Patriot Deception: A Thriller Suspense Novel (Mason McCall Book 1)

by Ross Elder

  “I think…” she kissed me. It was soft and warm, but far too brief. It was over before I could wrap my arms around her and show her how passionately I felt about her in this moment. I leaned toward her but her hands were on my chest, not preventing me, but delaying me. “I think you need a nice, warm bath, maybe a massage, and then,” she paused and looked into my eyes again.

  “And then?”

  Another, far too brief brush of her lips.

  “Well, you’ll need your sleep, of course. You are still in recovery from a very terrible thing. Rest is vital to your healing.” Her expression was as straight as any vaudeville straight-man. Her voice was soothing and sugary.

  “But…the…your philtrum and…”

  Toni burst into laughter, and my heart skipped a few beats.

  After leading me upstairs, Toni drew a bath for me and used a few drops of shampoo to create bubbles. She bathed me carefully, meticulously, lovingly. This was a strange experience for me. It would seem no one had done such a thing for me, at least not in adulthood. I felt a little shy and uncomfortable. I guess I am not used to being taken care of.

  She did massage me. It was a combination of therapeutic and erotic. She was careful around my still-healing injuries and inspected the progress of the worst of the wounds. She seemed pleased with the results.

  Chapter Ten

  September 12, 2016

  0330 hours

  Thanks to the slamming of a vehicle door somewhere outside, I am awake. I am not groggy or aggravated, just awake. It was immediate and disturbing. As far as I know, I was fast asleep and dreaming of beaches or flowing streams, and then, I was fully awake and fully aware of the sound that roused me. Vehicle door. A large vehicle, not a coupe or sedan. Well-made. Heavy. An SUV, most likely.

  The SUV!

  I tried to sit up and realized the weight of Toni’s body on my right shoulder and chest. I could smell her – the gently perfumed shampoo in her hair, the now dry sheen of sweat on her skin. The scent of her filled the air around me. I can’t imagine enjoying this room without her scent. This room meant nothing to me until she was here, her breath on my skin, our bodies entwined in a passionate embrace.

  I think. Where is it inside my memory? She is here, now, her right leg over mine, her cheek resting on my chest, her breasts pressed against my side. The skin of her back feels cool under my hand. She is here. We had obviously, you know, “gone there” in our relationship. She’s so beautiful, sleeping peacefully. Content.

  I don’t remember any of it.

  As carefully as I can, I slip my arm from under her. She moans a little, disappointed in the loss of my warmth. I pull the blanket over her shoulder, and she settles back down. I move to the window and peer out. The buildings are illuminated by accent lights protruding from the facades. The small courtyard in the center of the arranged townhouses has two dim light posts, one next to each of the two park-style benches along the cement path that bisects the yard.

  In the portion of the parking lot visible from my window, I see the normal assortment of vehicles one would expect in such an exclusive complex; Mercedes, BMW, Jaguar. There’s a Lexus, but it seems out of place. Maybe just someone visiting? I mean, it’s a Lexus. Fancy Toyotas don’t impress people in this kind of neighborhood.

  Oh, my God, I’m a total car snob.

  I don’t see the SUV I am sure awakened me. Why am I so paranoid about it, though? It bothers me, even though it is absent. I should be more relaxed now that it isn’t there, but I’m not. Things remain displaced in my mind and memory. This view, for instance. I don’t remember it. I remember something like it. Something is there, I just don’t know what. It’s off.

  My head is buzzing now, as though a hive of bees had awakened and are bouncing around inside my skull, seeking an escape. My hearing is coming and going, like ear plugs being inserted and then removed. I glance at my left wrist and immediately look away. A second later, I realize I’m not wearing a watch. I look again. There should be a watch there. I’ll have to get a watch. Time is important. Keeping track of time is important. I’m not sure why.

  Wake up, Morgan. Get up. Keep moving. They are coming.

  The voice was clear as anything I had heard. My hearing cleared, and the buzzing subsided significantly. I looked to the nightstand. There were a generic lamp and a digital alarm clock/radio. Nothing important. Nothing important except what was missing. I am not sure what is missing, but something is not there; something that is always there, but now is not. What is it? God Dammit! But, I am awake! At least the voice in my head could make an effort to be accurate.

  Toni is stirring now. I feel guilty because I think it’s my fault. Even though I wasn’t really making any noise, people have these senses when they sleep. It is a remnant of our days having to survive a brutal and unpredictable world, living in the wild, among the predators of the animal kingdom. She’s asleep, but she knows someone is awake and standing over her. She’ll wake up. She may never know why she woke up, but she will. She’ll look around, see me standing here, and…

  “Why are you up?” Her voice was more of a muffled whisper. She’s speaking through the blanket. She never even opened her eyes, as far as I can tell.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I, uh, needed to use the bathroom.” It was true, in a way.

  “Me too,” she moaned. She rolled out of bed and padded off to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She yelped a few seconds later. “Cold!”

  I laughed.

  I’m drawn to the window again, and I’m looking out over the courtyard. Someone is walking along the sidewalk a few houses away. A woman. Had I heard her? Felt her presence, maybe? Just a coincidence? Is that Mrs. Harris? She is entering a townhouse on the opposite side of the courtyard now. Is she still working at this hour? Or, oh. Is she visiting another tenant in the wee hours of the morning? Mrs. Harris! For crying out loud. Now I feel a bit like an idiot because I guess I’m not the only tenant having a fling with Mrs. Harris. Tramp. Wait, is she a tramp, or am I?

  “Are we up for the day, or are we going back to bed?” Toni startled me again. She was close. Close enough to touch me, which she did. Her hands caressed my shoulders as she hugged my back.

  I doubt I could go back to sleep now. There is too much flying through my head. I tell her so.

  “Going back to bed doesn’t necessarily mean going back to sleep.”

  I could feel her cheek expand against my shoulder blade as she smiled.

  I have full memory of this morning. I could be falling in love.

  Chapter Eleven

  September 12, 2016

  After breakfast, Toni drove me around town to take care of my banking issues. Rather, I should say she competed in a Grand Prix Rally with me as a passenger, white knuckling the “Oh Shit” bar above the passenger-side door.

  Sign here, initial here and here, place your thumb here, sign this, now initial again. Here are some replacement checks to tide you over until they are printed and mailed out to you. Here is a new ATM/Debit/Credit card with the new embedded chip thingy. Enter your new PIN number.

  Jesus, a PIN number. Four digits. Something you would never forget. Yeah, about that, maybe I shouldn’t explain. Should I? Would they even open my accounts if they knew what I was going through? I am staring at Toni. She’s sitting quietly, returning my gaze. Her brows are raised slightly, waiting patiently.

  8482. The number just popped into my head as my mind wandered to flashing images of Toni hovering over me, her breath quick and hoarse. Darkness, shadows, Toni. 8482. Sounds good to me.

  When the manager of the bank asked if there was anything else she could do for me, I paused, but only for a second. I want cash. Lots of cash. I don’t know why, but it is a compulsion. Checks and cards are great, but I must keep plenty of cash on hand. Why? Toni’s jaw dropped visibly when I told the manager the amount: $30,000. The manager only blinked twice before picking up the phone on her desk and punching in a few numbers. The cash would be
brought to her office to prevent us waving that much cash around in the lobby.

  I’m looking into the lobby through the glass wall of her office. So, I shouldn’t be handed that much cash at the counter, but let’s make a big deal out of it and have the money escorted into this small office with glass walls because nobody would be able to see…through the glass. The bank’s security procedures leave a little to be desired. There is a television on the wall in the lobby. Tuned to a news channel, talking heads appeared to be arguing over something. I’m sure it is something most people care little about. The news crawler sliding along the bottom of the screen is mentioning Russia, Crimea, Ukraine, the upcoming presidential election, and rumors of Russian influence in the U.S. political process.

  “That’s old news. Active measures, information operations, entire television channels dedicated to propaganda distribution. You know, there are literally thousands of English language websites out there serving the…” Toni and the manager are staring at me now. What? Oh, I was saying that out loud. I hadn’t realized it. “Sorry. I got distracted for a moment.”

  “A news junkie, are you?” The manager lady is smiling, but she doesn’t mean it. It is fake. A mask she has perfected over the years to deal with the multitude of customers about whom she never really cared. Toni is also smiling now. I think Toni believes the manager’s expression is genuine. She’s fooled by it. I am not. Why am I not? How do I know she’s fake? “Me too. I watch way too much news. So much going on around the world. It’s hard to keep up.”

  She’s lying. I know it. I can tell by the expression on her face and the way she diverted her eyes when she said the words, “I watch.” Now she’s scratching an itch at her left nostril. I can see the lie emanating from her like heat waves over a desert road.

  Now there is a clerk with a metal box followed by the bank security officer. He’s wearing a uniform and a gun. Not a police officer but a security guard. Hinged handcuffs in a leather holder on his duty belt. One spare magazine for the Beretta 92F holstered on his right hip. Pepper spray. Around twenty-five pounds overweight, middle-aged, former military.

  These details flood into my mind. It is a rapid assessment performed without conscious thought. Once again, I am left confused about how I know these things. Toni can see something is bothering me now. I can see the concern in her eyes. The money was recounted in front of me for verification purposes. Once that was complete, paper bands indicating the value of the stacks of bills were put in place, and the stacks then placed inside a zippered bank deposit bag. I was told I could keep the bag and reuse it if more cash was required in the future.

  I tucked the bank bag inside Toni’s purse. I didn’t ask her permission. I just picked her purse up off the floor between our chairs, unzipped it, stuffed the bag inside, and resealed it. She stared at me but said nothing. Then we were outside, getting back into her car.

  “I am not comfortable carrying this much cash around, Morgan. It scares me.”

  “Why? Nobody knows you have it. Well, except me, and everyone in that bank. We should go now. Quickly.” I tried to act nervous.

  “Stop it.”

  “Sorry.”

  The next stop was the license bureau for a new driver’s license. I shouldn’t call it a stop because I fully expect it to take a couple of hours.

  My jacket pocket was vibrating. It startled me at first until I remembered the phone I had placed there. Everywhere we’ve been, I have seen people with their faces buried in their smartphones. Kids, adults, even the employees at various places, all fully engaged in whatever is happening on their handheld HD screens. Oddly, I had no interest in my phone. I had forgotten all about it. There are message icons flashing, a small, blinking light at the top, and vibrating, it’s truly annoying. How do people hold this thing in their hand all day?

  I “swiped” at the screen with my finger and was greeted with a list of messages. No missed calls, but a couple of texts.

  “Don’t forget you have the key, darling.” The contact is listed as, Amanda H. Amanda? H, for Harris? It must be her. The first name seems to mean nothing to me now. Honestly, I really had forgotten I had her key. The memory returns and I wonder what I did with the key after undressing last night. It must still be in my other pants. I don’t know what to do. Yes, she is an amazing beauty and, obviously, she wants to return to our relationship, or affair, or whatever you would call it. But, she is like a dream in my head; a ghost. I have no feelings for her. None. Toni is the only person for whom I feel anything, currently. I can’t do it. I can’t just abandon her, or stray from her, simply because that is how my life used to be. This entire thing called my life is all new. Maybe I don’t want to be the same person I was before? Maybe I want to change? I should change. I mean, Amanda is a married woman, and I apparently had no problem with doing her in my kitchen. That isn’t cool, is it?

  “MEETING: 9/16/16, Conf. Rm. 6, 9 AM. Check Outlook for the itinerary.” This one from someone titled: Gabby. Maybe that’s her name, I don’t know. Maybe I just thought she talked too much when I put her name in my phone?

  “What’s up?” This was Toni now.

  “Hm. Nothing, I guess. Something about a meeting at work on Friday. Other stuff that means nothing to me.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think you are ready to go back to work at this point, Morgan. You still have a ways to go before you are back to your old self again.” She patted my thigh as she put the car into gear.

  “I don’t even know the old me. How am I supposed to know when I am back to that?”

  “Listen, there are going to be a lot of follow-up appointments; counselors, therapists, doctors, maybe even medications. They will get you back to…something. Some…one? The doctors say the memories will return eventually. Maybe not all of them, mind you, but some, or most. Some of the damage that was done may be permanent. You have to be prepared for that.”

  She’s so damned cute. I’m not even paying attention right now. She’s still talking, though.

  “In the long run, it may require a change in your profession. Who knows?”

  “I’m not sure you are doing the whole, make you feel better, thing right.” I made her giggle, but I can see the concern in her expression. She’s worried about me. She actually cares about me. Not just our physical closeness, but about my well-being and my recovery. I think she has spent much of her life caring for others, without effort.

  The car is moving. I can feel it. The scenery is passing by rapidly, but I can’t distinguish it. I’m slipping away again. Something is pulling me back toward darkness. Flashes of light and shadow are clouding my consciousness. There are voices, movement, and I think even some public display of affection.

  Now, I’m standing on the sidewalk outside the license bureau holding my freshly printed driver’s license. I have to turn back toward the building to look at it. I should reorient myself and become familiar with my surroundings. God, what an ugly building. Boring. Toni somehow knows that I’m disoriented. She’s very good at reading me. She thinks I need a nap and I don’t disagree.

  She even tucked me in back at the townhouse. She kissed me and said she was going to run to the pharmacy to pick up a few things, including some prescriptions the doctor had provided for me. She gave me a tiny, white pill to take with some water before she left.

  My dreams were…frightening. Monsters, or demons, or some such things were chasing me through the streets, always just out of reach, just far enough that I had to keep running. I was awakened by a terrible pressure on my bladder. I’m still groggy and unsteady, but nature calls. My feet are on the floor, and I’m moving toward the bathroom, my eyes only slightly open. Maybe just one eye.

  Pain is shooting through my foot and shin. There is a rattling of things on wood, and then my chest pressed into the chest of drawers. I forced my eyes open and blinked a few times before sitting down on the floor to whimper and rub my stubbed toes. For a moment, I’m scared but don’t know why. Looking around, I now see that I tried t
o walk through the dresser and wall instead of the bathroom door. It is odd that the dresser is on the opposite wall from the bathroom. I wasn’t even going in the right direction. Why is that? Holy cow, this pill must be a doozy. And I still have to pee. Desperately.

  Relieved, but with a sore foot, I’m back in bed, snuggled against a pile of pillows that still carry Toni’s scent. The demon sitting at the foot of the bed isn’t threatening. It’s just observing. I can smell it and almost see it, but I don’t want to look at it directly. It’s there nonetheless. I know it.

  I see Mrs. Harris. Amanda. She’s pleading with me. Begging me. “Use the key,” she tells me. Demons and adulteresses and pain and shadows. There’s thrashing and anger and fear. I am grateful when the darkness takes me. This darkness is different somehow. I know what I am. I know, at least to some degree, who I am. I am a very…weird man. I can fly and swim and know where I am going without being able to see it. I’m searching for it now, in the darkness. It is just a pin prick in the blackness. A hint. Intangible. I feel at home here in the black.

  There it is! The little glow in the distance. I fly to it or swim, and orbit its warmth for a while. I know that within that tiny orb of brightness lies all the answers, but I’m in no hurry. What’s the rush? The blackness is eternal. I am eternal. The answers will remain for all eternity. I can visit them whenever I choose. Perhaps I don’t want to visit them at this moment. Being all powerful, I also have power over my urges and needs. I am a being of supreme control. Knowing the answers are there is enough to satisfy me at this moment.

  But, what is this? The pinprick of light is changing, growing, no, opening! It wants me to see…something. Images. Films. There are shadows and flames and…pain. Pain and suffering. A woman’s tears. I can feel her agony. It is within me now. It is mine to carry. I am her. I am me, but I am her in this place. Why? Why must I suffer? Screaming. She is screaming. I am screaming.