Chapter V
Jed Deleon’s office was a private one; he shared it with no one else. His team of agents had desks in an open area with a room set off to the side where they had a task force set up, currently working three other cases. One was a serial killer, another a serial bomber and suspected terrorists. They had cleared a recent kidnapping but with unhappy results. The boy’s body had been found in a field near Temple, raped, tortured and burned. I had not been drawn into his murder; did not understand why some victims came to me and not others.
His desk was Government Issue but his chair was a custom thing of leather, plump and plush. He had pictures all over his wall and commendations for shooting, bravery, his medical degrees and college diplomas. There were no pictures of a wife or children but I did see some that might have been siblings dressed in elite services gear. He had introduced me to his team, there were four men from around thirty up to forties and I felt both older and more jaded that they.
We had gone straight from the hospital to the FBI building downtown, with a planned excursion to Dillard’s for the afternoon.
“Dillard’s?” I had questioned. “What’s wrong with Wal-Mart?”
“I think you can do better than that, Cale. Do you know you bought a LOTTO ticket the day before your family was murdered?”
“No, I don’t remember that.”
“Well, it was a winning ticket,” he returned grimly.
“And?”
“It was the only winning ticket. 258 million.”
I sat down abruptly. Looked at him, attempted to speak, finally croaked, “You’re kidding, right?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “Your uncle had a million dollar policy on each of your parents, too. We’ve kept it quiet, only the Lottery officials know and your uncle, the family lawyer.
“Anyway, money’s the least of your problems.” He studied me curiously. “Anything you really, really want?”
“You mean like a Ferrari?”
He laughed. “I don’t think so. You don’t even have a license. I suppose you can drive?”
“I guess. I grew up on a ranch, probably can drive tractors, ATVs, trucks, probably skidsters. I don’t remember anything about the ranch.”
“I gather it was a rather large chunk of West Texas, raised Black Angus, some horses. You used to ride, roped some. There are trophies for archery and target shooting and horse shows, rodeo in the house. You and your twin shared a computer but it was your sisters that were big into surfing the net, Face Book, Twitter and chat rooms. We took your hard drives, found nothing untoward but we don’t know who might have seen their profiles. They did mention you and Curt extensively, more so than your other twin brothers. We think that’s how the perp found your family. Even though your town knew about your family’s gifts, it wasn’t out there for others to speculate on.”
“I’d like a laptop. One of those small ones. A cell phone, although I don’t know anyone to call.”
“I’ll get you a sat-phone. We want you connected, available at all times and everywhere. The Justice Department will give you a new identity and new papers, make an account available to you with a debit card.”
“Who found me? In the sinkhole, I mean.”
“Your neighbor. Your dad promised to help dig a new well, put in the pump. When he didn’t show up, your neighbor knew something was wrong, and came looking. Found the bodies, saw you were missing along with the ATV and tracked you. Life Flight brought you to Austin. Didn’t they tell you any of this?”
“Yeah. But I didn’t remember any of it.”
“Circuit City or Staples has a good laptop. Unless you want to order it from Dell. Most kids don’t like to wait for things.”
“You have any kids, Dr. Deleon?” Now it was my turn to be curious.
“Call me Jed. No. Never married. Spent too much time in school, and then traveling.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five. I suppose that seems fairly old to a thirteen year old.”
“I wonder if I’ll live that long,” I mused and he gave me a startled look.
“Why? Do you know something I should be aware of?”
“No.”
“Are you ready?”
I got up and followed him out to the elevators down to the lobby and out front where his car was waiting. No big SUV this time but a small compact sedan with government plates.
“Carpool vehicle. Want to ride up front or in the back?” he asked.
I hesitated. Gingerly put my hand on the door and received muted impressions that were so vague I could not read them. I climbed in, seat belted myself and relaxed.
“Does it make a difference if they clean something?” he asked.
“Everything is new to me, Jed. This…ability, these feelings. I don’t remember any of it from before. Sometimes, it just overwhelms me, sometimes, I can’t deal with it. I can’t answer your questions cuz I just don’t know.”
He turned the corner and we hit the interstate and the dizzying overpasses that climbed the sky like greedy hands.
I did not like heights; I knew that much. I kept my eyes closed and gripped the dashboard, inciting comments from the driver.
“Haven’t had an accident in 20 years,” he told me. “Relax.”
“Can’t. Don’t like heights.”
“We’ll be down on the ground in two more minutes. The Mall’s two exits up.”
I could feel us descend and risked a peek. It only took him fifteen minutes to reach the big Mall and it was a hell of a lot bigger than anything I’d seen in San Antone or Austin.
There were stores here I’d only heard about, never imagined I’d be able to see, let alone shop in. Like Neiman Marcus, the Sharper Image, Dell Computer.
That was the first place I dragged him to and he protested as I hurried him along. Grown-ups were so slow when it came to shopping for toys. I wasn’t aware of the curious stares but Jed was and he moved protectively around me and that I noticed.
The reason why became apparent when we passed a newspaper kiosk and on the front page was a picture of me and a headline that read, ‘West Texas Boy Prevents Cop’s Death.’
“Where did they get my picture?” I wondered.
“School photo. They still haven’t picked up on your lotto ticket. We’ve managed to keep that secret. It’s a good thing, too. Otherwise, you’d have a million so called ‘relatives’ after you. Of course, you being a minor, you can’t legally collect. It’s in a trust with your uncle as trustee. Still, there was a million dollar policy on each of your parents. That’s in trust for you, too.”
I could feel their eyes on me like an itchy cockle-bur stuck in the seam of my clothes; poking, scratching till I dug at it with fingernails trying to remove it.
The clerk inside the computer store ran his eyes briefly over me and then his attention remained on the Special Agent. “May I help you?”
I waited patiently, standing at his side nearly touching him, deriving comfort from the close warmth given off by his body. He smelled of expensive cologne and coconut shampoo.
“Laptop,” Jed said. “Small enough to stick in a backpack, Wi-Fi ready, 4 gigabyte memory.”
We followed him to the display and I was torn between the mini 10in. Acer and the slightly larger HP and settled for the HP. I was surprised when Dr. Deleon pulled out his wallet and put the purchases on his credit card.
Crowds of people passed by the front entrance, several stared in at the tall figure in the fine suit. The sensation of being stared at and assessed grew so strong that I whipped around and studied the crowd. No one started or jumped. I took his hand and pulled; he looked astounded at my contact and I could feel the uneasiness communicate itself to him through that touch.
“What’s wrong?” His face remained unchanged but his pupils narrowed and made his eyes hard and dangerous.
“Someone’s watching me. Someone bad,” I whispered.
“Can you see him?”
I shook my head slowly, felt the hairs lift on the back of my neck. “Can’t sense him other than his dirty eyes crawling on me, like a slug.”
“Don’t let him make you feel that way.” He grasped my hand, took the carton with the laptop and exited the store. We walked briskly towards the Dillard’s and into the customer service area where he spoke quietly to the service rep and she took us back to Security where he flashed his badge. We were allowed into the room where closed circuit TVs covered every inch of their particular store and the avenue leading up to it.
“See anyone, Cale?”
I scanned the faces, touched the screens but felt nothing other than the pulse of electricity that went through the unit. I sighed with frustration.
“Nothing. It’s like a door closed. I can’t FEEL anything.” I looked at the security guard and before I could think about it, I said, “Don’t go home tonight. Not before 7:27 p.m.”
“Why?”
“Gas explosion. City ruptured the main while working.”
“Warn them!”
“Won’t do any good. Those that are going to die have already started the process. You have a choice because I saw you and warned you. If I met all of them, I could warn them, too. Of course, most of them won’t believe me. Choice is yours.”
He stared at my eyes and shivered. “I believe you. Still, I’m going to call.” He did so and no one took him seriously. He turned to the SAC. “What do you want to do, sir?”
“Cale?”
I shrugged. “I can’t see anything when I’m involved. I don’t feel him from in here. Besides, I’m with a genuine Special Agent in Charge F.B.I. if I’m not safe with you, who would I be with?”
“Stay close to me, don’t get out of my sight, don’t go to the restroom or changing room without me,” he ordered. “You’ll keep an eye on us? Notify your house detectives?” He asked of the security man who agreed.
He escorted us to the boys’ department where he and the clerk tried to make me into a little federal clone but I stuck to my Wranglers, Polos, Henleys and t-shirts. My new Ropers were navy blue. My last pair had been black, sorely scuffed and worked to death but broken in and as comfortable as an old hound dog. I settled for boot socks not tube and he threw in a pair of sneakers, some shorts and new underwear.
I looked at him from under lowered lids, pursed my lips. “You look like the boxer type.” And snickered.
“Uh-uh,” he smiled. “Hanes all the way. Me and Michael Jordan.” I snickered some more and he looked startled, raised a hand towards my head and stilled it. “Ice cream?”
“Double dip cone?” I asked, hopeful. I was hungry and dragged him to the food court where we polished off a Chic-fill-a meal and a triple scoop of Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. He had a small soft serve cone of chocolate.
I helped carry some of the bags. He would not tell me the total of what he had spent, just kept repeating that the trust would reimburse him. We visited the Verizon store, checked out the IPhones and Blackberries but none were as cool as his SAT-phone.
I did not give the arcade a second glance when we went by, such things as video games had never held my interest. I preferred outdoor activities.
The restrooms were next to it down a service corridor and when I indicated I needed to go, Jed led me inside, checked all the stalls and waited outside my door until I was through. I half expected him to tell me to wash my hands but he said nothing.
I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink. Sometimes, I did not recognize the face with its round cheeks, delicate jaw line and those startling violet eyes fringed with sooty black lashes.
I thought I looked too pretty, like a girl and some people had told me I was as pretty as photos of my sisters. Not something a thirteen year old boy wants to hear.
I checked my teeth; they were all still there in line and looking like they should, no gaps or chips. The deep dimples in my cheeks annoyed me but no matter how hard I frowned or puffed out my cheeks, they remained. At least I still had two eyes that worked, a nose not obviously broken, all my teeth and no visible scars.
I could feel scar tissue and raised welts on my head but they were hidden under my thick, slightly curly black hair. I had a sudden urge to put on a baseball cap or a Stetson. When I dried off my hands, I asked if we could go by a place where I could get either.
“You up for it? This is a long excursion, first time out of rehab. How are your legs?”
They ached but I wasn’t going to complain, I was enjoying the freedom too much. “I have your pills if you need something.”
“Maybe when we’re done. Is there a store here where I can get Western stuff?”
“Sheplers. Next level. I think I saw the escalator by Saks.”
We changed direction and headed for the department store of the rich and famous.