* * *
The late-night patrons at the Waffle House near downtown appeared even bleaker under fluorescent lights. It was nearly midnight, and the crowd from the honky-tonks on Lower Broadway wouldn’t start filing in until closer to three or four. I sat stirring my tepid coffee across the aisle from two drunk sorority girls and a furiously texting man wearing a cowboy hat. You can always spot the tourists, Tom always said, because they’re the only ones in town wearing Stetsons.
There was no chance anyone I knew would come across me here.
I glanced at my dark phone, long since powered off, knowing Tom would be trying to reach me once Kate reported that I’d driven away. Are you on the road still, insisting on driving so Anne or Chris could sleep, even though neither will? Have you repeatedly called, now that you’ve had the time to piece together the fact that some man from our far-flung past will be charged with our grandson’s murder? Are you wondering why he would come after us? Are you surprised that you didn’t even remember his name?
Or, even worse, would you lean into the phone and ask quietly, “Did you love him back?”
Steven had actually been quite brave, standing in front of me as the agents burst into the room. I should have reached out to him, reminded him he was old and so was I, and it was an unnecessary gesture. I cannot bear to think of an old man in a jail cell because of me.
And had the agents found Barbara? Was she still on the run too?
It was all my fault, all of it. What I did decades ago was slowly taking down one life at a time. If I did tell people, even the local police, what I suspected, the story would eventually unfold in the papers, online, on television. The looks of pity I would get from customers, from friends. It isn’t your fault, Lynn, they would say. He was crazy.
I reached for my purse to open the envelope Steven had given to me, smoothing out the two pieces of paper tucked inside. One was an enlarged section of a map of Colorado from an atlas in the National Geographic magazine. The upper left-hand corner revealed a copyright of September 1960.
The other was a map of the stars.
I remembered what I learned during my time in the astronomy department, so I knew the placement of the constellations was comical. The Big Dipper was in the wrong place. So was Andromeda. Whoever did the map had skills in graphic design, but the artist knew nothing of the heavens.
There was only one true accuracy: my star, right where it should be.
“Look for your star,” he had whispered, softly enough that the recording devices in the room from the FBI couldn’t pick up his words.
And then, he had said something about Argentum.
Another ghost from the past. That theory that Steven dismissed when Barbara first mentioned it all those years ago. He’d said he didn’t even know what it was, and it was not worth discussing. I’d heard that again outside the motel room, when Steven and the Researcher had discussed going into hiding. Steven referred to it as an urban legend about aliens, without a shred of proof. He’d clearly been annoyed with it.
A quick Google search on my phone revealed only two explanations: that argentum meant silver in Latin and that a senior-living association had adopted the name.
I scanned the enlarged section of Colorado, dotted with the names of towns and counties. I’d have to dig out my reading glasses to attempt look at them all.
Again I returned to the star map. My star wasn’t the only one of a different hue. While most were a brilliant white, a few others were larger in scale and gold.
My fingertips were smudged from ink. Both documents had been recently printed.
I felt a flare of anger. I didn’t have time for this. Too much was happening, too much was at stake, to sit here and try to unravel a riddle. Just like those files, all those years ago, with all the blacked-out words that so infuriated me—
I stood so quickly I almost banged my knees on the table. I walked briskly to the counter.
“Excuse me,” I asked a ponytailed young man scraping burnt leftovers on the stovetop. “Do you have any tape?”
He laughed. “When your menus are this old, something has to hold them together.” He rummaged around under the counter. “Aha!”
I thanked him and hurried back to my table. Taking a deep breath, I placed the Colorado map on top of the celestial map, taping them together at the top and bottom so they would align and not slip.
The two fit nearly perfectly on top of each other.
An encryption. Just like all the blacked-out documents. The stars were in the wrong place because Steven had made the celestial map not for accuracy, but as a key.
I slowly raised both towards the light. The smaller stars didn’t show through the state map, but I could see the larger gold ones.
My star was harder to find because it was nearly lost in the Rocky Mountains. I squinted, seeing it match up at the base of the range. The star appeared to be in a gap in the mountains in the Colorado map.
I tore off the tape and separated the two pages, madly scrambled to find my glasses in my purse, and looked closely at where the star had rested in the state. That area was completely barren, void of anything except for the tiny name of one town, deep in the mountains.
The town’s name was Argentum.
FOURTEEN
I balled up my scarf, the only spare piece of clothing I had besides my coat, and tried to use it as a pillow. The few other passengers quietly chose their seats. I turned to the window and looked out on the blackness of the tarmac.
There would be snow when we landed. I would have to buy not only boots, but days’ worth of clothes and all my toiletries. I would have to rent a car, drive in a strange city, and navigate a mountain range. I almost wished I were going to Washington; at least I knew where to catch the taxi at the airport.
There’s still time to get off the plane and get home before anyone notices—
“I don’t suppose this seat is taken.”
I didn’t dare open my eyes. I couldn’t have fallen asleep and dreamed this—
“Seriously, Lynn, move your purse. This stupid coat is going to take up a seat in itself.”
“How are you here?” I asked.
Roxy struggled to take off her long overcoat and unwrap her scarf before unceremoniously plopping down. “We have about two seconds to get off this plane. But we’re going to raise some eyebrows if I start dragging you down the aisle. So, I’m here to yank you home if—for the first time in your life—you’re drunk. Or perhaps overly medicated. But most importantly, I am here to find out what the hell you’re doing.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. How are you even here?”
“Here are the Cliffs Notes, as the attendants are circling. You didn’t make it easy, sister. Stella called me after midnight, pretty frantic, even though you texted her to say you were all right. I figured you were driving around, maybe even got a hotel room to get some peace. You never carry cash, and you lost your debit card last week—as you will recall—so that meant you used your credit card. And for shits and giggles, I checked the Peddler charge card—thanks for putting me on that account, by the way—and it showed you’d bought a ticket to Denver. So I booked myself a ticket too and hustled my fat ass over here. I stopped to kiss Ed and tell him to burn the stash and pop a few extras to numb the pain. I told him I could be back this morning. Or it might be a few days, if you needed to meet Tom in Champaign.”
“You can’t leave Ed, not if he’s having pain—”
“For Christ sake, Lynn, he has stage-four colon cancer. He’s gonna have pain. But he’s fine. I filled him in on what happened with Steven’s arrest. Well, not everything—for God’s sake, I don’t want the man to have a stroke as well as cancer. Now, Lynn, what are you doing?”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” The words barely came out of my throat. “I can barely breathe, I’m so nervous.”
“Lynn, you need to tell me right now if whatever it is you’re doing—you are doing it of a sound mind and body. Or if you’ve be
en threatened and are in danger of some kind.”
“At this second, I am lucid. But my stomach is doing backflips.”
“Well, there’s a convenient puke bag right here if things go south. But let’s avoid that if we can. Do I need to order you a drink?”
I shook my head, and Roxy waved over a tired-looking flight attendant. “Can we get a cup of water? Thanks.” Roxy then dropped her voice. “Why are you going to Denver?”
“I’m not going to Denver. I’m going to a town called Argentum, somewhere in the Rocky Mountains.”
“And why, pray tell, are you going there?”
The flight attendant brought over a small cup and reminded Roxy to fasten her seatbelt, as they were preparing to take off.
“Time’s up, Lynn. This is when you tell me if you need me to get you off this plane, or if we’re about to make a cross-country flight.”
“You can’t go with me.”
“I most certainly can and will. Case closed. Now, why Colorado?”
I set the cup down in the console. “I think it’s where Steven thinks they’ve taken William.”
Roxy’s eyebrows rose. “That little nugget of information was not shared during our wonderful experience with the girls. And just who is it that’s taken William? I can’t believe I continue to say this, but—the aliens?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. And I could be completely wrong about all of this. All I know is I have to try, because if I don’t…”
“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to use this flight as good long nap when we take off. But first, you’re gonna spill it all, friend. Everything. Got it? Start with telling me everything about going down to Murfreesboro and seeing Dr. Richards. OK?”
I took a long drink.
Roxy nodded and bit her lip a few times to keep herself from interrupting. I couldn’t bring myself to talk about Daddy’s letter to Steven, so I finished with the discovery of the celestial map fitting onto the road atlas. “There wasn’t time to ask him if that’s what he intended me to figure out. And God, Roxy, I could be wrong. Steven could be insane, he could be trying to confuse me to keep the investigation off himself. The FBI could be completely right, and I’ll be in Colorado when my family needs me the most.”
He couldn’t have faked my father’s handwriting, though.
Roxy settled into the chair. “I need some time to think this through. Of course I brought nothing useful, as I had no time to pack anything, but I happen to carry my sleeping mask during Ed’s chemo. So it’s yours. It will be daylight soon, and you need sleep.”
“I can cry myself to sleep and now no one will see.”
“You’re due some tears. Now lower that window shade.”
* * *
We slept the entire trip, waking groggily to a ding alerting us that we had landed at Denver International Airport. After the plane came to a halt, we walked down the connector onto a red carpet, standing amongst the sea of people at the gate.
“Well, I’ve been wearing these clothes for two days now; shall we buy ourselves some nice ‘I love Legal Marijuana’ sweatshirts? Speaking of love, I’d kill for a shower. Can we get a room and sleep some more?”
I powered up my phone. “I can only imagine how many calls I’ve missed.”
“What do you want to do, Lynn?”
“If we’re going, we’ll need clothes and a car. And I did get a new debit card after I lost mine, thank you very much, and I took out a bunch of cash before I headed to the airport, so there’s no way for anyone to know where we are now.”
“You don’t watch Dateline as much as I do. If Tom starts to suspect you’re not in Nashville, it will take the FBI two seconds to get access to all your credit cards, and they’ll see our flights. And I know Tom never balances your checkbook, but if he looks at your account, he’ll see the money you took out. And if they want to know where you are, all they have to do is track your phone to the closest cell tower. Wherever we’re going, we better get there fast. Or seriously convince your family you need time alone to grieve. I also clearly watch too much Dateline.”
I pressed my phone to my forehead. “I’ve missed fifteen calls and there are ten voice mails. I have twenty-five texts. I can’t even look at them.”
Roxy pointed to the rental-car signs. “We can get a car. It’s now or never. We either book a flight back home or head to Enterprise.”
I sat down in an empty row of chairs. “Tell me doing this isn’t crazy.”
“Lynn, we are nearing seventy.” Roxy sat down beside me. “Women our age are dyeing wool and wandering through yard sales. Instead, we have gone to Illinois, broken into an office and a house, met with UFO researchers, and you just witnessed an FBI raid. So I think we’re already far along on the crazy train. Flying to Colorado on a hint from someone who could be a lunatic seems pretty par for the course.”
“He’s not a lunatic.”
“Listen, I’m not going to tell you this isn’t crazy. The last six months have been horrible. You’re desperate to find your grandson, and I don’t blame you for that. And I know what you’re thinking: It’s not only William you’re trying to find. You’re trying to bring Brian back from whatever dark place he’s in. But you have to be prepared for all of this to be a hoax, and the possibility that right now the man who kidnapped your grandson is in police custody and William is gone. I won’t judge you, whatever you decide to do. I’ve told you that before. Even if I don’t believe in these alien abductions, I have always believed in your instincts. So tell me, what does your gut say—?”
“You’re her.”
We both looked across the aisle at a teenager with floppy bangs hanging over a forehead of acne. He pulled out his earbuds, the light from his iPad reflecting in his glasses. “You are. You’re her,” he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re the alien lady. The one who believes aliens took your grandson.”
“What are you talking about?” Roxy demanded.
Taken aback by Roxy’s tone, he pointed to his screen. “I just saw you online. Don’t be offended. I agree with you. I think aliens are real—”
“Give me that.” Roxy strode over and swooped up the iPad.
“Hey,” he said, but her look froze him to his chair.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” she said.
I hurried over. “What is it?”
Roxy scrolled up to the top of the NBC News home page, where a red headline screamed: “Professor arrested in U.S. Senator’s grandson’s disappearance.”
Below the headline, a subhead read, “Video shows Senator’s wife asking for help from UFO researchers.”
I was suddenly so flush I thought I would break out in sweat. I wanted to sit down, but I forced myself to keep reading.
PROFESSOR ARRESTED IN U.S. SENATOR’S GRANDSON’S DISAPPEARANCE
VIDEO SHOWS SENATOR’S WIFE ASKING FOR HELP FROM UFO RESEARCHERS
By Dave Botcher
Champaign, Illinois—FBI agents raided the Champaign, Illinois, home of a former University of Illinois professor overnight and announced they have found clothing belonging to the missing grandson of U.S. Sen. Tom Roseworth, D-Tennessee.
Dr. Steven Richards was taken into custody late Thursday evening in Nashville, Tenn.
FBI spokesman Raymond Lewis said Richards had attempted to abduct Roseworth’s wife, Lynn, at a hotel in Murfreesboro, Tenn.
Lewis said Richards lured Lynn Roseworth to the motel with the help of accomplice Barbara Rush, who is also now in custody.
“These two took advantage of a grieving grandmother in her most vulnerable moments to try and convince her of her grandson’s whereabouts,” Lewis said, “when all along it appears the boy’s clothing had been in Richards’ basement. We’re searching the residence now.”
Lewis would not elaborate as to the connection between Richards and the Roseworth family.
Hours after Richards’ and Rush’s arrest, a group of supporters of the professor released a vi
deo on YouTube, decrying the charges and posting video of what appears to be Lynn Roseworth meeting with Rush and others in a basement in Champaign late in October.
In the video, Doug Ellis, identified only as a researcher, talks about how Richards and Rush are innocent of any crimes and were only trying to assist Roseworth in finding her grandson.
“The FBI has pushed our hand to release this video,” Ellis said in the video. “But we have no choice but to show the world that Lynn Roseworth herself met with us and acknowledged our work into the existence of extraterrestrials. Barbara sought to help her, nothing else. As did Steven Richards.”
The video shows a brief interaction between Lynn Roseworth and Rush. Ellis can also be seen in the background. You can watch the clip here:
I raised a trembling finger and hit the link.
The video player that emerged showed a still frame of me standing in the basement of Steven’s house, surrounded by the other Researchers.
“That bastard recorded us,” Roxy said. “Little shit had one of those GoPros or something set up.”
I swallowed and hit the play button.
“It really is you,” the researcher in the tweed jacket could be heard saying. “I guess it’s true: You believe in the little green men like the rest of us. You look just like you do on TV.”
Barbara could be seen walking up to me. “Rupert, you prove yet again your impeccable skill for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It’s been a long time, Lynn. You may not recognize the few of us who were here back in the day.”
In the video, you could hear me clear my throat. “I doubt you would have recognized me, or even remembered my name, if it hadn’t been for my husband.”
The video then cut off, and Doug Ellis once again leaned towards the camera. “Lynn Roseworth once was one of us and came to us for help. To think Steven Richards or Barbara Rush had anything to do with that boy’s murder—”
I stepped away. “Put it away.”
“Here.” Roxy thrust the iPad back at the teenager.
The Darkest Time of Night Page 16