I hit play. The first message was from Ellie. She had entered my apartment while I was sleeping and plugged in my machine so she could leave a message. It wasn’t a Dear John message, not really, but it might as well as been. Plus, she had returned my apartment key. Well, that cleared up one more mystery. It seemed my dangerous side proved to be too dangerous for her after all.
The next message was from John Deland. Chief Parker had called him before he heard about yesterday’s activities over the phone. John was thankful and apologetic all at the same time. John left two more short messages. He needed to talk.
The last message was from my mom calling from Chicago again. Like before, she sounded great. She wanted to talk and hoped I would return the call. Now here is someone who would appreciate what I’ve accomplished in the last few days. Mom. Sure, she misquoted Edmund Burke, but she would understand regardless. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I would not allow them to fall. I could not let them fall. If the tears fell, I would not be able to stop them. I didn’t have time. It was nearly 10 o’clock at night on a Wednesday. Late, but not too late. Besides, I had something I had to do, and in my world procrastination was a four letter word.
I grabbed my wallet and the keys to the Cobra and headed out. The trip took longer than expected. Upon reaching my destination, I realized I had arrived ahead of schedule. Funny thing about time. It is a constant, something that “flows equably without relation to anything external” according to Newton. Apparently, Newton knew nothing about how fear and anticipation can affect time.
I had gotten as far as the driveway of my destination, yet my rear end seemed glued to the seat. The courage that had enabled me to get that far seemed to have evaporated as soon as I arrived. How could I run towards someone who wanted to kill me to save a dying man, yet lack the courage to get out of the car and ring a doorbell? It was ludicrous.
My mind could not seem to handle the concept of what I was preparing to do. What do you say in a situation like this? No words would ever seem adequate. My annoying and tireless inner voice told me to just do it. At times, my inner voice is eloquent, at times practically clairvoyant, and the best it could come up with was just do it.
It was enough, though. My courage reinstated, I crossed the driveway, hoping someone would be awake, and rang the front doorbell. Nothing for a full minute, so I rang it again. An interior light came on. I heard the faint pit-pat of bare feet approaching the door. The light from the peephole went dark. Too late to turn back now.
Please, let the right person answer the door. I might lose it otherwise.
Someone unlocked the doorknob followed by the deadbolt. The door swung open. Even though the face of the person in the door was backlit, the expression was evident. I instantly knew I had done the right thing.
“Hey, Mom, remember me, Legend.”
About the Author
BRIAN CRAWFORD had a brief stint in the U.S. Navy before working as an optical scientist in Huntsville, Alabama designing fiber optic sensors used primarily in security and surveillance applications. He is particularly proud of one invention: a fiber optic microphone that is completely invisible to ALL electronic detection devices, much to the chagrin of the “undisclosed” government agency that witnessed it in action. For the last 17 years, he has gone by the title of Dr. Brian Crawford, a practicing chiropractor in Central Illinois, where he lives with his wife and four daughters.
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