Cradle Robber

by Staron, Chris

  If he reached her he might manage to explain himself. Weeks without her had wounded his very core. A tirade of apologies and promises flooded his brain. How could he convey a deep need for someone without looking crazy?

  Shivers rolled up his spine. Wade paced back and forth at the light, smacking the crosswalk button with his palm. Back and forth, up and down the pavement. The light didn’t change. Traci kept getting further and further from him. The traffic drove too quickly for a safe jay walk.

  Come on, light. Change. Change.

  Bits of hail joined the rain, thumping his skull. Noise erupted in every direction like a million mice tap dancing on the pavement as balls of ice struck the asphalt. Traci climbed a set of concrete stairs on the other side of the highway and took cover under the awning of a greasy spoon diner.

  Good, she stopped. Maybe the rain bought him enough time to get safely across the road. Wade kicked the steel post where the crosswalk button was located. Why did it take so long to cross a simple street? Minutes passed by and all the while she got further and further away.

  Wade wiped the rain from his face with the back of his hand. Cold penetrated every layer of his clothing. His pants clung to his legs, itching his skin.

  Traci moved from her spot under the awning and ducked around the corner of the restaurant, reappearing in a moment by the entrance.

  Great. If she stayed there.…

  Traci wasn’t alone. She smiled wide as a young man, maybe thirty-five years old, shook her hand. Thick, brown hair covered his head, blocking some of his handsome face. Who was this guy? Traci never mentioned a brother or a close coworker. The two of them chatted like old friends as they ducked into the diner together.

  Could it be? Did Traci have another man in her life?

  Bile rose in Wade’s throat. Another man. The phrase rolled over and over in his brain. Another man. Another man. How long has this been going on? Why didn’t she tell him about this guy?

  Now it made sense. All of his calls went unanswered. His letters, e-mails, attempted visits to the hospital, all of it fell on deaf ears. Why? Because her mind lingered on this new guy. Of course. A younger, more handsome man garnered her attention.

  Another man. Another man. Another man.

  Frantic, Wade ducked into a glass-walled bus shelter to get out of the hail and gather his thoughts. Traci and the stranger took a table within view of the front window. Wade squinted, but only so much came into focus. He pulled the camera from its case, attached the longest lens, and lifted it to his eye.

  There they were in full color, chatting, ordering. How dare they.

  Wade captured the scene, proof of their evil betrayal. A beautiful woman, old enough to be this kid’s mother, seduced by a younger man. Shot after shot, he filled his memory card with clear evidence that melted his wretched soul.

  How could she?

  The hail came to an abrupt stop. Wade lowered the camera. An epiphany struck like an eighteen-wheeler blasting into a compact car.

  Of course. Why didn’t it occur to him sooner? He controlled the fate of the world. If this guy was in the way all he had to do was change the rules. Knock him out, kill the leech, burn it clean off.

  If Traci never met this new suitor she might still love him. Despite the lies, her abortion, the anger they felt, there might be hope. Yes, there must be hope. The city inspector he planned to kill could wait a few more days for his judgment.

  Wade’s attention turned to this young pup with a thing for older women. Revenge poisoned his maddened brain. He ruled the world. Vengeance would be his.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Traci entered the diner behind Aaron, the sticky floors grabbing at her shoes. The place was filthy, yet it entertained a steady stream of passersby and elderly folks on their way to the senior center. The upholstery and lighting fixtures dated back forty years, pointing to a truly tasteless time in interior design. Thick drapes, stained carpet, and cobwebs on the lights. Plates full of bacon and eggs floated past her to waiting truck drivers and octogenarians who gave up on their personal diets and resigned to filling their arteries with whatever sausage gravy could get to them first. In another month or two she'd suck heart blockages from these people.

  Can't change the world.

  She dried her hands on her wet uniform. Great, she should have brought a change of clothes.

  Aaron pointed to a table at the front of the restaurant. “That work for you?”

  “It’s your meeting.”

  She followed him to the table and slid into a seat across the booth from him. He was a charming man, handsome in his leather jacket. She noted his wedding band. Married. Good. If he tried anything, she could always play that card.

  Aaron settled into the rubbery seat opposite her. “Thanks for coming here today. I know this is strange for you.”

  Traci folded her hands on the table. “Listen, Wade and I have not dated for weeks now. I don’t want to sound rude, but you'd do better by talking to someone else. This is still pretty raw.”

  “I understand.” There was that smile. His grin could diffuse a bomb from fifty paces. “I don’t want to cause you any pain. Can I buy you something to eat?”

  “I’ve only got half an hour for my break. Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” She lied. Her shift ended ten minutes earlier, but she’d hold on to her excuse to leave in case this got uncomfortable.

  “You sure? A slice of pie or something. My treat.” He slid a dessert menu over to her.

  “That's very sweet....”

  “The strawberry rhubarb looks good today.”

  She shot him a stern frown that stated in simple language that she was not interested in pie.

  “Okay, sorry. I'm trying for hospitality.”

  Aaron leaned in close, lowering his voice. “I’m with the federal government in a special auditing department that oversees budgeting for the Department of Defense. As you may know, Wade Rollins has been operating under our auspices for a number of years, mostly on top-secret research that, frankly, I don’t even know much about myself. What I do know is that he’s worked on a somewhat unlimited credit basis for some time now. Our computer systems have pinned him as a possible suspect of fraud. We believe he’s stolen from the government for years without detection. I was sent to investigate the case.”

  Traci absorbed this information as best she could, trying to reconcile what she was being told along with what she knew of Wade. Though Wade demonstrated a strong knowledge of computer systems and mechanics, he didn’t mention specific government projects for the Department of Defense. He didn’t splash his money around like a thief. This kid didn’t know what he was talking about.

  “Are you sure you’re following the right guy? I don’t think Wade fits that description. He’s not the kind of person who steals from the military.”

  Aaron sat straight in his chair and fixed his tie. “Like I said, the man works on secret projects. It makes sense that he didn’t want to involve you in his work.” He licked his lips and squirmed in his chair. “What would you say is the nature of your relationship?”

  He convinced me to have an abortion thirty years ago and then I, the idiot that I am, fell in love with him.

  “We dated for a while, but it didn’t….” How could she say it? She could never tell him what Wade did. “It didn't work out the way we planned.”

  “Was he abusive? Physically or verbally?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Given to bursts of anger?”

  “Not really. Moody perhaps....”

  “Did he speak poorly of the government? Of any plans to seek revenge?”

  She laughed at him and slapped the table. “You think he’s a terrorist?”

  “Is he?” Aaron said it so straight-faced that it surprised her. Did this guy ever see Wade? A stiff breeze could knock him over.

  “I can't believe it. You really think Wade could blow stuff up?”

  “Does he belong to any radical groups? Religi
ous organizations?”

  “He barely makes it to church.”

  “Church...?”

  She suppressed the desire to make a joke. This kid didn't have a clue. If she misspoke, Aaron would take it the wrong way and bad things could happen. Time for civility.

  “It's not a terrorist cell. It's a small Baptist church. Been in town forever. Full of people with dentures and walkers.”

  “Do you know of any vendettas he has?”

  “He's never liked paying taxes much, but who does?”

  “You're clever,” he said, smiling. “I can see we're going to have some fun.”

  “Thanks.”

  Aaron flipped through his notes and marked a few things down. She guessed that Dublin didn't know what he was looking for. He fished around, searching for a reason to accuse Wade. He wouldn’t get it from her.

  “He never spoke of any plans against a people or a government?”

  “No. Should he have? What kind of work was he involved in?” It was her turn to get some answers.

  “I can’t say.”

  “You can't say or you don't know?” She leaned forward, calling him out.

  “I can't say.”

  Crossing her arms, she struck a defensive pose. If this guy wanted to play hardball, she'd step up to the plate. “Well, why should I share what I know when you won’t so much as tell me where this is going?”

  Clearing his throat, he motioned for her to calm down. The waitress interrupted their meeting, focused on her receipt book.

  “What’ll you have?” she asked, flipping to a clean page of carbon paper.

  They placed an order for cups of coffee and bagels and the waitress disappeared into the bowels of the diner.

  Aaron pulled his wallet out, set it on the table, and dug out a ten dollar bill for the food. “I assure you we have his best interests in mind. It’s merely an investigation. Nobody is in trouble here.”

  Traci guffawed. “Sounds to me like you’ve already pegged him as a terrorist. Listen, Wade is a wounded puppy, complete with big droopy eyes. He may not get along with everyone in the world, but who does?”

  “If he's such a nice guy, why did you break up?”

  Yep. This guy didn’t know a criminal from a hole in the wall. “Do you think he’s a terrorist?”

  “Not that we’re aware of. The trail has grown cold. I don’t know what he’s working on in that garage of his and, if I'm completely honest, neither does anyone else I’ve spoken with. I think I can clear this red flag on Mr. Rollins if I get some evidence that he is, in fact, not a threat to himself or anyone else.”

  She tapped her feet on the ground. This wasn’t as threatening as she first thought. “The garage? That’s it?”

  “I promise.”

  Their coffee arrived. Traci busied herself by mixing creamer into hers, thankful for the distraction. Rain beat against the window next to her. Trees bent and swayed in the wind. It looked like she felt, vacillating, turbulent.

  Aaron followed her gaze. “Have you seen much of the house?”

  Good question. Why hadn’t Wade shown her around? “I don’t know that I’ve ever stepped inside.”

  “In the garage or in the house?”

  “Neither. The furthest I ever got was the front porch. Wade usually picked me up for our dates.”

  “So you have no firsthand experience with the property?” Now that he could write down.

  No. She’d sat in the car once when he ran inside to get something. That was about it. He’d entered her house at least three different times, but never returned the favor. Interesting. “I don’t think so.”

  “Any ideas about the burn marks on the grass or the dead trees around the edge of the property?”

  “Burn marks?”

  Aaron pulled a photograph from his briefcase and slid it across the table. “Patches of foliage charred in a blotchy fashion. Only in his yard. I’ve examined the houses surrounding his and it appears that Rollins’ lawn is alone in this phenomenon.”

  “I guess I never noticed.” Of course she didn’t. What little of the house she’d seen attracted enough of her attention. Filthy, caked-on dirt, and cobwebs.... It needed a woman’s touch. She had once hoped to be that woman. The grass would have fit the picture, though.

  “Did he ever make any allusions to his work? Any special descriptions of his projects?”

  Traci lifted the coffee cup to her mouth, but lowered it when she noticed lipstick on the rim. Gross. Why did they have to come to this dump?

  “None. We never talked about work except to say that he consulted in computers and did a lot by video conference from home.”

  “Any idea what programs he used?”

  “No. He said he communicated with people around the world who were working on similar projects.”

  People around the world. He must have liked that. She pictured men sitting at computers in dug out pits in the Middle East, communicating with a middle aged man in Indiana, their terrorist cell. Did they know he turned to mush when he took long walks at sunset?

  “But he never said who he was talking with?”

  “Nobody specific.” She settled in her seat, crossing her legs. “I think Wade hid inside of his work. It was his sanctuary, made him feel important. He doesn’t have a family of his own, no relatives to speak of. Wade’s job acted as his life support. He loved it. And you say he quit?”

  “Yes. He went off the government payroll a while ago.”

  “Voluntarily?”

  “As best I can tell.”

  “He loves his job.” She trailed off, staring at the table.

  Aaron wrote that down too. Traci ran through what she already told him. Did she inadvertently give anything away? Something that might condemn Wade? No, there was nothing he could go on. But Wade leaving his job? What a shock. They broke up, he stopped calling the Griersons, and now this. Wade had nothing left to live for.

  Aaron set down his pen and scratched the back of his neck. “We need someone who is familiar enough with Mr. Rollins that she can penetrate his layers of security and give us some idea of what he is doing in the house. Nothing complicated, wear a wire or…, some photographs from inside the garage.”

  “And you want me to help you?” She gawked. “I thought I made this clear. Wade and I are no longer seeing each other.”

  “I know, I know. But if we can get you to stop by in a few days….”

  Out of his breast pocket he pulled a small rectangular audio recorder, the kind that still used cassettes and AA batteries. He set it on the table in front of her. It looked so cheap, like something he picked up at a garage sale on the way over. Shouldn’t the thing at least be digital?

  “I need a recording of him talking about his work. I have a small camera you can use to snap a few pictures, if you get a chance. Nothing difficult. We need a set of eyes on the inside.”

  She searched his expression for clues. What if Wade was a danger to himself? Maybe he was building an explosive in the garage, waiting for his moment to strike. It explained his fascination with work and his reclusive behavior. Now that all of the things that tethered him to reality flew the coop, perhaps Wade did plan to take drastic measures.

  Aaron continued. “Chances are that you’ll get inside, see a bunch of hardware for a harmless project and go home. Personally, I hope he’s innocent. But I can’t know that until we get a look around. Would you do this? You go in, get an idea of his activities, and we clear his name. We all go back to our normal lives. What do you say?”

  She needed more time. Normal people like her didn’t spy on their ex-boyfriends for the Department of Defense. It could get complicated.

  “Give me a few days. I…, I have a few things I need to get straight in my mind first. I’ll..., I’ll call you.”

  Traci stood, pushing herself away from the table.

  “Traci?”

  “I have to go,” she said.

  Aaron grabbed her arm, his face stiff with concern. “Keep an eye open
. Stay safe.”

  “This isn’t a criminal we’re talking about here.”

  “He’s aging, but that doesn’t mean he’s helpless.”

  She pulled on her jacket and zipped it up. “Goodbye, Dublin.”

  Licking his lips, Aaron scooted to the edge of the booth and lowered his voice. “I have reason to believe that Wade is armed and dangerous. He’s getting along in years, but he can still find strength when he needs it.” He looked her directly in the eye. This kid was not joking around.