Time Twist

by Jeanie R. Davis

  A deluge of questions bubbled up and threatened to drown her. The ache in her chest spasmed into pain.

  Then there was the matter of the device. She was sure this was the secret Christopher had been keeping from her, along with his involvement with Sarah. She thought she’d be sick.

  Her emotions sparked and sizzled. They ran amok, bouncing from confusion, to jealousy, to anger, and then to fear. This explained so much. Christopher could never commit to her because he already had a girlfriend. Why he couldn’t tell her that, she didn’t know. Unless it was because of Mr. Somers. A forbidden love, then. The pieces of the puzzle began to squeeze together. But how did the device fit in?

  She turned the letter over, checking for a reply. Sarah hadn’t seen this yet.

  Her eyes began to burn. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she carefully replaced the note under the covers, then turned her attention to the journal.

  Dear Journal,

  A, first of all, I hope you had a pleasant birthday, even though you were away from your loved ones. In England, we celebrated birthdays much like you do here in America, I imagine. Our current circumstances have not allowed me the opportunity to learn much about your American culture. As to your other question, I would like to tell you more about what I meant when I said I miss my own time, but I fear you would not believe what I say. I am still struggling to believe it myself. I have been forbidden to ever speak of what brought my family here. My father frightens me and I daren’t divulge his secrets, lest we should somehow be discovered. I will say, however, that I fear for your safety more than for my own, only because death would be a welcome escape from my imprisonment. That is all I feel I can say for now. Yours, S.

  No. Surely she couldn’t mean it. Ari read the passage again, horrified for Sarah. And if the Somers were somehow transported through time, the fragments of information would begin to fall in place. She had to know more without jeopardizing Sarah’s safety. Rubbing her aching head, she closed her eyes and blew out a breath.

  After taking several minutes to ponder, Ari wrote.

  Dear Journal,

  S, you cannot imagine how much your situation disturbs and frightens me. I will believe anything you choose to tell me. I was here last Saturday and something strange happened. A loud hum and vibrations shook the house. It was terrifying. Have you ever experienced that? Do you know what it was?

  Arianna needed to know what, if anything, Sarah knew about her father’s machine.

  She went on.

  And have you ever gone by a different surname?

  She knew she was taking a huge risk.

  Please don’t tell me anything that would put you in danger. I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you. I am sorry your circumstances are so bad that you would welcome death. That breaks my heart, and I so wish you would allow me to help you.

  Ari couldn’t think of a polite segue into asking about Christopher, so she just plowed ahead.

  Don’t worry about my safety. I met a police officer named Christopher who was very interested in your house. He is kind enough to check in on me now and then as I’m working. Yours, A.

  She felt her heart bruise, as if she’d been punched in the chest. Thinking of Christopher often caused a twinge of sadness and regret. Thinking of him with someone else was unbearable.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Forgoing his weekly horseback ride in favor of driving into the desert on the off-chance Sarah had found his note, Christopher made his way to his family’s house—a madman’s estate in the wilderness. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  Every time he turned his key to enter, he felt a pinch of guilt for borrowing Arianna’s key to make a copy—it echoed deceit—but finding the device was his top priority now. Once his family took up residency in the home, it would be impossible for him to continue his search. Before long, he expected bars to go up on the doors, transforming the house into a prison, like the family’s residence in Denver.

  He hiked the stairs to Sarah’s room, taking them two at a time. Anxiety tugged at him—as it had each time he’d entered the house—but he ignored it and forged ahead. Pulling back the bedding, he retrieved the note. He let out a breath of frustration, disappointed to see there was no reply written on the back. He frowned. Maybe next week.

  At least there was the journal. He reached between the mattresses to retrieve it.

  Diving into Sarah’s entry quickened his pulse. “She is saying too much.” When he read Ari’s reply, his blood ran cold. “Arianna was here when my father was using the device.” He groaned. She might have been discovered. The thought put him into sheer panic. He could never let that happen.

  It crossed his mind that Father could be on the premises at that moment. Perhaps he could find him and end this whole wild goose chase. He stood for a split-second, ready to search the house again. Then logic brought him back to his senses.

  No, he was certain Father came to Pueblo alone when he planned to time-travel. He held up the journal. At least Sarah had accompanied him this week. He allowed his tense nerves to relax a fraction. He was certain no one else knew the exact location of the device. Unless—it struck him like a bolt of lightning—Arianna. If she’d been there when Father used the machine, she possibly knew where it was. He shoved the journal between the mattresses and paced the room.

  Unsure of what his next move should be, he concluded that he only had one option—scour the house again.

  By the end of the day his eyes burned—exhausted from another futile search.

  Though body and spirit were fatigued, his mind continued to torture him on his drive home. He needed to ask Ari if she knew about the machine and its location. His heart wrenched with guilty memories from their last meeting. Asking her would reveal he’d read the correspondence between her and Sarah. That would open an entirely new dialogue he’d rather not have with her. Worse still, he’d have to explain his relationship with her employers. He let out an exasperated sigh.

  And Sarah. Tears stung his weary eyes. His father had made her life so unbearable, she’d wished to end it. He shuddered at the thought.

  Arianna had written she would believe anything Sarah shared with her. He could only hope that she would give him the same consideration.

  Perhaps the time for questions had come to an end. He was there solely to protect his family any way he could.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  The letter Arianna had found in Sarah’s comforter left her unsettled. Saturday morning’s run would help. She pulled on her sneakers, studied them a moment, then kicked them off. Memories of her last run sucked the desire right out of her. She fell back on her bed and let out a frustrated groan. Perhaps a shower would help. It didn’t. She tried to read but found focusing on the words impossible. Finally giving the book up altogether, she spread out on the sofa, and let her mind roam free.

  The letter had to be from Christopher. She winced. He couldn’t possibly just be a police officer watching out for a rumored criminal. No police she knew hid letters in women’s bedding. She pondered for a minute. But if Christopher knew Sarah, she wondered for how long. They could have met in Denver or even London.

  She sucked in a breath and sat motionless while reality sunk in. Ari had been Christopher’s ticket into the Somers’ house. He’d never cared for her no matter how much she’d thought he had. She felt queasy and the room began to spin. The most painful part of all was she loved him. She had thought she’d been in love once or twice before in her life, but this had been so much more real—until it wasn’t. The ache in her heart intensified.

  Being used hurt in a whole new way. She could dissolve in tears, as she’d done many times before, or put her wounded feelings aside and focus on Sarah. She took a deep breath.

  “I choose Sarah.”

  Christopher, I believe we have a mutual friend in need. Ari’s finger shook as she aimed it at the send button on her phone. She let her hand drop. While stepping up to help Sarah was the right
thing to do, she couldn’t reach out to Christopher. Not yet.

  She dragged herself off the couch and to the bathroom. Staring at her reflection, she noted how pale her once-rosy cheeks had become. She wouldn’t let him hurt her over and over, she thought as she splashed cool water on her face.

  Something, besides Christopher, still nagged at her.

  Mr. Somers.

  She dried her face and reclaimed the sofa.

  Could it be possible he’d been the hit-and-run driver responsible for the accident that killed her family? The Denver Police Department had only come up with the color and make of the driver’s car. Christopher had transferred to Pueblo from Denver. Perhaps she should ask him to look into it. What was she thinking? Her resolve to protect her heart and take the high road for Sarah’s sake didn’t mean she ran to that man with her problems. She took a drink of ginger ale to calm her stomach and lay back on the pillow.

  Within a minute she sat bolt upright. Mr. Somers must be engaging in criminal activity here in Pueblo, which gives me an idea. She located her laptop on the end table. She had minored in world history, and while she hadn’t known how to do an image search, she definitely knew something about researching crimes from the past.

  She began to type. If the picture she’d found online was Mr. Somers, that meant he had some kind of time machine. She shook her head and let out a breath. It sounded completely ridiculous. Nothing about this made sense, but she must think outside of logic.

  If it were true, and if he had the ability to go anywhere he wanted to, whenever he wanted to; the possibilities were endless. He could rob, plunder, murder across the globe and never be held accountable. She shivered. The idea sent a chill down her spine as she remembered Christopher saying something very similar about the man.

  If he moved backward in time, it would make sense that he’d steal only items that increased in value over the years. And forward, she shrugged, she didn’t know what he’d steal moving forward. She’d start with the past—especially since she couldn’t look up the future. It felt good to do something productive. With renewed energy and a now settled stomach, she downed her ginger ale and ate a protein bar.

  It was a tedious thing to do, going back through the corridors of time in search of unsolved, mysterious heists, but she found some success. She took a break to dash to the store and purchase a world map and some small sticky notes, wanting to date and label each location she suspected Mr. Somers had visited.

  ****

  After devoting an entire weekend to researching criminal activity from the past, Arianna experienced an exhilarating exhaustion. She proudly looked down at a map peppered with colorful notes. It surprised her that so many crimes had remained unsolved over the years. She knew they weren’t all committed by Mr. Somers, but if her theory was correct, several of them could have been. Too bad this kind of evidence wouldn’t hold up in court. She sighed. She needed to prove there was an actual machine.

  With that, she decided she had earned a long bath and a good night’s rest. She packed up her computer and headed to her room.

  By the next morning Arianna felt invigorated. She got up early enough to go running. Surely Mr. Somers wouldn’t be skulking around on a Monday.

  He wasn’t, and she was happy that some of her emotional kinks were relieved by a good run.

  Later, at work, when she perused the orders scheduled to arrive throughout the week, she realized how few remained. One and a half, two weeks at the most, and this project would be history. She’d be relieved to never set foot in that house again, but wondered what would become of Sarah.

  At the end of the day, she performed her nightly ritual—an examination of each room to make sure everything was in perfect order. Moving through the house, she picked up packaging left by the deliverymen, pushed chairs up to tables, straightened pictures, and such. She always left the house looking like a model home. She loved this part of the day. It also served as a measure of how much she had accomplished.

  As she went from bedroom to bedroom, everything seemed to be in place—until she got to Joshua’s room. The nightstand drawer sat ajar, and she could see some items peeking out.

  As she crossed the room, her eyes settled on the picture resting on the offending nightstand. The Somers family appeared normal. Not happy—nobody looked happy in those old portraits. They never smiled, but they did look normal. As she reached over to close the drawer, something else caught her eye. She slid it open wider to get a better view. Tucked neatly to one side was a strip of paper with a picture on it. She peered closer. “Christopher?” she whispered. It had to be him. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothing and had longer hair, but that face belonged to Christopher. She analyzed the paper it had been drawn on and realized it’d been cut or torn on one edge. Her eyes shot up to the portrait of the Somers family. Careful not to rip it, she removed the backing and took out the portrait. She placed the jagged strip she’d discovered next to the larger picture. The two fit together as if they were pieces of a puzzle.

  She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Touching each face gently, she said, “Mr. Somers, Mrs. Somers, Sarah, Joshua and Christopher Flemming. Who are you, Christopher? I don’t think I know you at all.”

  Hands shaking, she carefully reassembled the original picture and decided to borrow the clipped-off portion of Christopher’s image—just for a day or two. She entered Sarah’s room and reached under the comforter, retrieving the note from Christopher, as well. She shook her head, “Siblings, not lovers.”

  She tucked the items into her bag. He may not want to, but he was going to give her some answers.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  By the time Arianna arrived home, she realized it was too late to confront Christopher. Besides, if she caught him at work, maybe he wouldn’t shut her down so readily—or, on the other hand, it might backfire and have the exact opposite effect.

  She opened her notebook to check her calendar for deliveries. There were none scheduled for Tuesday. Perfect. Then he could take his sweet time explaining his way out of this—whatever it was. She held up the picture and letter.

  If she thought sleeping on it would make her lose her nerve, she was wrong. Her need for answers only intensified as she tossed and turned through the night.

  Adjusting the rearview mirror in her car the next morning, she caught a glimpse of the resolve in her eyes.

  She wasn’t sure where the police station was located, but her GPS led her there with no problem. Taking several deep breaths, she squared her shoulders and marched through the double doors. Nerves made her insides jumpy, but determination kept her moving. She glanced around the room, which buzzed with activity, and suddenly felt small. Glancing back at the doors, she had a momentary impulse to abandon the whole idea and leave. Before she could act on it, though, someone wearing a police uniform stopped her. “Ma’am, may I help you with something?”

  She took a calming breath. “Uh, yes. I’m looking for Christopher Flemming. Is he here today?” It was then she realized there was a good chance he’d be out on patrol.

  “Flemming’s over there.” He pointed to the far end of the room. So far away.

  “Thank you.” She weighed her options. The man who’d pointed her to Christopher watched, clearly waiting for her to make her move. She swallowed her anxiety and walked around the perimeter of the room, hoping not to attract attention.

  He sat hunched over a desk studying paperwork. Ari silently approached and stood in front of him, waiting for him to realize she was there. It felt like an eternity, but, in reality, only seconds passed before he looked up. His eyes widened as shock registered on his face. “Arianna? Why are—” He stopped when she began pulling papers from her bag.

  Laying down first the letter, then the picture, she said, “It’s time you gave me some answers.” Once she laid the proof she’d sought in front of him, she was too intent on her purpose to feel nervous anymore.

  His face d
rained its color. Glancing around the room, he said in a low voice, “Not here.”

  She narrowed her eyes and didn’t budge. He rose to his feet and told the officer nearest him he’d be out for a while. Before she knew it, he had taken her by the elbow and was escorting her from the building. She thought he might push her through the door, then go back to his desk, but he remained close behind her.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, unsure now they’d left the bustling station.

  “Anywhere but here.” His hand pressed firmly on her back.

  He took her to his squad car, opened the door and motioned for her to slide in. She did what he wanted, wondering how it was he seemed to be the one in control now.

  They remained silent as he drove to the park where they’d had their picnic all those months before. It felt like a lifetime ago. She found it hard to swallow over the lump of memories growing in her throat. He parked the car and scanned the empty grounds for some shade, then motioned her to follow. They sat on a bench under a large oak tree. The park was empty, and Ari felt miserably alone.

  She still clutched the picture and letter. She thrust both items on the bench between them. “Well? Are you going to explain? And don’t dismiss me as you’re so fond of doing.”

  Christopher’s intense blue eyes appraised her as if discerning how much he should say.

  “From the beginning, Christopher. I want to hear it all. I need to hear it all.” Her voice cracked. He still seemed unsure. Ari put on her best “we’re-not-going-anywhere-until-you-spill” look. “I’ve got all day.” She’d regained her composure and was now speaking in a low voice.

  He let out a resigned breath. “First of all, let me tell you how truly sorry I am for all the pain I have caused you. I don’t know why the Somers had to have their house decorated in the first place. It is not as if they are going to be throwing balls or galas there.”