Dammit, he thought. “I wasn’t saying it at you, David. I apologize. I just got caught up in what I was thinking.”
“Okay,” he said, seeming unsure.
Students walked around the floor, preparing for the day. He hadn’t woken them. He noticed that the sun had crested the horizon. That concerned him. It was the first instance of him losing the present when focusing on his past.
“Mr. T,” David asked again, concern in his voice. “I’m sorry I told Mr. Haverford about you teaching me martial arts.” He looked down at the floor, and he realized that he thought his hesitation had been because Paul was mad at him.
He didn’t see how he could know that Haverford might fire him because of it, but he probably guessed he would get in some kind of trouble. “It wasn’t your fault,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“I hope you aren’t in too much trouble.”
“You let me worry about that. What about you? Did Haverford punish you in any way? Did he call your dad?”
David looked down at his shoes. “He told me it was serious and called my dad again, but only got voicemail.” And then, very quietly, almost to himself, he said, “Just like always.”
Paul’s heart went out to David. He couldn’t let him worry about this during exams. Even as smart as he was, angst might cause him to do poorly, and that would affect his future. “Don’t worry about Haverford. Focus on exams. Which one do you have today?”
“Calculus.”
In ninth grade. Damn, the boy could run the country one day. “All right, get going.”
“Okay,” he said, almost meekly. He walked to the fire door and paused, looking at him.
Paul guessed he was wondering where they stood. “We’re good,” he said. “I understand what happened.” But then he realized he was missing a teachable moment. “Remember one thing, though, GOAD applies not only to martial arts, but also to life as well. People all have wants and needs. Determining what those are will help you understand why they do the things they do.”
He nodded and left.
Paul walked downstairs and entered the second floor. Chuck Fitzgerald leaned against the wall and watched the students go about their morning routine. When he saw Paul, he said, “Hey, man. You get everything sorted?”
“Yeah. I had to take care of something…from my old job. I appreciate the loan.” He tossed him the keys to his truck. He regretted giving Chuck a vague excuse why he’d needed to borrow it for a few days, but he’d been remarkably understanding.
Chuck caught the keys and straightened. “You okay? Need to talk?”
“What do you mean?” For a second, Paul feared Chuck had somehow discovered he’d gone to Italy.
“Haverford didn’t tell you?”
“You’re the first person I’ve seen since I got back.”
Chuck put a hand on his shoulder. “He moved the board meeting to yesterday. Some crap about a snow storm coming soon.”
“Awe hell. What happened?”
Chuck shook his head in condolence. “They voted not to invite you back for next term.”
Mixed emotions swept through Paul. He was mad at Haverford for being a dick; concerned that the FBI would find out he’d been fired; and felt a pang of regret he wouldn’t come back to Hillcrest. Above all those thoughts, however, he felt a sense of urgency. The term ended in two days. If he didn’t figure out what happened at the end of his undercover operation before then, the FBI would throw him in jail and speed up the trial.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate you telling me.”
“Don’t lose hope, yet. I may be able to do something.”
Paul smiled. “Appreciate it. Well, I’m late.”
As he turned to leave, Chuck said, “Stop by later. We’ll talk.”
Paul hesitated. He didn’t want to involve Chuck in his past, but he’d helped him out so much, he thought his friend deserved some explanation. Maybe he’d substitute the places, names and dates. Share a little bit. Who knows, it might jog a memory. “I might do that,” he said, and headed to his classroom.
Chapter Forty-Four
Chuck texted Anonymous: Paul’s back from wherever he went. He took pleasure doing so in full view of students doing their morning routine. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Anonymous texted back: What did he say about his trip?
Nothing, Chuck texted in reply. But I think he might be ready to talk tonight. What about your plans?
If you learn his secret, text me. Otherwise, I’ll know shortly whether I need him anymore.
Chuck dropped the phone in his pocket and wondered what Anonymous had planned. Regardless, in twenty-four hours, Paul would be dead. That made Chuck wonder exactly what Paul was hiding. If Anonymous was willing to pay $100k to have it, the information must be very valuable.
Chuck ducked into his room, retrieved a small package from under his bed, and left the dorm. He quickly crossed campus and rushed through Founder’s Hall into Conference Room C. He didn’t want to listen at keyholes any more. He wanted to hear everything Paul said to the psychologist. Something he didn’t do at the start because he feared exposure.
He placed the listening device under the coffee table and tested the reception on his phone. It worked well. His only problem now was his constructed persona, the one he’d adopted from his past. He never considered how annoying it was to pretend to be a nice, caring teacher and friend. For months now he knew he was reaching his limit. And when he was ordered to kill Paul, no one would suspect duplicity from the nicest teacher on campus.
Chapter Forty-Five
As each class took their exam, Paul’s mind kept drifting back to the dream of Eric. He also thought of Erin, how different she was from Portia. And how he’d broken their date with a lame excuse.
When the school day finished, his phone beeped. It was a text from Erin.
I won’t be able to run tonight. I forgot it’s girl’s night out.
Crap, he thought. He’d broken their Saturday date and now she’d broken their running date. He wondered if she was being coy or whether he was being crazy. He texted back. Rain check date tomorrow night?
She texted back a ‘thumbs up’ emoji. An ambiguous yes. He shook his head. Not only was his work life in the toilet but his love life was headed the same way.
Paul shook away thoughts of Erin. He had to focus on remembering. And he felt a growing panic around the dream about Eric. He hoped Jacob could help.
He went back to his room, grabbed the Post-it board, and headed to Conference Room C.
“You look concerned,” Jacob said, taking a sip of his Diet Coke.
Paul related the pertinent parts of the weekend and what had been bothering him the whole day, including his pending termination at Hillcrest.
“Your firing is a huge issue, one we need to explore, but the Italian operation, for obvious reasons, is more pressing. In regards to the weekend, going to Italy was a turning point. Dangerous, possibly reckless, but a pivotal step toward you reclaiming your memories. And the fact that you remembered how you escaped, but not what happened after the torture, is promising.” He pointed to the Post-it Board. “Is this everything you’ve remembered?”
Paul nodded and described the words and symbols.
Jacob studied it then said, “I’m more convinced than ever that everything you experienced is in your head, and that you’ll remember it all very soon.”
“Really?” he asked, putting down the Post-it board.
“Oh yes,” Jacob said. “But you must be careful. You can’t dwell on one person or idea or you risk blocking other memories”
“But I feel Eric is saying something important.”
Jacob took a sip of his Diet Coke. “He may well be. But you’re assuming that he was trying to tell you where the diamonds were.”
“You think he was lying to me?”
“I think you’re ignoring a very relevant fact. That memory was a fragment. One in which Eric whispered something you couldn’t hear. It could
have been something totally unrelated to the diamonds.”
“But I…”
Jacob held up his hand. “You described how you felt. And I believe feelings can be directions from our subconscious. But no one has seen or heard from Eric since that night. It’s possible he’s dead and that the Grimaldis hid his body. But they always display an informant’s body as a warning to others. If he died somewhere else, his body would have been found by now. The third possibility is…” Jacob paused.
Paul filled the pregnant silence. “He betrayed all of us and fled.”
“This is a precarious time for you,” Jacob said, sitting up in his chair. “You’ve made tremendous progress and dealt with many of the issues holding you back. But I think Eric is turning out to be the focal point. I’m hesitant to talk about him because I don’t want you to fixate on him. But it’s something we can’t ignore.
“So take emotion and thoughts about reclaiming your memory off the table. Treat this as if it had happened to me, not you. What scenarios do you conclude from the available evidence?”
Paul considered every possible line of reasoning. “Nothing. There’s no evidence to conclude anything.”
“Correct. The only thing you can do is try to remember everything that happened. Eric is part of that, certainly, but he’s not the only thing you can’t recall. During the black void, you were tortured, had some interaction with the Grimaldis that allowed at least you to escape, and, possibly, discovered or lost $64 million in diamonds.”
Paul had a fleeting thought that maybe he’d done something with the diamonds and that was why no one had found Eric.
Jacob opened his notepad. “So let’s pick up where we left off. We ended last session with Portia stabbing you.”
Paul winced. He remembered the pain of that memory, but realized it was dulled and he thought it was because of Erin. Where did that come from?
He stood up and walked around the room. His mind kept coming back to Eric. Every time he thought of what happened to him after Portia stabbed him, he hit a black wall.
Jacob sat calmly, sipping his Diet Coke.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” Paul said.
“Let’s try something different then,” he said as he put down his soda and walked to the big bay window. He waved Paul over then pointed outside. “What do you see?”
“Students bundled in winter clothes hurrying to leave for winter break. Storm clouds in the distance.”
“Now, ignore all that. Focus on the sunrise you saw this morning.”
Paul did so.
Jacob’s voice took on a soft, dream-like quality. “Let your mind drift and remember.”
Every time he thought about the morning’s sunrise, Eric would muddle his mind. What had he done? Or what had Eric done to him?
“Remember,” Jacob said again.
Paul refocused his mind.
“Remember,” Jacob said a third time, almost chanting the word.
He recalled the image of the sun’s bright morning rays streaking across the clouds and…
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“Ahhh,” he yelled in frustration. “I thought I was past this. But I’m still stuck at the big black wall. It’s just moved forward in time.”
Jacob sighed heavily. “You can’t stop focusing on Eric?”
He nodded.
“I understand why. He was your best friend. The woman you loved betrayed you, and you don’t want Eric to have done the same thing. But you have to accept that all of that is in the past or you’ll never remember everything.”
“That is really unshrinklike advice.”
He smiled and ushered Paul back to the couch. “I know. But it’s the truth.” As he sat, he said, “Okay. We need to get your mind off Eric. What can you do that is completely different than anything you’ve done at Hillcrest so far?”
“Well, I have a date with Erin tomorrow night.”
“That’s fantastic. That’s exactly what you need. Someone to take your mind off Eric.”
“Easier said than done.”
Jacob’s alarm rang. He checked his watch and started packing. “I understand. But try.”
He glanced at the Post-it board. “Why don’t you leave this here tonight? It might prevent you from fixating on any one specific person or event.”
“You mean like Eric?”
Jacob grinned.
“Isn’t that risky?”
Chapter Forty-Six
Shelly had spent most of the day eluding pursuit. Her first thought had been her daughter. But she realized if the killer had come after her, they had no interest in her family.
After she’d fled her unit, she’d run several blocks before haling a cab. The cabbie had given her a suspicious look, but extra cash got him to take her into Brooklyn. In the cab, she’d warmed up and inspected her injuries. One was superficial. The other bullet had left a large gash. It would need stitches, but Shelly couldn’t go to a doctor. Not without first knowing who was after her and what resources they had.
From Brooklyn, she’d taken three other cabs, walking two dozen blocks between each ride. She’d dashed into a 24-hour department store and bought a dry change of clothes as well as mega glue and duct tape to make improvised stitches for her wound.
When she was convinced not even the NSA could find her, she’d ducked into the nearest subway station. She guessed three things had allowed her assailant to find her: using her phone to call unsecured lines; making calls in Italy from a phone with an American number, thus allowing someone to ferret out her number; or being careless about her precautions. She wouldn’t make those mistakes again.
She now sat in the station and booted up her laptop. She had things she needed to do, and she’d only stay online a short time. Even if someone could track her computer, which she doubted, they’d never be able to get to her before she left.
She opened a browser and searched for Hillcrest Academy’s number, memorized it, then logged onto the file storage website Forton had used to deliver files to her. She created a text file, detailing what had happened to her and what she had learned, saved it, marked it urgent, and logged off. Tom Forton would get the message and take precautions.
As she put her laptop back into her tote, she searched for a person that could help her with her next task. She spotted an older woman with well-worn clothes who stood waiting on the train.
Shelly moved next to her and said, “Pardon me.”
The woman turned, not annoyed, but curious. Shelly put on her most sympathetic face. “I seem to have forgotten my phone and I need to call my daughter’s school, would you mind if I borrowed yours?”
The woman narrowed her eyes.
Shelly put all her charm into her next words, “I know it’s a pain, but I really need to talk to her teacher about an assignment. It will only take a minute, and I’ll be glad to pay you ten dollars for the trouble.”
Still, the woman hesitated.
“As a mother,” Shelly said, “I know you can sympathize.”
The woman reached into her purse and handed Shelly a phone.
“Thank you,” Shelly said, and quickly dialed Hillcrest Academy. She wished she’d had Paul’s direct number but it had been in the phone she’d tossed away.
“Hillcrest Academy, how may I help you?” a woman answered. “Yes, this is Shelly Evans, Tiffany Evans’ mother. I need to leave an urgent message for Paul Taylor.”
A train pulled into the station. The woman in front of her held out her hand and said, “That’s my train.”
“Yes,” the Hillcrest receptionist said. “What is it?”
“Tell him he must watch The Deer Hunter. Do you have that?”
“Oh I loved that movie,” the receptionist replied.
“Would you give him that message please?” Shelly said, urgently. “It’s important.”
The train stopped in front of Shelly. “I need my phone,” the elderly woman across from her said.
“Of course,” the recep
tionist said.
“Thank you,” Shelly replied, and hung up. She handed the phone back to its owner and fished a ten dollar bill out of her purse and handed it over while they both walked to the train.
As the doors closed, Shelly said, “Thank you,” to the woman and went to another car.
The message to Paul was the best she could manage at the moment. Shelly didn’t think the person who’d tried to kill her would discover Paul was at Hillcrest, but she didn’t want to take any chances. And the message had to be vague enough that even if the person watching Paul found it, they wouldn’t know what it meant, but Paul would understand that she’d been attacked, she was okay, she’d contact him later, and that he should be on guard. She briefly thought about her husband, but knew he was out of town with his mistress. She could deal with him later. Unfortunately, she didn’t know exactly how the assassin had found her. He might have surveillance on anyone she’d ask for help. She had to keep the killer focused on her or else her friends would die.
Shelly planned to spend the next few hours hopping from one subway stop to another so she could use the wifi to research the best plan to surveil her contacts.
As she surveyed the people around her, a thought nagged at her. It had something to do with the video of the Vice Superintendent’s house.
Chapter Forty-Seven
“You can put it in the corner. He grabbed a marker from his tote bag and tossed it to me. “Label it Thriller Novel Outline.”
Paul scribbled on the poster and tossed the marker back to him.
“And, Paul? Don’t think about anything related to the Italian incident tonight. Doctor’s orders.”
They both smiled and shook hands.
“I’ll try,” Paul said as Jacob walked out the door.
Paul waited a few minutes for Jacob to leave and then walked out of Founder’s Hall. He thought about checking his mailbox for messages, but dismissed the idea. He didn’t want to deal with helicopter parents fretting about upcoming exams.
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