Authors: Esther M. Soto
William still seems glued to his spot while I wait for them to react. What was I supposed to say? I had to prove to them that I’m telling the truth. Doc finally breaks the silence.
“Very well then.” He sits back down, taps his hands on his armchair as he pushes away from his desk. He glances at William, waiting for his assessment of what I just said.
Nothing. William is stoic; he’s immobile, looking like he’s part of the window.
Doc turns to me. “Miss—?”
“Please call me Ileana, may I call you Doc?” I ask, my tone sincere, maintaining eye contact with him.
Doc gives me a small smile. “Of course. Ileana, would you mind if I had a quick word with William, here?”
The fact that he called him William, not Will, not Billy, does not escape my attention. They have to discuss my unbelievable story. Because, let’s face it, if someone came to me with the same story, I’d be on the phone scheduling a psych eval. Doc walks around the desk and places his hand gently on my elbow. As I get up, he guides me toward the door.
“Don’t worry, Ileana, I meant what I said. We will help you. Regardless of what we believe,” he glances at William, “neither of us can ignore your belongings.”
William must have noticed my expression, because he finally speaks. “Why don't you take your things with you and wait for us out in the waiting area?”
“William,” Doc says, voice laced with apprehension.
William gives him a reassuring look to appease him. “It’s fine Doc, she won’t leave. Do I have your word?” His gaze switches from Doc to me, pinning me with those intense, sapphire eyes.
I’m stunned into silence. I nod. The intensity in his eyes is unnerving, makes me squirm inside, like there’s nowhere to hide. Maybe he believes me after all. I gather my things from Doc’s desk, leaving my magazine, and quietly exit his office, closing the door behind me. All I can hope is that I didn’t make a mistake trusting these two men.
Taking a seat outside the small office, I use the opportunity to check my Glock again. I slide the lone bullet I snuck out of the magazine into the chamber. I told him I’d relinquish my magazine, I didn’t say anything about the bullets.
There’s still no signal on my iPhone; my battery is nearly dead. I flip open the phone’s cover and turn off the back-up battery, then turn off the phone. Power is of the essence now. I can’t afford to mess with the little battery power I might have left, so I’ll save it for when I really need it.
Sitting in the small room, I hear their muffled voices through the wall. I shouldn’t eavesdrop. That’s something Tommy would do. He’d casually lean into the door to overhear their conversation. But not me.
Then again, Tommy isn’t here, is he?
Nonchalantly, I step quietly toward their voices, placing my ear against the adjacent wall.
“You look as white as a sheet. Here, sit down,” Will’s concerned voice comes through the thin barrier.
“You were here, William. You heard and saw everything. Or did I imagine it? I mean, did I?” Doc’s tone is a pitch higher than it was before.
“No, you didn’t. I heard it all. I wish I didn't believe her, but her things,” he pauses, “I’ve never heard or seen things so, unbelievable. She's with the FBI investigating a case and was somehow thrown back in time?”
“But we can’t ignore the items she’s carrying. Could she be a spy, like those they caught two years ago in Chicago? You don’t think she’s a G-man as she claims to be, do you?” Doc’s low tone leaks through the wall.
Shit. Does he think I’m a Nazi spy? Great, let’s keep piling it on.
Nervously, I look around, making sure no one has walked in to find me with my ear to the wall.
“She’s not a spy,” I hear William say. “Besides, what could a spy want here in Bloomingfield? She just gave us what could be secret information about a planned invasion for our side.”
Doc’s hushed voice becomes hard to hear. “If what she said really happens, what are we going to do? Neither of us will ever be the same.” I inch closer to the door, trying to make out Doc’s quiet words. “If what she said is true, you have any idea what would happen if anyone found out about her?”
“No one is finding out.” William’s forcefulness startles me. “We can’t tell anyone.”
“People will ask questions, Will. What do you intend to do about this? We need to say something to the police—”
“No, Doc,” William cuts him off sharply. “Let me take care of this. We’ll tell people she’s a relative that’s visiting. Like you said, we can’t explain the things we found on her. Let’s wait a week. I’ll watch over her for now.”
Doc’s voice is earnest. “Will, I intend to do what I said I would do. I’m a man of my word. Now the question remains: if she’s telling the truth, what are
we
going to do about this?” Doc sounds closer, making me scramble to reach my seat at the opposite end of the room.
After a minute, the office door finally opens and Doc steps out. He smiles at me, gesturing for me to enter. “Come on in, Ileana.”
Once in the room, both men look at me with determination. “So?” I ask.
“You have yourself a deal.” Doc offers his hand for me to shake. “We have an understanding. If nothing happens June sixth…” he trails off, squeezing my hand a little tighter.
“It will, Doc. Unfortunately, it will.” Almost one week. That’s an eternity. But if it’s going to help me get home, then I’ll have to wait.
They proceed to tell me that they won’t reveal my real identity or share any of the information I conveyed that afternoon. No questions about the future. No prodding of any kind. In turn, we agree to wait until after June 6
th
then meet again.
I have to wonder if I did the right thing by trusting Doc. William, I have little doubt about. Finding me, seeing my weapon, he still took me to his mother’s house. He loves those women more than anything. He would never risk their lives in any way. Doc, on the other hand, worries me. I need to believe William when he tells me he trusts Doc like a father—that has to be enough for now.
After our goodbyes at Doc’s office, we climb back into the truck. William pulls out, heading away from town and the farm.
“Okay, William, where to now?” My tone is a bit sarcastic, even to me. I hope he’s not testing me again because I’m out of patience.
“You’re welcome to call me Will.” His bright blue eyes are glued on the road ahead. “As a matter of fact, I would like you to call me Will.” His voice is low and more gravelly than usual, his words sounding like a plea.
I feel honored he’s asking me this. I’m not sure why, but I do. Taking a deep breath, I let my guard slip ever so slightly, his request disarming me.
“All right,
Will.
” His nickname feels right on my lips, natural. He pins me with those bright blue eyes, framed by long lashes and perfect eyebrows. For a moment, I see desire, as if me saying his name,
that
name, means something special. I glance away, staring out the window and faking interest in the landscape—anything to distract myself from the storm brewing inside my body, a mix of nerves, guilt, and longing.
Dammit
.
“Mom needed her car today so we’re heading to the factory to pick up Mary,” he answers my question, leaning back in his seat. He exhales contentedly as we head to the other side of town.
Could it be the abandoned factory I passed while heading to the scene? This I have to see.
قلب
We drive by the houses I saw before, but this time, the homes are worn and lived in. No attorney offices or businesses. Instead, there are bicycles parked up in front of some of them, small tricycles and even baby carriages—the kind I saw in town earlier resembling large bassinettes on wheels.
The now familiar flutter rises in my stomach. I swallow thickly, trying to keep panic at bay. The factory is just as I remember, with one big difference. What was a skeleton of the past is now a very vivid and living structure. The huge pane glass windows are intact, as is the brick façade. The large building hums with the muffled sounds of machinery, pounding, churning, and steadily whirring while smoke stacks spray the warm air with the sweet smells of caramel and chocolate.
The parking lot is small, housing a handful of vehicles. A long line of bicycles rests against a metal stand by the front doors. I’ve seen Mary come and go on a bicycle. This must be how she gets around when she can’t use Carol’s car.
We stop outside the factory and Will parks the truck. While we wait, he decides to go inside.
“The whistle is going off in about ten minutes. When Mary shows up, let her know I’m inside.” He motions toward the large iron doors. “I’ll be back in two shakes. I need to you to stay right here and wait.”
“
Mmhmm
.” Eyes glued to the building, I don’t even look his way, too busy with absorbing every detail of the massive structure. It’s amazing. It’s the same building, yet it’s intact, like a before picture of what I saw days ago.
When I finally bring my gaze back, Will is standing by the passenger window, his hands resting on the door. His bright eyes, clear as the blue sky, study me, waiting for my assurance.
“Stay. Don’t move. Got it,” I repeat his instructions and he rewards me with a warm smile, revealing those killer dimples.
I’m in so much trouble.
He pushes off the door, adjusting his hat, and strides inside the factory.
Sitting there watching him walk away, I think about the men in my time. Are there still men like him seventy years from now?
Talk about lousy timing. “Wow, Ileana, you had to go to nineteen-freaking-forty-four to find a decent guy,” I mutter. “My life sucks.”
There’s no foot traffic, save for the sounds of the factory. After a few minutes, I decide this is the perfect opportunity to do some recon. Slowly, I open my door and stand by the truck, trying not to call attention to myself, but I can’t pass this opportunity up. This is my chance to get a closer look at this place.
The factory covers about half a block; one giant box made of solid brick. I round the corner and head to the back, examining any other entry points and exits, but mainly, looking to prove to myself that this is actually happening, that I’m not going nuts. The sweet smells of sugar and molasses coming from the windows permeate the air.
As I approach the back, mumbling and scuffing feet grab my attention. I stop in place and listen. It sounds like a scuffle and a woman’s strained voice. It’s coming from the back, behind some wooden crates creating a wall. As much as I should mind my own business, I can’t ignore someone in trouble. I just can’t. I’m too much of a fighter for the underdog, which is why I became a federal agent.
I creep slowly alongside the brick wall, heading for a narrow passage between the crates leading to the back. No one is in sight, so I venture closer to the noise. I’m still listening for voices, when I hear a blood-curdling scream and what sounds like a slap.
That’s it. Before I realize it, I’m running toward trouble.
Turning the corner around the back of the brick factory, I see a woman about my height, small frame, being shaken by a man, about six feet tall. He becomes increasingly agitated the more the woman tries to fight him off. Before I can question my actions, I head straight for them.
“Hey, what’s going on here?” I ask, using a casual, indifferent tone.
The man turns, completely surprised to realize he’s not alone. The woman freezes, a terrified expression on her face. I try to reassure her with a look, but her eyes fill with fear, probably at the thought that she’s not the only one in jeopardy. The brick wall muffles the factory noises, and the lining crates and isolation of our location does not go unnoticed by me. The man’s face changes from startled and apologetic to menacing and smug once he realizes that the person whose presence interrupted his attack is just a small woman. He eyes me curiously, which makes me look down at myself. Yup, a small woman, wearing a green dress and bowling shoes. I can see why he’s not threatened.
“Tell you what, sweetheart, this is a private conversation, so why don’t you go back to where you came from?” he growls in my direction.
I chuckle at the irony of his words. There’s nothing I would love more than to turn around and go right back to 2013.
“Tell
you
what,
sweetheart
, I wish I could.” I muster the sexiest tone I can during the circumstances and fake a coy smile. “But since I’m here, what do you say you let the lady go and keep the conversation going with me?” I wink at him.
My words shock the woman, while the man looks back from her to me, actually contemplating my offer. Finally, he lets go of the woman, with a hard shove, strong enough to knock her to the ground. I rush to help her up, but when I do, he clamps his meaty hand around my forearm and swings me up.
I look at the woman assuredly, urging, “It’s okay, go on.
Now
.”
She hesitates, shaking her head.
“It’s all right, really. It’s going to be fine. I promise.” I smile at her, and she looks torn but I nod in reassurance. Reluctantly, she turns around and runs away.
Good
.
“So, where were we?” I say seductively.