Encounters (4 page)

The station was just outside of town and was the small grey and green cinder block building typical of small town USA. They parked in one of the three, not counting the handicap spot, parking spaces and walked into a small, fluorescent lit room with desks for the handful of deputies employed there. Farther to the rear he spotted the Chief
’s office and a door which he assumed led to the lockup. The pretty young dispatch/receptionist asked if she could help them.

Helen graced her with a grandmotherly smile and said
“Well Caroline, we would love to speak to Chief Hughes if we could please.”

“
Let me see if he’s in his office.” Caroline pressed the intercom button, presumably for Chief Hughes office, and called his name.

“
I’m here Caroline”, was the response.

“
Ms. Schuler and Agent McCain are here to see you”.

“
Send them on back."

The Chief rose from his desk to greet them as they entered his office. It was a small, windowless room of painted cinder block like the rest of the building. On the wall behind his desk were pictures of his family and one of him posing over a freshly killed
deer. In front of his desk were two worn leather chairs. Chief Hughes leaned across his desk to shake their hands.

“
Mrs. Schuler, Agent McCain.”

Tommy mentally sighed, but decided that he didn
’t care to correct one more person, so he resigned himself to being Agent McCain at least this once. Pasting on a smile that he hoped looked genuine he shook his hand and simply responded with “Chief Hughes.”

“
Please, call me Robin. Now what can I help you two with?”

With that, Helen began to explain as briefly as possible what they were after. When she finished he simply nodded once and held up his index finger signaling for her to wait one moment. He picked up his phone and hit an extension.

“John, I need you to go down to evidence. In the Honeycutt file are three books that belong to the library that they need returned”

He set the phone down and turned back to them saying
“John will bring them here shortly”.

They sat back then and made small talk while they waited. Chief Hughes and Tommy swapped law enforcement stories and occasionally Helen would tell funny stories about the Chief or his coworkers. It was almost ten minutes later that there was a knock on the door and a deputy entered the office.

“Uh, Chief, we have a problem. Those books are missing from evidence.”

“
What do you mean gone? Did you check everywhere?”

“
Yes sir, we checked everywhere in the evidence locker. They weren’t checked out to anyone, they’re just gone.”

Turning back to them, with an embarrassment on his face, he apologized.
“I’m sorry; I don’t know how this could have happened, but we’ll keep looking for them.

“
It’s fine dear” was Helen’s reply. “It’s not your fault at all.”

“
We’ll find them and I’ll send them over.”

Helen gave him her best reassuring smile while Tommy shook his hand. They said goodbye and left his office.

When they were back in the car Tommy sank back into his seat and thought a minute. Helen started the vehicle to let the air conditioner cool it off, but left it in park while they sat in silence.

Several minutes went by before she asked
“what do we do now?”

“
That seems to be the million dollar question” he said ruefully. “I’m not sure yet. There is obviously more going on than we thought, but I need a little time to put it together. Someone must not want us to see what’s in those missing book. I’m meeting with Lee Roberts tonight to discuss what he knows about Stephen. How about you spend a little time online researching those books and the information in them?”

“I think I can handle that. I have a friend who is a history professor at the University. He might know a few things that could help. I’ll give him a call.”

“Excellent. So, I feel like I owe you dinner after the other night. How about I cook something for you?”

“Or” she replied, “how about I come over tomorrow after work and help you unpack some and you order us some pizza? Sound like a deal?”

“Best deal I’ve had in years.”

With this decided the rest of the trip passed in silence. They said goodbye at the library and a short drive found him at home in time for a late lunch and an afternoon nap. He was glad that the last of the re-enactors were leaving when he pulled up.

***

Several hours, a nap, and a shower later he found himself back in the car headed to town. The sun was hovering over the horizon when he got to the Nest. He was looking forward to a nice meal in the dark, cool interior. He made his way inside, glancing at the strange pattern in the door, and meandered to the bar to take a seat. When he sat
Odie looked over and spotted him with his good eye. Less than a minute later he was in front of him with a beer.

“
Evening Agent McCain, meeting Lee here tonight?”

“
Yes I am” replied Tommy “How did you know?”

“
It’s a small town; everyone’s business is everyone else’s business.”

They both laughed and
Odie left him to drink his beer in peace. As he sipped he tried to make sense out of wildly disparate facts and occurrences, such as missing library books, his dreams, Stephen’s voice calling, and this small town that was ordinary and alien all at the same time. Not for the first time he wished that he was as sharp as he once was. He was still there, working on number two, when Lee arrived.

“
Evenin’ Agent McCain” someone said behind him. Turning around he found a grinning Lee Roberts with his hand outstretched. He reached out his own in return and regretted it almost immediately. Lee’s handshake was so energetic he was afraid that his arm might come out of his socket.

“
Sit down” he said. “Let me buy you a beer before you pull my arm off.”

“
I never turn down a free beer.”

As soon as he sat down
Odie placed one on the bar in front of him. “Evenin’ Odie” he said.

“
Lee” was the response.

“
Can I get you gentlemen some food?”

They both said yes before moving to a table by the back wall. They made small talk while they waited for their food. By the time their meals came Tommy was anxious to hear what Lee had to say. Lee finally took him out of his misery.

“I guess you wanna talk about Stephen.”

Tommy just nodded and tried to smile, but he was sure it looked strained.

“Well, it really isn’t that long of a story. I met Stephen for the first time here a few days after he moved here. We swapped stories and drank beers. I talked about flying and he talked about his time with the bureau and about radios. After about a month or so I noticed that he started acting strange. He started asking questions about the history of the town and especially about the mounds.”

“
The Native American mounds?”

“
Those are the ones. They're about an hour or so away. There are three or four sites like them in the state, but they say that ours are the newest. Stephen became almost obsessed with them and drove out to see them several times. Then, one day he asked me to fly him over them for an aerial view. I agreed to take him and we flew out late one afternoon. As soon as he got an aerial view he became agitated, but he wouldn’t say why. He insisted that we fly back right away. It was getting close to dark when we landed. He jumped right in his car and rushed off. That was the last time I saw him.”

“
Did he say anything specific about why he was so worked up?”

“
No sir, he didn’t tell me anything. He just said that he’d finally figured it out and then he rushed off.”

They sat a few minutes in silence while Tommy thought through his story. Finally he asked,
“Is there any way you could take me out there?”

“
Sure, I could take you Thursday after lunch if you’d like.”

“
That would be perfect”, he said.

After that the conversation turned to lighter things. They talked about flying, the bureau, and radios. When the food was gone and the beer was drunk they paid their tab and said their farewells. Tommy
’s mind was racing when arrived home so he tried to read for several hours, without success, to settle down. Finally he just went to bed to toss and turn until sleep overtook him. Luckily, when he did fall asleep, the night passed without any ominous dreams or voices from the radio down the hall.

Day 7: Tuesday

“I think it’s time to stock up” Tommy said out loud. He was standing in front of an empty pantry listening to his stomach grumble.

“Yep. It’s past time.” His stomach rumbled in agreement.

There were only a few customers in the store when he arrived there and he found a spot close to the door immediately. When he walked through the door he was greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the air. He had the most ridiculous image of the scent wafting smoke like from the pot to his nose, like in old cartoons. He gave in to the sweet siren
’s call and decided to purchase a cup of coffee before shopping.

Standing behind the counter he spotted Captain Tuesday. An older man, he was tall and thin with a bald head. Looking up as Tommy approached he smiled in his direction. It was a hard, perfunctory, and humorless smile however.

“Hello sir”, he said while extending his left hand. “You must be Agent McCain. I’m Capt. Tuesday.”

He was surprised that he knew his name already but reached out to take his hand.
“Just Tommy please, Agent McCain retired years ago.”

As he said this he realized that Tuesday
’s right hand was missing. He reached out with his left to shake instead. He noticed a small tattoo on Tuesday’s wrist. It was a small black arrow but he didn’t feel it appropriate to ask about it.

Seeing his glance Tuesday smiled again, all hard angles, and told him. "I lost it to a grenade in Vietnam. Sometimes the wolf gets you no matter what you do. I was lucky
in a way. They saved the rest of the arm. I gave up on prosthetics though, as I find them highly uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable was exactly what this conversation was making Tommy, so he attempted to change the subject.
“I’m curious about the name of your store. Isn’t it a little morbid for a grocery store?”

Immediately after asking his question he wondered if he shouldn
’t have taken a different direction. He wasn’t sure if the answer to this question would be any better than hearing about severed limbs.

Chuckling Tuesday replied,
“It was a simple mix up by the sign maker. I originally intended for it to be “Tuesday Mornings”, but when it arrived the imbecile had misspelled it entirely. I found it amusing, however, and decided to keep it as is. It makes us unforgettable, don’t you think? Can I interest you in some breakfast and a cup of coffee?”

Tommy realized that despite being hungry when he got there, something about this man unnerved him, killing his appetite. It was as if he cast a shadow, invisible to the human eye that seemed to flood the store. Despite the harsh fluorescent lights and the morning sun the store seemed dim and unsettling. He restrained a shudder and convinced himself that it was all in his head.

“I’d like a cup of coffee very much”, Tommy replied, “and food sounds good.”

“
One plate of hot, southern breakfast food coming up”, Tuesday said. “If you’d like to do your shopping while you wait, your food will be done shortly.”

Tommy could hear the dismissal in his voice so he just nodded his head and went to shop. No matter how hard he tried though he couldn
’t shake his uneasiness and he was relieved that when they called his name Tuesday wasn’t there. His plate was piled with grits, eggs, bacon, and biscuits with gravy. The food was served by a teenage boy with dirty blonde hair and acne.

"On the house
”, he said as he handed it over with a steaming mug of coffee. Thanking him he took the food wondering how he would stomach it all. It helped that the food was delicious.

He shivered as he stepped outside despite the morning heat. He loaded his groceries into his sedan and then started the vehicle. He didn
’t put it in drive right away though. He sat quietly staring ahead searching for something.

"Predatory, that’s the word that I'm looking for."

He had met a few men in his life that deserved that adjective. Tuesday made them seem like choir boys. Finally he put the car in drive and left with only an occasional glance back in the mirror.

The drive back was uneventful except for one thing. Shortly after leaving town he saw a small mobile home on his right. He had almost passed it when he noticed the owner sitting out front, drinking a beer, and waving at traffic. It was
a odd wave though. He would raise his index finger, wave it in a circle, and then point to each driver as they drove by. Judging from the excessive amount of purple and gold flags, and paraphernalia, he was also an avid LSU fan. A quick glance showed him to be in his early fifties, slightly graying hair, moustache, with an ample beer belly.