The Never Paradox (Chronicles Of Jonathan Tibbs Book 2)

by T. Ellery Hodges

  “I’ve seen this before,” Jonathan said, pointing down at what looked like a footlocker resting by his father’s feet.

  “Okay? Does that mean something?”

  Jonathan’s face contorted in annoyance. He shook his head slowly and turned around to look at Leah’s house once again. “Yeah,” he said. “It means I need to speak to my mother.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  WEDNESDAY| OCTOBER 12, 2005 | 4:30 PM | SEATTLE

  JONATHAN KNOCKED ON Leah’s door, but it was his mother who answered.

  “Leah is out running some errands,” Evelyn said.

  “That’s good, actually,” Jonathan said. “I came to talk to you.”

  Evelyn raised an eyebrow, leaving him unsure if his mother was being smug or was genuinely interested that something had brought him to her instead of the other way around. Whichever it was, she stepped out of the doorway and let Jonathan inside. Now that he was standing in Leah’s living room, he found himself frowning, at a loss for where to begin.

  Evelyn did not take long to pick up on his hesitation.

  “So, I’m surprised. Figured if you were knocking on Leah’s door,” she said. “Well … she is a pretty girl, and kind. I like her.”

  Jonathan nodded slowly. At first he was glad she had spoken first, started a conversation. Now he was unsure where it might be headed. He couldn’t blow his mother off this time. Walling himself off might make her realize she had something he needed.

  “Is she….” His mother hesitated. “Someone special to you?”

  His expression became an uncomfortable smile. Though he showed none of the hardness he had before, he still didn’t answer the question.

  “The other girl, then?” Evelyn asked. “The one sleeping in your bedroom.”

  Jonathan’s uncomfortable smile became a grimace and he sighed. “Mom,” he replied. “Friends and neighbors. That’s all.”

  His mother studied him, narrowed her eyes a bit. “Nice try. No man your age is so caught up in his own head that he doesn’t notice when two girls are trying to get his attention. Really, Jonathan, you’re a terrible liar.”

  He groaned. “Yeah I get that a lot.” Though he was uncomfortable that her motherly observations had called him out, at least the questions his mother was asking seemed to steer clear of any dangerous topics.

  “Well,” she said. “Even if you insist on pretending, you aren’t fooling either of those girls. I promise you they’re both well aware of one another.”

  “Mom, this isn’t really—”

  “Leah hopes every knock at the door will be yours, Jonathan,” she interrupted. “Meanwhile, Rylee is sleeping in your bed, hoping you’ll get off the couch and join her in it.”

  He closed his eyes and groaned, starting to remember how awkward his mother’s candor could be.

  “Frankly,” she said, “I don’t trust that Rylee girl much.”

  He’d been about to maneuver the conversation elsewhere, but he’d been taken aback by his mother’s statement. “You hardly know her,” he said.

  Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “I know you met her less than a week ago, and she looks at you like…” She cleared her throat. “Well, let’s just say all you would have to do is ask.”

  Yep, there it is Mom, this is officially terrible, Jonathan thought

  “Leah,” Evelyn said, drawing out the name. She leaned her head in conspiratorially toward him. “She hides it better.”

  He snorted, starting to shake his head as his face betrayed him. He shut his eyes and smiled—his mother’s words had crossed over from mildly embarrassing to endearing.

  “Hey, look,” she said. “I made him laugh.”

  He bit his lip, and nodded, but his face turned serious when he remembered why he had come. “I need to ask you something, Mom,” Jonathan said. “But I just need answers, not questions.”

  “Oh, well look who’s hijacking the subject,” she said, a seriousness returning. “Okay, Jonathan, no questions.”

  Jonathan immediately questioned her agreeableness. No negotiations? No argument? No mention of throwing his life away? He couldn’t help but wonder what had changed as he reached into the pocket of his coat, and pulled out the picture frame from his father’s wake.

  “What can you tell me about this picture, Mom?” he asked. “Do you know any of the men kneeling next to dad?”

  Evelyn bit her lip, and she eyed him in manner that worried him.

  “Mom?” Jonathan asked. “What is it?”

  Reluctance came on her face as she spoke. “Why this picture, Jonathan?” she asked. “Out of all the pictures, what drew your attention to this one? I know—I said I wouldn’t ask any questions, and I meant it, but it is too much of a coincidence for me to ignore.”

  “Coincidence?” he asked. “Mom, do you know something about that picture?”

  Evelyn swallowed. “I know the name of this man,” she said, pointing at the man kneeling beside his father. “I learned it quite recently. This…” His mother paused, uncertainty creeping into her expression. “This woman visited me—said she was with some Army records department. That she was trying to reconstruct records that had been lost.” Evelyn tapped her finger on the glass. “She said his name was Jeremy Holloway. It was this exact picture that she singled out. She studied it longer than all the rest, made a point of taking a copy of it.”

  When what he was hearing hit home, his anger started getting the better of him.

  They listened. They watched. They followed. They had used his friends’ emotions just to put someone close to him. They had left him threats. Something was snapping inside of him. He’d let this go on too long, and he knew it.

  My mother… they think they can go anywhere near…

  Hatred dropped into Jonathan like ink in water, spreading its taint to everything. He felt his hands constricting into fists, his knuckles growing white. The Cell. They had been an idea, a faceless network of people thinking he’d allow this to continue, that he would just ignore them. He needed to change what they were—needed them to be something he could get his hands on. He couldn’t kill an idea—but a face, a person…

  He took a deep breath, that anger beginning to shake his entire body. The air trembled as he inhaled it. He knew his mother had seen his reaction. He couldn’t let her see any more, had to put it behind the wall. He looked away and closed his eyes, forced his fists to relax, to breathe.

  “The woman,” he finally asked. “Did she give a name?”

  Evelyn, wary of her son’s sudden change, was distracted before she managed to nod. She stepped away, reaching for her purse on the table. A moment later, she produced a business card. “Melissa Hart,” she read before handing him the card.

  There was a number—Jonathan had no doubt it was fictitious, but it would be monitored by The Cell in case Evelyn called. Useless to Jonathan, but perhaps Mr. Clean could do something with it. He slipped the card into his jacket pocket.

  His mother had stepped closer to him, and when he looked up he found her studying his face. “Are you being watched, Jonathan?” she whispered the question.

  His jaw clenched. How could she know enough to ask this? He stared at the ground until he feared silence would answer her question for him.

  “No questions, Mom,” he said as he pulled his last lead from his pocket. The picture of Douglas next to the footlocker. He held it out to her, pointed at the box. “Do you know what happened to this?” he asked.

  Evelyn frowned when she looked back to him. “You don’t remember?” she asked. “We found it after the funeral, took it—”

  Jonathan cut her off. “Don’t say. Can you take me to it? Right now?”

  Evelyn flinched at her son’s hurry. She had noticed when he’d cut her off before she’d could speak of a location—knew that he’d confirmed her fears.

  “Mom, how long will it take to get there and back?” Jonathan asked.

  Her brow furrowed in thought. “Six, maybe seven hours if we don’t stop.�
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  Jonathan nodded—made his decision. “Okay, I need to talk to Rylee,” he said. “When I come back, we go?”

  His mother nodded, looking around in a somewhat bewildered state for her coat and car keys.

  Jonathan left Leah’s house and walked across the yard. He stopped in the garage and took his father’s watch out of the cigar box. When he found Rylee, she was waiting for him in his bedroom. At first she perked up, eager to know if he had learned anything—but his face alarmed her.

  “What did she say?” she asked.

  “She knows where the footlocker is,” Jonathan said. “Agreed to take me there.”

  “Jonathan, you seem … angry.”

  He closed his eyes and nodded, but didn’t explain.

  “I’ll get my things,” she said. “Just give me a minute.”

  “No.” He pulled the watch out of his pocket and flipped the button. After a moment, he asked, “Do you trust me, Rylee?”

  She didn’t hesitate before giving him a single nod.

  He stepped toward her, and Rylee slipped into his arms as though she were at home there. He made sure she felt him place the watch into her pocket, then pressed her forehead against his cheek to whisper in her ear.

  “I know how it feels when Heyer says he keeps secrets to protect you,” he said. His voice trembled. “I know what it does to you inside.”

  He felt her embrace tightening around him.

  “I didn’t believe it, but now I know that there are things we are only safe from when we don’t know,” Jonathan said. “There is something I wish he hadn’t told me, because the moment he did, I knew I would have to keep it from you, because it could only be used against us.”

  “I don’t understand, Jonathan,” Rylee said softly.

  “I know,” he replied. “Understanding is to know, and all we gain is a weakness. I’m not Heyer, Rylee. I’m not trying to manipulate you. I have to ask you to believe me.”

  She didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t rush her. “I don’t like it,” she finally said. “But, I know you aren’t lying. I’ll trust you—but I expect you to explain this to me.”

  He nodded. “I need you to do something for me,” he said. “It’s not going to make any sense.”

  “Told you I trusted you.”

  “I need you to stay here,” he said. “When I leave, I want you to stay busy or sleep. If you hurt, for any reason, you need to call me—I need you to hear my voice.”

  “Jonathan.” Her whisper was sharp but she didn’t pull away. “I told you….” He heard her huff in frustration. “You aren’t my damn white knight. I don’t need saving. Stop worrying about me.”

  “It isn’t what you think, Rylee,” Jonathan said. “I know you were never weak—I still need you to do this.”

  “Fine,” she said, giving him a playful glare. “But don’t get all butt-hurt when you don’t hear from me.”

  He smiled. “If something happens, something you don’t want them to see, press the button on the watch.”

  She nodded and Jonathan broke away.

  “I’ll be back, late tonight or tomorrow morning,” he said.

  He turned to leave, but when he was almost out the door, she said, “You know, I would follow you.”

  He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her.

  “I thought about it,” Rylee said, shrugged. “If I had to take orders from someone, I’d rather they be yours. I think maybe Heyer knows what he is doing. Chose you because he knows you’d protect us. Not just from his brother, or the monsters, but maybe even from him.”

  He lingered on her for a moment before he smiled at her gratefully. It wasn’t because he thought she was necessarily right or even because she felt he needed to hear her say it. He was grateful because Rylee had looked at the question of “why Jonathan” differently than he had yet to think. She may very well have a point. Perhaps Heyer wasn’t looking to him because he expected Jonathan would lead the alien’s army to do the most damage. Maybe he was looking for something else altogether.

  He was halfway out of the garage, heading back to join his mother, when he stopped. He pulled a marker from a drawer, and took the fictitious card of Melissa Hart out of his pocket. Hastily, he wrote a message on the back.

  Jonathan stepped up to one of the vents where he knew a camera watched him. He made no effort to hide how he felt from the camera. He’d gone about his life pretending they weren’t watching. He couldn’t stop them, but he could deliver a message, draw a line in the sand.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. Whoever watched would make no mistake. He flipped the card over. He’d only written four words.

  Do not push me.

  Rain hit the window as they drove south. The car had been silent for a while. Evelyn was wary to speak, fearing that she had entered into some strange world where eyes and ears were everywhere. She didn’t know if she could ask her son anything—if he could answer.

  “Jonathan,” she finally said. “I have to know something.”

  “It’s better if we talk about something else, Mom,” Jonathan said. “Anything else.”

  She took a long breath. “Your father…. Just tell me he didn’t cause this.”

  Jonathan looked at his mother in a special sort of agony. “I don’t know,” he said. “But sometimes, keeping secrets is the only way to protect the people you care about—and I think Dad knew that.”

  She swallowed and nodded as she drove. “I wish he were here now. He knew about this sort of thing. He could have helped you. I don’t have any idea how to help you.”

  “Mom,” Jonathan said. “You are helping me.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  “PAIGE, THIS WHOLE plan feels like we are asking to get my ass kicked.”

  They stood in front of a building downtown. Paige had jumped off Collin’s bike and was now waiting on the sidewalk while he stepped it into a parking space along the street.

  “I need to talk to him,” Paige said. “You don’t have to come up.”

  Collin took a grim look up at the building and groaned. “I guess, but I’d rather get beat up than leave you alone in a room with Meathead.”

  Paige gave him a look of endearment. “If it looks like it will get ugly, we’ll leave.”

  Collin looked at her and let out a long breath. He felt the whole course of action was poor judgment on both their parts, but he was committing to it nonetheless. He put the kickstand in place and joined her on the sidewalk.

  “How did you know where he’d moved?” he asked.

  “Didn’t,” Paige said. “Messaged him yesterday—this is the address he sent back.”

  Collin frowned. “Why not call him?”

  She didn’t answer the question, just gave him a reluctant look before heading toward the building’s front entrance. She was searching the names posted on the intercom system when he caught up to her.

  “So, Paige,” Collin said. “I can’t help but feel you aren’t telling me something.”

  “Yeah,” she said, finding Grant’s name. She turned back to him and entered the dial code. “Look, I didn’t want to involve anyone, but I didn’t want to come here alone either. When we get up there, I’ll need you to wait in the hall, but I’ll feel safer knowing someone I trust is close.”

  He had thought she’d only brought him because he was quicker than taking the bus. Now the number of questions Collin had was growing, but he didn’t want to press her. The picture he was getting was that she felt better about how Grant might behave when he knew there was a witness nearby.

  She dialed Grant’s number and let it ring until the intercom went to voice mail. This repeated three more times. Collin thought she’d give up, but then one of the building’s tenants came through the door. She gave Collin and Paige the typical once over—profiling them to weigh how likely it was that they wanted into the building for disreputable purposes. She must have thought them safe enough, or at least, she chose not say anything when Paige held the door
before it locked behind her.

  They took the elevator up to the ninth floor. Collin found himself second guessing Grant as he took in the building interior and its location. These lofts could not be cheap—far more expensive than he would have assumed Grant could afford. “Starting to hate my guidance counselor,” he said. “All that talk about getting an education. If I had known the military paid this well, I might have reconsidered.”

  Paige gave him a look that conveyed she had been on a similar train of thought. This place should have been far outside of Grant’s means.

  When they reached his door, they found it open. Not ajar, but held wide open by a briefcase with a woman’s grey blazer draped over it. Collin raised a curious eyebrow as he peered around the door frame. The loft was completely empty, and so pristine that he didn’t think anyone had ever actually occupied it. The owner of the blazer was inside, talking on a cell phone. She wore a grey pant suit but her shirt and sleeves were rolled up. When she caught sight of them, she told the caller she would have to get back to them later.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  Collin looked to Paige for direction. Given the circumstances, it seemed pointless for him to sit outside.

  “Hello,” Paige said, stepping though the threshold. “We were looking for a Grant Morgan. This was the address he gave me.”

  The woman shrugged. “Sorry,” she said. “You missed him by about a day. Movers came in and cleared the place out this morning.”

  Collin watched Paige’s brow furrow in suspicion.

  “Don’t suppose he left a forwarding address?” she asked.

  The woman shook her head. “Sorry, no,” she said. “It was a bit odd. I got a check and a letter saying he had to break his lease, apologizing for any inconvenience.”

  “You’re the manager?” Paige asked.

  The woman nodded.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but did he give any explanation?”

  “To be honest, I normally couldn’t answer, but in this case, there isn’t anything to tell,” the manager said. “The letter didn’t say why. The check was for the amount his contract specified in the event he broke his lease. It’s not a big problem on my end. If you want, I can take your contact information and let him know if he calls.”