by Elle Klass
“Marcus is guilty and Feeney saved him each time. He probably even connected Marcus with each of his identities. If we go back to Feeney’s cases, we can find his identities?”
Fetch’s mouth shifted into a half-cocked smile. “Feeney didn’t always get him off. Eventually someone would figure that out. We haven’t spent all day doing nothing.” He popped open another window.
It contained a similar case, but the name was different. Arthur Klide was the name. “The wonderful thing about court cases is they give the name and age. The real Arthur Klide died when he was five. Marcus stole his identity.”
This case ran deep. Too deep for my fatigued brain. I let out a ragged breath and sank onto the arm of Fetch’s chair. “This is insane. How many identities does this man have?”
Fetch scooted and wrapped an arm around me. I slipped into the vacant spot beside him, my back against the plush chair. The heat from his body charged my soul. His eyes drifted from mine, to my chest and downward, then back to my face. “You’ve always had a natural glow to your skin and blush to your cheeks, but since seeing you again your skin is brighter and your cheeks rosier.”
The way he said it, it wasn’t a pickup line. The serious look in his eyes told me he was concerned. “I’m tired.”
He nodded and closed the computer. “There’s more, but we’ll go over it in the morning. I’ll walk you both to the room.”
“Sure,” I stated. If I’d believed he was trying to get into my pants, not that I doubted that’s what he wanted or even what I wanted, his voice and expression carried concern and my pants weren’t available in front of Rox. What was I saying? Eventually, I knew I’d cave to his charms.
Like a gentleman, he walked us to our room, said goodnight, and waited for me to close the door. Small, thin wrinkles apparent on his forehead. Never did his flawless face carry wrinkles. Are they worry wrinkles? I asked myself.
We readied ourselves for bed in quiet, even though I felt Rox had something urgent she wanted to say to me. Once I lay in bed and snuggled my head into the pillow she burst like a balloon, unable to hold in her find.
“Arthur Klide and Marcus Johns are the same guy. He worked at the Einstein academy as a grounds keeper under another alias, Tyler Shaphard. The real Tyler died as an infant, SIDS, he took on his identity and eventually the Einstein Academy discovered it and fired him. Tyler disappeared after that.” The words ran from her mouth like a waterfall.
The connection to the Academy—she’d found it! It also matched what Mr. Applebaum had said. I jolted upwards in bed. “You’re an angel!” I didn’t want to know what she did to find that little tidbit. “What does he go by now?”
“I’m not sure. It’s like he vanished. I’ve been searching deaths and descriptions that might fit his appearance. I’ve come up with a couple possibilities. Since there’s no court cases or murders that fit his M.O. anywhere in the U.S. it’s possible he’s dead or in jail for another crime.”
Clever girl! She was a huge asset and the beginning of the bond I’d felt yesterday just grew by leaps and bounds. My mind tossed all night with the information and whether Peeping Tom was possibly dead. My gut said he was alive.
Without a knock on my door in the morning, I slept until noon and woke to a buzzing from my phone. Without opening my eyes I reached for it and brought it to my face. Squinting my eyes, I slowly opened them and my vision came into focus—I’m on it.
The room was empty. No doubt my cozy partners were doing more hacking as they searched for Peeping Tom. After a shower and slipping into a comfy velvet sweat suit, I strolled downstairs to the café for brunch. Fetch and Rox were nowhere in sight but Didier sat on a settee reading the paper outside the café.
He glanced up as I approached. “I knew you’d have to wake up eventually,” he said, the words sweet like Parisian syrup.
I sat beside him and he grabbed my hand. “My driver will be here soon to take me to the airport, but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.”
No doubt his personal jet and he could leave whenever he wanted and purposely waited for me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “I wish you the best of everything.” A trail of happy tears fell from my eyes and over the curve of my cheeks. He was married with children, plural. That sounded weird yet filled me with joy. I didn’t ruin or corrupt his life and I really wanted to meet his wife. It was more of a sibling protective desire that I make sure she was the kind of person that was right for him.
His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered into it, “And I you. Fetch has searched high and low for you. Don’t let him go. Embrace his love.”
Love and Fetch? Was that it? He loved me? I broke from the hug and stared deep into Didier’s dreamy green eyes. “Love?”
He smiled warmly and stood. “Yes.” He then turned on his heel and walked away, leaving my mind to contemplate his words. Love. I’d always denied my feelings for Fetch but having him in my life again, they instantly came rushing back. Was it possible to love two men? That question had riddled my mind for years.
On the Road Again
The sun was shrinking on the horizon and the sky above carried a lavender hue. Fetch belted, “I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time,” in perfect pitch. If I wasn’t in the car beside him I’d think I was sitting next to the lead singer of 3 Doors Down. Memories drifted through my mind on key with his voice. Our first date, we stopped for Karaoke and he sang Wonderwall by Oasis. He was a man of many talents. At the time we met he was a handyman/artist and the last thing on earth I really wanted.
“We just passed a sign for Golden Corral. You need to eat,” he said, his voice stern.
A wave of nausea and bile rose in my throat. I swallowed it down. “I’d rather go straight to the hotel.”
“We’ve been on the road for several hours and I’m hungry enough to eat an elephant and Rox needs to eat too. We can’t all starve like you,” he shot, his voice filled with sarcasm.
Rox lay across the backseat, asleep, snoring lightly. It wasn’t that I didn’t like to eat, it was that almost anything I ate came back up. Food wasn’t as appetizing that way.
I sighed. “You’re right.” I glanced into the side mirror at the road behind us and spotted a white car. “Hey, is that car the one that pulled off with us at the last gas stop?”
Fetch glanced in the rear view. “I don’t think so. This car and guy is giving me the creeps too.”
As he pulled off the freeway I shot another glance at the car. It had one driver and continued without slowing. I was being paranoid, but did manage to get the first three numbers of the license plate B23.
By the time he pulled into the parking lot and shut the engine off, Rox was stretching on her own, sitting up and spying our surroundings. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the Golden Corral sign. “Food! I thought we’d never eat.”
I didn’t hold in my chuckle as we exited the car and strolled into the restaurant. Fetch picked up the tab as Rox took her plate and loaded it with a bit of almost everything. Normally I was every bit as bad as her with food but lately I’d had no appetite and usually felt nauseous after eating. About the only food I could stomach anymore was fruit and bread, so I made a small fruit salad and grabbed a roll.
Fetch and Rox sat across from each other in a booth by the window. Taking my choice I slipped in beside Rox, attempting to avoid proximity to him.
I hadn’t forgotten him, only suppressed my memories that verged on exploding in my head along with my desire for him. At that moment, I craved his lips pressed against mine in a toe-curling kiss of shame. Deep, dark, mortifying shame surfaced as Raul’s chocolate eyes and handsome face manifested. I felt his touch on my skin, sending shivers over my body and heard his voice in my head, ‘Te amo mi flor’.
He always referred to me as a flower, his beautiful flower in bloom, or his sweet hibiscus. A drop of water raced down my cheek and landed on my shirt. Fetch glanced at me, worry written across his face
. I met his glance and his silver bullets shone into my soul, reassuring me that everything would be OK.
A warm feeling washed through me. He’d been so good at watching out for me, never demanding, always sleeping in his own room, and here I was crying and starving. I owed him so much but couldn’t yet tell him. I kept him at an arm’s length and who knows how long that would work. Our closeness the other day was a fleeting moment. I couldn’t let it happen again.
I felt Rox stare and wondered how much he’d told her about our past or how much she’d figured out using her own cunningness.
The air seemed to grow colder each minute outside. I ran towards the car, jumping up and down for warmth as I waited for Fetch to beep the key fob. From the corner of my eye as I bobbed up and down I spotted a white car. It was parked alongside the restaurant beside the dumpsters. Forgetting how cold it was and that I could see my breath, I walked closer. The car appeared empty. I tilted my head to catch even a glimpse of the license plate. B23. I jumped back and leaped into the car.
“See a ghost,” joked Fetch as he started the engine.
“No, let’s get out of here,” I said in angst, strapping the seat belt around me. “Take a different route, off the highway.”
“OK, are you going to tell me why?” he asked.
“Uh, what’s going on?” asked Rox, her head poking through the gap in the front seats.
“There was a white car behind us when we pulled off at the gas station and then on the highway. I got part of its plate: B23. It was parked by the dumpster when we left but it hadn’t pulled off the freeway with us. It continued without slowing.” The words flew off my tongue with haste.
“No kidding,” said Rox, sitting back in her seat with a shifty expression on her face.
“What?” I turned and looked her square in the eye.
“Nothing. It’s kind of scary. That’s all.” She twisted her hands together.
Fetch’s voice cut the thickening air between us. “We’ll trade the car in once we get to Milwaukee. Maybe a van, something with room so my legs don’t hit the dashboard.”
It was past midnight when he finally turned into the hotel and followed the horseshoe to the front. I stepped out of the vehicle and the air froze me to the bone even with a heavy coat on. Wrapping my arms around my chest, I scurried toward the door and rushed inside, followed closely by my entourage.
Rox and I settled into bed, Fetch in the room next door. My next book signing was in two days, which gave us time to exchange the car and make a visit to the judge’s home, a place I never envisioned breaking into again. We’d made a plan on the drive from Golden Corral to the hotel after the car issue. It was solid and Rox wasn’t going in. There was no way I was endangering the life of a minor.
The next night, using darkness as a cover, we drove to the judge’s home, parking a distance from his house. Rox’s job was to hack his alarm system so Fetch and I could slip inside. We waited for her to break the code. Once she was in we stepped out of the vehicle, quietly closing the doors. He didn’t have any neighbors within close proximity but we weren’t taking any chances either. Not a single light shone from the house. If we were lucky, nobody would be home.
Dressed in black, body-hugging clothes, I followed behind Fetch. He carried a backpack with a few steaks inside, in case the judge had adopted any vicious guard dogs, and a couple flashlights. Staying close to the tree line we slipped across through the darkness. The earth below us mushy from rain earlier in the day. My body shivered from the cold, dry air and my breath made steam with each outtake.
My stomach bubbled as a familiar acid rose in my throat. I swallowed it down and my gag reflex brought it forward as I doubled over and heaved the contents of my stomach onto the ground beside me. Fetch halted and stepped backwards, taking me in his arms. He whispered, “You can’t do this. Go back to the car with Rox.”
I swung my head in a no gesture. I was doing this and knew exactly how to get to his office.
He took my face inside the palms of his hands. “I’m worried about you. Go back.”
“No,” I whispered. “We’re doing this together. I know exactly where to go.” I huffed, running a hand across my mouth and righting myself.
He furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. “Fine.” He remembered just how stubborn I was.
We left the safety of the tree line as the gate swung open. We slipped in and it closed behind us. Fetch held up his hand and we stood still for a few seconds. When we heard nothing, we proceeded forward, using the trees in his yard for cover. The house before us was completely dark.
Butterflies flopped against my empty stomach as tension and anxiety crawled across my spine. His home appeared more menacing than when Einstein and I originally broke in. I guessed because then we were starving, fearless kids, now I was an adult with a comfortable life.
We made it to the door without any lights giving us away. I assumed Rox disabled them. Her job was the most important. We wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without her savvy computer skills. Fetch twisted the knob and glided the door open. Silence and darkness greeted us.
I slipped past Fetch who held the door open for me. Even through the darkness, the home didn’t appear any different. I went straight to the stairs and pressed my foot against the first step then the next, Fetch a step behind me. When I reached the top stair, using the same painstaking care to step lightly, a small creak emanated from beneath my foot. I halted mid-step. Listening, nothing stirred and snoring filled my ears. I finished my step and made it to the top, tip-toeing towards the judge’s office.
Fetch’s long legs made it possible for him to step over the creaky stair. He followed me into the office which was also unlocked. I didn’t know if that was Rox or if he kept it that way. Fetch closed the door behind us and we shared a deep breath.
He handed me a flashlight and went directly to the file cabinets, searching through the drawers and files for anything that would further implicate him with the boys’ murders and information on his step-brother/pedophile-murderer.
I eased my way to his chunky, solid wood desk. Staring at it a few seconds, thoughts of Einstein swarmed my mind. I slid the large middle drawer open and the letter opener glittered against the glow of my flashlight. It bought back memories and tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them away and sifted through the contents. Nothing in that drawer. One by one, I searched the side drawers, finding nothing but bills and boring, everyday stuff.
“Cleo,” Fetch whispered, shining his flashlight against my chest. He made a come here maneuver with his head. “Can you still pick a lock?” he whispered once I reached him.
I nodded and took a pin out of my hair that I wore anticipating the situation. File cabinets were easy. Inside were about twenty folders with long numbers on top. Fetch leaned his mouth against my ear, “Court cases.”
I nodded my agreement as I pulled them out with my gloved hands and laid them on Judge Feeney’s OCD organized desk. I shone my flashlight and read one after the other. The boys, each boy and more than Einstein knew. Of course he hadn’t stopped. He’d been killing for years and by the looks of the evidence longer than the six year stay at the Einstein Academy. Then about five years ago it all stopped. He stopped?
I took pictures, but none of this would hold up since we discovered it illegally. I jolted upright from my leaning position and hit Fetch’s shoulder. His warm breath against my neck as he growled quietly in pain. I turned and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” He brought his hand to his shoulder and rubbed it.
There had to be something more, somewhere. My eyes scanned the walls as Fetch continued to nurse his shoulder. There were a few pictures on the wall. Withdrawing any caution I perused each, lifting as I searched for a wall safe. The third one in, I found what I sought. I grasped the combination and pulled. To my surprise, it opened. It must have been tied into the security system and when Rox disabled it the safe was unlocked.
I glanced behind me as Fetch, with care, placed the files back into
the cabinet and slid the door closed. I withdrew the contents and carried them to the desk. Jewelry. Einstein and I wouldn’t have lifted this as no doubt it would trace back to the judge. Pushing the memory into a corner of my mind I proceeded to search through the items. The deed to the house, birth certificates, passports, a wad of cash, all large bills, but nothing to be used against him.
The floor moaned in the hallway. I stopped, glanced at Fetch. His eyes wide, we clicked off our flashlights in unison. He pushed me down behind the desk. We crouched there for several seconds as the moaning grew louder. A creak pierced the silence, letting us know whoever was outside the door was heading downstairs. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. A blast of Fetch’s minty breath against my cheek told me he held in his breath too.
We waited there for what felt like hours, but was mere minutes, until the familiar creak told us the person returned. The floor moaned, then it stopped abruptly outside the office door. My heart thumped against my chest like an angry drummer. A few seconds later the footsteps and floor moans continued, becoming quieter as the person went down the hallway and back to bed.
After several more minutes of waiting in dead silence I grabbed up the materials on the desk and arranged them as they were, when I noted a folder I hadn’t peeked inside of or maybe I had. Flipping it open, two house deeds were inside. I turned on the flashlight on my phone and clicked pictures. One residence was in Washington and the other in Long Island. I closed the folder and slipped it into place then laid them back into the safe and closed the door. I rested the picture back into place, my eyes studying the faces.
It was a family photo, an older one, and the color was yellowing. The woman’s hair in a beehive, and the man with a stern face and wide tie and long lapels. The two boys in the picture, about fourteen, with longer hair and dressed in striped sweaters and bell bottoms. His family, but which boy was Feeney and which was Johns?