Don't Order Dog (32 page)

“Thanks again, Joe,” Jeri said over her shoulder as she walked out the door. Joe nodded his head silently.

Tom watched through the arched windows at the front of the saloon as Jeri stepped out onto the sidewalk and disappeared down the street, her slim body concealed under the thick folds of her winter jacket. He was just about to turn away when a car parked at the corner caught his attention. He looked closer at the familiar maroon-colored sedan, its driver door now covered by a pizza delivery sign. Someone appeared to be stretched out asleep in the driver’s seat.
He looked up at Joe, who was now busying himself behind the counter.
“Hey Joe, would there happen to be another exit in this place?”

Joe looked at him suspiciously before pointing towards an unmarked door next to the bathroom. “That’ll take you to the back alley,” he mumbled
. “And I won’t even ask why you need to use it. I’m just happy you’re leaving.”
 

∞

Eugene Austin was standing outside of Melissa Carson’s window in his dream. A warm soft light was on inside her bedroom, casting provocative shadows of movement as someone moved around the room. He stood still as a statue as he watched, crouched in the shadows of a manicured row of shrubs that lined the edge of her parent’s large home. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, listening intently as the smoke of his breath curled around the features of his young face. He could hear her moving around the room, the soft purr of her voice warm and inviting as she spoke to some unseen person.

And then she appeared.

The most beautiful girl in his trigonometry class, Melissa stood centered in the window, her unblemished face gazing quizzically out at the black night. She leaned forward as if seeing something, forcing Eugene to shrink further into the shadows before realizing she was simply admiring her own reflection in the window. She was distracted, her hand pressed tightly to her ear as she spoke into her cell phone. Her free hand moved consciously up along the large, loose-fitting t-shirt that covered her body, pulling at the material until the pale white skin of her stomach appeared underneath. Eugene let out a quick breath of air as a sudden shiver of excitement moved quickly up his spine. He was just getting comfortable when, strangely, the ground beneath him began to shake. He glanced around anxiously as the slow, swaying movement quickly turned to a violent jolt. It was then that his conscious mind suddenly registered what was happening.

Eugene snapped upright in his seat as the back door of his mother’s car slammed shut. “What the fuck!” he screamed, tearing the ear buds from his ears as he frantically spun around to face the intruder in the back seat.

Tom Coleman looked at him and smiled.

“What the fuck do you want?” Eugene stammered, his nasally voice cracking with mock courage. He instinctively reached for the small asthma inhaler lying on the seat next to him.

“I’ll take a large pepperoni pizza and a good reason for why I’m being followed by a fucking pizza delivery driver,” Tom said matter-of-factly.

“Oh fuck, it’s
you
,” Eugene replied, suddenly recognizing the face of the man sitting in the back of his mother’s car. He instinctively covered his face with his hands and shook his head.

“What do you mean, ‘it’s me’?” Tom asked as he glanced around at the car’s interior. His eyes paused on a large black box sitting on the seat next to him. “Who sent you to watch me? Alex?” he asked threateningly.

Eugene groaned loudly. 

“
Hey, I’m asking you a question. Did my fucking brother-in-law hire you? He slapped Eugene’s headrest hard with his hand, causing the teenager’s head to snap forward. “Answer me!”

“Ouch! No… I mean… I don’t know! Fuck, dude– chill out!”

Tom paused and studied Eugene closely. “Jesus Christ. What are you… sixteen?”

“Eighteen,” Eugene replied flatly, slumping lower into the front seat. “I’ll be nineteen next month.”

“What’s your name?”

Eugene shrugged at Tom’s question before mumbling one of his favorite quotes from an old spy movie. “You’re on a need-to-know basis, and you don’t need to know.”

Tom slapped the back of Eugene’s headrest, causing the boy’s head to once again snap forward. “Don’t get smart with me, shithead. I could arrest you right now if I wanted to.”

“I doubt that,
” Eugene replied sullenly.

Tom sat in the backseat, his mind spinning. He suddenly realized there was only one reasonable explanation for being under surveillance. “It’s Preston, isn’t it?” he asked, watching Eugene through the rear-view mirror.

The teenager’s eyes nervously flickered up at him.

“Fuck, I knew it!” Tom said angrily as he slapped the headrest again. He leaned forward and
glared menacingly at the eighteen year-old. “How long have you been sitting out here?”

Eugene hesitated before answering. “For as long as you’ve been in that bar over there,” he said dejectedly as he gestured towards the saloon.

“Right,” Tom replied, throwing his arm over the front seat and placing his gloved hand firmly on Eugene’s shoulder. He was surprised at how thin and boney the kid was. “And were you recording the conversation that just took place?” he asked, squeezing his shoulder persuasively.

“That’s…
that’s none of your business.” Eugene answered defiantly. Tom could hear an unmistakable crack of fear in the kid’s voice.  

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’
,” Tom responded. “Has it been sent to Preston?”

“I report immediately after each contact,” Eugene replied, suddenly grimacing at the realization that he’d just inadvertently confirmed he was in fact working for Director Preston. He shook his head slowly.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Tom replied, tightening his grip.

“No, I haven’t. I should be reporting in right now.”

“Good,” Tom said, releasing his grip. He thought quietly for a moment before smiling and gently patting Eugene on the shoulder. “Okay, change of plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not going to send that recording to Jack.”

“The fuck I’m not,” Eugene responded, spinning around in the front seat. “Look dude, I’m not about to take orders from the guy I’m supposed to be monitoring. I’m sending my report to Director Preston with that f
ile just like I’m supposed to.”

Tom smiled and again rested his hand on the teenager’s thin shoulder.
“You like your job, don’t you?” he asked in a friendly tone.

“Yes.”

“Probably pays pretty well too, huh?”

Eugene gave him a smug smile. “Better than what you make.”

“Sure, of course,” Tom replied, smiling back at him. “Which is exactly why you wouldn’t want Preston to find out I just blew your cover.” He leaned closer, squeezing the boy’s shoulder firmly. “Think about it, kid. All I have to do is make one phone call to Preston and it’s over– and I’m betting that the Department of Homeland Security is the only paying gig you’ve got right now, correct?”

Eugene stared
at him sullenly.

“I’d hate to see you lose your
paycheck right before Christmas,” Tom continued. “You’ve probably still got gifts to buy for your girlfriend, not to mention all those new games and gadgets that geeks – I mean
guys
– like you are so fond of.” 

Eugene shrugged
Tom’s hand from his shoulder. “So what do want me to do?
I can’t
not
report to Jack. He knows I’m watching you. I have to send him something.”

“Of course you do,” Tom replied
. “So here’s what you’re going to do. First,
you’re going to erase everything you just recorded. Then you’re going to follow
me home.”

“Dude, why should I do that?”

“Because when I get home, I’m going to make a call on my landline, which I’m guessing you’ve already tapped. I want you to record
that
conversation and send it to Preston. I guarantee what I say on that call will make him so happy he’ll have no choice but to renew your contract for another year... or semester.”

Tom reached over and playfully slapped Eugene on the cheek.
“So, do we have a deal, kiddo?”

Eugene sat rigidly for a moment before slowly nodding his head.
“Deal.”

“For
god’s sake Allie, just say it.”

Jeri continued walking along the trail, her arms raised in front of her to keep the branches of scrub brush from whipping at her face. Behind her, Allie followed silently, her footsteps crunching the thick carpet of fallen leaves.

“Say
what
?” Allie replied. Jeri could hear the sarcasm in her friend’s voice.
“Whatever it is you’re dying to say. I can practically hear it spinning around in your head right now.” Jeri looked up and quickly noted the direction of the trail before refocusing her attention on the dense barrage of branches.

“You mean besides ‘where in the hell are we going?’ Because that’s what I was thinking at the moment.”

“You’ll find out soon enough where we’re going,” Jeri responded. She spun around to face her best friend. Allie stopped and looked up at Jeri from under the brim of her wool cap as a withered leaf fell between them.

“You don’t need to hear me say it, Jer.”

“Actually, I do.”

“Okay, fine
,” Allie stepped back and gave her an appraising stare.
“I told you so.”

Jeri beamed a wide smile before turning and immediately marching forward up the trail. “Thank you
. That was all I needed to hear.”

Allie sighed loudly as Jeri vanished into the underbrush. She shook her head in frustration and sta
rted slowly trudging after her. “Jer…wait up!” She swatted at the thick tangle around her and quickened her pace. “Dammit Jeri…
wait up
!”

A few minutes later Jeri broke through the last of the thick brush and stared up at the late autumn landscape around her. The wide profile of Agassiz peak stood stoically in front of her, its lower face softened by golden grasses and green armies of spruce. Above her, the sky was swept with thin, wispy strands of cirrus clouds that appeared frozen against a crystal blue backdrop. 

Beneath her feet, the trail rose upward in a long serpentine line towards the snow-tipped summit. It was a steep, unrelenting climb that even now, years later, she still remembered vividly. Her eyes clouded with tears as they followed the long empty path towards the sky.

I miss you
, Dad.

She blinked back the tears as Allie stumbled through the brush behind her, muttering an angry cascade of curses. Her best friend slapped her gloved hands together and paced back and forth.

“Jesus Christ it’s cold!” Allie said dramatically as she wrapped her arms around herself. She shot Jeri a scornful look. “I must be one great goddamn friend to follow you up here, do you realize that? I gave up a happy hour date with that new guy in my office for this, so will you please tell me exactly why we’re standing here freezing our asses off?”

Jeri looked at her friend with a plaintive expression before slowly reaching into her pocket. “I haven’t told you everything, Allie,” she said as she pulled out a small square photo and held it out to her friend. “This came in the last letter.”

Allie took the Polaroid photo and stared at it curiously. She was just about to ask Jeri who or what the object in the photo was when the meaning suddenly struck her. “Oh fuck, Jeri. Is that who I think it is?”

Jeri nodded silently.
“Now turn it over.”

Allie turned the photo and read the sharp, precise handwriting that she’d seen from the letters. She exhaled a frightened sigh and handed the photo back to Jeri. “Has anyone else seen this?”
she asked, her face pale white.

Jeri shook her head.

“I don’t understand, Jeri.” Allie’s voice was high with panic. “Why is this guy doing this? What does he want from you?”

“I don’t know for sure Allie, but I have an idea.” She turned and stared up the mountain. “And if I’m right, the answer is buried somewhere up there.”
 

∞

Jack Preston was sitting in his Phoenix office absently reading a newly rele
ased psychological profile for domestic terrorists when his cell phone began to buzz. He picked it up and quickly thumbed the screen to view the waiting text message.

Contact w/ subject. Audio file attached in email.

The Director spun around to his laptop and brought up the email address that Eugene was directed to send all correspondence. Sitting at the top of the list was a new email titled “13:32_12.4”. He glanced at his watch. Based on the name, the file had been recorded that afternoon just eleven minutes earlier.
An eighteen year-old kid is a more competent spy than most of my field agents
he thought cynically as he clicked on the email. A brief summary was written inside.

Subject made call at 13:29 (MST) to Alex Murstead from land line.
Recorded audio attached. Duration: 3 minutes.

Preston grunted irritably and opened the attached audio file. A few seconds into playing it, his eyes widened in surprised. Three minutes later, he was frantically calling HSI Director Richard Connolly. 

∞

“What am I even looking for?” Allie asked as she walked aimlessly through the tall grass. “A treasure chest? A shoe box? A sign that says ‘big secrets buried here’?”

A few feet away, Jeri shook her head. “I don’t know. Keep looking.” She glanced out at the wide valley known as the Inner Basin that ran northeast through the vast Coconino National Forest. They were nearly halfway up the mountain, standing in a wide meadow that skirted the trail. Jeri knew the moment they’d stopped that it was the same meadow where she and her father had rested when they’d come here to hike. Even now, years later, it looked exactly as she remembered.

As she gazed out at Sunset Crater lying placidly in the distance, Jeri could almost hear her father’s laughter echoing through the valley.  Her thoughts turned again to the last night in the hospital with her father, just minutes before his death. She had never known if their cryptic conversation about the secrets he’d hidden away were the truth or simply hallucinations brought on by the tumor
, and the truth was that Jeri was afraid to know the answer. She had tucked it deeply away in her mind, the memory of it only resurfacing in brief moments or the occasional nightmare. Since then, it had been an easily dismissible idea – until she’d looked at the Polaroid from the latest letter.

Jeri wasn’t even sure why she had hidden the photo from Agent Coleman. Perhaps it was because of the way he’d abruptly thrown her whole world upside down with the story of her mysterious letter writer.
International terrorist?
Corporate killer?
It all seemed so absurd. She still wanted to believe her writer was just another harmless, misdirected romantic; a man whose only link to her was simply stumbling into the saloon in the recent past and deciding to send a few letters from around the world.

But the
photo instantly destroyed that hope.

She had tucked it into her back pocket when Coleman and Chip weren’t watching before slipping into the bathroom to have a look. Like Allie, it had taken Jeri a moment to
understand the object in the picture, but when she finally did it was unmistakable. Her heart had nearly stopped when she realized what it was – and what it meant. Suddenly it was clear that her unknown writer knew more about her past than she could have ever imagined.

Perhaps even more than Jeri herself knew. 

Now, as she walked through the sun-swept mountain meadow she last hiked with her father over a decade ago, Jeri wondered what other painful secrets she was about to uncover.   

“So we don’t even know what we’re looking for, huh? That’s great… that’s very helpful.” Allie threw her arms up in the air. “I’m sure we’ll find it before any serious hypothermia sets in.”

“I don’t know exactly what it is, Allie, but I’m sure it’s here. My dad wasn’t an idiot, and he never left anything to chance. He must have left a clue around here somewhere that he was sure I’d find.”

“Well, l
et me know when it comes to you,” Allie replied. “In the meantime, I’m going to warm up my ass on that nice cozy rock.”

Jeri paused and watched her friend as she climbed up onto the broad, smooth rock in the center of the meadow and laid down on its sunbathed surface. The image triggered a memory she couldn’t quite capture. Was it something her father has said that final night? She glanced around at the otherwise featureless meadow of grasses and sighed in frustration.

“Come up and join me,” Allie said as she stretched out across the top of the boulder. “It’s almost comfortable up here.”

Jeri paced forward as her eyes searching earnestly for a sign from her father. She climbed onto the boulder next to Allie and slowly surveyed the area around them. A minute later she sighed and shook her head in frustration. “N
othing. I don’t see a single damn thing.”

Allie looked up at her and shrugged. “At least there’s no snow on the ground. If there was, you’d be shit-out-of-luck. Thank god for global warming, you know?”

Jeri smiled somberly. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Maybe I’m–”
She paused and stared at Allie intently.

“Maybe y
ou’re what?” Allie replied.

“Allie, move your head.”

“What?”

Jeri stepped closer and kneeled down.
“Move your head!”

Allie sat up and spun around in a panic. She expected to find a snake or other slithering creature, but nothing was there. “Jesus Christ, Jeri, you scared the hell out of me! What are you doing?”

Jeri ignored her as she reached out and gently touched the rock where her friend’s head had been laying. “Allie, look.”

Allie looked closer and finally saw what Jeri was looking at. A small symbol was carved into the surface of the stone. “It’s a heart,” she said irritably. “Big deal.”

Jeri gave her a sharp look. “Yes, it’s a heart with an arrow through it… but look at the initials inside.” She stood up and walked to the edge of the boulder as Allie read the initials.

“J.H.”

“That’s right,” Jeri said as she peered over the edge. She glanced back at Allie. “Is the arrow of the heart pointing at me?”

Allie looked up from the carving and nodded. “Yeah, right at you.”

Jeri smiled before turning and jumping off the edge of the boulder.

Allie waited a moment and then sat up in curiosity. “Hello? Are you down there?” she asked as she stood up and walked to the edge of the rock. Several feet beneath her, Jeri was hunched on her knees digging frantically at the rocky soil
around a large, pillar-shaped stone. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked.

Jeri paused and looked up at her irritably.
“Will you please just get your ass down here and help me?”
 

∞

Go fuck yourself, Alex.

Tom Coleman sat at his small kitchen table
and slowly drank his beer. In front of him, his cordless phone lay shattered on the table, the pieces swept loosely into a pile.
I really need to learn to control my temper
he thought sarcastically as he reflected on his conversation with his brother-in-law. He decided it had been perfect. Just the right mix of raw emotion and attention-getting information. All-in-all, an Oscar-worthy performance. Tom smiled contentedly. He briefly considered getting a copy of the conversation from the nerdy teenager named Eugene sitting in his car outside, but decided against it. It was better for both of them to avoid any further contact or communication.   

He finished his beer and carefully gathered up the pieces of the phone
, tossing them in the trash before methodically washing his hands in the kitchen sink. He then grabbed another beer from the fridge and trudged listlessly into the living room. He paused at the window, resisting the urge to see if Eugene’s maroon sedan was still parked across the street before dropping onto the couch. It didn’t matter anyway. By now Jack Preston was no doubt scrambling to decide what to make of Tom’s call to Alex– if not already discussing this new turn of events with HSI Director Connolly. Either way, the groundwork was laid. The only thing left to do was walk into the Director’s office tomorrow morning and lay out the details.

And then they’ll welcome me back with open arms
he thought contentedly
as he drank back half of his beer.

His thoughts drifted back to that morning at the saloon and the appearance of the latest letter.
How in the hell had that sunofabitch survived the raid on his hotel in Amsterdam?
Tom shook his head incredulously. He still couldn’t believe that Jeri’s letter-writing terrorist was alive. But the facts were hard to deny. The handwriting matched the earlier letters, and the tone was the same rambling nonsense as before.

But assuming he was still alive – and there was little doubt he wasn’t – the next question was obvious. Who was it they’d found burned and half-blown to hell inside the hotel room? Tom shuddered as the image of the charred and twisted body came rushing back to him.

He wondered again about the possibility of Joe’s claim. Was Jeri’s admirer actually sending coded messages to someone through his letters? There was no question they were cryptic, if not downright psychotic. But what possible benefit would there be in sending messages through such a slow, archaic form of communication in an age of email, cellphones and instant text-messages? It just didn’t make any sense. But then again, nothing in this case made any sense.