CHAPTER 52
THE PHOTOGRAPH
When the afternoon session started, I asked Judge Abbott for a 48-hour continuance so that I could find a replacement witness for Weldon Everett. Although the judge said he was sympathetic due to Everett's untimely escape, nevertheless he couldn't grant it in deference to the jury. It wasn't fair, he said, to keep them from their work and families any longer than absolutely necessary.
Since the memory gun had apparently just been used to free Weldon Everett, I thought it would be a good time to call some witnesses who had experienced a memory loss. First on my list was Steven Caldwell. He testified about his accident at Possum Kingdom Lake, the death of Jimmy Falk, and how he had no memory of what had happened to him until he underwent hypnosis weeks later.
"So, when you woke up on the side of the road," I asked, "you had no idea how you had gotten there or how you had escaped from your Jeep when it went over the cliff?"
"That's right. The last thing I remember was coming around the corner, hearing a loud noise, and seeing something overhead."
Wilkerson jumped up. "Objection, Your Honor. This is totally irrelevant to this case and highly prejudicial."
"Mr. Turner, what's the relevance of this testimony?" the Judge asked.
"Your Honor, our prime witness just escaped, yet no one can remember how it happened. We've heard testimony from Barbara Falk and Agent Barnes about frequent memory losses by a number of people associated with Martin Windsor. I believe that I can show that Steven Caldwell experienced this same phenomenon."
The judge gave me a hard look and then asked, "Unless you are prepared to enlighten us as to what exactly is causing these memory losses and who is behind it, I don't think it matters whether Mr. Caldwell suffered the same type of memory loss or not. If you can't do that, I'll have to sustain the objection."
Wilkerson smiled and sat down. I briefly considered enlightening the judge as requested, but I didn't have the memory gun anymore and I couldn't even bring it up without admitting to having wrongfully taken it in the first place. I had a picture of it, but the picture wouldn't necessarily prove anything. To convince the judge and jury that the memory gun existed, they'd want a demonstration. And even if I had the gun and dared to use it, I didn't know where it came from, who controlled it, or why it was being used the way was. I gave the judge an exasperated look."Pass the witness."
Wilkerson jumped up gleefully. "No questions."
Since the judge made it clear he wasn't going to allow me to stray from the narrow path, I returned to my original game plan and called George Gabbert, my forensic expert. He testified that he had inspected the body which the prosecution alleged to be that of Martin Windsor, reviewed the autopsy report, and the crime scene. "Based on my investigation," he said, "I do not believe the body is that of Martin Windsor." Unfortunately, on cross examination Wilkerson got him to admit that the body might be that of Martin Windsor, so I wasn't sure we had accomplished anything by the time George left the witness stand.
Fortunately, it was nearly five o'clock when George Gabbert left the stand, so the judge called a recess until the following morning. I was relieved because the only witness left, if we wanted to call her, was Cheryl Windsor. It was always dangerous to let the defendant testify, but we had come to the conclusion that we really had nothing to lose. Since Cheryl didn't remember what had happened the night Martin disappeared, she really couldn't incriminate herself. If she did testify, she could deny liquidating the community assets, setting up Zorcor, Inc. and the offshore bank account.
When I got home that night Rebekah said she had heard about our witness escaping on the afternoon news and wanted to know what happened. I told her I didn't know much more than what she had probably heard. She wanted to know how Everett's escape was going to affect our case. I told her I didn't know, since we weren't sure if Weldon Everett would have talked or not.
"I thought you weren't supposed to call a witness unless you knew what they were going to say," Rebekah said.
She was right. That was one of the first things they taught you in law school. "True, but he showed up unexpectedly and we were a little desperate."
Rebekah raised her eyebrows. Later, while I was eating dinner, the evening news came on and Amy Tan was covering the lead story.
"A memory-erasing device may have been used today to aid in the escape of a suspect in the Windsor kidnapping case. In a bizarre turn of events Weldon Everett, being held on federal kidnapping charges, escaped shortly after 12:30 p.m. today from the Dallas County Courthouse. Witnesses claim that Everett disappeared while being rushed to the hospital from apparent food poisoning. FBI Agent Doug Barnes and sheriff's deputies had just returned him to the courtroom where he was scheduled to testify as a witness in the Cheryl Windsor murder trial. When Everett became ill and started to convulse, he was rushed from the building to a waiting ambulance. The FBI refused to comment on how Everett escaped, but this reporter talked to defense consultant, Paula Waters, and was told that a memory-erasing device may have been used."
Paula hadn't told me she'd talked to the press about the memory-erasing device, but I was glad she had. It was just a matter of time before they found out anyway. I wondered what Wilkerson would make of Tan's report. I wished I was a fly on the wall at his home so I could see his reaction.
"We don't have specific details as to how this device works, or who might have used it, but there has been a lot of testimony in this trial about witnesses suffering memory losses of several minutes to several hours. The defense seems to be intimating that Martin Windsor is alive and is utilizing this device to manipulate the trial and torpedo Cheryl Windsor's defense.
"Tomorrow, the defense is expected to call defendant Cheryl Windsor to the stand but since she claims to have no memory of what happened on the evening Martin Windsor disappeared (perhaps due to the memory-erasing-device) it's unclear whether her testimony will be enough to shift the momentum of the trial that has clearly been in favor of the prosecution thus far. This is Amy Tan reporting from the Dallas County Courthouse."
After the depressing news report, I went into my study to work on the questions I was going to ask Cheryl Windsor when I put her on the stand. As I was working, Paul Thayer called.
"Stan, I just heard from Lonnie Morrow, my photographer out at Possum Kingdom Lake. There's been a lot of activity at the barn that he's been watching."
Hope swept over me. I sat up. "Like what?"
"People coming to the barn, lots of vehicle traffic. It started about noon. Lonnie has taken dozens of photos. He says most people who went into the barn have stayed inside. Only a handful has come out. He wants to know what he should do."
"Tell him to get the photographs developed and bring them to us at the courthouse tomorrow. Maybe we'll get lucky and find somebody's mug that we recognize. If so, we'll need him to testify that he took the pictures. Get someone else out there to keep an eye on the barn and take more pictures, okay?"
"Consider it done," Paul said and hung up.
I was elated by the news of activity at the barn. If the aliens were using Cactus Island as a landing strip they'd have to get to it through the caves. That meant the entry to the caves was inside the big barn. That would also explain why people went into the barn but never came out. Somehow we had to get inside that barn. Unfortunately we couldn't go there until the weekend—and that might be too late.
The following morning, before I'd left the house, Paula called me to ask if I'd meet her and Cheryl before the trial was set to resume to discuss an idea she had. I tried to get her to tell me what it was over the telephone, but she said she was afraid someone might be listening. I told her I'd meet them in the courthouse cafeteria at 8:15 a.m.
The cafeteria was deserted except for two lawyers in the corner eating breakfast. Cheryl and Paula were already sitting at a booth when I got there. I got a cup of coffee and went over to them. Paula seemed upbeat but Cheryl had a grim look on her face.
"So, what's up?" I asked
.
"I've been thinking about Cheryl's reluctance to be hypnotized," Paula said, "so, I've been wondering if there's any other way to make her remember."
I shrugged. "Any ideas?"
"Well, what about the truth serum?" Paula replied.
"The truth serum?"
"Don't you think it might help her remember?"
"I don't know. It might. "I said looking at Cheryl. "That's a very interesting idea, though. Would you consent to that, Cheryl?"
Cheryl thought a moment. "Martin didn't say anything about truth serum."
I laughed to myself at Cheryl's logic, but kept a straight face so as not to discourage her. I began thinking about using the serum. It would be dangerous to let her testify under the influence of the truth serum. What if she had killed Martin Windsor? But if she was innocent this might be the only way to prove it or at least create reasonable doubt. We discussed the matter for some time and finally agreed it was worth the risk. Fortunately, I still had the truth serum in my briefcase, so I gave it to Paula and she took Cheryl to the ladies' room to give her a dose. At 9:15 the judge took the bench and asked me to call my next witness.
"The defense calls Cheryl Windsor."
The gallery was deadly quiet as Cheryl stood up and walked casually to the stand. I looked at Paula's worried face and saw her do the sign of the cross. Cheryl looked out over the gallery and smiled. I got up and began by asking her general questions about how she and Martin had met, their children, and their life together. Then I asked her what went wrong with the marriage. She explained how she had discovered her husband's affair and had gone to The Spy Shop to buy surveillance equipment. She responded fully to all my questions without hesitation. I could tell the truth serum was working. Finally we got to the weekend prior to Martin's disappearance.
"Mrs. Windsor. What happened when you took your children to be with their father on Friday, September 7, 1990?"
"Martin wasn't home yet, so I had the house to myself just long enough to install the bugs and cameras I'd bought at The Spy Shop. I was expecting a difficult custody battle, so I needed dirt on my husband to use as leverage. When Martin finally got home, I left immediately. I didn't particularly want to talk to him since he’d just been served with the TRO which had frozen all our assets."
"So did you see him anymore that weekend?"
"Not until Sunday night when I picked up the children."
"Did you talk to him when you picked up the kids?"
"No, he seemed anxious for us to leave so I just took the kids and left."
"Anxious?"
"Yes, he seemed nervous. When I asked him what he and kids had done over the weekend he seemed distant and preoccupied."
"Did you see Martin on Monday?"
This was the moment of truth. Previously Cheryl had claimed not to have seen Martin on Monday, the day he disappeared. I wondered if the truth serum would work. It didn't work exactly like hypnosis so there were no guarantees. Cheryl looked through me like she was watching a television screen that was behind me.
"Do you remember anything on Monday?"
She blinked and shook her head slightly. "There was a telephone call. It was Martin. He'd just been served with the TRO. I was expecting him to be livid, to threaten me, and promise I'd never see the children again, but he never raised his voice. He said he wanted to talk."
I glanced at Paula. She shot back a worried look. Wilkerson glared at me. I'm sure he thought we'd been stonewalling him. I shrugged. All eyes focused on Cheryl as she began to recount the events of that fateful day when Martin Windsor disappeared.
"Talk about what?"
She squinted. "He said there was no reason for us to get the courts involved. He wanted to sit down and work out a settlement that was fair to both of us."
"Did you believe him?"
She shrugged. "I wanted to, but I wasn't sure, so I brought my gun."
"For protection?"
She nodded. "Just in case he lost his temper and got violent."
"So did you meet him?"
"Yes. I told him I'd stop by that afternoon. I had an appointment with my hairdresser and some errands to run. When I was done, I went to the house."
"Did you go inside?"
"Of course. He asked me to come by to talk, but I almost immediately regretted coming."
"How's that?"
"He had found my surveillance equipment and thrown it in a box. He pulled out one of the video cameras I'd installed and asked me if it was mine. There was no use denying it, so I freely admitted it and told him I'd gotten all the evidence I needed to rake him over the coals in court. He began yelling and screaming—"
A flash of blue light flooded the courtroom. Dizziness overcame me and I collapsed. I heard footsteps running and then nothing. . . .
When I woke up, I was on the floor. My nose was killing me. I must have fainted and fallen flat on my face. My right wrist ached. Paula was slumped over in her chair. I heard moaning in the gallery. The judge and the bailiff were out cold. I struggled to my feet and rushed over to Paula.
"Paula! Are you all right?"
"Huh? What happened?" She asked as she sat up and began rubbing her eyes.
"I don't know. I think we've been unconscious."
The judge awoke and looked around his courtroom in shock. "What just happened? . . . Bailiff!"
The bailiff, who was pulling himself up off the floor, stumbled over.
"Yes, Your Honor."
"What’s going on? Did you see what happened?”
"I'm not sure. There must have been some kind of electrical short or something."
"Call maintenance," the judge ordered. "Is everyone okay?"
I looked out over the gallery. People were coughing and moaning. Everyone seemed to be in a daze. Wilkerson was shaking the cobwebs out of his head. The judge looked over at me then back to the witness stand. He frowned, came to his feet, and screamed, "Where's the defendant? . . . Bailiff! . . . Where the blazes is the defendant?"
I quickly scanned the courtroom. Where was Cheryl? It was clear someone had used the memory gun to stop her from testifying and now they had kidnapped her as well. Where had they taken her? The door to the courtroom opened and a man rushed over to me. He handed me a package. I took it, glanced inside, and then asked the man to wait outside the courtroom. He nodded and left.
"What's that?" Paula asked.
"My pictures from Possum Kingdom."
I started looking through them one by one. "Oh, my God!"
"What?" Paula asked.
The Bailiff said, "The defendant is gone, Your Honor. She seems to have disappeared."
The judge glared at me. "Where is your client, Mr. Turner?" he yelled.
"I don't know, Your Honor. I think she may have been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped! Did you see someone take her?"
"No, Your Honor. I was passed out just like everyone else."
"Well, I'm going to give you fifteen minutes to find her or I'm forfeiting her bond and issuing a warrant for her arrest," the judge snarled.
"Yes, Your Honor."
I took Paula's arm and we rushed out of the courtroom and into the stairwell where we could talk. "Either Martin Windsor or the aliens must have taken Cheryl," I said.
"What are we going to do?"
"We've got to find her. We should have never let her take the truth serum. I'll die if something happens to her."
"Where do you think they've taken her?"
"I've got an idea, but first we have to wrap up this murder trial."
"How the hell you gonna do that?" Paula asked.
We went back into the courtroom. Precisely fifteen minutes after he'd left, the judge returned. He looked over at me and asked, "Well, Mr. Turner. Did you find your client?"
"No, Your Honor. Like I said, I think she's been kidnapped." The judge took a deep breath and shook his head. "But I don't think there is any need to revoke her bond or issue an arrest warrant," I quickly ad
ded.
The judge frowned. "And why is that?"
"Your Honor, if you'll let me put on two quick witnesses, I'm confident I can prove that Cheryl Windsor is innocent."
The judge frowned, studied me for a moment, and then asked, "These witnesses are here now?"
"Yes."
"Objection," Wilkerson protested. "I don't think we should proceed until we find out what just happened."
The judge looked at Wilkerson and then back at me without responding. Finally, he said, "It may be some time before we know what happened here today. The FBI and the sheriff are already looking into the whereabouts of our missing defendant. In the meantime, we've got a jury waiting, witnesses apparently ready to testify, and I'm anxious to see if Mr. Turner can make good on his promise. So, let's just get on with the case. Objection overruled. Call your next witness, Mr. Turner."
"The defense calls Lonnie Morrow."
The bailiff went out in the hall and brought in Lonnie Morrow. He took the stand and the judge swore him in. I took out the photographs that he had taken and asked the judge if I could approach the witness.
"Please state your name for the court."
"Lonnie Morrow."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm a photographer."
"For whom are you employed?"
"I work freelance. Right now I'm doing a job for Paul Thayer Investigations. I believe you asked Mr. Thayer to find a photographer."
"Yes, I did. And what were you hired to do?"
"To watch a barn out at Possum Kingdom Lake and to take pictures of anyone coming and going."
"And did you do that?"
"Yes."
"And are these the photographs that you have taken?"
"Yes, sir."
"When were these photographs taken?"
"In the last ten days since the trial began."
"Thank you, Mr. Morrow. . . . Your Honor, I request that these photographs which are identified as defense exhibits 23 to 48 be admitted into evidence."
The judge looked at Wilkerson and asked, "Any objection?"
I took the photographs over to Wilkerson and let him examine them. When he was done, he shrugged and said, "Objection, Your Honor. I don't see the relevance of these photographs."
"Oh, but Your Honor," I replied. "These photographs are quite relevant. If you'll just let me call my next witness, the relevance will become quite apparent."
"I'll withhold my ruling on the introduction of these photographs until after your witness testifies. Mr. Wilkerson, do you want to cross examine this witness about these photographs?"
"Not at this time, Your Honor, but I reserve the right to do so later, if need be."
"Very well. The witness may stand down."
Morrow left the witness stand and went back out into the hall. The judge said, "Call your next witness."
"The defense recalls Barbara Falk."
Barbara Falk stood up, a confused look on her face and walked slowly up to the witness stand. The judge said, "You've already been sworn in, Mrs. Falk. Do you understand you're still under oath?"
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Very well, Mr. Turner. Your witness."
I picked up the photographs and shuffled through them. When I found the one I wanted, I took it and approached the witness. "Mrs. Falk. You testified earlier that you were once married to Martin Windsor, is that right?"
"Yes. We were married for seven years."
"And when was the last time you saw Mr. Windsor?"
"About a week before he disappeared."
"Mrs. Falk. I want you to brace yourself and then take a look at this photograph that was taken less than 10 days ago."
Barbara gingerly took the photograph from me and studied it. Her eyes suddenly widened and she exclaimed, "Oh, my God! Oh, My God! It's Martin. He's alive! Martin is alive." She pointed to a man in the photograph. "It's Martin! He's alive!"
There were gasps and screams in the gallery. Reporters got up and rushed out of the courtroom. The judge banged his gavel trying to quell the bedlam but to no avail. Finally he gave up, recessed the trial for fifteen minutes, and left the courtroom.
When the trial resumed Wilkerson took Barbara on cross and tried to get her to recant her identification, but she insisted the photograph was that of Martin Windsor. Wilkerson then called the photographer and quizzed him for more than thirty minutes about his taking of the photo, how it was developed, could it have been doctored. He went on and on until the judge finally sustained one of my objections for badgering the witness and told him to wrap it up.
Finally the judge recessed the case until the following morning. He said he needed time to digest what had happened and consider how to proceed. When he left the bench, Barbara Falk came over. We embraced. She said, "I'm glad Martin's alive. I still love him, you know."
"I know. I could tell by your reaction to the photograph."
We talked a minute and then I said to Paula, "I've got to go see Dr. Gerhardt."
Paula gave me a hard look. She shook her head. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Yes, I have to know. I can't pretend this didn't happen. Are you going to come?"
Paula took a deep breath. "Oh, God. I don't know. Part of me would like to know, but I'm afraid."
"I don't plan to tell anyone what I find out. It would just be nice to have someone to talk to about it."
"You could still talk to me about it, even if I don't remember it."
"I know. But you'll never truly believe this happened unless you can remember it yourself. Let Dr. Gerhardt hypnotize you. Don't you think it's better to know the truth?"
Paula took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Stan. I don't want to know what happened. I'm afraid everything will change if I know for sure aliens exist and are living amongst us. I'm happy with the world the way it is. You go. I know you must."
I rushed out of the courthouse and ran to my car. It was only thirty minutes to Dr. Gerhardt's office. I just hoped he wasn't busy and could see me immediately. When I got there, I found a parking spot and then rushed into the building. His secretary met me with a disapproving look.
"Mr. Turner. Do you have an appointment?"
"No, it's an emergency. Can the doctor see me?"
"He's with a patient, but he should be through in five or ten minutes."
"Good. I'll wait."
As I sat down in the reception room, I immediately started to worry about Paula. In my rush to leave, I hadn't given any thought to how scared she must be with yet another kidnapping. She had grown fond of Cheryl and must be sick with worry. I wished she had come with me so I could comfort her, but I understood that she had finally got what she wanted in life and didn't want to jeopardize it. I wondered why I wasn't like her. Why it was that I was always driven to go on, even when I didn't know where I was going nor what I might find when I got there? Despite the obvious danger in knowing the truth, I could barely contain the anticipation of being hypnotized. I had to find out what had occurred back at the courthouse. I had an idea what had happened, but I wanted to see it, or remember it, for myself. Although the aliens could easily kill me, I didn't feel threatened for some reason. They could have killed a lot of people but they hadn't. Their purpose on Earth wasn't conquest, but something else. I was almost sure of it.
The door that led back to Dr. Gerhardt's office opened and a man walked out. He gave me a quick glance and then went out the front door. Dr. Gerhardt stepped out behind him.
"So, it's you again. Don't you make your clients make appointments?"
"I'm sorry, but this is an emergency. If you can squeeze me in, I would really appreciate it."
"Well, I had a cancellation so you're in luck. Come on back. Did you have another encounter?"
"Yes." I explained briefly what happened, then I got up and followed Dr. Gerhardt to his office. He waited until I was inside and closed the door.
"So, you want me to hypnotize you again, huh?"
"Yes."
&nbs
p; He nodded and took a deep breath. "Some truths are better not known."
"That's what Paula said, but our client is missing and I can't just abandon her. The aliens must have taken her, so I have to learn as much as I can if I'm going to have a chance of saving her."
"Do you think you can stop them?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not. I don't know who they are or what they want. That's why I need your help."
"Tell the FBI what you know and let them find her."
"They'll never believe me. I'm Cheryl's only hope."
"Very well, take a seat."
I reclined on the sofa. Dr. Gerhardt got out his pen light and pulled up a chair in front of me. "Okay, you know how this goes. Relax, watch the light, and do what I tell you."
I let my muscles relax and sank deeper into the blue leather sofa. Dr. Gerhardt shone the light, I focused on it and began to drift off.
"Follow the light," Dr. Gerhardt said. "You're feeling sleepy now. Your mind is clearing. You're very relaxed. . . . Now I'm going to count to ten and when I finish you will be back in the courtroom at the moment Cheryl Windsor disappeared. You will see all that happened and remember everything. Then when I clap my hands, you will wake up. Here we go. . . . One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . and ten. . . ."
Clap! Clap!
My eyes opened. I blinked a few times and then looked around. Where was I?
"Stan, are you all right?" Dr. Gerhardt asked.
I struggled to a sitting position and tried to focus on the voice I was hearing. "Yeah, I think so. What happened?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"I hypnotized you."
"Hypnotized. . . . Oh, right."
"Do you remember?"
I closed my eyes and tried to bring back the memory but—"
"Courtroom," Dr. Gerhardt said. "Cheryl is on the stand. She's talking about what a mistake it was to meet with Martin."
"Oh, right. Now it's coming back. She said he yelled and screamed at her and said she couldn't have his children for it was the time of the returning. She asked him what that meant and he said he was taking his children to another world—a place far better that this one. She said she'd see him in hell first and pulled out her revolver. His eyes widened in surprise. She heard footsteps outside and feared they'd break in at any moment, so she pulled the trigger. He didn't fall at once, but just looked at his chest where the bullet had struck. The door suddenly crashed open and men rushed toward her. She shot him again and this time he fell hard to the ground. There were flashes of light, one of the men grabbed her, and then everything went blank.
"She awoke on the floor in Martin's kitchen. It was quiet. Everyone was gone. She got up and looked around. There was no sign of Martin, no blood where he had fallen, nothing. She wondered if it had all been a dream. She took one last look around, grabbed the box of surveillance equipment and rushed to her car. She saw a neighbor looking at her as she fled but she was too scared and confused to care."
"What about the abduction. Do you remember what happened to Cheryl?"
"Right. The soldiers in blue rushed into the courtroom. The bailiff and deputy tried to stop them but they were easily disabled by some kind of device the men carried. The judge yelled, protesting the intrusion, but they seized the courtroom anyway. Two of them escorted Cheryl away. There were flashes of blue light. They were so bright, they nearly blinded me. I couldn't see a thing. I heard Cheryl screaming and the judge demanding they stop, but I couldn't see a damn thing."
"Very good, Stan. Now you know what happened."
My head was throbbing and my heart was racing like I'd been running. "Jesus, who were those men?"
"Soldiers from another world, it seems," Dr. Gerhardt said. "I warned you about this. Now you may never sleep soundly again knowing that they are lurking out there. Frankly, I'm a little shaken myself."
"As would be expected, " I said.
Dr. Gerhardt looked into my eyes for a moment and then said, "How do you feel?"
"I'm okay, but they have Cheryl. I've got to do something."
"What could you possibly do but get yourself killed? Forget about them. Let them go."
"No, I can't do that. I can't let Martin Windsor get away with this."
"But he must be one of them," Dr. Gerhardt exclaimed. "How else could he be alive after Cheryl shot him?”
“I don’t know. You’re probably right. Why else would he be going to Possum Kingdom Lake but to meet the spaceship?"
“So, is he going home?”
"It looks that way. I need to go there and stop them."
"That’s foolish!" Dr. Gerhardt exclaimed. "They travel in space, for godsakes. Do you think you are any match for them?"
"No, obviously not, but I can't sit idly by and do nothing. Call Paula and tell her I need a security team sent to the barn at Possum Kingdom Lake. She'll understand. I just want Cheryl back. That's all."
Before Dr. Gerhardt could try to further dissuade me, I ran out the front door and rushed to my car. Dr. Gerhardt followed me out and said, "Stan, don't do this!"
I turned, shrugged, and then got in my car and cranked the engine. I hesitated a moment, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I knew it was probably foolish to go after Cheryl, but I felt I had no choice. For some inexplicable reason I was being drawn to Possum Kingdom Lake and I was helpless to resist the force that drew me there. Yet even though I knew my life would be in danger, I felt no fear. I still felt the alien beings, who had for some reason settled in our world, were not an evil people, but had a good reason for their visit. How I knew that I didn't know, but I was sure they meant us no harm.
As I pushed the accelerator, I heard a screech from across the street. A van was approaching quickly. On the side of the van it read: Parr Heating & Air. That was Martin Windsor's company, so I was sure now he was one of the aliens. Before I knew it, the van had cut me off, the side doors were flying open, and men dressed in blue uniforms with black helmets had me surrounded. They each had memory guns like the one I’d left in my safety deposit box along with other assorted weaponry. I raised my hands. One of them opened my door and pulled me out of my car. Two of the men went into Dr. Gerhardt's office and emerged with him at their side a minute later. They tied our hands, blindfolded us, and made us sit on the floor in the back of the van. They were firm but didn't use excessive force.
The fact that we were alive led me to believe they needed us for some reason. As I felt the van accelerate, I was pretty sure where we were going. The first stop would be Possum Kingdom Lake. From there, well, I just hoped it was some place on mother earth and not a distant planet.
Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8 Page 52