Shadow Games

by Doug Welch

  Chapter 4

  Intruders, Guns, and a Diary

  The house felt warm from the heat of the day, so I opened the study window to allow a breeze to enter. The night grew soft and cool as I continued to work and the crickets sang through the open window.

  Suddenly, something prompted me to stop and I glanced at the time displayed on the computer screen. Damn, it’s midnight. I’d been working for at least six hours straight.

  I wondered what had caused me to quit. Something felt wrong, what was it? Then it hit me. The crickets had stopped their song.

  I knew from experience that crickets do not become quiet unless some animal or person intrudes upon their space. What had stopped the noise?

  Uneasy, I walked over to the window, careful to cast no shadow, and peeked through the curtain.

  When I served in Iraq, I’d been trained to conduct house-to-house reconnaissance and clearing. Habits learned from my experience returned automatically. I waited for a moment and closed my eyes to allow my night vision to adjust to the darkness.

  By the diffused light shining from the window, I scanned the yard and the trees bordering the farmhouse.

  There. – Movement.

  I glanced away from the place I saw the motion, to use my light-sensitive side vision in order to make out details. Standing in the yard, and hidden under the trees, I discerned the faint outline of a person. He or she watched the house.

  In Kentucky, no one trespassed upon another person’s property without asking permission. To do so was to invite an ass-full of salt or bird shot from a shotgun, and no one, positively no one, prowled a person’s property or house at midnight.

  I hurried to the living room. Alex lay upon the couch, fast asleep, with an open book draped across her chest.

  I lightly stepped over to the couch, placed my hand across her mouth, and whispered. “Wake up Alex. Don’t make any sound.”

  She gave out with a little yelp, which was muffled by my hand. She looked at me, startled.

  “Hush.”

  Her eyes were wide. She gestured at me to remove my hand from her mouth. “What’s wrong?”

  “A prowler, or prowlers, outside. Call the police. I’m going out to investigate. Lock the door behind me.”

  “Do you think that’s smart? Why not call the cops, and wait here?”

  I thought about it. “I want to find out who’s watching us. Trust me; I know what I’m doing. I’ve been through it before. Just quietly call the police, and lock the door behind me.”

  I moved, crawling to the front door and crouched behind the lower panel. The door was half glass, half-wood and I made sure that my silhouette did not shadow the glass. Alex crawled behind me with the cordless phone in her hand. The living room was dimly lit, and I realized that I was going to indicate my intent if I opened it. Alex kneeled beside me.

  “I’m going out the back way. Lock this door and call the police.”

  I left Alex in the living room and crouched, hurrying my way through the hallway to the rear door in the kitchen.

  The kitchen was dark, so I risked opening the door, hoping that no one watched the rear of the house.

  Rapidly exiting the house, I paused until my night vision re-established itself.

  Moving slowly and keeping low, I crept around the corner of the house, toward the site of the intruder.

  Approaching the trees while keeping some cover between the prowler and myself, I surveyed the area. Two figures watched the house, not one.

  I stopped to think.

  The Army had taught me that to take an unknown position you must first gather intelligence, and then assault the position with overwhelming firepower. It was the way to minimize casualties and insure that the objective was secured.

  If there’d been only one prowler, I would have chanced that I could take him from behind and subdue him before he could bring superior force into the fight.

  With two prowlers, possibly more, the smart course was to wait and gather information. I reluctantly accepted the wise choice, although I was enraged because they’d intruded upon my security.

  Waiting was tedious. After about fifteen minutes, I heard the sounds of a siren on the highway. The two figures under the trees focused upon the sound. They moved back into the darkness and suddenly they seemed to vanish, as though they were never there.

  I waited, holding still, until I heard the sound of a car rolling into the yard. Colored lights flashed on the trees. I looked for the prowlers, but they were nowhere to be seen.

  Knowing that if the police came searching, they’d be startled by my presence and likely mistake me for the prowler, I quietly moved to the kitchen door and let myself into the house.

  I walked back to the living room, calling loudly that it was me. The police could get nervous in potentially tense situations, and I didn’t want to be shot by a jumpy cop.

  Bob Patterson stood in the living room as I entered, talking to Alex. “They’re gone Bob, the siren scared them off,” I said.

  “Where were you? What do you mean by them? How do you know they’re gone?”

  “I was watching from the back of the house. As soon as your prowl car showed up, they high-tailed it out of here. There were two of them that I could see. There may have been others but I couldn‘t see them.”

  “I’m calling for backup,” Bob said.

  I considered it. It wouldn’t hurt to have the police search the place. Maybe they could find some evidence of who the people were. Alex looked worried, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

  “While we’re waiting,” I said, “would you folks like some coffee?” I’d made a pot shortly before the intrusion.

  “No,” Bob said, “I’ve had enough at the station.”

  “I’d like a cup,” Alex said.

  I went to the kitchen, warmed up the coffee, and poured two cups. When I returned to the living room, Alex sat alone on the couch and I could see another police vehicle’s lights in the front yard.

  “Bob went outside to help the other officer search,” she said, sipping at the steaming brew.

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Just that they would check the grounds and come back to take a report. He said to not leave the house and lock the door until they returned.”

  We waited.

  After a few minutes, Bob returned and knocked on the front door. “Police Officer Patterson,” he shouted, “please open the door.”

  I unlocked the door and let him in.

  “Whoever they were, they‘re gone,” he said. “It’s too dark to look for footprints or other evidence. I’ll take the report, and an officer will be back at daylight. Now, what happened?”

  I gave him a detailed accounting of the events of the last hour, including my observations as to the nature of the prowlers.

  “You don’t seem very concerned,” he said. “Most people would be rattled by something like this.”

  “I've had a lot of experience.”

  “You were in the Army, right?”

  “Yeah, Ranger Battalion.”

  “Me too, MP company.”

  Alex interjected. “Paris was a first lieutenant in the Army. He was in Iraq.”

  I shrugged. “I’m a reserve officer, Alex. No big deal.”

  Bob eyed me. ”First a burglar, and now a prowler? You can handle a gun. You should get one.”

  “Oh, I will, tomorrow. By the way, why were you the one who responded to the 911 call?”

  “It was my turn for the night shift. You know, this looks suspicious, Paris. I mean, your parents are killed in a potentially bogus ‘accident’. You had someone try to burglarize your house, and now you have prowlers checking out your property? I think the Chief will want to talk to you.”

  “Any time. If it will get the accident investigation moving again, I’ll be happy to cooperate.”

  He seemed mollified. “Okay. Lock both doors and the windows. One of the other officers or I will drive by through th
e night to check the farm. You folks try to get some sleep.” With that, he said goodnight, climbed into his squad car, and drove back to the highway.

  I turned to Alex. “Will you be able to sleep?”

  “Not alone,” she replied.

  I hugged her. She trembled. “It’s over, Alex. You’re safe.”

  I leaned back and looked at her. “Okay – you take the couch, and I’ll stretch out on the living room chair. I’ve got to save my work on the computer. It‘ll just take a minute.”

  When I returned to the living room, all of the lights were ablaze. Alex huddled on the couch hugging a pillow, softly crying.

  Anger surged through me. Whoever was hounding us was going to pay, I thought. They’re going to pay big-time.

  I sat down beside her on the floor and leaned back to touch her head. “Go to sleep babe. I’ll be here.”

  Sometime in the early morning, we both fell asleep. When I woke I found myself lying on the living room rug, a pillow under my head. Alex still slept on the couch.

  I looked at the clock. It was eight-thirty, so I tiptoed in my socks to the kitchen, dumped the remains of last night's coffee, and made a fresh pot.

  As soon as it finished brewing, I took two full cups to the living room. “Alexandra – Alex honey, wake up. Here, I’ve made some coffee.”

  She groggily sat up on the couch and took the cup from my hands.

  “What time is it?”

  “Eight-thirty. The police should be here soon, why don’t you go upstairs and take a bath? I’ll make some breakfast.”

  “I’m tired,” she said. “I could use some more sleep.”

  “Whatever, but the police will be here, and I don’t think you want them to think you slept in your clothes, even though you did.”

  “Ugh. You’re right. Okay – a cold shower.

  “Make it a warm bath, Sis.”

  “I’ll decide when I get there.” She left the living room.

  I returned to the kitchen. As I started to remove the eggs from the refrigerator, the front doorbell rang. I returned to the living room and unlocked the door.

  “Oh, Good morning, Chief Cunningham,” I said.

  “Mornin' Paris.”

  “Please come in.”

  He entered the front door and stood in the living room.

  “Sit down, Chief. Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s fresh brewed.”

  “Thanks, I’ll take a cup.”

  I went to the kitchen, poured him a cup, returned with the coffee, and sat on the couch.

  “Heard you folks had a bit of trouble last night,” he said.

  “Something like that. Not many people trespass on a farm at midnight in Kentucky. It was real unusual. We were worried.”

  “Unusual? It’s unheard of! I won’t make a fuss if you load up their backsides with birdshot should they come back. Just don’t kill ‘em. The paperwork is murderous!” He chuckled.

  “Chief, if they try to come through that door, it won’t be bird shot that greets them. It’ll be something a lot more lethal.”

  “Can’t say as I blame you. Just be careful. Make sure, before you shoot. Some of my officers will be checkin' the farm today. We’ll try to find out if they came from the highway or through the woods. For the time bein’, lock your doors and windows. Don’t hesitate to call 911. We’ll be here as soon as possible. I hate for this to happen in my town. It makes me angry. Did you get a good enough look to identify them? Could it have been one of those newcomers to town?”

  “Too dark to tell and the trespassers ran when your officers arrived. I‘ve never met or seen any of the new folks.”

  “The bird that tried to burglarize your house says he was paid to do it. He either can't or won't tell us anythin' else. Have you had any threatnin' phone calls? Any one in Covington threaten any harm?”

  “No, Chief, nothing like that.”

  “How 'bout your sister? Anyone stalkin' her? Any bad ex-boyfriends?”

  “Not that I know of, and trust me, if she knew of anyone, she'd tell me. You wouldn't have to do anything. I'd neuter them.” The thought brought my confined rage to the conversation. I’d die before I let anyone hurt Alex.

  The Chief laughed. “Relax, Paris, I was just checkin'. – Did Alex see them? By the way, where is she?”

  “She was sleeping when it started. She’s upstairs in the bathroom. She could be there a while.”

  “Tell her I said hello. I’ll be goin’ now.”

  “I will, thank you, Chief.”

  He left the house and called to one of the officers. They conferred for a time, and then he climbed into his cruiser and drove to the highway.

  I took a while to calm myself before I returned to the kitchen. By the time Alex finished her bath, I had breakfast cooked and ready to serve. “Took a bath, huh?”

  “Yes, I took your advice, glad I did. I feel better.”

  “Good, cheese omelets for breakfast, dig in.”

  We ate our breakfast in silence. Finally, Alex spoke.

  “Paris, maybe we should forget this. I mean – maybe we should let the past go, and focus on the future. I’m scared. I’m worried that I am entering a place I shouldn’t go. I feel that maybe if I let the past die, the things that frighten me will go away.”

  I thought about her words. Although we were close, very close, both in our feelings and the way we approached the world, I was aware that there was a huge gulf between us due to our experiences and our sex.

  I didn’t pretend to understand the differences between a male and a female, but I knew that the danger that I learned to survive in the Army had changed me in a fundamentally different way.

  I was eager, not only eager, but implacably determined to find the answers. The volcano in me smoked. How could anyone dare to threaten my family, the only family I had left? They would pay. If necessary, they would pay with their lives. I tried to calm myself, and after the rage subsided, I replied.

  “Alex, I understand. If you need to, you can take the key to my apartment and move to Covington. In fact, I would rather you move to Covington. Forget this past week. Go to my apartment and start school. Be happy. Find friends. Build a life. As for me, I cannot let this go. Someone took away my mother and my father. They likely killed them. The same people threatened the only person I love and that cannot be tolerated. These people will cease to exist. If it takes my whole life, I will find the truth and obtain justice. You can call it an obsession, you can call it anything you like, but I will end this.”

  She looked worried. “You need a partner, Paris. You can’t do this alone.”

  She paused and bit her lip. “If you have the courage, then I have the courage. What’s the first thing on the list today?”

  I found some paper in the study and we made a list.

  Buy a computer.

  Pick up the jewelry.

  Secure the house. Hardware store?

  Call Brawley. Get some money?

  Buy food and snacks.

  “Add 'buy a weapon' to the list,” I said.

  Alex hesitated and frowned. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, you don’t need to buy guns, Dad’s got them locked up in the basement.

  “What guns? Dad didn’t own weapons.”

  “I saw them the last time I visited. He has a gun safe down in the basement.”

  “What kind of weapons are there?”

  “There’s two long ones and a short one. The short one is a hand gun, – I think.”

  “I need to see this. Dad positively hated guns. He always said that ‘an idiot with a gun was more correctly defined as a dead idiot’.”

  She shrugged. “I saw them. The key’s in Dad‘s desk. He made sure I knew where it was.”

  I took the gun-safe key from the desk and went down to the basement.

  Opening the gun-safe, I examined the weapons. There was a pump-action twelve-gauge Mossberg, with an eighteen-inch barrel, a nine-millimeter Glock semiautomatic with a belt holster, and an AR-15 with an in
frared, telescopic sight.

  I examined the weapons for cleanliness, and moved the action to check if they were loaded. They all seemed well cared for. The shotgun was a cheap defensive weapon and I’d carried a Glock in Iraq. I knew the weapon well. The shotgun and the automatic I could understand. They were close-in weapons, suitable for self-defense.

  The AR 15 was another matter, an expensive killing weapon, an aggressive weapon. It had a bulky infrared scope. Why? A starlight scope would have been better, it weighed less. I knew Dad didn’t hunt animals. Therefore, the only prey this weapon was purchased for was the two-legged kind. Why did he own it?

  I checked the gun-safe for ammunition. There were some boxes of rounds for each weapon and three loaded magazines for the Glock. I made a mental note to double them.

  I returned the weapons, and locked the cabinet. “Dad wasn’t a gun-nut. When he bought these weapons, he had a reason. Do you have any idea why he would want them?”

  “No.” Alex began. “I’m nervous around guns. Dad offered to teach me to use them, but I didn’t think it was necessary. I wish now that I had.”

  “Anyhow, I‘m glad they’re here. I can teach you basic weapon safety, and later we can practice at the firing range. Right now, we’ve got errands to run.”

  We went upstairs to the study, and I put the gun-safe key back in the desk. “You take my car and hit the grocery store and the jewelers, and I’ll make some phone calls to take care of my computer problems. Later, we’ll call Silas and arrange to get some cash.”

  Alex disappeared upstairs. Soon, she came thundering back down the stairs, grabbed the car keys, and rushed out the front door. I ambled back into the kitchen to retrieve my cell phone from the sink counter. I opened my phone book and keyed the name of the company IT specialist. A voice answered after few rings.

  “Johnson and Robins Engineering, Tom Bradley here.”

  “Hey Tom, It’s Paris Fox.”

  “W's up Paris?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Uh–oh when I get the word 'favor' from you, I know I’m in trouble.”

  “Hey dude. Ain't sumpin’ you can’t handle. I know you. You’re my favorite IT guy.”

  He laughed. “Now I know I’m really in trouble.”

  “You know that I went on bereavement leave to take care of my parents’ funeral arrangements, don’t you?”

  He sobered “Yeah Paris, I’m sorry, it’s tough to lose your parents.”

  “Well, some things have come up and I can’t return yet. Harvey is hounding me to do some work while I’m here and I need the CAD package to take care of it. Can you help me?”

  “What do you need?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, Tom, but first, I need the computer specs for a computer that will support the program, and then I need you to come down and install it. I’ll owe you big time. Trust me, I can think of a way to make it even.”

  There was silence on the phone. “What do you need the specs for?”

  “To buy a computer.”

  “Paris, its company business. I can bring your workstation loaded with your files and the package. When do you need it? Do you have a fast internet connection?”

  I was relieved. “That would be great dude. What do you want, my car, my life? – Come to think of it, you can’t have my car, it’s too new. – How about a used life?”

  He laughed. “Just have plenty of beer.”

  “I don’t know if there’s beer but I’ve got a good wine cellar. When can you come?”

  “Hey man, its company business,” he repeated. “I’m on my way. Besides, Southern Kentucky is nice, I haven’t been there in awhile. Expect me in about three to four hours. Have food on the table, and I‘ll bring the beer.”

  “Good. I could use a brew.”

  I gave him the directions to the farm. “See you soon.”

  “Right. I’m on my way. Bye Paris.”

  I terminated the call. I liked Tom. He was the only IT technician in the company who seemed to have a personality. The others were sullen and resentful, and treated you like an idiot if you asked them to do anything. Working as an engineer required me to be a slave to a computer. The advent of the computer had changed engineering in fundamental ways. I had to be able to use a computer and to be computer literate, to survive.

  While Alex was gone, I turned to a task we had both been dreading. I needed to search our parents’ room. After our first abortive attempt, we’d been avoiding it. As things were, I didn’t think that Alex could handle it without breaking down. Although I wasn’t sure that I could do it, I resolved to try.

  I reluctantly climbed the stairs, and walked to my parents’ bedroom. It was their retreat, their place for making love. It was the only place that their presence survived. I felt like a child, invading my parents’ privacy.

  I opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, I felt tears in my eyes. The room was restful, beautiful and sunny. I choked down a sob. God, I couldn’t do this.

  I looked around the room. The bed was made, just as Mom had left it on that fateful day. It was romantically decorated, as though they may have been planning to use it for lovemaking when they returned. My mother’s dresser held the things that she had used in this life. I could still smell the lingering scent of her perfume. The echoes of her life surrounded me.

  Sadness overwhelmed me, and tears ran from my eyes. In an instant black anger replaced the sorrow. The monsters who killed them should be ground to paste and the remnants fed to the hogs.

  The anger strengthened my resolve, and I began to look through the room. I checked the closet, shuffling through the clothes. I checked the shelves in the closet, looking for any items that might contain a written record. I found nothing. I checked the chest, the bed, the headboard, nothing.

  I walked into the bathroom. I checked the medicine cabinet. In addition to toothpaste, hair spray, Tylenol, and other normal over-the-counter preparations, there were two prescriptions, one with my father’s name, and one with my mother’s. I checked the bottles and their contents. A few pills remained in each. I mentally took note of the names of the drugs to check their purpose with a pharmacist.

  I finally turned to the place I’d been avoiding. I ignored the items placed upon the top and opened Mother’s dresser drawers. I examined the first drawer, to find cosmetics and perfumes. The second drawer contained underwear. I hurriedly closed it.

  The third drawer contained more of the same. It was in the fourth drawer, that something caught my eye. Beneath some blouses, I found a small book.

  Inscribed on the book cover, in gold letters, were the words, ‘Mother’s Diary’. I immediately recognized the book as a gift that Alex had bought for our mother on one of her numerous trips. I’d been there when she had given it to her. I nearly unlatched the ornate gold clasp to read it, when I realized that this book was not mine alone, it was for Alex and I to share.

  I restored the items that I’d disarranged, closed the door to the bedroom and returned to the study, clutching the precious book in my hand.

  I’d sat behind Dad’s desk and had just slipped the book in the drawer, when Alex returned.

  “Paris I need help with the groceries.”

  I went out to the front of the house and started carrying bags into the kitchen. “Alex, this is a lot of food, how can we eat it all before it spoils?”

  “I have a feeling we’ll be staying longer than we thought,” she said, “besides, there’s a host of goodies in that bag, in addition to fresh vegetables and breakfast stuff. Trust me, we’ll eat it. – Check this out.”

  She removed some glittering jewelry from one of the packages.

  She displayed the necklaces for my viewing. “I decided on white gold,” she said, “and here are the bags. The medallions fit right inside them.” Nothing’s too good for my big brother, as long as I get to drive your car.”

  I examined the chain and locket. After all the events of the past two days, they seemed unimp
ortant. The memory of the letter with its absurd contents had faded, and I felt a little silly thinking of ceremoniously depositing the medallions in the locket, let alone encasing them in bags.

  I set the chain and locket down on the kitchen table. “They’re nice, thank you.”

  “They’re nice? Is that all you can say? Paris I thought we were going to use them. I like them, and they weren’t cheap. Come on. Let’s do this. You’ll look sexy with a gold chain.”

  “I’ll look like an imitation drug dealer.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m going to use mine.”

  She removed the leather case from the counter where we’d placed it, and opened it. She removed her medallion from the recess, and placed it in the locket which had been designed to allow the medallion to fit snugly within.

  She closed the locket and clasped the chain around her neck. Immediately, a smile lit her face, and she said, “This feels good. I don’t think I want the jewelry bag.”

  I had to admit that the chain and locket looked good on her. She modeled it, allowing the locket to drape between her breasts. The shining gold enhanced the colors of her shoulders and bosom. It did look attractive.

  “Looks nice,” I said.

  “Feels good. Try it. I think you’ll like it.”

  I sighed. “Okay, I’ll try it.”

  I opened the clasp of the locket, removed the medallion from the dispatch case and placed the medallion in the locket. I fastened the clasp of the chain around my neck and allowed the locket to fall inside my shirt. I felt a tingling sensation and then a feeling of warmth.

  My mood lightened, and the anxieties that had plagued me all day faded. Suddenly, all things seem possible, as though I could encounter any obstruction and cause it to vanish. Intellectually, I knew that this was a false feeling. Problems would not go away just because I wished it, but the feeling of confidence was welcome. I needed it.

  “This is weird, Alex. It’s unnatural. These medallions have some sort of abilities I don’t understand.”

  “I know, isn’t it neat?” she said, “I feel like I could wear this thing forever.”

  “Alex, I think we need the bags until we can cope with this.”

  “Wet blanket,” she replied.

  Then she sighed. “Maybe you’re right. Here.” She handed me the jewelers’ bag.

  I placed my locket inside the velvet bag and tied the drawstring. When I dropped the chain back inside my shirt, the feeling of elation subsided, but did not vanish. I could think clearer, about more immediate problems, such as how were these objects able to influence us?

  “Sis, we need to understand how these chunks of metal work. They go beyond any physics that I’ve ever learned. They shouldn’t be able to do what they do. The question is why? How are these objects any different from any other piece of metal? What makes them so special? Until we know, we have to be cautious. We’ll wear them like Dad requested, but they stay in the bags, understand?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Okay. It’s in the bag.” She laughed, and placed her locket in the velvet bag. The elation faded from her face, replaced by introspection. “Interesting, I feel good, but not out of control. You’re right. Take it a little piece at a time. How goes the search for a computer?”

  “Easier. Tom Bradley, the IT tech at the company, is bringing my workstation loaded with software. He'll set it up for me.”

  “Is he handsome?”

  “How would I know?”

  “Dear, dear, brother, you’ve got to get your priorities straight.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Your job is to bring home hot guys so I get to pick and choose.”

  “Oh, really? Okay, your job is to bring home ravishing girls so I get to pick and choose.”

  “I hate it when you get logical on me.”

  “We’ve got time enough to hit the hardware store and that’s about all. Do you want to go with me or stay here?”

  She glanced outside and gave a tiny shudder. “I'll go with you. I don‘t want to be alone in the house.”

  We went to the hardware store and bought hasps, locks and chains. After we returned home, I went outside to the barn, and started installing locks. Alex worked to prepare lunch. In about two hours, she called from the house.

  “Paris there’s someone here to see you.”

  “Just a minute.” I finished the last two screws of the hasp and went around the house to the front door. Standing on the porch was a large bear of a man, his long black hair tied back behind his neck. He waited nervously in front of the door guarded by Alex. “Tom! Thanks for coming. I didn’t expect you for at least another hour.”

  “You know me, I drive fast.” He continued to surreptitiously glance at Alex.

  “It’s at least three and a half to four hours from Cincy to here.”

  “I drive very fast.”

  “Tom I want you to meet my sister, Alexandra Fox. Please come in and make yourself at home.”

  I eyed him. Tom was the most unlikely candidate for a computer geek that anyone could have imagined. He stood over six feet tall, had long wavy black hair and sported a large muscular body. In addition, he played base guitar in an amateur rock band. They ordinarily practiced on the weekends and sometimes performed in rock concerts.

  “Alex, this is my good friend Tom Bradley. He works with me at the company. He volunteered to bring my computer.”

  Looking up at him, Alex reached out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” He enveloped her hand in his big grip.

  Alex smiled. “Won’t you please sit down? Would you like something to drink? We have some fresh coffee.”

  “A glass of water would be nice, I’m about coffee’d out.”

  Alex went back to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.

  He turned to me, wide-eyed. “That’s your sister? She’s freaking gorgeous. Do you think I might–?”

  I laughed. “She handles that end of the business, dude, it’s up to her.”

  “Wow!”

  Alex brought the water back and set it on the coffee table. “I'm in the middle of making some food, and I don’t have time to chat. Why don’t you guys take care of computer business and I’ll finish preparing our lunch?”

  “Good idea, how long?”

  “About fifteen minutes.”

  “Fine, Tom?”

  He tore his eyes from Alex. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure.”

  Tom and I went out to his car. He opened the back door to reveal a pile of computer hardware littering the back seat.

  “Where’s the computer?” I said.

  “In the trunk.”

  “Then what’s all this for?”

  “Hey, you gotta have a switcher, cables, a UPS, a surge protector, keyboard, mouse, and all the rest. You didn’t think I was gonna do a schlock job for you, did you?”

  “Chill. I just wanted to know. What’s first?”

  “First is, how do I get a date with your sister?”

  “I told you. You’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”

  “You know that favor you said you’ll owe me? I’ll call it even for just one date. She’s beautiful, drop-dead gorgeous.”

  “Relax Tom. If Alex likes you, you stay liked. You don’t have to do anything.”

  We carried hardware into the study. We’d just gotten around to the computer when Alex called, “Lunch, guys, come and get it.”

  We washed up and went into the kitchen. The table groaned with food. I leaned to Tom and whispered. “It’s Okay man, seems you’re liked.”

  We sat down to eat. During the meal, Tom kept us entertained with tales of the antics of the members of his rock band and the idiosyncrasies of his coworkers. I was delighted because Alex smiled and laughed often. She hadn’t done that enough recently.

  After we’d consumed enough food, Tom and I went back to the study to finish the computer installation.

  We’d just finished connecting the components and were checking
out the Internet connection when Alex walked in.

  “I was bored. How’s it going guys?”

  “We‘re just checking it out,” I said.

  “Good,” she said, “maybe it’s too much to ask, but could you guys look at Dad’s computer next, I think there are some bad files on it.”

  “Bad files? What kind of bad files?”

  “I don’t know, I was browsing through the hard drive, and I found a directory that pertained to Dad, and when I tried to open it, it gave me a strange error message.”

  “What kind of message?”

  “Err, I don’t know, just – strange.”

  “Alex, strange doesn’t cut it. You need to be more spec–”

  Tom cut in. “Don’t sweat it Alex, I’ll check it out.”

  He finished my computer, and then sat down in front of Dad's desktop.

  “Show me,” he said to Alex.

  She picked up a spare chair and sat next to him.

  Deciding I didn’t want to be in the way, I went back outside to finish installing the lock hardware.

  After fitting the last hasp and installing the padlock, I put up the tools and reentered the study. By this time, Tom and Alex were in animated conversation. I waited for a pause before I asked, “How’s it going guys?”

  “Not so good,” Tom replied. “You need the administrator password to access these files, and we don’t have it. You don’t happen to know what it is, do you.”

  “No, I thought Alex would know.”

  “I don’t,” she replied.

  “Your dad was smart. He deleted all of the easy access points, including the administrator account, and set himself up as sole administrator. Without his user name and password, it will take some serious hacking software to look at these files.”

  “Can you do it?”

  “Not with what I brought with me,” he replied. “I’ve got some stuff at home that might help, but I’ll have to come back with it.”

  “Tom, we’ve imposed upon your friendship enough, as it is. You don’t have to do this. We’ll find a way.”

  “It’s not a big deal, Paris, I want to do it. I’ll tell you what, today is Friday, and I have band practice with the guys tomorrow, so why don’t I come back Sunday and see if I can crack this thing. Consider it a challenge.” He winked at Alex. She grinned back at him.

  “Okay, as long as you’re fine with this.”

  “You bet. I want to do it. I’ll be back on Sunday with the tools.”

  “Thank you Tom, I owe you huge time now.”

  “Hey. What’s a friend for? See you Sunday.”

  We picked up the spare equipment and I walked him to his car. Alex gave him a peck on the cheek. He blushed, and hopped into the driver’s seat. Soon, he headed back to the highway.

  As we walked back into the house, I turned to Alex. “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing. I like him. He’s a big, warm, cuddly teddy bear of a man. You watch. We’re going to be lifelong friends.” She smiled happily.

  Back in the living room, the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the floor. Suddenly, I remembered the diary. Asking Alex to sit on the couch, I settled into the easy chair.

  “I’ve got something to tell you, Sis. While you were gone, I searched Mom and Dad’s bedroom, and I found something.”

  She appeared apprehensive. “What is it?”

  “I think its Mom’s diary.”

  She exhaled with a whoosh, and fell back in the couch. “What’s in it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t feel right reading it without you.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Where is it?”

  “In the study.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Go on, get it. I suppose we should get this over with.”

  “Are you going to be all right with this?” I asked.

  “It doesn't matter. Get it, Paris, I want to know.”

  I went to the study, retrieved the diary, and brought it back to the living room. Sitting back down in the chair, I reached out to hand the book to Alex.

  “You open it, Paris. I can’t.”

  I hesitated. Like Alex, I dreaded what lay inside. “Maybe she didn’t write in it.”

  “Hah. It was a birthday gift from me Paris. Trust me, she wrote in it.”

  I opened the clasp and cautiously turned the book to the first entry. I knew at a glance, that she had written in the diary, copiously.

  I started reading it and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Alex asked.

  “Mom. She’s got a good sense of humor. Here, she’s complaining that she’ll never be a grandmother unless we get less picky.”

  “Let me see.”

  We took turns, reading excerpts from the daily life of our mother, laughing over passages written with a surprising level of skill and wit. She made her life come alive. Sometimes we grew sad when she talked about her love for us, but it was always a sort of positive sadness. We missed her.

  Several pages into the diary, the entries grew more somber. She started to worry about Dad. I stopped reading.

  “What was the date of that last entry?” Alex asked.

  “About a year ago,” I replied.

  She raised her eyebrows. “I wonder what she was thinking?”

  I held the book open in my hands. “We won’t know, unless we finish this.”

  Her look became apprehensive. “I don’t know if I want to know.”

  “Alex, this could provide some of the answers.”

  “I know, get on with it.” Her jaws clenched, as though awaiting a blow.

  I swallowed, trying to rid my throat of the tight knot that constricted it. “This is hard.”

  I began to read. The entries grew sparse. Sometimes weeks passed between entries, occasionally a whole month. Each entry talked about Dad’s efforts to prepare us for some future danger, the nature of which she didn’t reveal.

  Finally, I came to the last entries, the month that they died. It was very hard to continue. I stopped.

  Alex leaned forward. Tension etched her face. “Why did you stop?”

  My hands shook. “I don’t want to read the last page. I don‘t think I can.”

  Finally, I took a few deep breaths, composed myself and continued.

  John wants to tell Paris and Alex when they next visit. I don’t think I could bear it. They are the children I wasn’t able to conceive, but they are as much mine as though I had given birth to them. I would be devastated if they thought worse of me for concealing the facts of their birth, but John thinks it is necessary to ensure their safety. He is not the only one who can keep secrets. He wants me to guide the children if something happens to him, as though I could live, if he wasn’t with me.

  I cleared my throat. “The last entry is dated the day they died.”

  I am so frightened. He wants to talk to them, to reason with them, as though they were creatures capable of reason. They are more powerful than I am. More powerful than John. Maybe, more powerful than Paris and Alex. He wants to go alone. I will not let him. Perhaps the two of us can withstand them. If this is to be his last night on earth, it will be mine also, La vie l'amour.

  I choked the last words through sobs. Alex cried softly and collapsed on the couch.

  Letting the book fall to my lap, I let the tears flow. They were more than tears of sorrow now. They mixed with tears of rage.

  She was my mother, regardless of an accident of birth. The thought that such a wonderful person had to bear such burdens, that she was not here so that I could tell her that it was all right, that I loved her.

  Then, there was the rage. I wanted to kill someone. I wanted to hurt the person or people who hurt my mother. I wanted them to feel more than the pain that I felt. I wanted them to die, slowly.

  We both lapsed into rekindled grief. We listlessly brooded, each preoccupied with our own separate pain, as we had done when we had first learned of our parents’ deaths.

  I was the first to
speak. “Do you want to talk now?”

  Alex looked away. “No, but you can, if you want.”

  “Okay, I will.” I composed myself again.

  I thought about what I really felt. “Alex, a part of me wants to forget the past few days. I don’t believe in conspiracies. I don’t believe that people are out to get me. Why should they? I’ve done nothing I’m aware of to make anyone hate me, or wish to hurt me. This could be an awful joke or colossal mistake.”

  The thought that someone might be toying with my feelings, caused the rage to intensify. “But another part of me is thirsting for revenge. I am really angry. I want to strike out at something. I want to hurt something or someone, but I don’t have a clear target for my anger. It’s so frustrating. I thought I knew who I was. I thought I knew my family. To have all of that turned upside down in just a few days – it’s not something I can walk away from. I have to know.”

  Alex appeared to be wrestling with her feelings and didn’t immediately answer. “I know that it would be better for me if I could forget it, but Mom’s a different matter. I heard the pain that she felt from the diary.”

  Her tears appeared and started flowing. “I never want to feel like that. But I feel so guilty. I'm starting to hate our father. He started all of this with his ranting. If he had kept his mouth shut, we wouldn’t care. Why did he do it? What possible motive could he have? I'm frustrated too, and I don’t know what to do or feel.”

  I sighed and rotated my neck to try to remove the tension. “Well, think what you would’ve felt like if he’d never warned us, and you had run across mother’s diary by accident. I think that would have been more confusing and painful. Remember, he thought Mom would still be alive to guide us. In which case, we might have never read the diary. She might have destroyed it. I think that we should think about this rationally. There are too many questions, and not enough answers.”

  Alex's eyes narrowed. She looked angry. “Tell me! Don’t you think I know that? Let me list them. Item one, our father, with some weird letter, tells us that the wonderful woman we thought was our mother turns out to be our stepmother. Item two, – oh, by the way, your lives are in danger from an unknown person or persons – could be shadows – whoopee. Item three, you’re rich, in fact, you’re filthy rich. Item four, your mother will tell you what it’s all about, uh–oh, oops, I accidentally killed her. Last item, incidentally, beware of strangers trespassing on the farm. Have I got it right? Did I leave anything out?”

  She became almost hysterical. “Rational, what’s rational about any of this? Another thing, what's this about us being powerful? I don't feel very damn powerful right now.”

  “You forgot about the medallion you’re wearing.”

  She stared at me in disbelief. “How can you be so freaking calm? You‘re pissing me off. You should be screaming. – You should be ranting. – You should be raving. Oh shit, what‘s the use.”

  She dropped back to the couch.

  She was wrong. I was anything but calm. I didn't want her to see the monster that lurked beneath me. I had unleashed that demon in Iraq. I would not do it here, not where it could frighten her.

  After a long, uneasy silence, we parted and went our separate ways, Alex to her bedroom, me to the study.

  I tried to do some work on the new computer. It was useless. My mind continued to dwell on the events of the past few days. I tried to make some sense out of the depressing mood that consumed me. I felt confused and apprehensive, confused as to the meaning of all that’d occurred and fearful that more remained to come.

  Before our parents’ death, I’d been content with my life. I had a future to look forward to, loving parents, and a close sister to share it.

  I’d anticipated having Alex as my roommate, to plan adventures and discuss our hopes and fears, someone to confide in and sympathize when life took a wrong turn.

  Now, everything lay in turmoil. I couldn’t be certain that tomorrow she wouldn’t tell me she was going away, leaving this place, to forget all the pain and sorrow that the memories of the times here would reinforce. I wouldn’t blame her. If she left, I would be alone with no family, no one.

  Then an idea occurred to me. When we were adolescents, when the changes in our minds and bodies made us confused and particularly susceptible to the opinions and attitudes of our peers; we’d hike through the Cumberland forests and talk about it.

  In that way, we managed to cope with the turmoil growing up brought.

  This was such a time. Perhaps we could find that peace again.

  I resolved to go and find her, to convince her to join me. I went upstairs to her bedroom, and knocked on the door.

  “Alex? Alexandra honey, I want to talk.”

  Her muffled voice came through the door. “Not right now.”

  “Alex, we’ve been hurting long enough, let’s try to heal.”

  I could almost feel the anguish in her voice. “Heal? Heal how? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to feel whole again.”

  “Remember our place? Our secret place? Remember how it seemed to make the trouble and pain go away? Let’s go there. Maybe there’s still peace there.”

  “What? You want to go on a hike?” She paused, her silence prolonged. I heard her stir. She opened the door and smiled through the tears. “I think I’d like that.”