"Sheldon, let me ask you a simple question. Do you want it back or not?"
"Of course I want Tommy back. I would do anything to get him back. Please shoot me instead. I don’t care."
"That isn’t part of the deal. You have your directions and if you fail to go through with it, you know the consequences. Your property's condition lies in your hands form here on out. It's up to you how you want it returned."
I watch as Buster begins sniffing another small area of grass. "What has he done to you that he deserves to be killed?"
"If you're referring to Mr. Sorenson then you'll have to leave those details up to me, if you're referring to your property, you will find out the answer shortly. Think of this as a special game of how much you really love your child." I pull on Buster's leash and turn him back towards our house. "Most people say they will do anything for their kids, but you actually have an opportunity to do it."
"You’re a sick person you know that?"
"Actually, I feel quite fine. I see myself as more of a business partner to you than as sick."
"You're no partner of mine and you never will be. You better hope I never find you." Buster is almost running down the street pulling me.
"Sheldon my friend, I will never be found. I can hide anywhere I want and never be seen. In fact I may be standing right in front of you as you walk that bastardly hound." I suddenly stop and look around in all directions. Buster is looking at me. "Tomorrow at seven don’t forget." I hear the call end. I'm out of breath. I'm looking at every house, car, tree, and I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Where is he and how does he do it? I slam my foot against the curb in frustration causing Buster to quickly rub his nose against my leg. We head directly back to the house and I slam the door shut. Buster runs and jumps on the couch. Michelle appears through the kitchen door.
"You okay Sheldon?" She looks at me and then Buster who is lying down.
"No, I'm not okay. I can’t do this anymore. We need to find out where Tommy is right now." I throw the leash onto the floor. "This isn’t fair anymore. He didn't do anything, neither did we." I start screaming and stomping my feet on the floor. I see Buster scurry into the kitchen. I'm scaring him, but right now I don’t care. Michelle places her arms on my shoulders and is telling me to calm down. I finally stop yelling and end up sitting in the middle of the floor with Michelle's arms wrapped around me.
"It will be okay Sheldon." I feel Buster's nose on the back of my neck. I rub his back gently. Michelle quickly gets up and heads to the kitchen and comes right back. She's carrying a glass of water. "Please take this Sheldon." She hands me the glass and a small bluish colored pill.
"What is this?" I hold the pill in my hand.
"It's something to calm you down. Dr. Maruder came by yesterday and dropped off a prescription." I shrug my shoulders and quickly swallow the pill. A few minutes later, I'm lying down in our bed feeling drowsy. Buster is at my feet and Michelle is pulling the covers up to my neck. The next thing I know I wake up and the sun is shining very brightly. I roll over, Buster is lying next to my feet at the bottom of the bed and Michelle is next to me. I can see her eyes are open.
"What day is it?"
"Wednesday." She places her hands on my back. I immediately sit upright.
"It's Wednesday, Oh my God."
"What is it Sheldon? What's wrong?" Buster rolls over and looks at me.
"What time is it?" Michelle sits up and looks behind us on the nightstand. She has brought the clock back.
"It's 9:00." She says.
"Already?" She nods her head up and down. I can’t believe in ten hours I have to shoot another man to save my son's life. I feel my eyes welling up. Michelle is clutching me tighter.
"What is it Sheldon? What's going on?" I want to come out and tell her, just let it all spill out, but instead I just hold her tighter and close my eyes. I try and think of playing catch with Tommy. I could have him home tonight. All I have to do is pull a trigger. I picture Sorenson falling backwards clutching his bleeding throat.
Chapter 15
It's just after 12:00 now, seven more hours to go. I've spent the last few hours doing everything possible to keep myself busy. I have walked Buster twice, taken a shower, and even cleaned up the kitchen. I think Michelle senses something is going on, but if all goes well, Tommy will be home and everything will be back to normal, except I'll have committed a murder. I check the time almost every other minute. I'm driving myself crazy. I'm not really sure what to do. I finally decide to go out for a drive. I slowly back the Tahoe out. I'm not really sure where I'm going, but I need to go somewhere. I end up back at the baseball field. There are maintenance workers grooming the field. I climb up the bleachers and watch them magically take the field from a mound of grass to a well-groomed diamond ready for memories and dreams to be made on. I keep thinking all I have to do is squeeze the trigger and Tommy will be out here playing again. Michelle will be happy and all will be well. I look down as my phone begins to vibrate. I can tell it's not a phone call or a text from the vibration. I click on the screen and feel my heart begin to beat wildly as I see Tommy. He's seated in the same bedroom on the edge of the bed looking directly at me through the camera. I hold the phone up higher so he can see me.
"Tommy? How are you doing?" I watch his eyes focus in on me through the camera.
"Hi Dad, I'm fine. I'm just ready to come home…I miss you guys so much." I want to reach through the phone and pull him out, but I know I can’t so I try and do the next best thing; keep my head straight.
"Not much longer buddy, I promise." I look at his eyes; they look much clearer than on the video I have on my iPhone. I can see him looking off to his left every few seconds as if he's looking at someone else. I'm having a tough time coming up with anything to say, my emotions are running wild. "What have you been doing?" I finally ask.
"I've been working on the computers and playing some new games." He points behind him at all the equipment. "I've finished two whole books too." He picks up two large novels and holds them up to the camera. I feel tears start coming from my eyes, but I blink my eyes to hold them back. Reading has always been something Tommy has always had trouble with. We usually struggle just to get him to read a page a night of anything.
"I'm so proud of you…Tommy." I feel the tears break through, but I don’t care anymore. "Where are you buddy?"
"You know Dad. I'm right where you had Mr. Ken take me." I watch his eyes look to the left again.
"What?"
"Dad, he says we can't talk about that. It's part of the deal."
"Is he right there?" His eyes look to the left again and then he looks back at me and nods.
"Has he been good to you?"
"He's been really nice Dad. He gets me whatever I want to eat or drink and lets me watch whatever I want except for the news. I do miss email and the internet though. How much longer until I can come home?" I can’t believe this. What is going on? What are they telling him?
"Very soon Tommy…very soon."
"Dad, he says I have to go soon. I miss you guys so much. Please tell Mom hello."
"We miss you too. Can you ask him if I can talk to him?" I watch his mouth form the words as he looks to his left. A minute later, he looks back and shakes his head no.
"He says that isn’t part of the deal either. Where are you Dad? It looks like the baseball field?" I take the phone and slowly pan it around the field.
"I am."
"Shouldn’t you be at work?"
"I'm just taking a break. It's such a nice day." I realize I shouldn’t have said that as soon as it comes out of my mouth.
"I wish I could go outside."
"You haven't been outside at all?" I watch him look down.
"Not since Mr. Ken brought me here."
"What does Mr. Ken look like?" I watch him look to his left again.
"I don’t know Dad…I guess kind of like you, tall with dark hair." I nod.
"Do you remember a few years ago
when we went on that vacation with your cousins?"
"Yeah." I watch him smile.
"Does this remind you of that at all?" I watch as he thinks about it for a minute. We spent a few days and nights camping out in the Blue Ridge Mountains region in Virginia off of Skyline drive.
"Not really Dad. I don’t know what you mean."
"How about where we went last year?" As soon as I finish asking I hear another voice, a much lower one saying "that's enough".
"Dad, I have to go. Please come get me soon. I love you."
"I will Tommy…I will. I love you too buddy." As soon as I say that the screen goes blank and the session has ended. I feel my body explode, all the tension and excitement pours out. Tears are flowing down my face. I bury my head in my hands, until I feel someone tapping my shoulder. I look up and see one of the maintenance workers looking at me and asking me if I'm okay. I nod and put my head back down until I feel my phone begin to vibrate again. I quickly pull the phone up and see it's a text message.
"I hope you enjoyed that. It could either be your last or just the beginning. Nice try at the end with the vacation questions. Don’t forget about tonight."
I look at my watch. It's three o'clock. Four more hours until my son's life rests in my hands. I feel sick to my stomach. I stumble back towards the Tahoe and just sit in the front seat. I don’t feel like starting the engine because I know where I have to go and I don’t want to go there. Luckily, I am saved by my phone vibrating again. I look down and see Jim's number.
"Hello Jim."
"Sheldon, I just got off the phone with Brian. You’re not going to believe this, but the person who was on the computer in the library was your brother Lawrence Smith."
"Of course."
"What do you mean?"
"I don’t know anymore." I look out the window and watch the maintenance vehicles pull out of their parking spots.
"Do you really think it was him?"
"No, they used his driver's license when they took Tommy from school too and we were able to prove it wasn't Lawrence. Thanks for all the help though."
"That's not all." I feel my senses keen up. "He also has an email that was being used at the same time the computer was being accessed."
"Do we know the address?" I turn the ignition of the Tahoe and start to back up.
"It's a Gmail account. Brian is tracking it down now. I really think we need to go to the police." I pull out of the parking lot, past the old sign indicating it was donated by a descendant of Robert E. Lee.
"Just hold off for a little longer. Please call me back if he gets anywhere on the email address." I end the call and feel like I just lost my last hope to save me from tonight, unless he can get a name and address for the Gmail. If it was anyone else besides Brian I would say there is no chance, but there is still a glimmer of hope I think. I pull out onto the road and head towards the storage unit. I can’t believe I’m actually going through with this. What will my parents think? What about Tommy? I wonder what he would want me to do. I force myself not to think of anything anymore and keep driving. I arrive at the storage unit at around 5:00 PM; two more hours to go. I wonder what Sorenson is thinking not knowing he may only have two more hours to live. I nervously put in the code and the box opens. I reach in and grab the gun. It feels so odd in my hand; it's like I'm holding something that isn't mine. I slip the gun into my pocket and close the door. There is no one nearby, so after I close the door and make sure it is locked I casually walk back towards the Tahoe with the weight of the world in my pocket. I decide to call Michelle and let her know that I won’t be home until later. There's no way I can face her with 7:00 PM approaching. Less than two hours. I'm crippled with anxiety as I sit in the back of a Starbucks sipping on a hot cup of tea. I'm right down the street from Sorenson's and it's almost time to do it. I'm trying to psych myself up and say it won’t be so hard. All I have to do is squeeze a trigger on a mechanical tool and I get Tommy back. It's just the end result I can't handle. I'm basically trading a life for a life, though I tell myself Tommy's is worth more because he has youth on his side, but Sorenson is a father and a husband. I don’t know what to do. I take a long hot sip of tea. I feel relieved as the hot liquid touches the back of my throat and seeps down. I look down at my watch it's almost 6:00 PM. A little more than an hour to go until I face a decision that will change many lives forever. I quickly get up and throw the unfinished cup of tea into the trash. I pull the Tahoe out of the parking lot and head back in the direction I came in. I pull into a large church that I passed on the way here. It's not one I've been to before. I'm not even sure what religion it is, but I park the truck and walk up the sidewalk and enter through two large doors. I see a sign pointing towards the main chapel area so I follow that and enter into a beautiful large room that must seat at least five hundred people. Right now there are maybe five or six people seated in various rows of pews, their heads are bowed. I climb into a pew at the back and stare up at a life-size sculpture of Jesus above the altar. It's crafted magnificently, and from my vantage point it appears real. Jesus is on the cross. His face is full of determination, strength and resolve that the artist has captured perfectly. I am mesmerized as I stare at the statue and I start to spill out everything in my mind. I'm not sure if I'm saying it out loud or too myself, but after a few minutes I feel much better. I look down at my watch and see it is time to go. It is quarter to seven. I take one last look at the statue and thank God for everything and head back to my truck for what feels like the walk to my death. A few minutes later, I'm parked down the street from Sorenson's house. It is just dark enough that my truck won’t be able to be recognized. I feel the gun a few times in my pocket. My hand pretends to squeeze the trigger. I think I can do what I have to do. I slowly get out and close the door quietly, so it doesn’t make too much noise. Luckily, the houses are spread out on their street and there is no one directly next to or across from them. I walk down the street with both sides lined thickly with trees. A moment later, I am at the bottom of the driveway. I have never felt this nervous in my life. I keep thinking about talking to Tommy a little while ago and how he doesn't even understand why he is where he is. I don’t think he realizes the danger he is in. I start walking up the driveway. It's a long sloped one. I can see the house up above. The outside lights are on, both on the side of the house and on a lamp post to my left. I can see the side of the house and it appears some of the downstairs lights are on as well, so I'm guessing Sorenson's home; though deep in my mind I'm hoping he's not. It's quite a large house. It probably has four bedrooms. I get to the end of the driveway where it meets a two car garage with two doors. I look in the garage windows and see one car inside. It looks like a new model sedan, but it's too dark to see what kind. The other spot is empty. I figure it must be his wife's car. I take a quick look at the phone hoping for a last minute message from someone telling me that they either have the guy or that this is off. I can't believe I'm actually going through with this. I rarely even hurt bugs. I try and take them outside our house instead of squashing them just to spare their lives and here I am standing outside a man's house with a loaded firearm getting ready to end his life as well as ruin his family's. I lean against the garage. It's a dark night. I can hear the crickets chirping in the woods behind me. The moon is out casting a soft glow onto the pavement. It is otherwise a perfect evening. The kind I would like to be out walking with Michelle and Tommy or watching Tommy playing ball under the lights at Lee Field. I look all around me. There is no one around. I'm guessing the guy, Frank Harris, Mr. Ken or whatever his name is, is out there somewhere watching me, but I don’t see him. I begin to walk down a small sidewalk that leads from the garage to the front door. It is curved and lined with small flower beds. Someone has obviously spent many hours perfecting the look. I reach the front door a moment later. I feel like I can barely breathe anymore. My lungs and body feel tight and constricted. I check the gun again with my hand in my pocket. I tell myself I can do this and think of To
mmy sitting in that room all alone waiting for me to do what I have to do. I step up to the door and start to knock then pull my hand back. I need a little more time before I can do this. I haven't even planned how I'm going to do it yet. I can't think about it without feeling sick. I figure I'll go inside and talk for a while and wait for the right time. I feel the gun again. It feels so foreign and cold. I hate this. I don't even care about getting arrested or anything, though I figure Harris probably has all that figured out anyway, but I just can't think of actually killing another innocent man. In the Army, we were always taught to shoot someone because otherwise they were going to shoot you, but this is an innocent unarmed man who is just trying to live his life. I start to turn around and head back towards my truck and say forget it, but I instinctively stop and lightly knock on the door. I start out knocking lightly and there is no response, so I reluctantly knock a little harder. I'm hoping no one will answer, but a few seconds later I hear footsteps inside. I feel like my heart is going to stop. I don’t think I can go through with this. A second later, the door opens and Douglas Sorenson is standing in front of me. He's wearing a large Redskin sweatshirt and faded blue jeans. He looks like any other person just living their life and not expecting to be killed by a firearm on a Wednesday night.
"Mr. Smith. How are you? Please come in." I shake his hand and step into the house. He closes the door behind me. I feel like turning around and running out the door, but I remain standing in the lobby. It's a fairly large lobby that has a staircase in front of me and two doorways off to each side. The room on the right looks like a dining room and the other a living room. "What can I do for you?" I can't answer. My mouth isn’t functioning. "Mr. Smith, are you okay?"
I'm finally able to utter a response. "I just wanted to stop by and see if you can think of anything else."
"Why don't we head into the living room, can I get you anything?" I shake my head no and follow him into a large living room with a huge off-white leather couch and two matching chairs. Sorenson sits on the couch and I sit on the chair closest to him. "Unfortunately, I don’t have anything new other than what I told you the other day. Detective Stanton came by here earlier and I filled him in on everything I told you again. He wanted the files for Harris and his brother."
Fatal Decision Page 11