Mr. And Miss Anonymous

by Fern Michaels

  “Yes, I can take aspirin. I don’t have pneumonia, do I?”

  “I doubt it. I’ll get you fixed up. I’m glad you came back, and thanks for finishing my crossword puzzle. That one really had me stymied. Appreciated the star, too, young fella. Name’s Charlie Garrison. What’s yours?”

  “Josh Baer. I don’t know if that’s my real name or not. It’s the name they gave me. Thanks for helping me, Mr. Garrison.”

  Charlie blinked as he tried to figure out what the youngster meant.

  In the kitchen, Charlie opened a can of soup and put a kettle on for tea. He added a package of crackers to the soup plate, along with a banana and a slice of pound cake. The youngster looked hungry. He took a moment to wonder if he should add some brandy to the tea. What could it hurt? The boy was going to go to bed, and it might help him sweat out any germs.

  Charlie was pouring the soup into a bowl when the boy walked into the kitchen. “Thanks for the clothes, sir. I have to apologize to you. That’s another reason I came back. I broke into your house, but I left money for the phone call. I used your computer, too. I swear I didn’t touch anything, and I didn’t even look in your refrigerator even though I was hungry. I’m really sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do, and you were nice to me that night at the hot dog place.”

  “It’s okay, Josh. Sit down and eat the soup while it’s hot. We can talk later or when you wake up. You look pretty tired to me.”

  “I am very tired. I just can’t run anymore. I thought you might be able to help me. You’re a grandfather, right?” Charlie nodded. “That means you’ve lived a long time and are wise. This soup is good. We always had soup for lunch at the academy.”

  “I have more if you want it. Is there anything else you want to eat?”

  “No, sir, this is fine. Those hot dogs the other night were very tasty,” he said, knowing enough to tell a white lie to make Charlie feel good. “We never had those at the academy because of the contents. That means they’re not good for you. I don’t understand that. How can something that tastes so good be not good for you?”

  This is one strange young man, Charlie thought. For reasons he couldn’t explain to himself, he felt an overpowering need to take care of this youngster and protect him. With his life if he had to. Now where did that thought come from? he wondered.

  By the time Josh finished his soup, his tea, the cake, and banana, Charlie had the couch made up with two warm blankets and two fluffy pillows.

  His eyes drooping, Josh got up from the chair and stumbled toward Charlie, who put his arms around his shoulders. “Come on, young fella, I have your bed all ready. I’ll sit up and watch over you. Believe me when I tell you, I will keep you safe. We have all day tomorrow to talk because I don’t have to go to work until eleven o’clock tomorrow night.”

  “Thank you, Charlie. Maybe someday I can do something nice for you. Do you think I’m too big to be tucked in? Nobody ever tucked me in. Tom or Sheila either. We used to talk and wonder what it was like.”

  Who was this strange kid? “You can never be too old to be tucked in,” Charlie said gruffly as he made a pretense of straightening the blankets and brushing the hair back from the boy’s forehead. “Sleep tight, Josh.”

  “That’s niiiccce,” Josh murmured as he drifted into a sound, peaceful sleep.

  Charlie Garrison sat down in his favorite chair and stared at the sleeping boy for a long time. When he was satisfied that he was indeed sleeping soundly, he walked out to the kitchen to clear away the dishes.

  His routine off-kilter, Charlie spent the next hour cleaning up the apartment and toting his trash out to the Dumpster at the corner of the building. Back inside, he fixed himself a cup of tea, fired up his pipe, and sat down to think.

  Eventually, Charlie dozed off, and it was Josh who woke him a little after eight the following morning. “Thanks for letting me stay here, Charlie.”

  “I appreciate the company, Josh. Now, would you like some breakfast?”

  “I’d like that a lot. Can I do anything to help you?”

  “No, just sit at the table. The kitchen isn’t big enough for two people to be moving around at the same time. Do you like bacon and eggs?”

  “I love bacon and eggs. I don’t think there’s anything I don’t like. We had to eat whatever was put in front of us at school, or we were sent away from the table.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong and how I can help you.”

  “Will you promise not to call the FBI, Charlie?”

  Charlie turned around. He raised his hand, and said, “I give you my word whatever you tell me stays with me. Now, shoot!”

  “Shoot what? I don’t have a gun. That guy who killed all my friends is the one who had a gun. It was a big one, it just kept spitting out bullets. Jesse and I were late that morning because Jesse couldn’t find his book bag. We saw him, and we ran. Jesse…I think Jesse is my brother, but I’m not sure. He’s…Jesse is slow. He draws like an angel, though. I had to take him to the FBI because those people that were here tonight saw us at the library, and Jesse drew these pictures. I couldn’t keep running with Jesse. He takes a lot of care and patience. I don’t even know if he’s okay.”

  Charlie flipped the bacon in the pan as he listened intently. “Go on, Josh.”

  “I kept running and hiding, then I went back to the school. I thought I would be safe there until I could figure out what to do. But that guy with the gun showed up, pretending to be an FBI agent. I crawled up into the ductwork when those people that were here last night showed up. Again. That guy started shooting at me through the ceiling. Then he shot out their tires and got away. I was leaving and it was dark and the lady was lost inside the building. I helped her to the kitchen, then I ran. That’s how I ended up here.

  “Mr. Dickey was always nice to me and to all the other guys. He was as much a friend as he was a teacher. He tried to tell us what it was like in the outside world. My bad luck was he didn’t tell me enough. I don’t know what to do. Tom has been helping me, but he’s dead and he only knows what I know.”

  Charlie whirled around. “I thought you said Tom was dead. How can he help you if he’s dead?”

  “He talks to me. I know how strange that sounds, and you probably don’t believe me, but he’s my lookout. He warns me of danger, and so far he’s been pretty good. Each time I manage to get away, he watches my back. You don’t believe me, do you? That’s okay. When he first started to talk to me, I thought I was going nuts. We made this book. We don’t know what it means, but we have it, and I’ll turn it over to the right people. The only thing is, I don’t know who the right people are. What should I do, Charlie?”

  “I need to think about all this, Josh. Eat your breakfast,” Charlie said, setting a plateful of golden-yellow scrambled eggs and toast, along with a mound of bacon and hot coffee in front of the boy.

  Between bites and sips, Josh said, “I don’t understand why there hasn’t been more in the papers and on television about all my friends getting killed. Weren’t we important enough? Or is it because we’re artificial?”

  Charlie was tempted to hit the brandy bottle sitting on the counter. The kid talks to dead people who help him. He’s artificial, and he doesn’t trust anyone. He’s sitting here in my kitchen asking me for help. Charlie thought about his ditzy sister, Anna, who claimed she talked to her dead husband every night. A dead husband who talked back to her. Maybe it was possible. Or maybe it was a fantasy that enabled both Anna and this boy to block out the horrible losses they couldn’t cope with. Okay, he wasn’t going to touch that one just yet. “What makes you artificial, Josh?”

  “Tom, Sheila, and I think we were test tube babies. No parents. We had numbers, then someone gave us names. Look,” Josh said, kicking off one of his slippers. “See that number on my big toe? I’m 8446. Tom was 8211. I forget what Sheila’s number was. Everybody had a number on their big toe.” He kicked off his other slipper and wiggled his left toe. The number 2003 was clearly visi
ble. “I don’t know what they mean, but they must be important. They’re tattoos. That’s what’s in the book—all the numbers. Tom and I used to go around after lights-out with a flashlight and copy all the numbers off everyone’s toes. We even wrote down the names the different schools gave everyone. We got them all,” he said proudly, “but it took us forever to do it because we had to be so sneaky.”

  A lump the size of a golf ball settled in Charlie’s throat as he stared at Josh’s wiggling toes.

  Josh finished the last of the eggs on his plate. “Do you have a family, Charlie? What’s it like having a family?”

  Charlie’s head was reeling. Maybe it was better to talk about himself and think about everything the boy had said later. “Yes. But not in the true sense of the word. Not the kind of family you see on television shows. I was in the navy, and that made me an absentee father. I have two sons who live on the East Coast and six grandchildren. I haven’t seen them in over ten years. You see, I was always away, out to sea or at a distant port. My wife raised our sons pretty much by herself, and my sons never quite forgave me for not being around for their ball games, birthday parties, and graduations. We’re polite to each other, and they call once a month or so. They send pictures. What that means, Josh, is we’re not a close-knit family.”

  “That’s very sad. I want a family someday. So did Tom and Sheila. Nobody ever kissed us or tucked us in. We never got hugs. We used to practice with each other so we’d know what it would feel like. When I’m eighteen, I can do whatever I want. Mr. Dickey said so. I think that’s why they killed all my friends. We were all almost eighteen. Everyone was going to leave.

  “You should go to see your family, Charlie. Maybe you can say you’re sorry and take some flowers. Miss Carmody said when you give someone flowers, it always makes them smile, and then they’re happy. You should try that, Charlie.”

  Charlie’s mind continued to buzz. “I did try that, but it was such a strain I knew they wanted me to leave, so I did. The grandkids didn’t like me. In all fairness to them, I was a stranger, so I understand their feelings.”

  “Why? You’re nice. Do you still have a wife?”

  “No. She died a long time ago. My sons told me she didn’t want me at her funeral, so I didn’t go. I did go to the cemetery after everyone left. I sat there and cried for hours.”

  “Do you still go there to visit her?”

  “Yes, Josh, I do.”

  “I want to be able to go and visit Tom, Sheila, and all my friends. Mr. Dickey and Miss Carmody, too. But they aren’t buried yet. Do you know why that is, Charlie? I think it’s important to go to the morgue to get the numbers off their toes. You know, to match them up to the ones in the book. We put their initials next to their numbers but someone could turn around and say we made it up.”

  “I don’t know why they haven’t been buried, son. I can go on the Internet to try and find out. Would you like me to do that?”

  “Sure. I tried, but there isn’t anything there. You know what else, Charlie? No one is talking about all the other kids and what happened to them. Where did over ninety kids go? And why did they leave right before the shooting? Tom said they sent them away to one of the other schools. There are three or four more, you know. We just don’t know where they are. Plus, plus, Charlie, all the files, records, and computers disappeared from school a few days before the shooting. We were working strictly with paper and pencils for those days. Mr. Dickey was very upset and worried. I could tell. So was Miss Carmody.

  “Did you think about anything to help me, Charlie?”

  “No, not yet. I’m going to go out to get one of those TracFones where they can’t trace where the calls come from. The Target store isn’t that far from here. You’ll be safe here if you keep the doors locked. Promise me you aren’t going to cut and run.”

  “I’ll promise if you promise not to turn me in,” Josh said smartly.

  “It’s a deal,” Charlie said, holding out his hand for Josh to shake.

  Chapter 24

  It was six thirty when Tessie settled her bulk into her chair at the Chronicle. She looked up to see her boss approaching her office.

  “Nice to see you, Tess. I was starting to think you wandered off the reservation. The last time I looked you were on salary, but no one has been sitting in your office. And, need I remind you that you’re the only one who actually has an office at this paper besides me? An office with a window.”

  Harry Newton was a big guy with a mess of snow-white hair that was too long to be fashionable. Topping the scales at 240, he was never creased or pressed, and there were always ink stains on his shirt and hands. He had the shrewdest eyes in the business and the best nose for news of anyone Tessie had ever come across. She liked him, but more important, she respected him.

  “Harry, Harry, Harry! I’m working on my third Pulitzer. I am also in love… Well, that might not be quite accurate but I am smitten with one of the opposite sex. Now, what do you want?”

  “We need to talk, Tess. In my office.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, now.”

  Tessie followed her boss back to his stinky, cluttered office. She saw the remains of a bagel and a banana skin sitting on his desk. Both were probably two or three days old. She flopped down and glared at Harry Newton. “What?”

  “What the hell are you mixed up in this time, Tess?”

  Tessie leaned forward, her hands clutching the edges of the cluttered desk. “Okay, you asked me, and I’m going to tell you,” she said, holding his gaze. “But before I spill my guts I want you to know that if you even think about putting a lid on me, I’m outta here, and I’m heading to New York to take the old Gray Lady up on her latest offer. You still want to hear what I’m working on?”

  “Spit it out, Tess.”

  She did. When she finally wound down she watched as every emotion in the book rippled across her boss’s face.

  “You shitting me about Pete Kelly, Tess?”

  “No. And, the little lady ain’t no small potatoes either. I have a tiger by the tail, Harry.”

  Harry Newton’s guts rumbled. He knew Tess Dancer, and he knew she never said anything unless she could back it up with two or three sources. He also knew she’d do just what she said she’d do—head off for New York in the blink of an eye. He continued to stare at her until she leaned back in the chair.

  “Who got to you, Harry? Why didn’t we run with that shooting at the academy?”

  “Nobody got to me, and I damn well resent your question and the implication. The owner of this fine paper invited me to his home and told me in the interests of national security I wouldn’t be printing anything other than what I was told to print. I quit on the spot, then some other very important people came to see me when I was cleaning out my desk and told me to just sit tight for a little while. If this will make you feel any better, I made the rounds and talked to the Register, Tribune, and Gazette and they all had the same visitors. We agreed among ourselves to give them two weeks. Time’s almost up. Before you can ask, the television channels got the same treatment.”

  Tessie closed her mouth, which had been hanging open. “You frigging buckled! You!”

  There was such disgust in Tessie’s voice, Harry Newton cringed. If there had been a rock handy, he would have tried to slither under it. “Yeah, me! I never said I liked it. I figured, like all the others, I could live with the two weeks. How much more time do you need?”

  “A few more days. Maybe four, possibly five. This goes all the way to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Just so you know, Harry.”

  Harry reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Rolaids. He dumped a handful in his hand and popped the pile in his mouth. He washed them all down with cold, scummy coffee that was probably as old as the bagel and banana skin. “Feed it to me as you get it. We clear on that, Tess?”

  Tess chewed on her lower lip. When she didn’t respond, Harry swiped his arm across his messy desk to make his point. Everything flew
in different directions. “What? You’re saying you don’t trust me?” His bellow of outrage could be heard a block away.

  “You said it, I didn’t. I was thinking it, though. Okay. But…and this is a big but, Harry, just in case those very important people come at you again, I’m making a backup file that will go where it’s supposed to go. Are we clear on that, Harry?”

  “Crystal, Tess. Now, get the hell out of here so I can have my nervous breakdown in peace and quiet.”

  The cell phone in Tessie’s jacket pocket chirped. She pulled it out to check to see if she had to take the call at that moment or wait. Her heart jumped into her throat when she recognized the symbols that indicated Little Slick was on the phone. The same Little Slick who told her never to call him again and who was going to pretend he didn’t know her. “Yeah. what’s up?”

  “No small talk, just listen. The eight-hundred-pound gorilla just flew in on a private jet and is supposedly going straight to the local office. If you leave now, you might be able to catch him off guard. Your call. You know what they say, Tess, keep your friends close, your enemies closer. Be careful.”

  “Always,” Tessie replied before she snapped her cell phone shut. Five minutes later she was out of the building and headed toward the office of Senator Hudson Preston.

  Zolly rapped smartly on the door to Lily’s villa. “Boss, the guy from Channel 5 News is waiting in the main lobby of the hotel. He said Tessie arranged a three-minute sound bite. You want me to bring him down here, or do you want to go to the lobby?”

  “Bring him here, Zolly.”

  “I want you to stay inside, Lily. Let’s not give the press any more fodder than they need. Three minutes can be a lifetime in a situation like this. You’re against this interview, aren’t you?”

  “Yes and no. The media have a way of twisting things, but you’ll be live, so maybe it will work. What are you going to say?”

  “I’m not good at rehearsing, Lily. I’ll just wing it. Trust me, okay?”