“Or it’s a psychotic break, brought on by schizophrenia,” said Caleb, almost contentiously.
“Except, I’ve been around schizophrenics, Caleb,” said Peyton, voicing what was bothering her, “and I’ve never seen them break and then recover so quickly. They can be in a psychotic stage for…” She motioned to Tank.
“Months,” said Tank, nodding.
“Does that really look like schizophrenia to you, Caleb?”
Caleb forced a pleasant smile. “Unfortunately, Agent Brooks, I am not a psychiatrist, so I wouldn’t venture a diagnosis. Let’s get the information directly from Broadmoor. In the meantime, why don’t we work on bringing Charlie in?”
Peyton nodded because she couldn’t think of anything else to do.
“All right, let’s make a plan of action,” said Radar, clapping his hands together.
“I want to talk to Trish again at St. Mungo’s,” said Peyton.
Radar nodded. “I was actually thinking it might be in all of our best interest to go out there, canvas the dining room with the picture we got from Charlie’s mother and find out everything we can about Charlie.” He shifted his attention to Caleb. “I also want to know why Charlie was fired from Charing Cross Station.”
“We’re working on getting that information as we speak,” said Caleb, laying a hand on Neil’s shoulder.
“Fine. Are there any objections to my plan?”
Everyone shook their head no.
“Then let’s head out.”
* * *
Marco found his family already seated in the football stadium of George Washington High School. The day was sunny and bright, the sky clear. He caned his way up the bleacher steps, trying to keep the grimace off his face. He could see his mother’s hands fluttering anxiously, worry lining her brow.
Vinnie rose and clasped him in a bear hug. His mother pushed passed Cristina and Rosa to get to him, almost knocking them over. She grabbed his face in both of her hands and kissed his cheek.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Marco.”
He patted her hands and pulled them away, clasping them in his. “Of course I’m here.”
She squeezed his hand, then went back to her seat, using her family to brace herself as she crawled over them. Marco leaned around Vinnie and kissed Rosa’s cheek. Bernardo patted him on the back from the row above them and Serena put her arms around his shoulders, kissing the side of his face. He leaned over and clasped his niece’s hand, but he could only wave to his brother Franco and Franco’s family.
“Marco,” said his father, giving him a salute.
“Papa.”
“Here,” said Vinnie, pointing to the spot next to him. “I saved you an aisle.”
Marco appreciated the gesture, but he hated the cause for it. He sank down on the bench and settled the cane at his feet.
“Vinnie told me Peyton’s in London,” said Rosa, looking around her husband. “When does she get home?”
Marco shrugged. “No telling.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Rosa,” scolded Vinnie mildly.
“What? I can’t ask my brother-in-law a question.”
Marco smiled at her. “It’s all right. I talk to her every night on video messaging.”
Rosa patted his hand. “Good.”
Bernardo leaned close to him. “Heard you arrested Peterson for murder.”
Marco nodded. “Can’t get much of anything else on the television, can you?”
“You sure it’s not a conflict of interest?”
Marco drew a breath and released it. “Not yet.”
Vinnie gave him a look, but before he could comment, Pomp and Circumstance began to play and the entire stadium rose to its feet. Marco reached for his cane, but Vinnie placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Marco glared at his brother and levered himself to his feet. “I can stand, Vinnie, damn it!”
“Okay, okay.” But he watched Marco with a worried expression.
The graduates began filing into the stadium. At first Marco was aggravated by his brother’s condescension, then it struck him what he was here for. Rosa began to sob quietly and leaned on Vinnie. Vinnie put his arm around her.
Antonio was graduating. His first nephew, the tiny baby he’d held in the hospital 18 years ago, when he himself was only 13. Vinnie had been 23 at the time, just out of Stanford, trying to decide what he wanted to do with his life. In some ways Marco had grown up with Antonio. While Vinnie went to school and Rosa worked, Mama had taken care of Tonio. Since Franco was 16 and could drive, he hadn’t been around much. A lot of the time Marco had been called in to keep Tonio occupied while Mama did other things.
The graduates promenaded in in two straight lines and came to a stop before their seats, all dressed in black caps and gowns. Marco searched the faces for his nephew, but they were too far away to see anything distinct. A man in a cap and gown with a drape over his shoulders stepped up to the podium and silence fell. He asked everyone to remove their hats for the National Anthem.
After that they were finally allowed to sit. Marco’s leg was trembling by the time he eased onto the bench, but he placed his hand on it, trying to hide the discomfort. Of course, he could see Vinnie watching him from the corner of his eyes.
The same man approached the podium and introduced himself as the principal. Then he proceeded to give a long and drawn out speech. Marco let his mind wander to the case. He wasn’t sure where everything fit, but one thing he knew, Peterson hadn’t shot that man. Marco would bet his career that Peterson wasn’t physically able to fire a gun of any kind. Not to mention the gun they recovered was definitely not the murder weapon.
A number of speeches followed the principal’s. Someone from the district, the Valedictorian, the Salutatorian, then a young girl got up and sank a weepy song that had both Rosa and Cristina crying now. Marco suspected Serena was crying as well by the sniffles coming from behind him. Vinnie’s attention was finally diverted to his wife and he wrapped her in his arms, muttering soothing platitudes into her hair.
Marco smiled. All three of his brothers had made good marriages, women who were devoted to their family, devoted to their children, and devoted to their husbands. He cared for all three of them.
Finally the principal came back to the podium and Marco was daring to hope it was time to pass out the diplomas. Much as he loved Tonio, he was finding the bench uncomfortable and the speeches interminable.
“Thank you, Melissa,” he told the girl, who hurried off the stage. “Now our keynote speaker will deliver his address. For this speech, the students were given the opportunity to audition. The competition was stiff, but we are delighted to say this young man stood out from the rest. I am proud to introduce George Washington’s own, Antonio D’Angelo.”
Marco looked at his brother. Vinnie gave a delighted laugh and shrugged. Rosa began crying in earnest now. A young man in the front row of students rose and walked up to the stage, climbing the stairs. Marco was amazed at how well he moved, no sign of his injury evident in his steps.
He walked to the podium and set some index cards on its surface, then he looked out at the audience, taking them in. Marco realized Tonio was at least 6 feet now, if not more. No longer a little boy, but a man.
“Welcome, my fellow classmates, administrators, teachers, and parents,” he said, clear and loud into the microphone. “I’m sure you were disappointed when Principal Bell said there’d be another speech. And let’s be honest, they pretty much all say the same thing: remember the past, succeed in the future, and finally, Go Eagles!”
Cheers erupted and people laughed.
Antonio waited for quiet. “I’m sorry to tell you that I’m going to talk about the same thing.”
More laughter.
“As we all go off to new locations, new experiences, and new adventures, we have a bright future ahead of us. Whether we become doctors or lawyers, architects like my father, or choose to do the hardest job of
all, raise a family like my mother, we will face successes and failures, good times and bad. It’s easy to live through the good times, but it’s what we do with the bad ones that probably matter more. Here’s where I’m going to deviate from your typical graduation speech.”
A smatter of laughter rose and fell.
“More than a year ago, my best friend and I were in a car accident.” Tonio motioned to someone off to his right and Marco craned his neck to see a boy in a wheelchair, sitting at the end of the first row. “We were both on the track team. It was our life: the thrill of competition, the camaraderie of our teammate, the euphoria of pushing your body to its physical limits, and of course, missing class to go to the meets.”
More laughter.
“I wasn’t bad, but you should have seen Billy run hurdles. He was like the Flash.” Tonio looked down at his cards. “We had everything ahead of us. We were sure we’d get college scholarships, Olympics. But in one instant, it was over. Our car spun out of control and hit a tree. We were lucky we didn’t die, but our dreams ended that night. I broke my leg, had surgery, physical therapy. Running is pretty much over for me. For Billy…” Tonio drew a deep breath, then blew out. “It cost him his legs.”
The silence in the stadium was weighted.
“I remember lying in that hospital bed, thinking everything was over, that nothing would be right again. I felt such guilt, such anger, such emptiness. I can only imagine what Billy felt. All the dreams I had were dashed. All the hopes for the future gone. I didn’t know what to do.”
Tonio shifted and looked into the bleachers. “About eight months ago, my uncle, a captain with the San Francisco police force, was shot in the thigh.”
Marco’s head lifted.
“It almost killed him. In fact, the doctors wanted to take his leg, it was so badly damaged. Before that, I was just going through the motions, just pretending that everything was all right in my life. I didn’t want my parents to worry, but watching my uncle fight for his life changed my perspective.”
“My uncle’s this big, tough guy. I remember watching him pick up one end of this huge couch by himself, while my dad and my other two uncles struggled with the other end.”
Laughter.
“But seeing him after the shooting, I knew what he was feeling. I knew he was thinking that in that one instant everything in his life changed, everything he believed about himself was now different.”
Marco felt Bernardo’s hand on his shoulder.
“Over the days and weeks and months, I’ve watched him fight. I’ve watched him get up and learn to walk again. I’ve watched him battle the pain, and I’ve watched him accept that he wasn’t the same anymore, that he was forever changed.”
“And over that time, I realized that we all have our challenges, our obstacles, our mountains to climb. I’ve been fortunate to have people like Billy and my uncle show me what true courage is. True courage is facing the difficult times and moving forward. It’s knowing that sometimes you’re gonna get knocked down, beaten, trampled, even broken, but you never give up, you never stop, you never give in. You keep getting up and going forward. You keep fighting for what you know is right. And most of all, you face what the world has in store for you with determination and heart and courage because nothing...nothing will ever defeat you! So when I say, Go, Eagles, I mean go, conquer, succeed… because you can!”
Cheers rose and the students leapt to their feet.
After a moment, Antonio inclined his head to his audience, then he walked off the stage.
Vinnie turned to Marco and gave him a watery smile, hugging him against his side, but Marco’s attention was fixed on the boy he’d held so long ago as he went directly to Billy Miller in his wheelchair and bent over to hug his best friend.
* * *
At noon St. Mungo’s filled with people looking for a meal to stave off hunger for another day. Workers walked past in white aprons with the St. Mungo’s logo on the front, but interspersed with them were homeless, helping out by stacking plates, polishing silverware, arranging cups.
The Ghost Squad and Caleb fanned out into the room, showing Charlie’s picture and talking to the visitors. Peyton searched the pockets of people until she found Trish behind the counter, stirring mashed potatoes with a large stainless steel spoon. Peyton approached her and the young woman looked up, giving her a smile. She wore a hair net on her head and a St. Mungo’s apron. A run down pair of sneakers covered her feet.
“You’re Peyton, right?”
“Right.”
“You’re looking for Charlie?”
“That’s right. I was hoping I could ask you a few more questions.”
“Sure.” She continued to stir.
Peyton reached inside her jacket and pulled out the snapshot of Charlie they’d duplicated. “I have a better picture of Charlie. Can you tell me if it’s him?” She held the picture out to Trish, but she didn’t take it. She was too occupied with keeping the potatoes smooth.
Trish tilted her head. “His eyes are the same.” She smiled. “Look at Charlie, all cleaned up and spiffy. No beard, no crazy bushy hair. That’s Charlie, it is.”
Peyton put the picture back inside her jacket. “Trish, you said Charlie’s too kind to do bad things.”
“Charlie’s gentle.”
“Right. Did you ever see Charlie get angry though?”
“Never. I never seen him raise his voice.”
“You met Charlie here at St. Mungo’s?”
“Right.”
“Is this the only place you’ve ever talked to Charlie?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean did you ever go anywhere else with Charlie, do anything else with him? Do you know where he likes to go?”
She glanced around the room, then lowered her head and stirred the potatoes for a few seconds. Peyton looked around herself and saw Radar standing behind them, pretending to read a brochure on the wall, but he was listening to them. Peyton wanted to tell him to get lost, but she was afraid Trish wouldn’t talk to her anymore if she diverted her attention for even a moment.
“Trish, did you ever see Charlie away from St. Mungo’s?”
“I told you Charlie never hurt anyone. Why can’t you believe that?”
“I do, but I need to find him. It’s important, Trish.”
“Charlie likes the tube.”
“Did you ever ride it with him?”
“No, we only talked at St. Mungo’s.”
Peyton thought for a moment. She knew Caleb had dismissed Tank’s multiple personality diagnosis, but something kept bothering her about this dual personality thing. “Trish, you said you’d met Niles?”
“Once.”
“Once, right? Where did Charlie meet him?”
“I think he met him here.”
“What was he like, Niles?”
Trish’s eyes snapped to Peyton’s face and her hands tightened on the spoon. “He’s not nice. He’s dodgy.”
“Dodgy?”
“Something’s off in him. You can see it in the eyes.”
Peyton felt a chill shiver over her. “You only met him once, but have you seen him other times? Maybe you’ve run into him on the street when you’re coming to St. Mungo’s?”
“He’s always with Charlie. Follows him around. It’s barmy, it is.”
Peyton wanted to look back and see if Radar was still listening, but she didn’t want to lose Trish’s cooperation. “Trish, are you sure he follows Charlie?”
“Yes.” She leaned closer to Peyton, dropping her voice. “Charlie doesn’t want him around, but where Charlie goes, there goes Niles.”
“Does he ever come into St. Mungo’s with Charlie?”
“No, he won’t come in here. He waits in the shadows, in the alleys.”
Peyton realized her heart was pounding. “So, he never comes inside?”
“No.”
“So when you met him, you went outside with Charlie?”
“We were sharing a s
moke out back and Niles was suddenly there. I don’t know where he came from. He made some sexual comments about me, and then Charlie told me to go inside. Something wasn’t right, so I left.”
Peyton swallowed hard. “What did Niles look like, Trish?”
“What’d he look like?”
“Yes, I need a description. Height, weight, age, hair color. That way we can find him and prove that Charlie didn’t hurt anyone.”
“What’d he look like?”
“Yes, anything you can tell me will help.”
Trish gave Peyton a frown. “He looks like Charlie. They could be twins.”
Peyton felt her heart sink. “What?”
“He and Charlie could be twins now, couldn’t they?”
Peyton risked a glance behind her at Radar. Radar bowed his head and closed his eyes. Suddenly Trish grabbed her arm, squeezing tight.
“I knew he was one of them.”
Peyton looked to where she pointed. Caleb had stopped to question a few servers at the other end of the counter. Suddenly he lifted his hand and pressed the device in his ear, engaging a call. The blue light blinked rapidly as he began talking, turning away from the counter for privacy.
“You knew he was one of what, Trish?” Peyton asked.
Keeping her eyes fixed on Caleb, Trish leaned close to Peyton’s ear. “They’re everywhere now, aren’t they? They watch us, record what we do, report on us.”
“Who?”
“Near as I can figure, they’re aliens. They’ve been here for years. They track all of us, the humans, they track us, monitor what we do, observe us. It’s like we’re laboratory specimens for them.”
“Inspector Abbott’s just a cop, Trish.”
“That’s what they want you to think, but I can tell the difference. The aliens put out a vibration and I can feel it in my skull.” She tapped a hand to her temple. “I get this shiver along my scalp and I know there’s one around.”
Peyton sighed. Damn it, she’d thought she’d finally gotten a break.
“You need to be careful. They monitor us.”
“How?” Peyton asked, despite herself.
“Vaccinations. You know how all those littleuns are becoming autistic?”
Werewolves in London (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 3) Page 28