Mary, “I was just updating the case file, you’re not gonna believe this!”
“What?”
“He was a millionaire!”
“What!” Hinton looks at her with impatient curiosity, so Lauren begins repeating what she’s hearing, “Gary S. Carlson’s real identity was Grant Carrolton, multi-millionaire heir; died without any living relatives. His will is being contested in court by his own lawyers over a clause granting the town of his burial his entire estate!”
Hinton steps away from her in shocked disbelief as she covers her mouth for the same cause. She switches her phone to speaker mode and both hear the next parts from Sorenson, “Valued at over fifty million dollars.”
Simultaneously, an announcement comes over the walkie-talkies, but the two are too blown away by what they are hearing to tune in. Sorenson continues, “Lawyers are trying to prove that after ten years, Mr. Carrolton’s body will never be found, and that his grave is likely not in any town.”
Hinton, Coles, and Mary, in varying degrees of shock and emotion, all say the next words at the exact same time, “The kid is one hundred percent accurate!”
Agent Sandoval calls out from the kitchen, “Agent Coles, Agent Hinton!” He is embarrassedly trying to turn down his walkie-talkie; which, because he had been outside, was set quite loud. But the damage has been done, and everyone in the kitchen heard quite clearly the announcement that was given, “The shooter is confirmed as Calvin Stone, his location is believed to be a rented room at eight hundred fifty Almeida, overlooking the Market and Phelps homes.”
Coles hurriedly breaks off their conversation with Mary as she and Hinton rush back into the kitchen to find out why Sandoval was calling for them.
He says, “They’ve confirmed the identity of the shoot– Uh, the guy, and he–”
“You might as well say his name,” interjects Robert, “we’re Christians, not deaf!”
“Okay,” says Hinton. “So, looks like we’ve got a game change.”
“Yeah,” says Sandoval. “They want as many of us as possible to help close in on his current position; a room overlooking this house.”
Robert asks firmly, “Wait. Are you saying this guy has shot somebody?”
Joanna, “It can’t be Cal, he’s la crème de la crème, wouldn’t hurt a soul!”
Hinton says to Joanna, “So you know this guy pretty well, do you?”
They answer, “Oh, yeah!”
Joanna adds, “Yes, I’ve known him for years.”
Hinton, “Have you ever been to his house?”
Joanna says with confidence, “No. But I’ve worked with him at church for at least five or six years, and he has been in this house at least twenty times!”
Hinton looks over at Sandoval, then says to Joanna, “I see. Downstairs? Upstairs? All over?”
“Uh, I guess, you know, go to the bathroom, or down playing with the boys.”
Hinton looks at Sandoval, again, then says, “Uh-huh. Did he ever sleep over, perhaps in the downstairs guest room?”
“Hmm. Over the last six years? I don’t know—No, I don’t think so. No.”
“Okay. Do you have any pictures of him, here socializing or anything?”
“I’m sure we do. Joe, go get the album from the other room.”
Lauren, “Joe, let me come with you.” And they go to find the album.
Hinton continues, “Have you ever seen any of his family, relatives?”
Joanna thinks a moment; then, a little surprised, says, “Hmm … No. I don’t remember meeting any of his family. Robert, have you?”
Robert, “No. But if you would please answer my question, sir, has this guy shot somebody?”
Hinton says carefully, “No, sir, not that we know of; we just know he’s capable of doing so.”
“This is just unbelievable.” Says Robert. “Who would have ever thought such a thing could happen.”
Joanna adds, “I know. It must be some sort of mistake.”
James agrees. Hinton turns to him and asks, “How well do you know Cal?”
James, “I’d say we probably spend about fifteen minutes in his company on any given week, maybe up to an hour when we have get-togethers or church functions. He’s a friendly and easy to talk to guy, you know.”
Hinton, “Hmm. Yeah, yeah. I know.”
Joanna offers a defense. “Cal is a first generation immigrant, European. Wouldn’t that explain why we wouldn’t know of or have met his family?”
Hinton, “It could.”
Lauren and Joseph return from the other room and she says, “Would you page through this, see if you spot him Joanna?”
Joanna is pleased to hear Lauren refer to her by name and says a warm, “Thank you;” as she receives the photo album.
Anticipation is high as she looks through the album. Everyone is looking, hoping she’ll spot something. Paying special attention to images from their cookouts and home meetings with church members she doesn’t seem to see a single clear picture of Calvin Stone!
Hinton turns to Joseph and asks, “Say, Joey, how well do you know Calvin Stone, you guys talk much?”
Joseph, “Cal? Oh, I know him. Well, he’s great. Friendly guy. Interested in my schoolwork and stuff; talks to me about movies. You guys’ have got the wrong guy.”
“I see.” Says Hinton.
Joanna, annoyed follows with, “Humph! I don’t see him. This is crazy.”
Hinton, “Are you sure he was here at these events?”
She looks at him like he’s not making sense. “Yes, definitely! He’s a bit of a cook and would even help with the cooking.”
Lauren gives Hinton an uneasy look.
Robert says, “Yeah, he would help me at the grill also. Oh, c’mon, there’s got to be a shot with him in it!” He reaches for the album to page through himself.
James then says, “Dad, what about on the computer, there’s a bunch of shots that have not been printed.”
Robert, “There you go, good thinking!”
Hinton looks at Lauren as if to say, “pretty sharp!”
An announcement comes over the radio. “Agent Hinton, this is Clarkson, come in.”
Hinton, “Excuse me, let me step out and take this.” He steps out back and grabbing his walkie-talkie off of his belt, he says, “This is Hinton. Go to channel eleven, please;” switching to a different frequency from that of Lauren and Sandoval, who are inside with the family.
Now, on that channel, Clarkson then says, “Can you and Agent Coles adequately secure the family? We want to have George and Mike help with the dragnet we’ve got surrounding Stone’s last know location.”
“Uh, sure, we can do it.”
“Also, can you check with the family to see if they have a picture of this guy, cause, so far we’ve not found anything.”
“Already did, and so far he seems to be a bit of a Houdini. We’ll check some other possibilities and keep you posted.”
“Okay, I’m in touch with the local police, he’s clean, but perhaps they’ll turn up something as they ask around. Clarkson out.”
Hinton is impressed with his team-player attitude and ponders a moment. Perhaps he judged Clarkson too quickly. Seems like a decent fellow after all.
Serious
Over at the fire station, Bruce Watson is rifling through pictures of church events and fast-forwarding through videos at the same time. He is on the phone with patrolman Mark Anderson who has shared a tiny bit of police-only information with the highly inquisitive commander. Watson says to him:
“You’re sure you can’t tell me who’s asking for this picture?”
“Bruce.”
“I mean, not any names or anything.”
“Bruce!”
“Not the slightest hint to, to … you know, keep me going, here?”
“I already told you it’s in relation to the Sherman’s pizza story, about being pulled over. That’s plenty. This is official police business!”
“Okay, how about this, just answer my question, ye
s or no.”
“No!”
“I didn’t ask anything.”
“I know. No!”
“Well, I already know it’s a federal agency anyway.”
“Oh, you do? That’s nice.”
“Aw, c’mon! Am I not helping you here? I’ve got other things I could be doing, you know.”
“And I appreciate your help, really. You’ve always been a good source for me.”
There’s no answer from the usually very responsive Watson, prompting Officer Anderson to say, “Hello? Bruce? Helloooo.”
Watson, momentarily distracted by a young man he sees through the window, riding past the station house, says, “Hmm!”
Anderson, “Did you hear what I said?”
“Uh, yeah. You know what? I just saw a kid—a teen—ride past here on a ten-speed, who looked like he could be Calvin Stone’s son.”
“Really? Too bad you couldn’t take a picture of him, I could give it to the …”
“Yes, give it to the …?”
“People from the government who asked for it! There, now you satisfied?”
“Uh-huhhh,” says Watson. “Secret Service, huh?”
“No, this particular individual was not from the Secret Service.”
“Really! So are you saying that there are other individuals in town who ARE from the Secret Service?” His question actually gets Officer Anderson’s curiosity going, and he asks,
“What would make you ask that?”
“Ask what?”
“About the Secret Service.”
“Oh, it’s just that I– ’Cause this could be THE day!”
“The what day?”
“You know, the day, from the prophecy.”
“How is that?”
“Well, after we left the diner, remember we were talking about the Market family, and how things go well for them, like they are being protected by God, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I came back here and went through my file on the church fire, the one that got everybody in an uproar.”
“Okay, yeah.”
“Well, that is how I first got to know the Markets, and liked them, but I had made a note to myself that there was that prophecy that said that the president would die.”
“What president?”
“THE President!”
“Are you serious? I thought all that was proven to be a coincidence or something.”
“No. Not at all! People just figured after he was wrong about Mr. What’s-his-name dying and not blessing the town that it was all over, but I made myself this note, and after talking to Mrs. Phelps, I–”
“So you figured that if something strange were to happen, it meant the president was about to be assassinated? Hello!”
Again, Watson is distracted. He stares at the video monitor, which is paused on an image of Calvin Stone from a cookout from six years ago. He looks a bit younger, and a lot like the kid that just biked by.
“BRUCE!” shouts Anderson.
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Um, I got a picture!”
“You do? Great. I’m on my way!”
But Watson, who is eager to get out and get a second look at the kid on the bicycle says, “I’ll bring it to you. It’s from video so it’s gonna be kind of grainy.”
But Anderson overrides, “That’s okay. And by the time you get it printed I can be there already, so sit tight!”
• • •
At the Market home, Hinton and Coles are left alone at the house, while Sandoval and the other four agents have all gone to support the effort to contain and capture Calvin Stone. A lady, at the corner of Calvin’s block, was sure that she’d seen him drive by when she came home last night; and from her description they see the car he drives sitting in the driveway of the large old apartment house. Hinton monitors the radio communications while he and the Market men are all upstairs looking through photos on the computer. As a precaution, Hinton had them disconnect the computer from the Internet.
Downstairs, Lauren also monitors the radio conversations, but she has her volume turned down, allowing her to talk with Joanna.
Joanna, “I really just can’t believe this is happening.”
Lauren, “I know, it’s pretty incredible. But I’ve been following this case for almost a year, and I had come to expect that something was going to come of it.”
“A year! My, you really are dedicated aren’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“And the government planned all of this—you meeting Jimmy, coming here, all of it?”
“No,” she smiles, “not exactly. You see, this case was a leftover. I was brought on from another group to head up this section of research on old files. I simply love to read and compare and find patterns of similarity and I had done well with old cases. So when they asked me to review the leftovers I made this connection between the White House log of your phone call, the report that Mr. Phelps had filed with the FBI, and the death of Mrs. Phelps’ friend, Margaret Jennings. The coincidences were very intriguing between what Mr. Phelps had said and sent—the picture from Joe’s journal—and his sister-in-law’s death; not to mention how spot-on Joe’s details were to the way she died. When I discovered the church fire and the stranger, they gave me a lot of leeway on how to proceed. But with the death of Mrs. Jennings, everything got serious in a hurry! His prediction was so accurate it even unnerved the most ardent skeptics. So between me, knowing so much about the case, and the Service not wanting to embarrass itself if this proved a waste of time, I was elevated to be in charge. I then suggested that I learn what I could first hand, by talking to James, and perhaps meeting you all as a researcher for the government. But the Service didn’t want me to expose them, so I was asked to begin the undercover assignment in which James and I met.”
“Oh, I see.”
“I would rather have not, but they felt– Well, I don’t really know why it was decided, but my boss was pressured to keep this very quiet.”
“Agent Coles, can you help me set the table, or is that not allowed now that you are on the job?”
With a smile of slight embarrassment, Lauren says, “Yes of course I can help. Please don’t think of things as so very different. Everything is the same, only now you know what I do for a living.”
She shows Lauren where the dishes are, and asks her to set the table for eight.
“Eight?” asks Lauren.
Joanna, “Well, there’s us four, you, Hinton, and Sandoval, and one more just cause, you never know.”
“Oh, okay. That’s nice.”
Finishing up a large batch of eggs Joanna asks, “So what happens now?”
“I’m sorry?”
“When the case is over, after eight p.m. tonight, what will become of you?”
“Do you mean: do I intend to blow back out of your lives and leave your wonderful son wondering what became of me?”
Joanna smiles and reaches out and takes her hand saying, “I am horribly transparent aren’t I? How can you know me so well?”
“I don’t know, there’s a lady in my house I call Mom who reminds me a lot of you.” Lauren sighs and continues, “Well, I don’t know what the future will bring for sure, but I am sure that I’d like it to include James somehow, even if only as a dear friend.”
• • •
At the fire station, Watson gives Officer Anderson the photo plus several copies.
The officer says, “You know? You’ve been acting strange since our phone conversation. What’s eating you?”
“If I told you, you would think I’m … you know, weird—Don’t say it!”
Anderson laughing replies, “Okay. I promise not to think you are weirder than you already are. How’s that?”
Watson glares at him with a deadpan expression and says, “Nice. Well, it’s– Ever since I saw that kid bike by, I’ve had this sense that I should go talk to that insurance guy about it.”
“The one I gave a ride to?”
“Yeah. It’s like I’
m hearing myself convince me I shouldn’t go; but this thought that I should keeps lingering. And it just feels like it’s the right thing to do.”
“What, you think he had something to do with their fire?”
“No, it’s something else. Like something bad is going to happen.”
“Why don’t you go? He’s over at the Markets.”
“He is? Humph. So you think I should?”
“Why not, decisions like this often make the difference between life and death.”
Watson just says, “Wow.”
“What?”
“This whole conversation seems familiar to me.”
Anderson, “Okay, now you’re just being weird. Like I’m used to.” As he walks away, he says to Watson, “You’re on channel nine, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know if I see this kid on the bike. What color was it?”
“Fire-engine red.”
• • •
“Breaaaaakfast!” comes the cry from the Market home kitchen.
Mr. Hinton and the Market men all pour down the stairs like kids! Joanna brings out two huge stacks of pancakes and places them on the dining room table, which already has scrambled eggs, bacon, rolls, hash browns, sausages, and a variety of fruit and juices. Hinton, who rarely enjoys a home cooked meal unless he makes it himself, is particularly enticed.
“Wash your hands boys, wash your hands!” says Joanna, who is adjusting to the whole situation quite comfortably.
Hinton leads the troupe down the hall. He catches Lauren’s eye long enough to communicate by expression that they were unsuccessful locating even a single image of Calvin Stone. He proceeds on to wash his hands first, while the Market men wait nearby. He in turn waits in the hall while they all wash up.
A call comes over the radio that echoes in the hallway, “Agent Hinton, please pickup.”
“Yeah, this is Hinton; go ahead.”
“This is Sandoval. We’re in Stone’s place, but he’s packed up. Some interesting stuff here. He’s definitely the guy.”
“Got it, thanks. What are we doing now?”
“Clarkson says we’re going to reestablish the perimeter around the Market residence, and you are to expect two more guys from the service any minute.”
The Journal: A Prophecy, A President & Death Page 29