Undisclosed (18 page)

“Do you have your father’s phone? One of the officers took an inventory of the items in the vehicle and found on site, and he said he’d returned it but your mother says she wasn’t able to find it. She thought your father had it on him.”

Travis shook his head. “No, no, I don’t recall seeing it.” If he felt rotten before, he felt a hundred times worse now.

“Interesting, as it appears it was picked up by a tower for a short while here in town.” He glared at Travis. “Well, I’m sure it will turn up, these things have a way of showing up in the strangest places.”

Travis didn’t reply; he simply nodded and left.

Chapter Seventeen

It was just after six o’clock when he rolled into his mother’s shop. Being stuck with a shift at the store was one thing, having been grilled by the police, lying to them and feeling heaps of guilt just about topped his day off; and the day wasn’t done yet. He had made a quick stop at Ryan’s to alert him about the phone being tracked, and that didn’t go over too well. It took lot of convincing and groveling on Travis’s part before Ryan promised he would continue, despite the glaring fact that the police could practically be days or hours away from locating it if he continued to leave it on. Ryan assured him he knew a few tricks that would keep them off their back and would still allow him to decipher the encryption on the folders.

Both his mom and Rick were on shift for the evening. His mother would always say this was one of the nights they pulled in fist loads of cash from the umpteen numbers of visitors and people milling around downtown for the Halloween parade. Despite it being one of the busiest times of the year, the place was surprisingly dead, except for a man seated in the far corner, drinking a coffee, his head engrossed in the town’s local paper—the LA Monitor.

Sadly, the number of people showing up for coffee had dwindled dramatically over the past few years, a concern that his mother had voiced often, and usually with a tinge of jealousy in her voice. With the Daily Grind staying open even later there was almost no reason to keep the store open. If it weren’t for tourists and locals purchasing many of the peculiar antiques and old books that his mom stocked, they would probably have closed the doors long ago—that and the fact that her place was the only store that still allowed people to smoke inside while they had a cup of coffee, an unhealthy tradition that for good reasons was quickly becoming a thing of the past. Travis often complained to her about the smoke, but her excuses were always the same. It was what kept people coming back, smokers, that is. Yet Travis knew it was just a way for her to keep her own habit going. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to quit, but it only lasted a few days and she would be back at it.
I guess old habits do die
hard
.

Though there were worse jobs he could find himself doing. He would follow the same routine each time, change over the till, put a fresh pot of coffee on, throw a couple of muffins under a small glass cabinet beside the till and then grab a book. He would sit down in one of the dark, crimson-red leather chairs by the large front window. It gave him a good view of the streets and passersby and kept him out of the billows of smoke that came from the far corner of the store, the area assigned specifically to the smokers.

Most kids his age would probably spend their time texting, browsing the Net, or on the phone with friends. Travis preferred to stick his head in a book, but not trashy novels, the ones that people bought on impulse as they waited at a grocery store checkout. No, in fact, the kind they carried were what probably allowed them to keep the business ticking over. An entire area of the store was allocated to books, but not any old books. In among the overly expensive antique items were several shelves so high that they reached the ceiling. Each one was chock-a-block full of hundreds of thick books, some covered in leather with brass locks while others were just your ordinary hardcovers. And yet each one contained information that you would be hard pressed to find on the Internet. His mother carried some of the weirdest books you could find in Los Alamos; even the local library and museum had nothing like hers in their collections.

His mother had a very diverse taste and most of her items came in from all over the world. It wasn’t the ordinary that people wanted; it was the extraordinary, she would say. She rarely shifted the expensive books, but when she did it brought in enough to pay the rent on the place for several months.

This evening was different, though, a first for Travis, who now wanted to stay as clear of the window as possible—out of sight, out of mind, he thought. He ended the school day that way and he wanted to keep it that way. At least if the men showed up here, they would have to deal with his mother or, better still, Rick, who never missed an opportunity to share his old war stories. Travis would laugh when Rick ranted on about his hands being lethal weapons, a pure killing machine, he would say. Travis would challenge him to demonstrate his killer instincts, yet Rick always declined. They were top secret, not to be taken lightly, and only to be used in life or death situations, he said. Truth was, Rick was as soft as they came, or maybe that was just the front he wanted you to see. In the back of Travis’s mind he always wondered if Rick really knew any crazy defensive tactics.

“So I gather Frank caught up with you? How did it go?” Laura said as she spotted Travis coming in the back door. The usual distinct smell of ancient books, premium coffee and rare artifacts hit him hard; something about it, though, was comforting and surprisingly pleasant. From the moment he entered, he always felt like an old soul, as if he had stepped back in time and had become privy to a vault of treasures that held the great secrets of the world. His mother would say if she could bottle it she would sell it. And in this place, no doubt someone would buy it. She had something for everyone, if they were willing to pay the price. She prided herself on being the only shop in town that stocked the wild and rare oddities from around the globe. Rick would joke that if she took the shop on the road, it would be like P.T Barnum’s traveling museum.

“Ah, just some general questions about the crash. What did the bank have to say?” Travis quickly attempted to deflect the question, not wanting to regurgitate the whole conversation or fend off a barrage of further questions.

His mother poured a cup of coffee, fine wrinkles forming between her eyes as she frowned. “Useless. They say there is nothing they can do. We have less than fourteen days or the bank will foreclose,” she said. “That’s why I called Frank, I didn’t know what else to do. It’s just not like your father to skip payments or to not answer his phone. Which reminds me, Travis … Frank said your father’s phone was among the items they returned. Did you take it?”

Travis gulped. He could see where this was heading and it didn’t sound good.

“No, I already told Frank.”

Rick was marking down several antique items, something that his mother had vehemently refused to do, but with recent events she no longer had a choice.

“I could lend you the money,” Rick offered.

“I appreciate it, Rick, but do you know how much our mortgage is? No, I would never allow you do that. No, Frank will find Scott and we’ll get it all sorted out.” Her shoulders dropped. Travis could tell she hadn’t given up quite yet. He felt ill over the way things were turning out. Maybe she would believe him if he told her again about what happened that night, but how would that help? What could she do? It wasn’t like Scott had been taken for ransom, and the cops, they wouldn’t be able to help. There was no way of knowing if his dad was even alive, except the faint glimmer of hope that he had gotten from Jack.

Rick snapped another discount tag onto an antique bit of furniture. “What about putting it on credit?”

“We’re already in the red; this past year hasn’t gone as well as I’d hoped and I’m stuck with a store full of merchandise that I’ve got to shift.”

Travis tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe Rick can stand out front in a monkey outfit—you know, flag down traffic.”

It must have been awful timing as neither of them laughed; instead, Rick just shook his head. Travis noticed his mom had dark circles around her eyes, which looked weary and sunken in.

“Mom, you look tired, why don’t you go home early? Rick and I can handle it from here.”

“No, I want to stay, it keeps my mind busy. The last thing I need right now is time to think.”

Travis shrugged. His mother gestured to the guy in the corner.

“Go see if the gentleman wants a refill, I need to give Rick a hand out back.”

Travis ambled over to the corner. The top half of the man was completely concealed by the paper, only a few wisps of grey smoke making their way up from behind it. Travis coughed. The ventilation wasn’t good, and even with only one person smoking it was enough to make you choke.

The smoke stung his eyes, causing him to squint. “Hey, mister, can I get you a refill?”

“No, I’m good,” he said. “But by the sounds of it, you’re not.”

Travis immediately recognized the voice. “Jack?”

Jack’s face emerged from behind the paper as he dropped it slightly. A cigarette was sticking out the corner of his mouth; a waft of smoke blew out the other side before he stubbed it out in the ashtray beside him.

“You know things aren’t going to get any easier?” he said. “What did you think you were going to do? Pretend it all didn’t happen? Go back to your old life?”

“I’ve already had this conversation with Jayde.”

“I know you’re planning on seeing the doctor this evening. You can’t go alone.”

“Jack, you said you had an idea where my father was. Where?”

“Well, not exactly. If he’s still alive they’ll have him at one of their bases.”

“That doesn’t help me. Like I told her, I go alone or he’s unlikely to even open the door. He might be my only chance of finding him,” he said. “Anyway, I can handle myself.”

“You don’t need to prove yourself to me, Travis.”

“I’m not, I’m just saying.”

“You can’t keep dodging them, they’re like fox hunters. They will dig you out, smoke you out—do whatever it takes.” Travis followed Jack’s wary eyes, which were now fixed on his mother. “Anyone you love, like or are aquatinted with will be at risk—do you really want to carry that?”

Travis gazed at his mother, feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt and rage wash over him. His nostrils flared as his eyes turned back to Jack.

“You sound so certain. You’re not even one of them. Are you?” he said.

“No.”

“For all I know you—”

“So that’s what this is about? Trust?” Jack said.

Travis’s eyes diverted away, he was silent for a moment formulating a reply, but he had nothing.

Jack folded his paper and laid it on the colorful mosaic glass table.

“Then do it your way.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s fine, trust is earned—so we’ll wait to hear back from you.”

With that Jack left. The doorbell jangled as it closed and Travis watched him walk across the road to a car where Jayde stood waiting. The other Guardians were in the car.

* * * * *

“So? Did he listen?”

“Jack’s eyebrow arched as he opened the passenger door and glanced over at Jayde. “Yes.”

“And?”

“He’s going in alone.” He then slid casually into his seat.

“This is a bad idea.” Jayde looked back towards the store. Travis was still standing at the window, looking out, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. Troubled, she shook her head and then jumped in. Mason tore away, leaving a cloud of dust visible in Jack’s mirror. He watched the way it darkened the road behind them. The dust was thick and opaque set against what was left of the day’s sun that now had all but disappeared behind the mesa.

“That’s why you’ll all be there.”

“But I thought you—?” Lincoln said.

“I lied.”

Chapter Eighteen

Dr. Evans’s home was creepy enough in the day, never mind by yourself at ten o’clock at night, when it was so dark out that you could barely see a hand in front of your face. The only light came from behind curtains in the few homes that lined the street, and the odd lamp in front of a house.
Great!
Travis didn’t want to admit it, but maybe he should have let them come, they could have at least waited outside. What the hell was he thinking?
Stupid,
he berated himself. He checked the device on his wrist, tapping it a few times. Either it was working and there weren’t any Watchers around, or it wasn’t working. Either way it didn’t exactly boost his confidence.