When our sandwiches arrived and the waitress left, he quickly dropped the small talk.
“You’ve been plowing through a lot of emotional debris, Sam, and bringing a lot of unsettled business to the surface. Some people are very apprehensive.”
“I know, but if I drag my feet, Mike, it prevents me from learning the truth. So I push a little, calling the shots as I see them. Sorry if I’ve offended anyone.”
He reached for his sandwich. “I’m only concerned that you’re not going to be happy with the end result when you eventually unravel all this.”
I stopped sipping my soda. “I’ll say this much. What I’ve found out so far regarding some of the others surprised me. Every page I turned, there was another explanation that went with it. I thought it all over, and it finally made perfect sense.”
“So, what was your final conclusion?” he asked, digging into his food.
“Nothing I’m willing to divulge right this minute, but it’s certainly not what I expected. That’s for sure. But I’m close. I know it,” I said, biting into my sandwich.
He stopped eating. “…Are you prepared for the rest of it? What if you don’t like what Stephen may have figured out or dug up and may still be on his laptop? Are you emotionally ready for that? Have you thought about the consequences of your actions in all this, discovering what was buried all those years?” he asked, clearly concerned. “I wouldn’t want you running away from here in anger, like Stephen did.”
“What could possibly be more shocking to me than his death? I now know Stephen was terribly frustrated in not locating his parents. He was chasing an objective that was unrealistic in the first place, and it became a dangerous obsession he clung to with persistence. He probably couldn’t face what he thought was unacceptable results and, knowing him, adamantly refused to budge from what he felt was rightly his.”
I needed Mike to understand the driving force behind my actions. “Mike, when I stop and look back, my life wasn’t always idyllic, but if Stephen had only recognized the importance of our relationship, it might have been a step in the right direction. Unfortunately, he didn’t. He made his choice and I was left to survive the aftermath. Now, I’ve made my choice: the truth, regardless of what the outcome may be.”
“What about when all of this is over? What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m not going back, and I’m certainly not floundering in any circumstances I have no power to change. I’m solely focusing on future possibilities and any influence I might have over them. That’s the difference between Stephen and me. He lived in the past. I’m concentrating on the future. If I can help a few people along the way, then that’s fine. I’m comfortable with that.”
“But what if your interference has a negative effect and all of it backfires? I just don’t want anything happening that might hurt you.”
“You needn’t be concerned. I’m well aware my mind thinks out of the box, and it sometimes places me in awkward situations. And to be honest, it’s probably a good reason to drop this investigation. But from time to time lately, I’ve gotten lucky and things began falling into place.”
I leaned back, mulling over my strategy. “Mike, I need to be sure of everyone involved, before I reveal anything to anyone. What could be the worst possible scenario? I may never find out, but on the slight chance that I do, I continually ask myself, will I handle the outcome any better than Stephen did?”
Mike stared at me. “Trust me, Sam. You’re different. You might not like what you hear, but in the end, hopefully, you’ll understand. Some puzzles don’t always fit the way they should. This one has a lot of people and gray areas caught in between. I do know one thing for certain. You will probably be confronted with suspicions about some of their motives. Just promise me, you’ll take a step back and think before you jump to conclusions, and try not to be too judgmental. Remember, nobody is perfect.”
“Don’t you think I know that? But I need to know the truth beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
Chapter 68
Flak Jacket
I stood looking up at Jack’s house, wondering what in the world I was doing there. I might be pushing the envelope with this visit. After all, he was a powerful man in town and the county. I shrugged to myself. I wasn’t exactly questioning his truthfulness, just his hot-and-cold fixation with the likelihood of Stephen being his son.
After Stephen died, and after Jack’s emotional breakdown, what made Jack begin looking again? Why did he start all over? What was the motivation that got him going in another direction? Did he know for sure Stephen wasn’t his son after all? If so, how did he know that? What information did he obtain that convinced him otherwise?
I took a deep breath for courage and knocked on the door. There was no answer. I waited and tried again and the door unexpectedly swung open. “Jack? Barbara? Is anybody home?” Not a sound. I called out again, “Jack? Barbara?”
No response. Suddenly concerned, I slowly ventured inside. If they weren’t home, why was their front door ajar? I walked hesitantly down the long front hallway, listening for any sound.
After a few steps, I thought I heard someone crying. It seemed like it was coming from Jack’s study. I approached it cautiously. The door was open and there was Barbara crying, sitting in Jack’s chair, with Jack on one knee holding her hands in his.
Barbara looked down at him. “I’m sorry, Jack.” she said, as he gently patted her hand.
“It’s okay, Barbara. I understand, but what about telling…?”
“That’s what I’m so afraid of,” she said, tearfully.
They both turned, as I stood there transfixed by what I had witnessed. Barbara quickly wiped her eyes, as Jack got up, and then just stared at me silently.
I was painfully embarrassed. “I’m so sorry for the intrusion. The front door was ajar. I knocked, and then called out, and when no one answered, I thought the worst. Please excuse me,” I said, as I back stepped into the hallway.
“No! Wait!” said Jack, standing beside Barbara. Then he stared down at her.
She looked up at him. “I’m truly sorry, Jack. There should have been no secrets between any of us, and now it’s too late.”
“No. We’ll get through this. I promise. I absolutely refuse to criticize his intentions.”
Whose intentions?
I became extremely uncomfortable standing there. “Listen, I’ll just go. Obviously, this is something personal. It can wait for another time.” I looked from one to the other, nervously. “I should have called first. I’m sorry.”
“…You don’t have to go,” Jack ventured. “No…I mean… It’s just that I haven’t had time to adjust to this shocking complication. I don’t know what to say to you right now.”
Barbara started to cry again. “Oh, Jack. Why didn’t Clay say he knew? How terrible! The whole thing is wrong. This is not the way it should have turned out, the accident, everything. He should have told her.”
“What about the accident?” I asked, stunned.
Clay knew?
Jack held Barbara’s hand firmly, and then turned to face me. “Maybe, at this moment, it’s a little premature, Sam. I…I don’t know quite what to say to you. Please forgive me. This is hitting me from all sides at once. I wasn’t prepared for any of it.”
Barbara looked up at Jack. “Maybe Clay knew all along.”
Jack’s eyes pleaded mine. “I’m sorry, Sam. This latest emotional shock has left me speechless.”
Chapter 69
Running Scared
I drove fast, upset and spitting mad. I had the questions and he had the answers. I turned the corner and aimed for Clay’s house. Impending darkness loomed as the sun receded in the western sky, but the hour wasn’t an issue.
My normally rational mind was history, as it relapsed several months back to its old mind-set after Stephen’s death, regressing with each additional mile. I was in an emotionally raw state, with a single target. Get the bastard who was responsible.
&nbs
p; Clay had strung me along, knowing exactly what was going on the whole time! How could he have been so callous, so reprehensible, but behave so innocently. I had been reckless to trust him in the first place, letting his charm and persuasiveness dull my senses, while allowing myself to be manipulated and misdirected. How simple-minded and pliable I must have appeared, as I eagerly bought into all his rhetoric and expressions of concern.
I pulled into his drive, jumped out and pounded on his door, looking to draw blood.
His.
He yanked the door open and gravely stared down at me. Obviously, he had been forewarned of my imminent visit. “Come on in,” he greeted, as he stepped back to let me pass. “What took you so long?”
I whipped around, poking my finger into his chest as I yelled, “What was the purpose of stringing me along? Why all the deception?” I raised my hand to slap him.
“Go ahead,” he dared me. “I can play rough too!”
I slowly lowered my hand. “What’s the purpose?” I replied angrily, as I rethought any physical retribution. “Besides, you might get hurt.” I walked over and slumped into a chair by the fireplace. “To say I am disappointed in you is an understatement. I thought we had some type of understanding. Apparently, I was way off-base.”
He sat opposite me in the other chair. “It’s obvious you’re infuriated, and I don’t blame you in the least. I’d be pretty upset if I were in your shoes. You deserved to be treated better than you were. …It wasn’t meant to go this far,” he admitted. “I completely underestimated you.”
“Wow! How touching!” I was fed up with his constant slick discourse. “Sorry, it doesn’t wash. You’ll have to come up with more inspired and insightful dialogue than that!”
But I quickly realized by his expression that defiance was a miscalculation on my part, as his eyes slowly darkened. He glared at me, unblinking. Panic kicked in, and my breath began to keep pace with a clock ticking rapidly somewhere nearby.
“I had to get closer to you,” he explained, “…for you to…” His hand slowly stroked the arm of his chair. “…Trust me.”
I was suddenly anxious to get away. “But I didn’t need excuses, just answers and not you’re unimaginative ones either. Tell me, Clay. What happened to the truth?” As I spoke, I was already looking for an out.
He was cautiously watching my every move. “I didn’t think you were ready for it. That’s why I waited so long. You needed to slowly have things unravel, so you could, piece by piece, digest how everything and everyone intermingled. Even you have to admit this whole web of deception and truth was steeped in hearsay, and yes, long buried secrets.”
I couldn’t stop myself. “You knew everything,” I accused angrily, “even before Stephen’s accident, didn’t you?”
“…Yes,” he said, shifting ever so slightly. “I had to keep a close eye on you….”
I had to think of something, anything to get away from him. I cut him off. “You have the laptop,” I charged, fast-talking to distract him. I had to make a move before it turned deadly.
“Yes, I have it,” he admitted. His gaze followed mine. “Don’t get any crazy ideas, Sam. I’m not finished with you yet. I have to make you understand that….”
I bolted for the door. He was toast. I had won trophies for track in college.
He made a reach for me, swearing as I slammed the door behind me. I heard him crash into it before he could stop himself. I jumped into my car, but I had carelessly left my keys on the chair. He was rounding the front walk as I leapt out and started racing toward the woods.
He grabbed me from behind, knocking me to the ground. “Going somewhere?” he asked, pleased at having caught me before I vanished from the lit area of his stone walkway.
I fought, kicking and punching, as he tried to pin me down. My self-defense and survival training kicked in and I kneed him between the legs. He moaned, released me, and fell away.
“Oh yeah?” I replied, angrily. “Just watch me.” I struggled to my feet and started running, quickly disappearing into the shadows. I ran hard and fast, but knew it was just a matter of time before he would be up and running right behind me.
Tripping, I landed roughly and out of breath, spitting debris from my mouth. I quickly forced myself upright and kept running. Branches stung as I frantically swatted them out of the way, racing passed dense sharp thickets and trees in the dark.
Please don’t let him catch me.
Finally the moonlit road appeared and I was free from the deep recesses of the woods. I crouched down, head tucked low, and leaned into my next move, breathing hard and sucking air, as my sweat-drenched clothes clung to me.
Instinctively, I knew I had to keep moving, but as I thought of alternative routes, reality slithered up my spine. What would he do if he caught me? No! I couldn’t, wouldn’t let him.
My pulse racing, I set off again, my eyes darting left to right, while my feet pounded the rural road, scattering gravel as I crossed it. On impulse, I decided to stick to the woods for cover and continued on, straining harder while trying to gain some distance from him as I scrambled up the steep incline.
Don’t turn to look back. Don’t turn…
Blood pounded my temples while my thoughts screamed.
Run. Run. Don’t stop.
No, I didn’t want to think of the consequences if he caught up to me. What a fool! I had trusted him. If I wasn’t so frightened, I might have laughed, mocked my stupidity as tears stung, threatening to blur my vision. I swiped at them, not missing a beat, and kept running. The drumming in my head felt deafening as I tried to stay focused.
All of a sudden, razor-sharp spasms from a cramp shot down my leg, immobilizing me. I quickly dove for cover behind some bushes; acutely aware he was still out there. Forced to stop and rest, I fought to catch my breath, wincing in crippling agony. I quickly massaged my leg.
How had I gotten caught up in all of this?
I sat on the ground thoroughly exhausted, suddenly drained, and against my better judgment, gave in to my physical and emotional pain. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Maybe, I had gotten away from him. …Was it a few minutes? …Several?
Suddenly, I was acutely aware of his physical presence. I struggled to my feet and tried running once again, but didn’t get very far. I was roughly tackled from behind, as Clay quickly grabbed my ankle, slamming me to the ground with a thud.
“Ohhhhh!” I screamed.
“Not so fast, young lady,” Clay ordered, trying to hold me. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
I blindly scratched at the dirt; latching onto the first thing I could lay my hands on. I swung and heard the rock connect, as he howled in agony, releasing his grip on me. That was all I needed. I shoved off forcefully, and raced up the hill toward my house. I figured I had about five hundred yards left, and like a beacon, the timer lights were already showing the way.
Narrowing my dwindling lead, he laughed. “You can’t win. I ran track too.”
How did he know everything about me?
Was he the one stalking me from the beginning? Had he sent those notes, made the phone calls during the storm, and then rescued me to gain my confidence? Had he chased me through the woods to scare me off my pursuit of Stephen’s killer, and then rescued me yet again to put any doubt out of my mind? What about my car crash?
My mind shut down as I rounded the corner of my house. All further speculation fell to the wayside, as my sole objective was to race inside to call for help. I ripped open my door and turned to slam the dead bolt in place, but wasn’t fast enough. Clay burst through. I quickly jumped back before he could grab me and headed toward the stairs. I bounded up, two at a clip. I would lock my door and use the phone there.
Clay was right on my heels as I reached the top. I swung into my room, shoving the door with brute force, but he ripped it from my grasp.
“Give it up, Sam. You have nowhere else to run,” he ordered, as blood trickled down his gashed forehead.
Pantin
g and out of breath, I frantically searched for what I might use as a weapon. I was not going down without a fight. I saw Stephen’s picture in its heavy frame and grabbed it, throwing as rock-hard as I could, aiming directly for Clay’s head.
He ducked and it hit the wall instead. Glass and wood splintered everywhere as the pieces fell to the floor. I froze in place, as did Clay, as both of us looked down between us.
Among the remnants of the picture and frame was an envelope. I reached down to grab it, flipping it over and saw my name written on the front in Stephen’s handwriting.
The moment was surreal. I had the key, the answers, all along and didn’t even know it. I collapsed to the floor in a heap, sucker-punched by what was finally mine.
Chapter 70
Regrets, Remorse, Remembering
Clay looked like the result of a mugging gone terribly wrong. I glanced down at myself, also covered in debris and smudged with dirt and sweat. We were panting heavily, but said nothing. Both of us had suddenly run out of steam. Tears spilled from my eyes. I swiped at them.
“It must all be here,” I whispered.
“So that was where he hid it,” said Clay, standing over me. “Stephen reassured me that he gave it to you, hiding it somewhere safe, but abruptly hung up without telling me where.”
I looked up. “He confided in you?” I was stunned by this admission. “When was this?”
Catching his breath, Clay tore his attention away from the envelope to look at me. “Before he left town, Stephen expressed concern over what he had found. After his death, I immediately started working with investigators undercover, trying to find out who tampered with his brakes.”
Clay shook his head sadly. “Stephen said he was deeply disturbed by his discovery. The next thing I knew, he was dead. I was already investigating him for hacking, but then was asked by the authorities to probe further, without raising suspicion from the locals. The farm and bookstore inheritance from my aunt had already fallen in my lap, making me a good candidate for surveillance and was the perfect excuse for me living here full time. That’s what I tried explaining to you, earlier this evening.”
The Puzzle Page 23