“Yes? How can I help you?”
“I’m hoping you can help us out,” said Bill. “We were talking upstairs and we both realized that there’s some weird crap going on in this hotel.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
“Voices without bodies. The peephole on the door is blacked out when someone is knocking. Room service without room service. You catch my drift, I’m sure.”
“I told you earlier, sir, we don’t have room service.”
“Right!” yelled Bill, becoming increasingly frustrated. “That’s the problem, Maurice. And then there’s you.”
“What about me, sir?”
“Well, to be quite honest, Maurice, you seem like you’re hiding something and you always appear out of nowhere.”
“Except this time,” added Sara.
“Right. Why not this time?” asked Bill.
“Well, as you may have noticed, sir, I’m not as young as I used to be and I don’t move too fast these days.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t explain every other time when the room was empty, you suddenly appear behind us in a fraction of a second. Frankly, and I’ve been thinking about it, it’s impossible. You joke about it and dismiss it, but something’s fishy.”
Obviously disturbed by where this line of questioning was heading, Maurice kept his cool and simply replied, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you mean.”
“How long have you been working here, Maurice? Years?” asked Bill.
“Yes. Definitely years.”
“No, we mean how many years,” replied Sara.
“Let’s see. Has to be at least about twenty or thirty by now. Why do you ask?”
“A lot of people go missing in this town, Maurice, and they’re always last seen here. I’d like to know why. Any ideas?”
“You sound like a cop. You have no right to come in here and sneak around behind our backs, investigating and harassing us like this.”
“He’s retired from the force,” a voice from behind Sara and Bill announced.
Maurice looked past Bill and Sara and focused on the person standing behind them. The two turned around, shocked to hear someone behind them. How long had he been standing there? How did he know Bill was retired? Why did he feel the need to interject in this conversation?
“Oh, I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself. How impolite of me,” he said. “My name is Ray Evans, chief of the Lancaster police department.”
“Where’s my son?” asked Sara.
“You folks can’t come in here and harass Maurice. This is my town. You wouldn’t have strangers come into your home, snoop through your drawers, and yell at your family members, would you?”
“Where is he?” yelled Sara, growing impatient.
“He who?” asked the Chief. “Your son, Jeff? Or Maurice?”
Both of them were stunned and wondered how the chief knew that they were looking for Jeff. Sara had only said “son,” and she could have been the mother of any one of the missing people.
It then occurred to Bill that the chief had asked Jeff or Maurice. He wondered why the Chief would have thought he was asking where Maurice was. He was clearly behind the counter. Bill suddenly remembered that Maurice had the propensity to appear from nowhere. He looked over his shoulder and, to his surprise, Maurice was gone.
Bill tapped on Sara’s arm and gave her a slight nudge, saying, “Look. He’s gone.”
Sara turned and looked back to where Maurice was standing and said, “Where’d he go?”
Realizing that no one was answering the question, she turned back to the chief to demand an answer. The chief, just like Maurice, was gone without a trace.
“They’re gone. Both of ’ em. What the hell’s going on?” asked Sara.
“I don’t know, but I think we should head back to the room and regroup. Think about our approach,” said Bill.
“Shouldn’t we go somewhere else? I don’t think it’s safe here.”
“No,” said Bill. “If these people are the ones responsible and they think we’re on to them, then we probably aren’t safe anywhere, especially if the police chief’s involved, which it certainly seems at this point.”
“I see what you’re saying. You’re the expert and I trust you.”
“I’m thinking this hotel is the hot spot. Whatever’s happening in this town, this is the epicenter. I’d rather stick around here so we can continue the investigation. I don’t want to give up on it now. We have to be close.”
“If you think it’s best.”
“I really do. Let’s go back to the room and think about our next move. I have a friend I want to call, too. He can get me some background on these guys.”
Fifteen
“Sherlock?” asked Bill.
Back when Bill was still on the force, one of his buddies moved out to San Francisco. He became an expert in computer investigations, able to track someone down and dig up all kinds of history through various law enforcement databases. He was damn good at his job. It came to him naturally. He seemed to just know where to look and how to interpret the results in a way that always led to capturing the suspect. He was a genius, which led Bill to call him Sherlock, even though his name was really Sherman. Sherlock just seemed a better fit.
“Bill, you old bastard. You need something again, don’t you?” asked Sherlock.
“Can’t an old buddy call to say hi occasionally?”
“Yeah, except you never do. What do you need?”
“Straight to it then, huh? You know me too well. I’m out in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, investigating a missing person. Well, a bunch of missing persons, actually. Anyway, there’re a few people out here that I suspect are hiding something.”
“If you think they are, they probably are. You want me to look them up for you?”
“Bingo. Keep this off the official channels, if you don’t mind, it involves the chief out here.”
“You got it, buddy.”
“First, Chief Ray Evans, and then a desk clerk at this hotel named Maurice.”
“Pulling up Evans now, hang on just a sec,” said Sherman.
After a few seconds, Sherman said, “Okay. Chief Raymond Evans. On the force for about twenty years. Not much else before then, which is weird. I don’t think I’ve ever had that happen, where someone’s life just vanishes.”
“What does it mean?” asked Bill. “I thought you were the best.”
“Kind of you to say, but it’s a first for me. Wait. Hang on. This says his middle name is Maurice. Didn’t you say that was the name of the clerk you wanted to check on too?”
“Weird coincidence. Yes, Maurice, but I don’t know his last name. He works at this hotel I’m staying in, the Home Away From Home Suites in Lancaster.”
“Okay, I’ll check the employment records, give me a bit.”
After about a minute of silence, Sherman responded, “Found him. Here we go. Oh boy, get this, his name is Maurice Raymond.”
“Raymond, like the chief’s first name? Another coincidence that’s beginning to sound a lot less like coincidence.”
“Yup, and just like the chief, his records go back twenty years, then vanish. Maybe it’s just bad record-keeping, but I doubt it. Something like this? I’d say someone went in and removed them intentionally.”
“I’m not liking this, Sherlock. Any chance there are others out here with similar names like these two guys?”
“Already ahead of you,” said Sherman, clicking away at the keyboard. “Yeah, I found one more. When I did a search for Maurice, Raymond, and Evans, I found this guy. There was a foreman who went missing back in the fifties. He was the one in charge of building that hotel you mentioned. His name was Evan Maurice Raymond.”
“What about his records?”
“In a reverse of the others, his records are all there and just disappear after that year. Says here that he’s believed to have been killed in an explosion on the work site that also killed eleven other construction workers. This many c
oincidences can’t be possible.”
“You think it could be the same guy?” asked Bill.
“No way,” replied Sherman. “This says the foreman was forty-five years old at the time of the explosion. That was back in the fifties. He’d have to be well over a hundred years old by now.”
“Good point. The clerk’s probably about sixty-five, seventy, tops. The chief’s probably only forty-five. Maybe they are related, like father, son, and grandson?
“Could be. I’ll keep working on it and I’ll let you know if I find anything else,” said Sherman.
“Thanks, Sherlock. Appreciate it, buddy.”
“No problem. Next time, actually call to say hi.”
“Will do,” said Bill, ending the call.
“What was all that about?” asked Sara.
“Um, long story short, I think we have a demented family on our hands and someone’s covering for them.”
Sixteen
Bill and Sara sat at the desk, side by side, in the hotel room. They were both deep in thought, trying to comprehend everything that had been happening. Aside from the mysterious man with the white glove, there were the amazing disappearing and reappearing hotel clerk and chief of police. Now, on top of that, they had a bunch of people sharing similarities in names and who all seemed to somehow be involved in one way or another. Bill’s friend, Sherman, was able to figure that one out. Were they family? Was the chief covering for them?
“Oh, I just had an idea!” exclaimed Bill. “Down in the pool area, I saw a mirror on the wall, similar in design to a nametag I saw Maurice wearing.”
“So?” asked Sara.
“Well, it had a reflection in it that wasn’t of the room I was standing in.”
“What was the reflection of, then?”
“It looked like an office, and when I blinked, it was gone. I thought maybe it was my imagination or something, but now I’m not sure. The more I think about it, the more I think it actually could’ve been an office, like in a police station.”
“You think it could’ve been a police chief’s office?”
“I’ve been in enough police departments in my time. I’d say it looked a lot like one.”
“Well, let’s go check it out again,” said Sara.
“Look at you, getting all adventurous,” said Bill, surprised at Sara’s suggestion.
The two left the room and headed down to the pool. Last time Bill had visited the pool, he was able to walk right in. This time, the doors were locked. They could see in through the glass and Bill was able to tell that it was still just as empty as before.
“Wait, is that the mirror there?” asked Sara.
“Yes, why?”
“Back in the lobby, I saw the police chief wearing a tie tack that was almost identical,” replied Sara. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now, seeing this mirror, it’s weird. Coincidental maybe.”
“None of this seems like coincidence at this point. Think about it,” said Bill. We have this mirror. We have a tie tack on the chief and a nametag on Maurice, both that match this mirror. Oh, and the matching names on—”
“Did you see that?” asked Sara.
Bill looked around, trying to figure out what she was talking about.
“No, what?” he asked.
“The mirror. It just,” she paused for a second, “changed.”
“Oh, look at that. You’re right. We need to get in there and get a closer look.”
Bill rattled the door handle to see if he could shake it open easily. When that failed, he leaned against it, putting pressure on it. Then he pulled back and quickly pushed back against it forcefully. The door popped open without much of a noise. The two of them headed inside, moved around the pool, and approached the mirror.
“It’s weird, black, and blurry, like the peephole in the door,” said Sara.
Bill, standing directly in front of the mirror, waved his hand back and forth. It was too dark to even see his hand, although it was only a few inches from the glass.
A voice behind them called out, “You shouldn’t have come.”
Startled, Sara screamed and the hair on the back of Bill’s neck stood on end. They both turned around at the same time, recognizing the voice. On the other side of the pool, across the room, was Jeff.
“Jeff!” yelled Sara. “Honey! Are you okay?”
“They can’t hear you scream,” replied Jeff.
“They, who?” asked Sara. “Bill! Go get him, I’ll call for help!” she screamed, pulling her phone from her pocket.
Bill began moving around the pool toward Jeff.
“They won’t help you.”
“They who?” repeated Sara. “Honey, who won’t help? Why do you keep saying that?”
Bill finished rounding the pool and was nearly at Jeff’s position when a flash of bright light filled the room. Bill squinted his eyes and when the light was back to normal, Jeff was gone. In his place stood Maurice.
“What’re you doing in here?” asked Maurice. “This room is closed.”
Bill pulled his gun from its holster inside his jacket and pointed it at Maurice.
“What’s going on here,” Bill yelled at Maurice. “Where’d you come from?”
“Sorry, I don’t know what you mean. I just came in because the alarm was going off, most likely because you broke in.”
“Where did Jeff go? What did you do with my Jeffrey?” yelled Sara.
“You two were the only ones in here when I came in. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call the authorities.”
“You mean your friend, the chief, is gonna show up again?” asked Bill. “Good. I’ve got some questions for him. You see, Maurice, I’ve checked up on you and him. I don’t like the coincidences and if there’s one thing I learned from my time on the force, too many coincidences mean trouble.
“That’s it. I’m calling the police,” replied Maurice.
“You’re not calling anyone until you start talking,” said Bill, cocking his pistol.
“Put that thing away before you hurt yourself,” called a voice from behind Bill. “Drop it or I’ll shoot the both of you.”
Bill realized it was the chief’s voice behind him. He looked over at Sara, who looked confused. Bill knew enough to recognize an unwinnable situation when he was in one, and this was it. Rather than risk a bullet to the back, he held his left hand up, bent down, and placed his gun on the floor.
“Bill, what are you doing?” Sara called out.
“I’m not getting shot in the back by some corrupt cowardly asshole,” he replied.
“But there’s no one behind you. What are you talking about, shot in the back?”
“What?” asked Bill, who turned his head around to see behind him. Sara was correct. No one was there.
“Look out!” yelled Sara.
“For wha—”
Before Bill had a chance to react, Maurice struck him on the back of the head and knocked him to the floor. Maurice quickly knelt down next to Bill and placed his left hand around his neck. With his free hand, he touched his nametag. Both Bill and Maurice disappeared in a flash of light.
Seventeen
Fifty-five years ago — 1958
“Where do you want this to go?” asked a worker, holding up a giant sun-shaped mirror.
“I want that mirror hung by the pool,” replied the man behind the counter.
“Yes sir, Mr. Raymond.”
“Please, call me Maurice. This hotel’s going to be the best in the area and that mirror is irreplaceable, so be careful with it. A good friend of mine found that while digging the foundation for this place five years ago. It’s very important to me personally.”
“What about this crack?” asked the worker, pointing to the surface of the glass. “Shouldn’t we get it fixed first?”
“No. The crack is symbolic and gives it character. It stays.”
“Okay, boss. Your call.”
Maurice watched the man walk away carrying the mirror. When he
was out of sight, he left the counter and headed back into the office, closing the door and locking it behind him.
“Now what are we going to do with you?” asked Maurice.
He reached over and pulled the gag down out of the man’s mouth.
“You son of a bitch!” screamed Bill. “Why didn’t you just kill me?”
“No, we need you,” replied Maurice.
“We? Who’s we?”
“Us,” said Maurice, curving his hand inward and pointing his fingers at his chest.
“What do you need me for?”
“Your identity. We think you figured it out on your own.”
“Don’t know what you mean. Figured what out?”
“Us,” said Maurice, indicating to himself again. “We are the same.”
“Me and you?”
“Me. The chief. The foreman. We are one.”
“Bullshit. You can’t be all those people.”
Maurice shook his head. “Back on this construction site, five years ago, we found a mirror buried in the ground. Well, the workers found it, but we retrieved it.”
“Now I know you’re full of shit. Five years ago? That was back in the fifties. That was sixty years ago.”
“The mirror speaks to us. It gives us power beyond imagination. One of those powers is the ability to move through time. We can appear anywhere, past or present, but not our future. The reason for that, I am told, is because it hasn’t happened yet. Our present self from the future can go back and forth in time, but not farther forward than the latest day we’ve experienced. It may be hard for you to comprehend, but rest assured, Mr. Anderson, we are in 1958 right now.”
Bill looked at Maurice with disbelief. “You’re crazy. No way we’re in 1958.”
“Crazy as you may think it is, it is fact.”
Maurice lifted a newspaper off the desk behind him. Unfolding it, he turned and showed Bill the front page.
“See the date on top?” asked Maurice. “That is today’s date. This is today’s paper.”
“You could’ve gotten an old newspaper from anywhere.”
“Okay, then believe this. Another one of the powers the mirror grants us is shape shifting.”
The Foreman Page 5
