgun back down on the nightstand and sits on the bed beside it. Roddy sits down on the second bed nearby while I position myself on the foot of one bed, closest to Liam. It seems strange to be sitting casually while the guy I almost just killed lays piled in a heap nearby, tied to a chair. This is our new reality.

  "Okay," I say, getting right down to business. "I only remember fragments from Ancient Greece. I'm certain there's a whole lot more I don't remember or understand yet. Not to mention, I have no idea how all of this past life stuff works. From what I can tell so far, we stick with a lot of the same people. That could lend support to the idea that Clive was with us back then. Don't several religions talk about karma and how leftover conflicts from one life can surface again when we're reincarnated?"

  "Something like that, "Roddy says. "Marjorie is the one to ask."

  "Well, do you remember anything she’s told you previously about how this works?" I ask my father-in-law.