Flutter (26 page)

Dewey continued, “My boys are going in to handle this. Call your contacts. Keep the rest of the police squad off the case; let them do what they came to do, and we will be on our way out of town as soon as possible. Make some calls and make it happen so I can get out of your hair and back to my business endeavors.”

“I will make the call now.” Erin began to dial a phone number.

“If things go well, I will get you a pair of Ezekiels as a show of my appreciation.” He smiled and walked out.

He called them the
Ezekiels
. It was the nick name Dewey gave the men and women of the Project Flutter program. He didn’t know what else to call them so he made up the name in reference to their hybrid combination of human and animal abilities. They had names like just Abigail did. His two favorites were Ben and Saul, the two who followed him just about everywhere he went. They were the most loyal, emotionless and least opinionated. They did as they were told, killed without question. They protected Dewey and often called him
Father Dewey
. He was their creator. And they were his angels of death, taking the lives of anyone who infringed upon his vision or the visions of those who hired him to eliminate obstacles.

Frankie spent the morning prepping food, cleaning and ordering supplies. A few shipments came in so he spent the morning also packing things away and rearranging the kitchen area. Not many people came into the bar before noon. Larry was on his way. Today would have been a good day for Abigail and Roger to return, but he wasn’t sure what was going on. She hadn’t returned his texts and Roger hadn’t checked in either. He was worried. Unknown to him, the two were on their way back to the pub. Frankie mopped and hummed a random tune in his head. He made it up as he went along. He opened the pub at 11:05am. The first patrons entered by 11:15. One of them was Detective Brown. He immediately ordered a coffee and sat down with his briefcase.

Roger and Abigail had spent the night at Roger’s house and drove back to the pub. About noon, they arrived at Frankie’s Pub. They parked the truck in the back and walked around the building, heading to the front. It was a warm day. The foul stench of rotting garbage lingered through the air. This had never bothered Abigail. She never complained about the smell of bad meat and festering foods. Roger fanned a few flies from his face. They didn’t speak but Roger watched Abigail, as she seemed disconnected from the world, placing one foot in front of the other, heading toward the front door. She was almost dragging her feet. She wondered what she should say to Frankie. He was being a lot more understanding than she had imagined he would be, but she didn’t want to have to answer questions. Her only defense to this would be to put up a wall, her regular tactic to avoid conversation.

Detective Brown and a few other patrons were in the pub. Brown sat at a table by the window, drinking a coffee. He looked through a few papers and sent Finch a text, “STILL COMING TO FRANKIE’S?”

A few moments later Meghan Finch responded, “I’LL BE THERE IN A FEW. DRIVING NOW!”

Brown wrote back, “X THE TXT!” a reference to an ad campaign to end texting and driving.

She wrote back, “SHUSH!”

Frankie saw Abigail and Roger coming in and opened the door. Immediately, Roger handed Frankie the key to the truck. They walked in. Roger sat down at the bar. Abigail went into the kitchen without saying a word.

Frankie went over to Roger and said, “I didn’t think she was coming back. Is everything cool?”

Roger replied, “More complicated actually. We’ve got some work to do but we didn’t want to keep your truck this long without checking in.”

Frankie wanted to be discreet, knowing that Brown was in the room, “It’s fine. I don’t use that thing enough to miss it. I’m glad you guys are okay. I know you are being secretive for a reason, but I need to make sure all is well. You can keep to yourselves for a while, but at some point we should talk about what happened the other night and we should talk soon.”

Roger nodded. Frankie poured him a Coke just as Abigail walked out of the kitchen and joined Roger at the bar. Frankie looked at Abigail and immediately felt her anguish. She was distracted with thoughts of everything. Instead of haunting her dreams, these thoughts were now affecting her daytime consciousness. Anxiety was settling in. She felt her temperature rising. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck where her first tattoo rested. Her eyes were dark with worry and sadness. She had a rough night, tossing and turning in the bed next to Roger. Her mind raced with images of the beasts from the bible passage. She couldn’t get them out of her head.

Frankie passed her a double shot of Crown Royal, her favorite. She took it and tossed it back with ease. The burn in her throat was eerily comforting, especially the warm sensation that followed the harsh burn. Frankie walked away to serve a customer who waited at a table by the window.

Roger noticed Brown sitting by the window and spoke softly, “What are we gonna do, Elvis? We’re back where we started, back at Frankie’s.”

Roger broke Abigail’s concentration and she replied, “We are so far from where we started, Rog. How can you not see? We know so much more today than we knew yesterday or the day before. I have the suit. And I have these.” Abigail pulled out Paltee’s journals and placed them on the counter. “Paltee said they would be looking for me. Let them find me. It’s the only way I will get more answers. In the meantime I need to go through these and do some research. I could use some help, Roger.” She hated to admit it.

Roger was happy to assist, “You don’t have to ask.” He gently grabbed the back of her neck and rubbed his thumb across her hairline. She gave a soft smile. He smiled back and asked, “What about if we look into that company Paltee mentioned– Indigo, Inc.? I’m sure we’ll find out something or at least someone to talk to.” Feeling dehydrated, he gulped down the Coke Frankie had poured for him earlier.

“Do you have any plans for this suit?” Abigail lifted the bag with the suit in it and draped it over her arm.

He answered, “I dunno. We built it about three years ago and spent the rest of the time enhancing the technology. I don’t even know what to do with that damn thing.”

“Shit. I do. And you can start by building another.”

Just then Finch walked in. Her badge was exposed. Abigail saw it and was ready to go upstairs. Finch and Abigail locked eyes for a moment. Finch squinted her eyes, drawing her head back slowly, and then Abigail turned away. Frankie whispered to the two, “Why don’t you guys go upstairs? I’ll be up in a few. We’ll talk then.” Abigail and Roger walk up the stairs, leaving the main floor.

Frankie looked over to Finch. She looked tired, “Hey Finchy!”

Meghan smiled and said, “Hey Frankie. 

Frankie said, “Well, don’t you look like you had a long night. You work too hard.” He walked back behind the bar and asked, “The usual?”

She said, “No thanks, Frank. Not while I’m working. Just coffee would be great.”

Frankie said, “No problem. Anything for you.”

Finch sat down at the table across from Brown. He said, “Long night?”

She nodded and said, “Sorry I’m late. I was so wrapped up in researching this company, Jiang and Benson that I couldn’t sleep.”

“Did you find anything good?

“A few things of interest,” she said, “but my research is incomplete and only raises more questions that need exploration.”

“You don’t have to put the pieces together alone. You work so exclusively. I can help you more than you allow me to.”

“I don’t mean to be... I’m sorry.” She knew he was telling the truth. She liked to work alone. She respected his skill, but still felt the need to prove herself as a competent detective.

Brown touched Meghan on the hand and said, “It’s okay. I understand.” He knew the feeling. When Sydney began his career as a detective, he had shadowed Detective Cado Briggson who people used to call ROBOCOP. The man was an ex–Navy Seal. He was more into the action side of things than the research and actual piecing together of clues. Upon the conclusion of his shadowing of ROBOCOP, Brown and Briggson found themselves in a shoot out with a suspect they had followed for weeks. At the end, the suspect was apprehended after killing two hostages and wounding ROBOCOP, shooting him in the neck and thigh. Brown had landed a precision shot that saved the last hostage and took down the suspect at the same time. The suspect was in critical condition for five weeks but recovered, stood trial and was sentenced to life without parole. Briggson retired but not before he gave Brown a stellar recommendation and evaluation.

“I’ve been working on your evaluation, anyway. It’s about that time,” Brown said. 

“Anything good to say about me?” Finch asked.

“In fairness, you’ll get a full evaluation meeting soon enough; but as your mentor, it’s been an honor.”

“Don’t just say that,” she said. 

“You know I don’t say things I don’t mean. You’re intelligent, precise and thorough. It gets no better than that.”

“I appreciate it. I try my best.” The end of her training period brought on the inevitable thoughts of,
Now he will expect us to be open about our relationship
, but it was a complicated decision. People might think he gave her an amazing evaluation because she was sleeping with him. Even though it wasn’t true, it didn’t matter. That’s how people would see it. It would take a good year or more before an open relationship would be acceptable to have without anyone scrutinizing her evaluation. She knew Brown was willing to risk it. He felt that anyone on the force could speak on her behalf and validate her ability.

Brown added, “I’m going to also ask Tammy, Chief Downy and Duffy to fill out evals for you. I want to make sure your evaluation is solid.”

She smiled, “Thanks,” but knew the additional evaluations were an attempt to cover the tracks of his personal feelings for Meghan Finch. 

Frankie brought over the coffee and placed it on the table. He swiftly walked back into the kitchen. Meghan took a quick sip of the hot, dark liquid just as Larry walked into the pub. 

Larry waved at Brown and Finch. They nodded. He asked, “Where’s Frankie?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” said Sydney.

Larry walked into the kitchen as well.

Brown said, “Duffy sent me a text this morning. He’ll meet us in the lab. Oh, and the MIT boys got the data cleaned up on that memory card. They are sending it later.”

Finch said, “Good. Tammy called me this morning and said she has some info for us. We should go check it out as soon as we can.”

Brown said, “Then let’s go!”

Finch left a few dollars on the counter. Frankie nodded from behind the counter. Brown and Finch stood up and walked out the door together. Finch paused, turned back to look in, shook it off and continued forward. She suddenly felt uneasy about Abigail. She had seen Abby many times before but for some reason, Finch felt like something was odd or different about her now.
Maybe it’s the haircut.
Abigail was being her usually quiet and disconnected self, but Finch’s sudden curiosity about Abigail steadied in her mind for a moment, then was gone.

Abigail and Roger were on the upper level. Abigail was in the shower. Roger walked over to the bathroom door, ready to knock, but decided against it. He walked away, turned on the TV and sat in a chair. As the water ran over Abby’s head, she tried to think and hoped that more of the mysteries of her life would reveal themselves. At that moment, she declared herself to be on a mission to find the men who were possibly looking for her. She was sure they were getting closer so her nerves were rattled. But she was not afraid. 

She thought about the danger that loomed ahead for Roger more than herself.
What if they find out where I am staying? Or where Roger lives?
She knew Frankie wanted to help but couldn’t bring herself to involve the man who saved her life. She at least owed him that much. It burned him up inside how much he wished he could help her, but she didn’t invite him in to be a part of her secret life– not yet.
I will tell him when things have settled down.
She finished her shower, dried off, got dressed and went into her room where Roger was waiting for her. She grabbed the journals. Roger opened his laptop and the research began.

Back on the pub floor, Larry walked around, wiping tables and doing regular chores to keep the establishment tidy. His private investigation of Abigail made him feel a bit guilty that he had been hiding this from Frankie. As soon as the activity on the floor settled down Larry joined Frankie behind the counter.

Larry asked, “Should I call in Marty and Frita to work this evening?” He tried to break the silence between them. 

Frankie said, “Yes. That would be a good idea. I think Abigail and Roger need a break.”

“Again? It’s hard to run a business when employees can come and go as they please. Marty and Frita may not always be available. Maybe we should get a definite answer from them as to what they want to do,” Larry commented as he wiped down the bar.

“You’re right. I will talk to them tonight and get a better feel of how much time they need. I’ll get a concrete answer, and then we can plan accordingly.” Frankie picked up at few glasses from the dishwasher. He wiped them down and hung them above the bar.

Larry was obviously frustrated and asked, “Does this have anything to do with Abby’s past resurfacing? Is she still trying to figure things out?”

Frankie hated to have this conversation with Larry again. “I told you, Larry, Abby’s past is her business. I feel like I’ve told you too much already because now you are questioning me about it. You act like you have answers to things I don’t even understand and things I know you don’t understand yourself. I don’t want to argue with you about this again and again.”

Larry shook his head and said, “Well I may not know any answers, but I will find them. I’m getting close to...”

“What are you talking about, Larry?” Frankie gave Larry a stiff stare and slapped his hand on the bar.

Larry grabbed a glass and wiped around the brim. He didn’t answer.