Undisclosed (28 page)

Within seconds he felt the tightness of the metal cuffs as they locked around his wrists so tightly they pinched the skin. They rolled him over and lifted him up.

“Frank?”

Officer Davis shook his head. “I’m sorry, Travis.”

Gripping his elbow tightly they hauled him over to one of the cars. His mother ran towards the commotion, a few kids on bikes from the neighborhood had gathered around, and neighbors were peering out their windows.

“What the hell is going on? Why have you got my son in handcuffs?” she demanded.

One of the officers quickly stepped in, his arm extended. “Ma’am, step back.”

“It’s okay, officer, I know the family,” Officer Davis said. “Laura, I have to take him in. If you come with me, I’ll discuss the charges with you.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Travis’s last attempt to console his mother did little to ease the look of trauma on her face. A moment later they had tucked him into the back of the cruiser and slammed the door shut.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Inside the interview room, Travis sat uncomfortably handcuffed to a chair behind an empty desk and facing a one-way mirror. Outside, he could hear muffled voices, footsteps of people walking past and what sounded like cleaners making their rounds. He looked up at the clock on the wall; he had been sitting in there for close to an hour. The gravity of his current situation had taken a back seat to the fear that now had hold of him. If he didn’t get out of there soon and get the serum to them, it was over. He hoped that at any moment now, Frank would come in with his mother, explain that it had all been a big misunderstanding, and that he was being let go. He would go home, receive the third degree from his mother and then be able to sneak back out to The Black Hole. Instead, the door opened and in stepped two black-suited FBI agents.

One of them, the same man from the news he had listened to earlier that day, closed the door behind them. The other took a seat, resting a folder on the table. The man he recognized stood behind him with a stern look on his face.

“Running from the police, trespassing, damage to local property. Seems you already have quite a track record.”

“Where is Frank Davis?”

“That’s Officer Davis to you. And he’s not involved in this. We’re special agents O’Neil and Wesley Hamilton from the FBI.”

“I know who you are.”

“You do?”

“News Thirteen, today.”

“Ah, then you know why you’re here.”

“No, no, I don’t.”

“Well, let me refresh your memory. Hacking and theft of national restricted data.”

“Look, I think there has been some kind of mix-up here. Sure, I’ve had some run-ins with the law. But I’ve not done anything wrong,” he said. “I want to speak with Frank.”

“I told you, Officer Davis is not overseeing this. We are.”

“Shouldn’t I have a lawyer here?”

“You father—when did you last see him?”

“A week back, upside down in a truck.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Care to get me a lawyer?”

Agent O’Neil stared, obviously not impressed. His eyes narrowed. “Ryan Logan, friend of yours, right?”

“Yeah? And?”

He slid over a tablet showing snapshots of data that were nothing like what they had seen on the phone, at least what Ryan had managed to unlock.

“You want to tell me how national security data wound up inside your friend’s computer?”

“I don’t know. Spam?”

“Cute.”

“Man, I barely know my way around a computer. Ask any one of my teachers.”

“It seems we have a bit of a conundrum here,” he said. “You see, your
friend
”— he made finger quotes in the air—“told us it came from your father’s phone. Now your father is missing, the phone’s missing and neither of you are taking responsibility.”

“Seems like we’re all having a bad day,” Travis grumbled.

“Travis, you are aware that breaking into private national security computer networks is a felony and you could be facing ten years?” He pulled the tablet back over. “So why don’t you do us all a favor and tell us what you did with the phone. What else was on it?”

Travis raised his one free arm. “Ask my father.”

Agent O’Neil took a deep breath, leaned over to the other agent and muttered a few barely audible words in his ear. He then got up to leave, while the other stayed put.

“I’ll be back in five and I expect you to tell me where it is.”

After the agent left, Hamilton gave him a cold smile, pressed his hands against the table and leaned in close. With his back to the camera in the top corner of the room, he said in a half whisper, “This must be scary, a young kid like you being locked up here. Already a history of criminal behavior, and now this.”

Travis didn’t respond.

“Among your belongings were a phone, six dollars in change and half a pack of cigarettes. Aren’t you missing something?”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m here to collect.”

Travis was confused. He slowly raised his eyes and as he did he saw the eagle ring on the man’s left index finger. It was the same one he had seen in the photo that Harlan had sent over, the one taken from inside his mother’s store. He had held it together as best as he could, until that moment. But as his eyes met the agent’s, panic crept over him and a cold chill ran up his spine. Total darkness looked back. Travis could see his own reflection within the eyes that had changed, a bottomless void of emotion.

“Where is it?” he grunted.

He knew he couldn’t say his house. The safety of his mother was far more important and there was no way of knowing what they would do to her.

“The Black Hole.”

He couldn’t think of anywhere else he could send them, where harm wouldn’t come to people. At least the Guardians would be able to deal with them.

“Don’t lie. We already checked.”

Travis gave a confused look and then his mouth went dry. His chest grew heavy as the weight of what the agent said crushed into him. He knew what that meant. His mother, the whole damn thing, was nothing more than a ploy. A means to lure him away, to get the serum; there was no cure. Harlan Kaine wasn’t making a bargain with him. He’d been set up.

At that moment the door opened. Wesley’s eyes returned to normal as he turned to face Agent O’Neil and Officer Davis.

“Hamilton, let’s go.”

He pointed in Travis’s direction. “But?”

“I’ll explain outside.”

Begrudgingly he left the room. Frank waited until the door clicked before he took a seat.

“You’re not looking too good, kid.”

Travis wasn’t feeling it either. His body ached, going hot one moment and freezing the next. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes and exhaled deeply. Each time he tried to concentrate on what someone was saying to him, he felt a thud in his head. It was becoming even more difficult. He knew what was coming.

“You’re in a whole boat load of trouble. Your mother is in a state, and while I’ve convinced them that I can get through to you, I can’t help you unless you tell me everything.”

Travis’s eyes scanned the floor, contemplating what other choices he had. It was going to sound crazy no matter how it came out. But he had few options.

Travis begun to unload what had taken place, from his father’s disappearance to the multiple attempts on his life. As he recounted it, occasionally he would glance up at the clock and then the camera in the corner of the room. Were they watching him? Could they hear everything he was saying? Had he just signed Officer Davis’ own death warrant?

Frank frowned. “That’s one hell of a story,” he muttered, sinking back into his chair. He shook his head. “Do I look like a fool?” He got up to leave.

Travis pleaded with him. “Look, I know it sounds insane, heck I wouldn’t believe it either, but you have got to believe me. When I saw you last, you wanted to know where the phone was. That’s why Ryan had it. I couldn’t say anything, as I didn’t know what was on it. It was my only link to where my father was. Surely, you’ve got to have wondered … you said yourself that people go missing all the time, and many are never reported. For all we know, it could have been them responsible for your wife and daughter’s disappearance.”

“That’s enough!” he snapped.

The tension in the room could have been cut.

Frank turned back to him. “I’ve known your father for as long as I can remember and I know he was involved in a lot of highly restricted work, but, Travis, you have to understand how this sounds. Alien abductions, genetic experiments, people with black eyes, and now you say FBI agent Wesley Hamilton is one of them?” He stepped in closer to him. “Do you want me to lose my job?”

“No, I told you, because I thought … I thought I could trust you.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Travis.”

Travis could see his one opportunity quickly slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t allow it to happen. There had to be ….

“My phone, on my phone. In the inbox, check the last message. There is photo; he took it at my mom’s store. Look at the ring, look at Agent Hamilton’s. I’m not lying. Please. If I don’t get out of here in the next seven hours, they’re going to kill my father and I’ll be taken out of here in a body bag.”

Frank gave him a long, thoughtful look. Travis thought if there were ever a time he wished he could read minds, it would be now. Frank turned, opened the door and stopped. Frank sighed, exasperated.

“Just … hang tight.”

* * * * *

Davis shouldn’t have been concerned. In all his years in the department he had seen his fair share of suspects trying to weasel their way out after having been caught. No one wanted to admit they were to blame. Oh, how quickly the macho act is dropped when a person is in cuffs and looking down the line at jail time. Even the hardest would cry. But Travis wasn’t just any suspect. Sure, he had gotten into trouble multiple times, and there was no doubt he had an attitude, but what teenage kid didn’t?

Yet there was one thing he couldn’t deny. Each and every time he had crossed paths with Travis, the kid had taken responsibility for the trouble he had caused. Every time Travis had acted as if he didn’t care, as if secretly he hoped that admitting his guilt would land him in a cell, and yet now that wasn’t the impression he got from him. Being a smart-ass came easy to the kid, but this had been the first time he hadn’t seen him attempt to make light of it. No. He was dead serious. What if he was telling the truth?
What if they’re
walking among us?

Frank shook his head; he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation with himself.
This is madness.
And yet, following up on a mad lead in his line of work was what had solved many a case.

“Coffee?”

Frank was startled, which didn’t happen often. He turned to see Agent Hamilton holding out a steaming cup.

“What? Yeah. Thanks.”

Frank’s eyes darted for a moment down to Hamilton’s hand as he took the coffee; he got a good look at it.

Hamilton noticed Frank’s stare. “Didn’t you get one?” the agent asked.

“What?”

“An academy class ring? When you graduated? Or do cops just get a donut?” Hamilton said, as if he was somehow better than local police.

“Oh—no—that was a long time ago.” Frank let out a half laugh.

“So any luck with him?”

“No, I’m not done. I’m getting him a drink.”

“Get him a drink? What is this, McDonald’s?”

“The kid’s been in there for over an hour, he’s not looking too good.”

“Of course he isn’t. Wouldn’t you feel ill if you were in his shoes?”

“Yeah, I guess I would. Well, I better …” Frank excused himself and slipped over to the vending machines. He fished in his pocket for some change, all the while keeping a close eye on Hamilton who, too, was observing him from across the room. After he got a bottle of water he stepped outside and lit up a cigarette to help him think; he usually had a few throughout the day—every time telling himself it would be his last. It wasn’t as if he was exactly a smoker, as there were days when he had none. He could stop anytime, and yet here he was. He’d started after the disappearance of his wife and daughter. No amount of police training or time on the job could have prepared him for that. Prior to that event he had seen horrific deaths, dealt with disappearances and witnessed things that most folk would be better off not knowing about. It came with the career. You never got used to it, you simply compartmentalized.

He put out the half-smoked stub under his foot and went back in. The two agents looked as if they were taking their own break, sharing on-the-job stories with some of the other officers. They’d probably be busy for a while, Frank guessed. He looked down the corridor to the property room and then back at them. Frank hesitated. It was a long shot—the kind of theory that generally only came from Ed Logan’s late-night callers, not a LAHS teenager. He knew most of the rowdy kids in the town and they weren’t shy in making it clear that Ed’s radio show was a joke. They made a laughingstock of him whenever they could. He’d even had to go out to the station last year when a group of teens egged the window and graffitied the walls.