Flutter

by L. E. Green

“Hmm,” Meghan said as she took more notes on the pad.

  “I know something else.”

  Meghan was all ears. “What’s that?”

  Jennifer looked around and whispered, “When I saw the men at the dock, one of the men I saw was Robert Benson. I’m pretty sure it was him.”

  “Benson was there?”

  “Yes. He was there, but when I saw the men grab him, I jumped back and hid. I wasn’t sure if they were going to come into the cabin. They never did, but I wasn’t sure. But yes, Benson was there.”

  Meghan was excited. This was important information to note. “Do you know why they were there?”

  “I’m sure there was a meeting,” Jen said before she took a sip of water. Jen continued, “Have you ever heard of Indigo, Inc.?”

  “No. What kind of company is that?”

  “I’m not sure. I think they do some stuff with research and development. I know that Alan and Robert were not seeing eye to eye about dealing with the company. They were supposed to meet about something concerning the company. Alan told me that Robert would see things his way but he needed to show Robert some numbers. Maybe that’s why they were there. When the other men showed up, I assumed it wasn’t just a chat over numbers and maybe it was an informal meeting, but a meeting none the less. I’m not sure if it was just an investment deal or a purchase but it was a big deal and Alan wasn’t very interested in any of it. Robert was.”

  Meghan’s hand was hurting. She wrote a mile a minute and then she remembered that her recorder was on. She relaxed a little.

  Jennifer reached into her big tan purse. “I scraped up some of the files Alan left at the house. Maybe you would like to have them. I can’t promise that they will help you solve the case, but I’m assuming that whatever happened to Alan is probably going to happen to Benson.”

  Meghan knew that Jennifer probably had heard that Benson was missing but didn’t know anything about the arm they recovered on the ledge. She said to Jennifer, “This is very helpful. Thank you.” Finch opened the files.

  Jen pointed out a few things and continued explaining the paperwork. Finch received a text from Brown. She read it, lightly smiled and continued talking to Jennifer for a few more hours. Jennifer provided more details about the event. Meghan asked her to repeat what she saw at least three more times to make sure her story was consistent each time. Meghan thought Jennifer to be a very smart woman. They had gotten along fairly well and exchanged phone numbers by the end of the meeting.

  Meghan took Jennifer back to her car where Jennifer managed to get a $41 ticket for an expired meter. Meghan promised to take care of the ticket before she drove off. As she drove away, Meghan thought about Brown. She had forgiven him by now, and was excited to share this information with him, but she decided to go to the library to do some research first before heading back. She needed a break and wanted to make Brown suffer a little before they reconnected. She also needed some time alone to write her report. She knew that meeting up with Brown was going to begin with at least an hour of wasted time fooling around.

  In addition to the fact that she had just received information which filled a few holes in the Benson case, Finch could not stop thinking about Sydney. She also couldn’t stop thinking about Anthony. His presence was all over her house and she could not get him out of her mind. She had packed away most of his belongings but hadn’t found the strength to tell his mother to take them. Finch wanted to move on with her life, but Anthony was still haunting her. She knew she was hallucinating but sometimes his presence was too real to deny. She knew she could never move on unless it stopped. She couldn’t figure out if it was his anger with her that kept him there or her guilt that kept bringing him back.

  She pushed the paperwork aside to think for a moment. Her relationship with Sydney was a bit inappropriate, but there were no rules against dating coworkers. Or was she making excuses? It happened from time to time. This wouldn’t be a first. It would have helped if she weren’t a hot topic in the locker room. Unfortunately for Brown, Meghan was well aware of the THANKS FOR THE RIDE jokes and other smart comments the men made about her. She had made a decision to ignore the jokes and to keep working hard. If she complained, she knew the men would make her look like she was just bitching, looking for attention. The only parts of her reputation she cared about in that place concerned her ability to outperform her peers, which she did frequently. Dating Brown would just be the icing on the cake, the final nail in the coffin. Was he worth it? She played with the ring for another minute and went back to work.

  FRANKIE’S PUB

  Frankie worked the bar with Larry. It was packed. He served dinner after dinner that afternoon. It seemed that a break would only come when the bar closed that evening. Larry and Frankie were a little overwhelmed by noon, so Larry had called in his friends, Marty and Frita, to run the bar for him while he and Frankie worked the kitchen. They had recently lost their bar around the block and had told Larry and Frankie to call whenever they were short on staff. This was a night they were needed. Abigail and Roger were out of town, and a Red Sox/Orioles game played on the big screen.

  Frankie watched the 20 inch flat panel TV in the kitchen. The Red Sox scored. Frankie cheered with the crowd when they scored, but in the back of his mind he could not stop thinking about Abigail and Roger. Where are they? What have they discovered? Are they coming back? He wanted them to return, expressing their inability or exhausted desire to find something more. He wanted Abigail to be content with her new life and forget about whatever haunted her. He wanted her to forget about digging into her past or seeing where the rabbit hole went. He thought that one day she would get over the nightmares, forget about everything that didn’t make sense, and think of him as a father.

  He also wondered what kind of trouble they had gotten themselves into. He knew that young folks sometimes did silly things, but he felt that this time it was serious. They had come home bloody and bruised. Abigail was almost raped. Roger was shaken up and there was blood on the broom in the kitchen. He thought about what he had seen on the news. He could not imagine that Roger or Abigail would have the ability to pull off a stunt like that. He had only turned on the news to shake them up a bit, but for some reason, they seemed guilty. Why? Could they manage to pull off something this horrific? Frankie couldn’t imagine it, but wondered, If it were possible, how the hell did they do that?

  “I need those fries, Frankie,” Larry yelled into the kitchen.

  Frankie had lost focus for a moment. He snapped out of it and dropped some fries into the fryer. He flipped a few burgers on the grill and got back into watching the game. He served up the burgers. Marty grabbed them off the counter and passed them to Larry. Frankie checked his phone, but no messages. He thought for a moment and couldn’t resist. He made a funny face, took a picture and sent the photo to Abigail followed by the text: MISSING YOU AT THE PUB– FRANKIE! He looked around to make sure no one had seen him and got back to work.

  FRANKIE’S TRUCK

  FINDING PALTEE

  Roger and Abigail left Ms. Atkins at home while they ventured off to find Dr. Colin Paltee. Ms. Atkins had pulled out an old phone book and prayed the man still had the same number. She called and to her amazement, the number worked. She spoke to Dr. Paltee and explained as much as she could without saying too much on the phone. Paltee understood enough of her clues to get the point and told her to send Abigail to his home in Hampden, CT, right away. They drove off that afternoon hitting the Massachusetts turnpike heading west towards I84.

  It was lightly raining. The wipers went back and forth across the windshield leaving streaks from the worn blades. Roger was driving. Abigail had packed the armor suit into a duffel bag and planted it in her lap. She rested her hand on the bag, keeping guard over it. Suddenly she received a text message. The vibration broke her concentration on the suit folded meticulously in the bag. She looked at her phone. She saw the picture Frankie had sent and for the first time in a couple days, she sincerely smiled. />
  She said to Roger, “So… the fact that you can build this suit and can’t seem to fix anything else perplexes me.”

  Roger knew this was coming and said, “Playing possum isn’t easy, Elvis. I can do a lot more than you think. All the bullshit gadgets in my house... it was just a front so no one would suspect anything.”

  Abigail asked, “So what was the point of having me come over to help you work on your 'inventions'? They didn’t work and you never intended for them to work. I don’t get it.”

  Roger looked at Abigail and smiled. “I told you to come because I figured you needed to get out. And… I wanted to spend time with... I guess you don’t get it but anyway… We didn’t want them to think we had the capacity to rebuild the suits. They stalked our home because they thought she stole the plans.”

  “Which she obviously did.”

  Roger nodded, “True, but you know how the government is sometimes. They watched our house for about eight years after we left CT. I fucked up by going to MIT. It made them watch even more. I pretended to have a nervous breakdown. We hoped to leave them with the impression that my unstable mind and disabled mother weren’t capable of fixing a toaster. I intentionally failed classes at MIT so they would leave us alone.”

  “So you stopped educating yourself to get the government off your back?”

  “The government, Global Tech–Gin and all the other goons they had working on the project. According to my mom, those people were up to no good. She didn’t trust their intentions and sabotaged her own lab before she left. She blamed it on an electrical fire. She left behind some bogus plans for the suit and got out of there.” Roger pulled into the right lane.

  “My mother was being modest, Elvis. She was the brainchild behind the suit. Those were her schematics and her ideas. She designed the suit. Yes, the rest of the team helped, but don’t let that woman fool you. She is a genius. She felt totally responsible for the men it killed. She couldn’t let them have it. That suit would have been left in the wrong hands, so she took the plans and taught me everything she knew about engineering and math when I was young.”

  Abigail asked, “Have you ever tried it on?”

  Roger answered, “Hell no. Didn’t you hear what happened to the other men who wore the suit? We’ve made some adjustments but I’m not willing to risk it. The suit now has a processor located in the collar. I created software that reads heart rates, analyzes body temperature and movements so that the suit understands that the human wearing the suit is boss and will know not to overexert itself. It will know when to shut itself down if necessary. It now reacts after the human body says react and not before, which had been a major problem. I also added in a tracking device and can remotely monitor the suit’s activities from home or... my iPhone.” He shrugged. “I designed the app three weeks ago. Don’t worry. It’s not on iTunes.”

  Roger shifted lanes.

  “Ok so no one has ever tried it on. How do you know it works?”

  Roger confidently responded, “Trust me. It works. We’ll find out soon enough.”

  “And the guns and weapons?”

  “Abigail,” Roger said, “There are people around us willing to kill for this armor. Willing to do whatever it takes to get it and or the plans. If they come, we need to be ready.”

  Abigail looked out the window. “How far are we?” Abigail wondered. She looked at the Garmin GPS.

  Roger asked, “What does it say?”

  “40 minutes to Hampden.” She put the GPS back in the center console and pulled the bag in tighter and unzipped the bag. She wanted to try it on but hadn’t got up the nerve to do it. She looked in the collar and could see sensors sewn into the fabric.

  “There are sensors all over the suit, but the brains of the suit are right there.”

  Abigail didn’t want Roger to know how impressed she was. She squinted her eyes, nodded and zipped up the bag. Then, she tossed it into the back seat like it didn’t matter anymore.

  A couple of minutes later, Abigail leaned her head on the window. It lightly bumped against the glass as they drove down the freeway. She was tired and was starting to doze off. She closed her eyes. Little by little she drifted into another haunting dream.

  She was running through a jungle in a black tank top and khaki shorts. She heard drums as the black leaves on the trees screamed in her direction. It sounded like children on fire. She thought she saw a face in the dark mist surrounding the path underneath her feet. Once again she was being chased by men in black suits. A black oily substance crawled from her feet, up her legs, across her back, over her neck and onto her head. When it reached her head, it burned into her scalp. She stopped and grabbed her head in agony. The screaming increased in volume, piercing her ears.

  Suddenly, four beasts jumped onto her pinning her down and licking her flesh. Each one bit into her wrists and ankles, holding them in their mouths, stretching her body above the ground. Black blood oozed from her mouth and the bite wounds. She could not focus her eyes enough to make out what the beasts were, but she could see their fangs. One had wings. She could hear their thoughts but could not make sense of them amongst the screams in the jungle and her own screams. They were speaking a language she didn’t understand. Soon the men in suits caught up to her. They stood on either side of her and ripped her shirt off.

  Her breasts were exposed. She was paralyzed. One of the men pulled out a gun and pointed it at her. The beasts pulled harder, pulling in four different directions, as if their desire was to rip her body into pieces. The man with the gun had blue glowing eyes. He said something, but his voice was muffled. He fired twice.

  Abigail’s body jerked in the seat. Roger noticed but continued driving. He tried to watch her and the road at the same time and realized it was a dangerous attempt. He looked for the closest exit. Abigail’s body jerked again.

  Abigail’s weak body dropped to the ground. The beasts and the men were gone. She slowly got to her feet and ran. They were all once again chasing behind her. Once again she jumped off a cliff to get away. She fell into a bed of red fog. It turned into a hospital bed where she was suddenly strapped down, lying on her stomach. She had electrodes attached to her body. The room was dark and steamy. She heard a muffled voice. The words sounded like a chant. Incense floated in the air. She could see candles, mirrors and low lights. She heard knocking. A man whose face was painted white tapped wooden needles into her back, creating the tattoos using an ancient method. Her mouth was bound. She stretched her body to scream, and suddenly she was awakened by Roger.

  He gently shook her and called her name, “Elvis. Wake up sweetie. Wake up.” They were at a rest stop.

  Abigail jumped up opening her eyes. Roger ran his hands through her hair. She was shivering.

  Roger asked, “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and pulled him over to her. He held her tightly and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She looked up at him. He kissed her head again and then her cheek. She smiled but turned her head down and took a deep breath. She held him tighter. The soft rain beat against the metal truck.

  BROWN’S HOUSE

  It was early evening. Brown decided that waiting on Meghan was not going to help, so he left the office and headed home. When he arrived home, he immediately took a shower, threw on a t–shirt and sweats and walked barefoot into the kitchen. He grabbed a bagel, coffee and some grapes from the refrigerator. He moved his paperwork and laptop into his home office, turned on the computer and went on the shared file drive to check if Finch had uploaded any new files. Nothing. She must be pissed!

  He spent about a half hour reviewing papers and drinking scotch. His eyes were heavy. He thought about calling it an early night but he continued working anyway. Then, he received a text from Finch. “KNOCK, KNOCK!” Simultaneously he heard a knock at his front door. He walked over to the door. It was Finch. She entered the house. Brown closed the door behind her.

  Brown said, “I was really stupid earlier.”

  She responded,
“Don’t worry about it. I got a lot of info from her that I think you should hear. She gave me some…”

  Brown interrupted, “I don’t want to talk about work just yet. Spend some time with me.” He kissed Meghan. She dropped her bags and kissed him back. They took each other’s clothes off and began to make love. He tossed her down on the couch. She moaned as he pressed his body against hers. She pulled him closer and bit him on the ear.

  CHAPTER 13

  COBALT ROAD

  DR. COLIN PALTEE’S HOME

  1129 COBALT ROAD was written in faded white paint on the side of the red mailbox at the edge of the driveway. Roger didn’t initially see the house but turned into the driveway. In the distance, they could see the house was recessed behind a small wooded area and a large front yard. Roger pulled the truck down the long cobblestone driveway that led to the front door. The ground was not level. The older truck bounced roughly as the tires eased over the damp stones and splashed through little pools of water from the rain.

  The place was not very welcoming. The yard had not been kept up. Old leaves from last fall were scattered across the yard. Spring grass had no chance of flourishing. In the yard were a few rusty old cars and trucks from the 50s with various parts removed. There was a pile of tires and a pile of hubcaps on either side of the house. Organized clutter. There was also a shed off to the right side of the house, a lawnmower and rake leaning against the side. There were three rainwater collection barrels on the left side of the house and another against the shed. As Roger drove closer to the house, the cobblestone driveway slowly turned into gravel, then sand, then grass. A six foot tall light post stood at the end.

  The home was a wood sided Victorian built in 1918. It had two chimneys, a white door, a wooden white painted porch, white shutters around the windows and a slate roof. Hanging from the windows were empty flower baskets. Along the front of the house was a series of perennial flowers and untamed shrubs that had grown up past the bottom of the first floor windows. They hadn’t been trimmed in at least a couple years. A sparrow had made a nest in a crack by the drain attached to the roof and slipped into the hole just as Roger and Abigail shut off the engine. A silver wind chime hung from the roof of the porch. The light wind blew just enough for it to create a soft melody that set anyone at ease. The stairs were cement with a white railing.