A Deep Thing

by A. K. Smith

  Andrew looking at his GPS, seemingly oblivious to the threat of men popping out of the ground. He looked calm. “I’m definitely right, the tunnel goes to Camp David, but I need to erase my GPS memory; do you know how?”

  “What are you talking about?” She continued yelling “Harvey,” gasping for breath.

  “They might confiscate my GPS so I want to erase the memory of Lewis Hall, the cemetery, and the directions to Camp David.” He stopped pushing buttons on his GPS. “There’s a way to do that on a computer, but I am not sure how to do it on the device.”

  “Take the battery out, I don’t know…smash it…”

  His face tightened in alarm. “Here they come.”

  A massive military vehicle came speeding toward them, with two commando dressed men hanging out the windows, weapons pointed. A commanding voice boomed out of the speaker. “Kneel down on the ground and put your hands in the air, you are trespassing on private government land. I repeat, kneel down on the ground, hands in the air, now!”

  Kendall and Andrew instantly fell to their knees raising their arms, hands up to the sky. Terrified to look at the Professor; her heart beating rapidly, anxiety took over, her limbs shaking uncontrollably. Andrew whispered without making eye contact. “Don’t mention Tim’s briefcase. Trust me, Kendall, don’t say anything.”

  As the Hummer drew closer, the men jumped out of the vehicle and immediately handcuffed the Professor and Kendall. Out of the corner of her eye, movement, she glanced sideways, and Harvey was running toward her at full speed. She looked up at the military officer holding a gun, and shouted out a high-pitched sound—unsure it was her own voice—“Please, please, please don’t shoot my dog.” Harvey stopped running about twenty feet away and switched to a slow walk, his eyes darting from face to face. He stretched in mid-stride, in Downward Dog pose, as if he had all the time in the world. She silently pleaded with the man holding the gun, looked over at Harvey, and commanded, “Harvey, sit, Harvey, please sit.”

  Harvey plopped his tail and butt on the ground, cocking his head to the side with a confused expression. And like everyone else, he was instantly taken into custody.

  Chapter 37

  “What the hell?” Scout walked in, disbelief on his face at the wreckage of his office. Lily was sitting on top of a stack of messy file folders. Desk drawers were pulled out and emptied on the floor. Three file cabinets where Scout kept all his client information, scattered…everywhere. “What’s missing?”

  “No lo se.” Lily stood up and raised her hands in the air, cursing in Spanish before she switched to English. “I don’t know, they were looking for something.” She muttered a few more phrases in Spanish.

  Lily picked up the phone. “You want me to call the policia?”

  Scout pulled his ponytail, fixated on the mess. “No, not yet. Was the door locked?”

  “No, wide open. But the satellite phone is here, so is your kayak.” She opened the refrigerator door “Your cerveza…”

  Scout went to his desk. The drawers were open and empty, their contents covering the floor. “How about the petty cash?” Lily walked over to the corner, picked up the cash box with the key still in it and closed tightly.

  “Still here.” She turned the key and opened the lid. “All the cash is still here.”

  Scout shook his head. “What on earth were they looking for?”

  Lily and Scout worked the rest of the afternoon trying to assemble the various file folders and return everything back to its proper place. It didn’t make sense. As far as Scout could determine, nothing was missing. Scout speculated it was just a bunch of kids trying to wreck the place, and something stopped them in the middle of their destruction and they fled.

  He couldn’t shake the creeping suspicion the robbery or pseudo-robbery had something to do with Tim Jackson’s cenote map.

  Last week’s strange conversation with a local cenote owner flashed in his mind. In rapid Spanish, the landowner told Scout about two gringos who were asking questions about a cenote. The old man asked Scout if he had a map. “Mapa?”

  Scout tried to understand the translation. In Spanish, the old man told him men were looking for him. Scout tried to clarify, but the man kept repeating words he couldn’t translate. Scout was fluent in Spanish, but the combo mix of Spanish and Mayan the old man was spouting was difficult to follow. He repeated the old man’s last words as he walked away, words that stuck with him: “Eso es tabu,” in English, “that’s forbidden territory.”

  Was someone looking for the cenote map?

  He needed to call Kendall. Secretly, he wanted to talk to her every day, every hour, and as soon as he woke up. He found himself dreaming of her. Usually the dreams took place in the cenote where they had kissed, except his dreams were definitely Rated R.

  It had been forever, a long time past yesterday, since a woman had taken up residency in his mind. Moving down to Puerto Morelos freed him of the last serious, complicated, and disastrous female relationship. He had no desire to return to that state of confusion. Nevertheless, the essence of Kendall consumed his thoughts. He would hit play on the iPod in his Jeep; a song, even the first few notes, would transport him to riding in the Jeep with her, coming home from the cenotes. He would glance to the right expecting to see her ponytail coming out of her hat, drumming on her legs with her fingers, with that irresistible smile, her eyes sparkling. Just thinking about her got his juices flowing. Yes, it had been a long time since his feelings were stirred up. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

  Chapter 38

  Kendall and Andrew were taken to a concrete block building and placed in separate interrogation rooms. Sterile, stark rooms, empty of any personal effects. If she had been blindfolded, she would guess she had ended up inside a deserted office building. Clean, sparse and plain.

  Camp David; her imagination expected something different, something more prestigious. Instead, she was sitting at a long particle board table, in one of four uncomfortable relics of the 1970s’ plastic chairs, staring at a large glass window that reflected an image of a woman she didn’t recognize. What was she doing?

  She tried not to look at the glass window; certain someone was watching her sitting at the table. She studied her blotched and shaky hands.

  They rushed her into the room; everything seemed to be on high speed. Then it screeched to a halt and she waited alone in silence. It seemed like hours until she had an opportunity to explain what happened. When the two large men entered the room, her insides were so tight she didn’t think she could talk correctly. Her anxiety squeezed the breath out of her. Instinctively, she knew to explain they were hiking, just hiking in the park with their dog, but…

  Andrew had repeated the sentence three times softly, like a mantra without moving his lips as the Hummer was pulling up. “We were hiking, Harvey took off after a rabbit, that’s all.” He whispered this right after he told her again not to mention Tim’s briefcase.

  Her belongings were confiscated. Her mind went instantly to the briefcase. She locked Tim’s items, including the briefcase in her file cabinet at the college, this time using a different hiding place in the back office, but the key card from the briefcase was with her. Well, now they had it.

  She wasn’t sure what Andrew packed in his backpack, she hoped it wasn’t his notebook full of observations and assumptions. Certain it would read like the work of a madman obsessed with a conspiracy theory.

  Her heart raced erratically. Hot, anxious and sweaty; a light sheen covered her skin. Her foot tapped up and down on the floor and she was squeezing her fist tightly. She knew she had never looked more nervous. She couldn’t control the thoughts spinning through her mind, or the alarming reality of where she was. This is the Federal Government, not just any government office but the highest in the land. I’m outside of Camp David being interrogated by federal officers who protect the President of the United States. Speculation and conspiracy ran through her head like a fast-forwarding movie. What if they asked her about Tim
…What if they knew about Tim? She needed to slow her thoughts and think before she started talking. Tim, what were you involved in? What is it you want me to know?

  ****

  The image in the mirror astounded Kendall. She let the water run over her hands, washing them repeatedly with soap, patting down her face with the rough paper towel. She realized how much she changed. Older. The small creases by her mouth and in between her nose. Determined. Yes, determined to find the truth. So much happened since Tim’s death, but she realized she could survive. She would figure out what Tim was involved in. Standing in the federal office building in Catoctin Falls State Park outside of the elusive Camp David, she realized she would not stop investigating until she discovered what her husband was trying to tell her, what he was hiding. If he didn’t want her to be involved, he would never have left her clues. Lambie, I’m not giving up. Harvey was okay. Led out to a lobby both she and Andrew were being released. Behind a glass window, a young military man was petting Harvey and trying not to smile as Harvey raised his paw and high-fived him.

  She wondered what the soldier would think about the trick Tim had taught him. He would hold his hand like a gun and go “bang”; Harvey would drop down to his stomach and roll over. Hysterically nervous, the thought almost made her laugh.

  Signing for her belongings, Andrew walked out into the lobby. “There’s the culprit.” He pointed at Harvey, bent down and rubbed his head. His expression unreadable. “The officers will give us a ride back to the car, looks like this misunderstanding has been properly cleared up.”

  The ride back to the car was in silence, with Andrew staring out the window at the dark woods.

  It was late. The park now closed, the parking lot void of all life. Kendall waited until the military vehicle was no longer in sight. “Do you know if they looked at your GPS?” She was giving Harvey some food she had in a container she kept in the back seat, her hands still shaking.

  Andrew leaned against the car. “I don’t think so, did you tell them anything about Tim?”

  She shut the door and it accidently slammed. “I didn’t tell them anything, I told them exactly what you told me to say. We were hiking and Harvey chased a rabbit. The odd thing is they never asked me about Tim, not one question.” She was rummaging through her backpack. “And here’s the key card, nothing about that either. I don’t even think they looked at my phone. They would have needed the password.”

  She picked up her iPhone and entered her password. A text message came up on the screen from earlier today. It was from a blocked number, the words made her hands shake. “Be careful who you trust. All is not as it seems.”

  Chapter 39

  It was another typical day in Scottsdale, Arizona. Perfect weather. A sky of intense bright blue, with no clouds marring the canvas. Late spring in Arizona was the ultimate in weather.

  The beautiful day didn’t help elevate Ryder’s mood. Ever since he returned from the cenote trip with Kendall, he had stayed off the drugs. But now his publicist and manager wanted him to audition for a spokesperson position on MTV. The thought of being on camera again instantly made his chest tight, causing sleepless nights and a case of full-blown anxiety. He wanted to say yes, but as soon as he began to text or call back, anxiety strangled his mind and heart. He was now ignoring their messages.

  Unable to sleep, he hiked a six-mile trail at the back side of Dreamy Draw Mountain Park at seven o’clock this morning. He had been dreaming of his father. Diving dreams. Dreams where he would wake up and clear aqua water dominated his thoughts. Cenote water. In his dreams, he saw his father, alive and happy trying to urge him to come with him, to keep diving down, going deeper and deeper. He wasn’t anxious in the dreams. Actually, quite the opposite; he experienced calm, peace, and serenity. Like the old days of diving with his father, he had the feeling of being exactly in the right place at the right time. He never wanted to leave.

  The cenote dream stayed with him all the way through the hike. The color of the sky matched the water of his dream. He contemplated going back to the DUN playground and get some downers so he could continue to sleep and swim in the cenotes with his father. He fought the urge to take drugs since he returned from his trip. Not that it was easy.

  His publicist warned him if he didn’t jump on the bandwagon now, if he didn’t take the opportunities given to him today, and continue to put his face up in the celebrity sphere, he would lose his status. He would become one of those ex-reality TV stars nobody remembers, until four years later when they show up on the front of the local paper for shoplifting or rehab.

  Paradise Valley was airing its last season, and Ryder could barely watch his performance. Anyone who looked too close could see the anxiety. A noticeable difference from the previous season.

  His new addiction was sex. Sure, he had met tons of girls since Paradise Valley started, but contrary to popular belief, he hadn’t slept with any of them. Make out sessions galore, but with his schedule being so busy with the show and personal appearances, he never had the place or the opportunity to spend the night with someone.

  He wasn’t a virgin.

  The summer before Paradise Valley, Ryder lost his virginity.

  Girls and sex consumed his thoughts, but he had never gone all the way. He was driving down Interstate 10 to Tucson to pick up a piece of furniture for his mother. Traffic was somewhat light in the middle of the day, non-rush hour. A blonde woman in a silver convertible Audi passed him several times, smiling an ultra-white mouthful of teeth. She would pass him and then slow down. He would pass her, exchanging sexy smiles. Ryder was passing the time, but when she pulled in front, turned on her blinker and headed for the exit Ryder’s hormones sprinted. He hoped it was an invitation but unsure where this would go. He put his signal on and followed her off the exit.

  She was older by at least ten years, but pretty in a platinum blonde, fake tan kind of way. “Wanna go have a drink?” she asked, giggling. She stepped out of the convertible and walked over to his car. He looked around at the exit where they pulled off, Picacho Peak. Yes, there was a big peak jutting out into the sky.

  “I don’t think there is much around here,” he answered instead of stating the obvious, he was under eighteen. She tore away her sunglasses studying him intently. “Well, that’s okay, I happen to have a bottle of Grey Goose in my cooler. You in? Let’s take a ride to the lookout, I’ll drive.”

  Speechless, but only for a minute, he pressed the button to close the Ranger’s window and opened the door. As he stepped out, she smiled her blindingly white teeth and looked him up and down. Her tangerine halter-top completely open in the back, with thin spaghetti straps holding a full front set of fake boobs in place. She threw him the keys. “Actually, how about you drive my car?”

  Middle of the week, middle of the day, no one was around, which was a good thing. While Ryder was driving she was pouring red plastic cups of vodka and rubbing the inside of his thigh. His jeans stretched tight as he grew. When he finally stopped the car, she was all over him. She looked him straight in the eyes and said, “Let’s fuck.”

  And they did, at fast pace, with her climbing on top, unbuttoning his jeans, and then once more, pushing the seat in recline way back, this time slower, her guiding the way. The conversation was minimal.

  He was lost in disbelief this was happening to him.

  Her phone rang and rang and rang playing “Let it Go” by Idina Menzel. She never silenced it, she just kept moving up and down on top of him.

  It ended as abruptly as it began. “Oh” is all she said as she smiled and she opened the door and climbed out.

  He couldn’t help noticing her big diamond ring as she sat in the driver’s seat, taking him back to his car. “What’s your name?” she asked in a soft voice.

  “Ryder,” he answered, and she burst out laughing.

  “Seriously? Well, I will never forget you, Ryder, take care of yourself and thanks.”

  And then she just drove away, with her sunglasses ba
ck on and a quick flash of her white teeth.

  He never told anyone. He really didn’t think anyone would believe him. He kept it to himself, because he liked it so much. It gave him power; he just didn’t know what to do with it.

  Now, without the drugs from the DUN playground, he was focusing his addiction on sex. It started down in Puerto Morelos, where he met three different girls late at night wandering around the resort and slept with each one of them in the same night. It was his substitute for drugs. It was an escape, an occurrence to pluck him out of the moment and let him forget his insecurities and his anxieties. Having a random one-night stand was like taking a drug for a night. He was never sure exactly where the high would take him but he knew it would take his mind off anything else. The thrill of determining whether or not someone would sleep with you without really knowing you, and the excitement of how fast it could happen, coupled with the overall physical pleasure, was a different kind of high.

  When he returned to Arizona he went searching for places where he could do the one-night stands. He never realized it would be so easy. He found them in the unlikeliest spots. He visited branches of his gym, LA Fitness, in outlying areas in Phoenix. Sometimes he would drive thirty miles just to work out, but it paid off, because lonely women were easy. He liked married women best, because he knew they wouldn’t come after him or leak a scandal story to the tabloids.

  He was honest with them when they seemed to be on the same addictive track. Sometimes it was as easy as saying, “You’re beautiful, you’re married, and that’s why I like you, I just want to fuck, no strings attached.”

  He used condoms and never gave his real name. It was the easiest, cheapest high he had ever experienced. The only problem, just like popping a pill, he wanted more.

  Chapter 40

  Steve Crawford wiped the sweat off his forehead. After presenting his holographic pass, a simple white key card, he was led into the first of three gates entering Camp David. He had been to Camp David twice before.