CHAPTER 19
A ONE WAY TICKET TO SEATTLE
The day of Steven Caldwell's second appointment with Dr. Gerhardt finally came. I don't know who was more nervous about it, Steven or myself. The missing two minutes were critical and could make or break our defense. Dr. Gerhardt explained again how the session would proceed and asked Steven if he wanted to continue. He said he did. He wanted to know how Jimmy had died. Dr. Gerhardt handed Steven some cotton balls. Steven frowned. "You will probably need these," Dr. Gerhardt said. Steven shrugged and took them from him.
As Steven lay back and relaxed on the sofa, Dr. Gerhardt began slowly waving his small flashlight back and forth in front of Steven's eyes. "Now your eyes are getting heavy. They feel so, so heavy. You can barely keep them open. Now I'm going to count to ten and you're going to be back at Possum Kingdom Lake. It will be Monday the 10th day of September 1990. Now when we're finished thinking about what happened that day, I'll count to three and tell you to wake up. When you wake up you will remember everything. Okay?"
Steven took a deep breath and focused on the small light, "Okay," he replied.
Dr. Gerhardt counted to ten slowly while he continued to manipulate the light around Steven's eyes. When he was finished counting, he said, "Are you there? Tell me what you see, Steven."
Steven grabbed his ears."Ah! What's that noise? I can't stand it."
"Put the cotton balls in your ears, Steven," Dr. Gerhardt commanded. Steven crammed a cotton ball in each ear. His face calmed. "Now look around you and tell me what you see."
Steven took a deep breath. "There's a flash of bright light. I'm looking up at the dark sky. Whoa! Look at that. What the hell? The car is starting to shake and rattle—Oh, Jesus! I'm driving off the road. I'm slamming the brakes hard but it's too late. Now I'm reaching for my seatbelt. It pops open. We've got to jump, Jimmy! We're going off the cliff! I glance at Jimmy. He's fumbling with his seatbelt—it won't release. I want to help him, but there's no time. I have to jump now or it will be too late. I look again at Jimmy frantically scratching and clawing at the seatbelt. It won't open! 'Help me!' Jimmy yells. 'Please, Steven! Help me!' I hesitate, but there's nothing I can do. I open my door and jump and as I hit the ground hard and start sliding down the mountain, I can still hear Jimmy screaming."
Steven's head nodded like he'd fallen asleep. Dr. Gerhardt snapped his fingers but nothing happened. He picked up a stethoscope and listened to Steven's heart, took his pulse, and called in his assistant to take his blood pressure.
"He's unconscious but his vital signs are fine, Dr. Gerhardt said. He must have hit his head when he jumped from the Jeep. We have to wait for him to wake up then I'll bring him out of hypnosis."
"You mean he's even reliving unconsciousness?"
"Apparently. He should wake up here momentarily."
Steven's head jerked, and he tossed and turned on the sofa. Dr. Gerhardt said, "Now at the count of three I'm going to snap my fingers and you're going to wake up. One. Two. Three." Snap.
Steven's eyes opened. He looked pale and was sweating profusely. "I remember now," he said. "Jimmy couldn't get his seatbelt opened. I told him to jump, but he panicked and couldn't get it unbuckled. We only had a split second to jump. There was no time. I just couldn't help him."
Steven began to cry. "I tried to help him, I really did, but he went crazy. He must have known he was about to die. He grabbed my arm as I was trying to jump. I had to jerk it away to get free. Poor Jimmy. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Dr. Gerhardt put his hand on Steven's shoulder. "It's okay, Steven. It wasn't your fault. It was just Jimmy's time to go. It wasn't your fault. It was his fate."
"But why couldn't he release his seatbelt? I don't understand what happened. He shouldn't have died."
"I know. Death never makes sense. But you can't blame yourself for this. It was out of your control."
I said, "Well, at least now we have a rational defense. I think I can convince a jury this was just a tragic accident. You were distracted by something—we don't know what exactly—but the bottom line is that Jimmy's death was just an accident. You were able to jump from the Jeep but unfortunately Jimmy couldn't get free of his seatbelt in time to jump."
Steven wiped a tear from his eyes. "You really think the jury will understand?"
I nodded. "I'll convince them. Don't worry. This was just a terrible accident. Nothing more."
Steven took a deep breath and tried to smile. I looked at Dr. Gerhardt. "Thank you, doctor. This was great work. We owe you one."
Dr. Gerhardt shook his head. "No, Steven is the one to be congratulated. He let us into his subconscious mind so we could find the truth. I'm just glad I could help."
I couldn't wait to get back to the office to tell Paula about the breakthrough. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. For the first time in weeks I was starting to feel confident about the trial and keeping Steven out of prison. Now all I had to do was downplay all the spaceship hoopla and get the jury to focus on the accident itself. Sure, Steven had been speeding and driving recklessly, but he was just being a teenager and had no intention of hurting anyone. Had Jimmy been driving it could have been Steven at the bottom of the mountain. It was just a horrible misfortune.
The next day Steven was scheduled to appear in court in Palo Pinto. It was standard procedure for the court to require a defendant out on bond to appear from time to time just to make sure he hadn't fled the jurisdiction. The notice I had received also advised us that a scheduling order would be worked out as well. This meant we would be given a trial date and the clock would start ticking.
Since we were traveling all the way to Mineral Wells, I decided Steven and I should meet with our accident reconstruction expert after the hearing. He would need to spend some time at the crash site and talk to Steven about what had happened there. From his interview with Steven and our inspection of the site, he'd be able to construct a video simulation of the accident. This would be critical if I was to convince the jury that the crash was just an unfortunate accident.
Up until now I hadn't had any communication with the Assistant DA assigned to the case outside of our meeting at Jimmy's funeral. I wondered how they were handling all the publicity the trial had been generating. They had so far been unusually quiet particularly considering their outspokenness at the funeral.
Since Palo Pinto was several hours away and the hearing was in the morning at nine, we decided to drive up the night before and stay in a motel in Mineral Wells, close to Palo Pinto. Unfortunately Jodie discovered there were no vacancies because of all the press and tourists who'd been pouring into town after the UFO sighting. That meant we would have to leave Dallas at five to get to court on time. Since I was a night person, I dreaded the thought of getting up at four to be ready at five. As I was agonizing over this development, Jodie indicated someone from the mayor's office in Mineral Wells was on the phone. I picked up the receiver.
"This is Stan Turner."
"Mr. Turner. This is Ruth Zelle. I'm the mayor's secretary. We heard you were trying to get lodging in town tonight."
"Yes, I've got a hearing early tomorrow morning and I'd like to come up tonight, but I guess the town is overrun with tourists."
"Yes. Thanks to your client, business is certainly booming. That's why the mayor told me to find you a place to stay."
"Oh, that's okay. I understand. We'll just get up early—"
"Nonsense, I've made arrangements for you to stay with one of our distinguished citizens, Robert Swanson. He's the President of the Chamber of Commerce and owns several businesses in the area."
"Oh, no. That's too much trouble."
"It's no trouble. He has a big house and his wife Lauren loves to entertain. When I told her you needed a place to stay she volunteered immediately. She's been following the case with great interest and would love to meet you and Steven."
"Well, then, we wouldn't want to disappoint her."
"Good. Give me back to your secreta
ry and I'll give her directions."
After transferring the call back to Jodie, I contemplated this unexpected hospitality. Did Lauren Swanson really care about Steven? Would the rest of the community be as sympathetic?
I got the answer to my question when we drove into Mineral Wells late that afternoon. The first marquis we passed on the main road into town read, 'Good Luck, Steven. We know you're innocent.' Later on we passed other signs and banners indicating support for Steven Caldwell. When we drove by the courthouse in the center of town, a lot of the people mingling around carried placards with a variety of messages—We are not alone!—The End Is Near!—Steven, We Believe!—Love Thy Aliens.
Mrs. Swanson must have alerted the media that we would be staying at her house because there was a huge welcoming party when we arrived. The police were there directing traffic and clearing a path for us into the Swanson mansion. Steven seemed shocked and amazed at all the attention he was getting. As we got out of our car the cameras started flashing and the spectators began chanting, "Steven, we believe! Steven, we believe! Steven, we believe!"
Lauren was a tall, elegant, articulate woman I guessed to be in her late 30s. I wondered what a woman like this was doing in a small central Texas town. I pictured her at home in Boston or New York but not Mineral Wells. Once inside Lauren greeted us and told us how pleased she was to have us as her guests. She advised us the cook was preparing a special dinner and that she had invited some guests who were due at seven. I cringed at the thought of having to make conversation with a room full of strangers. No doubt, they had but one thing on their mind: Had Steven really seen an alien spacecraft?
A maid led us through an enormous sitting room, up a flight of winding stairs, and down a hallway to our rooms. I counted six bedrooms just in this part of the house alone. My bedroom was the size of our family room at home. Since we had a couple hours before dinner, I decided to call Rebekah and then take a short nap. Judging from what I'd seen so far it would be a long evening. Rebekah is a worrier, so she was glad to hear from me and expressed great relief that we had arrived safely. I told her about Lauren, her beautiful home, and the special dinner she was having for us. She asked when we would be returning. "It will be late," I said. "Now that his memory has returned, I want to take Steven back to the crash site and have him walk me through everything that happened."
"Do you think that's a good idea? It may be too traumatic for him this soon after the accident."
"Maybe. But we don't have any choice. Judge Applegate is going to set a trial date tomorrow and it probably won't be that far off. Since we're so close to Possum Kingdom Lake, we need to do this now."
"Well, you're going to miss Peter's soccer game."
"I know. Tell him I'm sorry."
I flicked on the TV in the corner of the room. The six o'clock news was on. Mineral Wells didn't have its own TV station but it was close enough to pick up the Ft. Worth station. After kicking off my shoes, I lay down on the bed, closed my eyes, and listened to the newscast. The voices on the TV started to fade as I dozed off . . .
I was steering a bass boat through rough water. The wind was strong and the boat was rolling with the waves. In the dim light I could see the rocky shore of Cactus Island dead ahead. As I neared the shore, I cut the engine and drifted up to the dock. After climbing onto it, a gust of wind nearly blew me off as I struggled to the secure the boat.
In front of me was the steep trail to the island's summit. Above me clouds partially concealed a full moon that was casting eerie shadows over the island. Then a blue light from the eastern sky came toward the island. With a surge of adrenaline and an unexplained yearning to reach the summit, I started climbing quickly up the trail. With surprising speed I made it to the large flat surface of Cactus Island.
As I walked slowly toward the center of the island, the blue light hovered overhead. A strange peaceful feeling came over me. I felt no fear or anxiety over what was about to happen, but a willing acceptance of my fate. I took a deep breath and suddenly a warm beam of light engulfed me and I became buoyant, like I was in a swimming pool. My body began to rise toward the blue light. Then—
"Tomorrow morning in Palo Pinto Steven Caldwell is scheduled to make his first court appearance since his indictment for the alleged murder of Jimmy Falk at Possum Kingdom lake in September," the reporter said. "But tonight Caldwell and his attorney, Stan Turner, are the special guests at a gala dinner hosted by socialite Lauren Swanson."
Hearing Steven's name jolted me from my nightmare. I sat up feeling a little dazed. The dream had seemed so real, yet I knew it was simply my overstimulated imagination reacting to the strange events of the past few weeks. But even so, I immediately regretted being awakened. It reminded me of my childhood when I went to the movies and the film broke right in the best part. That made me so mad. Luckily the projectionist always spliced it back together quickly so nothing was missed. A dream, however, wouldn't necessarily start up again if you went back to sleep. I wondered what my mind would have conjured up as an ending to my mental flick. I knew it would have been good.
I turned my attention to the TV news. "Since Steven Caldwell's claimed encounter with a spacecraft in September and last week's sighting of a similar UFO by hundreds of tourists and local residents, interest in the murder trial has soared. At tomorrow's hearing the court is expected to set a trial date and impose pleading and discovery deadlines.
"Channel 4 News reporter Amy Tan met up with assistant District Attorney Carla Simms and asked her what impact all this publicity would have on the trial."
The steps of the Palo Pinto County Courthouse appeared on the screen. Simms replied, "It will make it harder to pick a jury obviously, but aside from that, I don't think it will have any impact on the trial. No sane person believes there are alien spaceships flying around. I doubt any of our fine jurors will believe Steven's Caldwell's preposterous defense."
"But Ms. Simms," Tan said. "If what you say is true, why have so many people descended on Possum Kingdom Lake in the last few weeks? Don't you think it's an indication that many citizens believe in extraterrestrial life?"
"No. I think the people camped out at the lake are a bunch of lazy, no-good drifters who are desperate for a little excitement. The hard-working citizens of Palo Pinto County, on the other hand, have too much common sense to give credence to Steven Caldwell's ridiculous excuses."
"Is the state going to continue to prosecute Mr. Caldwell for Jimmy Falk's murder in the wake of what seems to be an outpouring of support for him?"
"Absolutely, "Simms replied. "We have no intention of letting defense counsel's theatrics interfere with our prosecution of Steven Caldwell. He must be held accountable for taking a human life."
"Do you think Steven Caldwell's attorneys are orchestrating all this publicity?"
"I don't know if that's true, but I do know Stan Turner is well known for his trickery and deception. I believe he's done a little jail time for it, and I guarantee Judge Applegate won't put up with any of it."
The image of Carla Simms faded from the screen and Amy Tan's image appeared. She said, "Well, as you can see, tensions are rising here in Palo Pinto in anticipation of Steven Caldwell's murder trial. As you heard, Assistant District Attorney Simms gives no credence to Steven's Caldwell's claim that he was distracted by an alien spacecraft while driving his Jeep near Possum Kingdom Lake in September. But many tourists and local residents apparently disagree with the prosecutor and they are making their feelings known in a very vocal way here in Palo Pinto. This is Amy Tan reporting for Channel 4 News."
I looked at my watch and saw it was time to go to dinner. On the way downstairs I knocked on Steven's door. He opened the door immediately and stepped outside.
I paused. "Listen. Don't talk about the case tonight, and for godsakes, let's not get into a discussion about UFOs."
"What can we talk about, then?"
"School, politics, the weather—I don't care. Just don't comment on your case or what
you saw on the date of the accident."
"Okay," Steven replied. "Let's go."
We walked down the hallway and started down the stairs. I was surprised to see dozens of people mingling around. Lauren, spotted us and met us at the bottom of the stairs.
"Gentlemen. Just in time. Come meet our guests."
Lauren took both our arms and led us to the first group of people. "I'd like you to meet my husband, Robert and his business associates, Cliff Stewart." Robert was tall and distinguished looking. Cliff was short and obviously loved his pasta. We shook hands and Cliff introduced his wife Elaine. Lauren took us around and introduced us to the rest of the guests and then showed us to our seats in the dining room. The table was an ornate display of fine china, silverware, crystal, and floral arrangements fit for a head of state.
Everyone sat down and Robert bowed his head to say grace. "Thank you, Lord for all our family and friends who are gathered here today, for this bountiful food and all thy many blessings. Thank you for safely bringing our guests here tonight and please, Lord, see that justice prevails in Steven Caldwell's trial and that Jimmy Falk finds his way to life eternal. Amen."
"Amen," the guests replied in unison and then Robert sat down. Lauren nodded to the head waiter and the staff began serving salads.
"So, Steven, are you nervous about tomorrow?" Lauren asked.
Steven shook his head. "No, Mr. Turner says tomorrow is just a formality. The judge just wants to see me and make sure I'm going to show up for the trial."
"Aren't they setting the trial date?" Cliff asked.
"Yes," I replied. "It's a scheduling conference just to agree on discovery deadlines and a trial date. It shouldn't take but thirty minutes."
"What do you think of the alien spacecraft that everyone saw over the lake last week?"
I forced a smile. "Pretty amazing. I wish I'd have seen it," I said, honestly wishing I'd been there. Knowing Steven was telling the truth would take the uncertainty out of our trial strategy.
"Well, I saw it and I'd be happy to testify if you need me," Elaine said.
"Really. So, you work over at the lake?"
"I'm a realtor and I was showing a piece of property to some clients when it happened."
"Wow. Maybe we can talk later. I did want to interview some of the witnesses who saw it."
Elaine smiled triumphantly. I took a bite of my salad but was interrupted when Robert asked, "So, Mr. Turner. How did the sessions with Dr. Gerhardt go?"
My stomach tightened. How did he know about Dr. Gerhardt? Nobody should have known about Steven's sessions with him. Had someone followed us to Dr. Gerhardt's office? I stared at him for a long moment trying to contain the anger that was swelling within me. "I'm afraid we can't go into any of the details of the case," I finally said. "I hope you understand."
Robert nodded. "Yes, of course."
I took another bite of salad and was interrupted again, this time by Cliff who asked, "Well, if we can't talk about Steven's case, how about telling us how you and Dr. Gerhardt managed to get that girl up in Sherman off—what's her name?"
"Sarah Winters," I replied. I didn't really want to talk about Dr. Gerhardt but, unfortunately, I couldn't think of a good way to avoid the topic.
"Yes, Sarah Winters. Tell us about her. How'd you ever get the idea to put her on the stand while she was under hypnosis?"
"Well, it was an act of desperation, actually. She had no memory of what happened to her and the babies, so Dr. Gerhardt hypnotized her and was able to get the truth out of her. Unfortunately, just as soon as Sarah came out of hypnosis she lost her memory again. We asked the judge to let me examine her under hypnosis, but he refused."
"So, the judge put you in jail for putting her back on the stand under hypnosis in violation of his ruling," Cliff stated.
"Yes, he did, but it turned out to be my first vacation since I started practicing law. I just sat around the jail for four weeks watching TV, reading, and drinking beer. I actually gained eight pounds."
Everyone laughed. I added, "But as much as I liked shooting the bull with the sheriff and his deputies, I missed my wife and kids, so it wasn't an ideal vacation."
"Have you figured out how Steven ended up on the side of the road and poor Jimmy fell to his death?" Cliff asked.
I glared at Cliff. Was he deaf? I had just explained we couldn't talk about the case. I took a deep breath. "Well, you know I had a dream about that very thing," I said. "The alien spacecraft must have shot an anti gravitational beam down to the Jeep which allowed Steven to float up to the spaceship. Of course, he doesn't remember anything, so I'm just speculating."
Steven's mouth dropped and there was dead silence in the room. I continued, "They must have only had one anti gravitational beam on board or they would have saved Jimmy too, I'm sure."
Still dead silence. I smiled and said, "Just kidding."
Everyone started laughing. Cliff said, "Oh, you really had us going, Mr. Turner."
I smiled and dug back into my salad. I wasn't interrupted again. After dinner everyone moved to the den and I spent a few minutes talking to Elaine. She told me in meticulous detail about her close encounter the previous week. Her account was similar to the other witnesses, however, she didn't recall any noise coming from the spacecraft. Her recollection was that it moved silently across the sky.
About nine o'clock, Steven and I excused ourselves and went upstairs. We had a big day ahead and needed a good night's sleep. The next morning we got up early and ate a quiet breakfast with just Lauren and Robert and then headed for the courthouse. As we approached Palo Pinto from the east, the big courthouse stuck out from the trees like a sore thumb. In the town square a large crowd had gathered and the media was present in full force. I looked for a side entrance to the courthouse but since it was in the middle of the square there was no way to totally avoid the press. There were no parking places near the courthouse either, so we had to park on a side street two blocks away. We tried to avoid the crowd by walking down an alley and dashing for a side entrance, but a reporter saw us and the stampede began. Soon we were in the midst of a mass of humanity with a dozen microphones shoved in our faces.
"Mr. Turner. When do you think the trial will be set?" a reporter asked.
I shrugged. "I have no idea."
"Is it true Steven was beamed up into the spacecraft?" another reporter asked.
I looked at the reporter. Obviously my joke at dinner the previous night had leaked out. He looked at me with great anticipation. "No," I said. "He has no recollection of being beamed aboard a spacecraft"
"But we were told you—"
"No, I repeat. He has no recollection of being beamed aboard a spacecraft. That was a joke. I'm sorry, but we have no more to say today," I said as Steven and I pushed our way through the crowd. As we got closer to the courthouse, we heard chanting from the crowd.
"Steven, we believe! Steven, we believe! Steven, we believe!"
Finally we made it into the courthouse and were met by two sheriff''s deputies who escorted us up to the courtroom. The gallery was packed with spectators who'd probably be disappointed since our appearance and conference with the court would take only a few moments. We sat down at the defense table. When I saw Assistant DA Carla Simms sitting alone at the prosecution table, I went over and we shook hands.
"Nice to see you again," I said. "Quite a crowd here today."
"Yes, you're up to your usual tricks, I see."
"My usual tricks?" I asked.
She shook her head. "You know what I mean. Did you learn them from Snake?"
Snake was the nickname of my law professor at SMU. He had a reputation for underhanded tactics and a willingness to do anything, no matter how unethical or reprehensible, to win a case. He was also a drunk and a womanizer. Simm's remark was a calculated slap in the face.
"No. The only thing I learned from Snake was not to be intimidated by overzealous prosecutors."
Simms snickered. "Don't underestimate me, M
r. Turner. Despite all your cheerleaders out there, your client's going to spend the best part of his life behind bars."
I shrugged and went back to the defense table. Arguing with Simms at this point didn't make much sense.
After a few moments the bailiff stood up. "All rise for the Honorable Andrew P. Applegate."
Everyone stood up as the judge walked in and took his chair.
"Be seated," the judge said and everyone sat down.
He continued. "In the matter of the State vs. Steven Caldwell, cause number 90-2373-22, are there appearances?"
I rose. "Stan Turner, counsel for the defendant and Steven Caldwell, present, Your Honor."
Simms rose and replied, "Carla Simms for the prosecution, Your Honor."
"Very well," the judge said, looking down at his calendar. "I guess we need to set a trial date. Since there is so much public interest in the case it probably should be sooner rather than later, don't you think?"
"That would be my inclination, Your Honor," Simms said. "All of the tourists and media are stretching the county's resources. We need to get this matter resolved soon so things can get back to normal."
"Exactly," the judge said.
"I'm sure that's a concern, Your Honor," I said, "but I don't think it's wise to fast track a case simply because there is a lot of public interest. We need adequate time to prepare. This is a complicated case and I don't think rushing it would be in the interest of justice."
The judge peered down at me. "I'll decide what's in the interest of justice, Mr. Turner. And let me make something very clear to you—this court will not tolerate any attempt to manipulate it or circumvent its rulings. You may have gotten away with that kind of behavior in other courts, but don't try it here. Our jails are not equipped with refrigerators and TVs."
A chill darted through me. It seemed the Judge had done some research on me. That was unusual and didn't bode well. "Excuse me, Your Honor," I replied. "I thought you were soliciting our opinions as to when to set a trial date."
"Your opinion is noted. However, I agree with Ms. Simms. We need to move this case along quickly. Trial is set for January 7at nine a.m. I've prepared a scheduling order, and please note the deadlines carefully as there will be no extensions."
"Yes, Your Honor," I replied.
"And Mr. Caldwell, let me remind you about the terms of your bond. You are not to travel outside the state of Texas and definitely you're not to go into outer space."
The gallery erupted into laughter.
"And your attorney must know your whereabouts at all times. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Honor," Steven replied.
The judge dismissed us and called his next case. The moment we left the courtroom, Steven and I were immediately surrounded by spectators and the press. It was a friendly crowd who had got their money's worth watching our first courtroom encounter. They were happy and barraged us with questions. Ordinarily I wouldn't have answered any of them, but since the assistant DA had already chosen to use the airwaves in their prosecution of the case, I decided to do so as well. "Just a few questions then we have to get going."
"Mr. Turner. Will you be calling Elaine Stewart or any of the others who saw the UFO last week as witnesses in this case?"
"Possibly. I'd have to show the relevance of that sighting to our case which, I'm sure, the prosecution would challenge."
"Mr. Turner," a second reporter said. "Is it true you've been abducted by aliens yourself?"
I laughed. "No, where did you hear such nonsense?"
"Well, it's been reported that last night you admitted to having frequent dreams about being beamed aboard an alien spacecraft. Is that true?"
"It was just a crazy dream. It didn't really happen. I made that clear."
"But isn't it true that many alien abductions are remembered as dreams? The aliens want you to think you're dreaming. You may have—"
"Hold on. This was just a dream pure and simple. Let's not go off the deep end here."
Why I had agreed to answer a few questions suddenly escaped me. I kept forgetting reporters were always looking for something sensational that would sell newspapers, and get them promotions and job security. Reporting the truth was only incidental to their jobs. I raised my hand. "That's all, folks. Let us through. We've got an appointment to get to." As we drove out of the town square, I could hear the chants, "Steven, we believe! . . . Steven, we believe! . . . Steven, we believe!"
"Boy. I'm glad that's over," I said to Steven. "I can't believe the press jumped on my little joke the way they did."
Steven turned to me excitedly. "Do you think what the reporter said was true?"
I frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"You know, like when you dream of being abducted by aliens that it's not a dream at all. The aliens mess with your mind so you think it was a dream but it really did happen."
I shook my head. "No. I don't believe that."
Steven sat back in his seat and stared at the road ahead. "I do."
"You do?" I said, glancing over at him.
"Yes, because last night I had almost exactly the same dream you described at dinner last night."
"You did?"
"Yes, except I don't think it was an anti gravitational beam that they used to bring me aboard. It was more like a presser cylinder where the air was as thick as water and I just floated up to the ship."
I looked at Steven in disbelief. "You had this dream last night?" I asked. Steven nodded.
I shook my head in dismay. "Well, I guess we'll have to talk to Dr. Gerhardt about that. I'm sure there is a rational explanation." Steven nodded again and then looked away. How could we have had the same dream? Had we become so close that we'd developed some kind of psychic connection? It had to be something like that because the alternative was surely not possible.
Steven and I didn't talk much on the way to Possum Kingdom Lake. I guess we were both mulling over the events of the last twenty-four hours. The whole trip seemed surreal. I couldn't get my mind off Steven's claim that he'd had a dream identical to mine. Was he pulling my leg? Was he hoping his story would make me a believer, like all his fans who had flocked to Possum Kingdom Lake and to the courthouse to offer their support? I wondered.
As we left Mineral Wells, we entered the North Texas Hill Country. Most of Texas is as flat as a chess board but around Possum Kingdom Lake there are a few hills and we had to climb one of them to get to Camp Comfort. As we turned left off the main highway we passed Scuba Point where the road narrowed, and I saw to the left a steep drop of forty to fifty feet down to the lake. As we neared the camp, the road curved sharply to the left and then back again to the right. In my mind's eye I saw what must have happened—the Jeep had swerved left and then was unable to make the hard right turn necessary to stay on the road. I just hoped we'd find something that the sheriff and his detectives had missed—something to help us make sense of this whole bizarre case.
The accident reconstruction expert, Carl Loftus, was waiting for us when we arrived at the accident scene. According to Paul he was one of the best in Texas and apparently came across very credibly with juries. When we approached, I noticed he was writing something in a notebook. We got out of the car and introduced ourselves. While he and Steven were going over the accident scene, I decided to take a look around.
Looking down the mountain, there weren't any buildings or structures within eyeshot, so I walked across the road and climbed up to the top of the hill on the opposite side of the road. From there I looked in every direction but saw nothing but trees and underbrush. As I was about to leave, I spotted an oil well in the distance, maybe a quarter mile away. The area around it was clear of vegetation, as if it had been recently bulldozed. I decided to go check it out.
Sure enough, it was a new well. A sign indicated it was called 'Possum Kingdom NW #7'. Memories of a big oil rig in action flashed through my head. I had been to one of these rigs years earlier. The promoters had invited me to a comin'
-in party. They were sure they were going to hit oil in a certain geological formation, so they invited all the investors out to be there when it happened. When they reached the targeted formation, sure enough, they struck oil and it was a day I'll never forget—but that's another story. What intrigued me about finding a newly drilled oil well here, so close to Steven's accident site, was his insistence that the spacecraft had created a piercing noise so intense that he'd had to cover his ears. I thought back to the comin'-in party and remembered the noise that big rig was making. It was so intense everyone had to wear earplugs.
When I got back to the accident scene, a sheriff's car was parked next to my Nissan 300ZX. What was the sheriff doing here? I looked around and saw Steven and Carl Loftus talking to a deputy. As I approached, the deputy turned Steven around and cuffed him. "What's going on here?" I asked.
"Oh, Mr. Turner. I'm deputy Fry. I'm sorry, but I've been instructed to bring Steven in."
"Why? He appeared at the hearing this morning."
"We got a tip from an airline employee at American Airlines. It seems your boy here booked a one way ticket to Seattle for next Saturday. I guess he was planning to slip into Canada where he could hide out."
I glanced at Steven to get his reaction. He looked down and avoided eye contact. "Steven, why would you do that?"
He shook his head angrily. "Nobody's going to believe me. You don't even believe I saw a spaceship, but I did! I swear to God! I should have just lied. Damn it! Look where being honest has gotten me. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life in jail. I had to do something."
I shook my head. "Oh God, Steven. This is going to make everyone think you are guilty. You've just made my job twice as difficult. We've been making some real headway in your case and now—well, I don't know what will happen now."
His head hanging, Steven was led to the deputy's squad car and put in the back seat. Carl and I watched silently as they drove away. I turned to Carl and said, "Shit, the kid really thinks he did see a spaceship. Can you believe that?"
Carl shook his head. "Hell, maybe he did. I don't know what else would explain this accident scene."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, if he jumped from the car as it went airborne he would have fallen eight to ten feet and his momentum would have carried him at least thirty yards down the mountain. After he hit the ground, he would have rolled another ten or fifteen yards. So, how is it that he even survived that kind of trauma with all the trees, sharp rocks, and boulders in his path, let alone come out of it with hardly a scratch?"
I shrugged. "You're the expert. You tell me."
Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8 Page 19