Time Search

by Danele J Rotharmel

  “Riker was OK until he grew the beard.”

  Marc raised a hand to his chin. “You don’t like whiskers?”

  “I like them. Riker just seemed to get cocky after he grew his.” Seeing the thoughts passing over Marc’s face, she laughed. “Don’t worry. You were cocky before you grew your beard. Having one won’t make it any worse.”

  Laughing, Marc cocked a brow. “You’re a menace, you know it?”

  “So I’ve been told.” She smiled. “I can’t believe you like Star Trek. You always seemed so…”

  “So what?” he asked curiously.

  “So pompous, actually, if you’ll forgive me for saying so.”

  “I’ll forgive you, but I may take it out of your skin later.” Marc offered her another eggroll. “Star Trek isn’t my whole life, but I definitely have a soft spot for it. I even dressed as a Klingon for Halloween once.”

  “Oh?” she said, dipping the eggroll. “How old were you?”

  His lips twitched. “About half a year younger than I am now.”

  Crystal froze in mid-bite. She lowered her eggroll. “You were one of the Klingons at TEMCO’s Halloween party?”

  “Sure was,” he replied. “I didn’t see you at the party. Were you there?”

  She nodded. “You probably didn’t recognize me in my costume. Who were the other two Klingons with you?”

  “Kyle and Ryan.”

  “That can’t be,” she sputtered. “When I left the party, I ran into Ryan outside Hawking Hall. He wasn’t in costume.”

  Marc gave her a strange look. “You must be mistaken.”

  “Not likely.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Nevertheless, you guys stole the show with those outfits. The only costume that came close to competing was Laura’s Queen Elizabeth.”

  “No offence to Laura,” Marc replied, “but by far the coolest costume of the night was the Orion girl. Someone else besides us must be into Star Trek to have come up with that costume. It was sensational. Kyle and I tried to find out who the green girl was, but she left before we could.” Scooping up some rice, he asked, “What’d you go as? The salt shaker?”

  “The salt shaker was June,” she said. “Jake was dressed as pepper, but he had to leave early to pick up their daughters.”

  “Were you the ballerina?” he asked.

  Shaking her head, she said in a voice quivering with mirth, “That was Phoebe.”

  “Who were you?” Marc asked, helping himself to more sesame chicken.

  Crystal didn’t reply.

  Marc looked up. His mouth fell open. “That couldn’t have been you! You were the green Orion girl?”

  Crystal didn’t answer in words. Instead, she stood up, put her hands on her hips, and walked toward him with the Orion girl’s wiggle.

  Marc blinked. After a long pause, he stammered, “Do you know that Kyle took a picture of you? He carries it around in his wallet. He swears the Orion girl was the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He tried to figure out who she was for weeks.”

  Crystal didn’t reply. Sitting back down, she took another sip of cola.

  Marc shook his head. “You didn’t look a bit like yourself at the party.”

  Crystal choked on her drink. “Considering that you just said how pretty the Orion girl was, I could take that comment as an insult.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way.” He frowned. “It’s just that there’s no way I would’ve recognized you.”

  She gave a quivering chuckle. “Oh, Marc, you’re just digging yourself deeper. Put down the shovel.”

  “I’m not trying to be insulting. I’m just trying to explain. That night, you looked so incredibly different than normal. You know what I mean, don’t you?”

  Crystal was enjoying teasing him but decided to take pity. “Actually,” she said, “I know exactly what you mean and that’s the whole point. I love costume parties.”

  He scratched his head. He still looked confused. “But your hair was dark—”

  “For Pete’s sake, with four sisters you must know about temporary dye.” Crystal’s lips twitched. “Temporary dye is pretty useful…”

  “That was a loaded comment,” Marc said, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, give.”

  “The hair dye was temporary, but the green color I put on my skin wasn’t quite as removable.”

  Marc choked. “Don’t tell me!”

  She nodded and groaned. “I tried to scrub it off all weekend long, and I still had to call in sick on Monday. That horrid green junk wouldn’t wash off.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You sound like Anne.”

  “Anne dyed her hair green, not her…” Crystal paused. “How do you know about Anne Shirley’s tragic mistake?”

  “Four sisters, remember?” he replied. “I know all about Anne and Diana, Jo and Meg, Trixie and Honey, and Ramona and Beezus.”

  Crystal smiled. “You aren’t exactly who I thought you were, do you know that?”

  “You either. Just wait until I tell Kyle that I’ve figured out the identity of the Orion girl.” He hesitated. “On second thought, I don’t think I’ll let him know.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “He’d probably swoop in and try to monopolize you.”

  Crystal snorted. “I doubt it. He thinks I’m a dribbling idiot. He’s not interested in me at all.”

  “He’d be plenty interested if he knew you were the green girl, and I don’t want to share.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Are you greedy when it comes to friendships?”

  Looking at her with gleaming eyes, he passed her a fortune cookie. “Something like that.”

  ~*~

  He was dreaming. Floating. Dying? Warm light pooled around Gerald. It caressed him in a comforting glow. In his dream, he saw a figure emerging from a sea of mist. The man came closer. He had such kind eyes that Gerald felt a lump rising in his throat. He didn’t know the bearded man, but he felt as if he recognized him.

  A white robe swirled around the man as he placed a hand on Gerald’s shoulder. “You will not die.”

  Gerald felt warmth tingling through every inch of his body. The mist swirled, and the image faded away. Gerald wasn’t sure what he’d just witnessed. He only knew one thing: he was going to make it up that hill.

  Digging his elbows into the dirt, he pulled himself onto the path and started up the incline.

  31

  June 13, 1:48 PM

  Poppa’s Safe House, Montana

  While Poppa and Dan practiced their duet of “There is Love,” Peter tiptoed into the kitchen. Gil and Twinkles were roping everyone into being their little minions, and he and Laura had been run ragged. After he had tried on his tuxedo, Laura had passed him a note asking him to meet her in the pantry. He was trying his best not to attract attention.

  Ducking inside, he found Laura waiting. “Assignations?” he whispered as she slipped into his arms. “Mrs. Fillps would be delighted.”

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.” She groaned. “I feel like a leaf in a whirlwind. I thought we were trying to avoid a complicated wedding.”

  “Nothing is easygoing when Gil gets involved,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m worn to a frazzle, to tell you the truth.”

  Peter looked at her in concern. “Do you want me to tell Twinkles and Gil to stop?”

  Laura rubbed her cheek against his chest. “I’d sure like to see you try.”

  Kissing her forehead, he reached for the pantry door. “I’ll be right back.”

  Laura grabbed his arm and laughed. “I wouldn’t ask anyone to get in the way of two Gils with the bit between their teeth.” She glanced at her watch. “I can manage. This won’t last forever. We’re getting married in about five hours.”

  He pulled her close. “Five hours, huh?”

  “Five hours, twelve minutes, and forty-four seconds to be exact.”

  “Counting down?”

  She nodded. “Every single second. Time sure seems to be
going slow.”

  “I know how to speed it up,” he murmured, leaning in and kissing her.

  She kissed him back with such fierce intensity that it took his breath. Raising his head, he chuckled. “Love, when you want to speed up time, you sure mean business. I think I just got whiplash.”

  She pulled his head back down. “Peter, shut up and concentrate. I can’t kiss you properly if you’re laughing.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Silence reigned.

  After a few moments, Laura laid her head against his chest. Holding her close, Peter pressed his lips to her hair. “This is a memory,” he murmured. “I want you to fix this moment in your mind. Right now, at this exact moment, life is perfect. Right now, we’re the luckiest two people in the world and we’re facing a future of unsurpassed joy.”

  Laura stroked his cheek. “Who says you’re not good with words?”

  “Compared to Dan, I’m—”

  Laura put a finger against his lips. “I’m not getting married to Dan. I’m getting married to you, and I feel marvelously content with that fact. It’s you that I love.”

  With infinitely gentle fingers, Peter brushed a lock of auburn hair behind her ear. “I love you, too.” He gave her a mischievous smile. “I’m so glad you understand Hinglly.”

  She giggled softly. “I could have swatted you that day on the bus when rather than asking me for a date, you decided to rope me into being part of your think tank.”

  “Am I ever going to live that down?” he asked, giving her a squeeze.

  “Not a chance.” She peeked at her watch. “But in another five hours, six minutes, and fifteen seconds, you can make it up to me.”

  “Love,” he said in a voice shaking with laughter, “I guarantee the wedding ceremony and reception are going to take longer than a second.”

  Laura groaned. “The next time we get married, let’s keep it a secret. If I’d had my way, we would’ve been married yesterday.”

  He pressed quivering lips to her hair. “Patience isn’t one of your strong suits, is it?”

  “Never has been,” she admitted with a smile. “I keep making New Year’s resolutions to tackle the problem, but cultivating patience takes too much patience.”

  Peter gave a shout of laughter.

  Eyes widening, Laura clamped a hand quickly over his mouth. She was too late.

  The pantry door swung open.

  “There you two are,” Twinkles crowed. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  ~*~

  A motor revved in the distance. The sound was music to Gerald’s ears. Pulling himself through the underbrush, he inched free from the tree line. Clotted blood had sealed one eye shut, but with his other, he could see a car approaching. With the last of his strength, he rolled onto the road.

  Tires squealed. A door slammed. Running footsteps approached.

  “What happened to you?” a panicked voice asked.

  Gerald forced his lips to move and form words. “I need someone to call Maria. She’ll be worried sick.”

  Closing his eyes, Gerald let darkness engulf him.

  ~*~

  Somewhere over the Atlantic, Angelina heard Karl grunting derisively. She glanced at him with raised brows.

  “Look at this, will you?” he said, pointing to an article in a scandal rag.

  Angelina shook her head. “I don’t read gossip magazines.”

  “Well, you’d better read this,” he said, shoving the paper in her hands. “It’s about your hero, Andrew Hamilton.”

  “The vice president?”

  Karl’s lips twisted in disgust. “It seems that Mr. Perfect isn’t as lily-white as everyone happens to think.”

  “I wouldn’t believe everything you read in those rags,” Angelina said. “Last Christmas, Dad and I took some teenagers from church to hear Vice President Hamilton speak. He talked openly about his Christian faith and his stance on abstinence. He seemed terrific.”

  “I know,” Karl replied, rolling his eyes. “When you arrived back in D.C., you went on and on about Sir Galahad. I know you think he’s perfect, but since he was named America’s Most Eligible Bachelor, he’s dated dozens of women. The article doesn’t come right out and say he’s sleeping with them, but it certainly implies—”

  “I don’t listen to gossip,” she said firmly, handing the paper back to him.

  As he took it, her eye caught a collage of photographs. In that brief moment, she saw Andrew Hamilton with three different women.

  “If you don’t want to read the scandal rag then read the Gazette,” Karl said, tossing a newspaper onto her lap. “It’s saying the same thing—although, in more reserved language.”

  Angelina tried handing the newspaper back to him, but Karl refused to take it.

  His thumb thumped the article. “You can’t say that the Gazette reports gossip. Aren’t you always saying that people should face the truth?” Putting a finger beneath her chin, he raised her eyes to his. “Heroes don’t wear well over time. Real men do.”

  Sighing, she perused the article. When she was through, she passed the paper back to Karl. Disappointment was coursing through her veins and settling in her stomach like a black knot. Turning, she stared out the window. Her father would be so upset when he heard about Mr. Hamilton’s moral failure—and she didn’t even want to think about the reaction of the teens in the youth group.

  She studied the clouds. She knew the article’s innuendos shouldn’t bother her—after all, she didn’t actually know the vice president, but she hated it when a Christian fell into disgrace. Whether it was a preacher or a politician, it always left a bad taste in her mouth.

  “I’m sorry,” Karl said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “You didn’t upset me. The article did.” She turned and looked at him. “But like you said, it’s better to face the truth. I’m just tired. The article shouldn’t have hit me so hard.”

  “I acted like a jerk insisting that you read it. What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “How about giving me that candy bar hidden in your briefcase? Chocolate is always good for a morale boost.”

  “Gladly.” Karl smiled. “And then will you try to get some sleep?”

  “I’m not sure that I can,” she said honestly. “When I think about what’s ahead of me, I feel all fluttery and nervous inside.”

  “You don’t have to go back.”

  Angelina chuckled. “Wake up, Karl. We happen to be in a plane traveling across the ocean. We’re going back whether I like it or not.”

  32

  June 13, 4:07 PM

  Pleasant View Apartments, Washington D.C.

  Taking a deep breath, Crystal entered Drake’s apartment with Marc and Agent Ruthford. It surprised her that she felt so afraid. Even though she knew she was safe, her mind kept flashing back to that horrible moment when she’d regained consciousness and realized she was locked inside a burning building. Trying to control her raging emotions, she looked around slowly. The place gave her the shivers. She definitely didn’t want to be there, but she was certain that Drake had left clues to his identity in his home. With his monstrous ego, he would have thought it amusing.

  “We’ve already searched the premises,” Agent Ruthford said, walking to the center of the room. “We didn’t find anything.”

  Attempting to forget that she was in the home of the man who’d tried to burn her alive, Crystal replied, “We’re going to be searching for different things.”

  Studying her surroundings, she shuddered. Although at first glance Drake’s home was like many other student apartments, something was just a little off. It was as if she could feel an undertone of evil oozing from the walls.

  Marc came and stood by her side. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Everything,” she said. “It’s all an act. Everything is staged. Nothing is his.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shivered again. “Drake owns everything in this place, but nothi
ng is reflecting him. He’s deliberately picked out every piece of furniture to bolster his fake identity.”

  “You notice something else, don’t you?” Marc said.

  She nodded. “All of the pictures on the wall are set at perfect heights except one.”

  Crystal walked over to a framed picture on the eastern wall. It was set three inches lower than the other pictures.

  Agent Ruthford scratched his head. “I don’t understand. What—”

  “Shh!” Marc said. “Let her think.”

  Crystal studied the picture. It was an enlarged photograph of Stonehenge in Southwest England. The photo had been taken in the center of the monument facing northeast along its axis. About two hundred feet from where the photographer was standing, the thirty-five-ton Heel Stone rose from the ground. Behind the Heel Stone, the sun was rising.

  “Summer,” Crystal murmured, putting a hand to her forehead and trying to think. “The Heel Stone was used to mark the place on the horizon where the sun rises during the summer solstice. This picture represents summer.” Her brow furrowed. “I don’t know what it means, but it’s significant.”

  Marc nodded. Taking out his phone, he snapped a photo of the picture.

  Walking across the room, Crystal studied the framed photographs on the bookshelves. “These pictures are fakes,” she said. “He doesn’t know any of these people.”

  “Surely,” Agent Ruthford replied, “those are pictures of his friends and family.”

  She shook her head. “The people in the photos aren’t interacting with him. These photos were taken without knowledge or consent.”

  Moving to the fireplace, she studied the picture of Drake on the mantel. It was framed in black, and all of the fake photos were framed in brass. She pointed at it. “This is the only true picture in the room.”

  Leaning closer, she took in each detail. In the picture, Drake was smiling and holding a red flag in one hand and pointing to the ground with the other. He was dressed all in yellow.

  Crystal gasped. Her breath whistled in her throat.

  Marc was immediately at her side. “What is it?”

  “Something awful,” she whispered, feeling a chill running down her back.