Knowing (15 page)

Immediately, she sensed unmitigated doom. A tall, muscular man wearing a dark shirt and pants stood with his back in front of her. He moved down the unlit hallway with expert precision. Through the folds of darkness, she could see the pistol with the silencer clasped in his right hand. She followed him, somehow aware that he knew she was there. He reached a closed door at the end of the hall and stopped.

“Be brave, Jane,” she heard his deep, commanding voice tell her.

The darkly clad man turned the knob and gradually opened the door. He moved inside confidently and crept to his right. Jane followed him through the door. The whole time, all she could see was his back. But around her, stood a wood paneled office with no windows. Stacks of files and papers were piled high on the desk and sundry tables that gave the room a cramped atmosphere. Reams of thick books with scientific symbols on the hard covers lay everywhere. Seated in the corner of the room at another desk was an old gray haired man. He, too, had his back to Jane. As much as she tried to see who these men were, she was unable to move past the one with the gun. Without flinching or hesitation, the man with the gun moved to the one seated at the desk. The silencer was pressed against the back of the old man’s head and the trigger was pulled.

Blood splatter blew across the papers on the desk. Particles of brain matter slapped onto the paneled walls, drifting down the seams, driven by the warm blood. Jane observed the assassination without emotion. It was as if she was hooked into the psychotic matrix and felt indifferent to what just happened. But then a very odd thing happened, as if it couldn’t get any stranger. The assassin holstered his weapon and stood over the man’s desk. He stared for what seemed like an eternity before opening up files and going through the contents. He stacked one folder after another either to the right or left, as if he was separating the information he needed. Jane tried to move at that point but her feet were welded to the floor. Coupled with the sudden paralysis was the stark sense that she could easily feel the growing stress emanating from the assassin. The tension became so severe that her entire body felt ill.

The longer the man stood there, opening and closing files, the more her body ached, her head throbbed and her legs felt like jelly. The aura in the room was pure evil, Jane determined. A creeping, gut-churning, unrepentant malevolence that moves with a cunning gait and doesn’t stop until its target has been conquered. It dripped with arrogance and greed, chewing through whatever it took to steal the exquisite prize. Her brain felt like it had been split open. The pain was unparalleled. She wanted to grab onto her head, fearing that her soul was being sucked from her body.

As the man continued to sort through the files, she sensed his repulsion grow with every word he read. After what seemed hours, he gathered a short stack of files and secured them under his tucked shirt. He then quietly moved toward a floor-to-ceiling bank of wooden file cabinets that stood six feet away. The cabinets were similar to those one might see at a high-end lawyer’s office, except that instead of keys, there were touchpad code panels on each file cabinet. As he walked to the files, Jane was suddenly able to pull her legs off the floor. But when she tried to get nearer to the man’s side to see his face and to also check out what he was scrutinizing, she was prevented from doing so. The best Jane could do was to maneuver her body several feet behind his frame the entire time. She watched as he placed the palm of his right hand over one of the keypads. After about thirty seconds, he ran his index finger over the nine numbers, up and down, back and forth, until he rested the finger on one number. He pushed it and repeated the strange back and forth on the keypad another five times, punching other numbers on the keypad until a soft click could be heard. The wooden file door popped open. Inside, there were two shelves. The bottom shelf was empty while the top shelf held a single medium sized white binder.

The man withdrew the binder and stared at the cover. Creaking it open, he stood and read the contents. Jane waited. Within seconds, she felt a biting pain in her heart. There was a sense that someone was taking a knife and slicing her chest open. Even in this altered state, the torture felt terrifying real. She endured it as long as she could until she heard herself screaming. The pain ceased instantly.

“What do you want from me?” she asked the man, using her mind to speak.

“Only what’s necessary.”

With that, he closed the white binder and held it to his side with the front cover facing Jane. She peered at the three letters in bold red ink:
IEB
.

The sound of waves quickly rushed through her head and a wooziness kicked in. There was a sense of falling off a tall building. She closed her eyes, allowing the sensations to envelop her. She felt no fear or anxiety, just a willingness to be released into the cosmos and flung at will until landing on terra firma.

Jane opened her eyes and was shocked to see it was morning. She was also aware that it was below freezing in that tiny house. And when she turned to Larry’s leather recliner, Harlan wasn’t there.

Jane bolted from her recliner and headed out the door. The crisp blast of icy air gripped her as she stared at a fresh coat of fluffy spring snow. The first thing she noticed was the cooler on its side next to the Mustang. Food was strewn everywhere, with the tell-tail footprints of a raccoon outlined on the car’s hood. Staring intently at the two-legged footprints, she followed them around the car and down a short rocky hillside. The footprints became easy to follow because along the way, articles of clothing had been dropped. First was Harlan’s Plaxico Burress sweatshirt, followed by several undershirts, his pants and his shoes. Jane collected the clothing and continued to follow the barefoot prints in the snow, around several large boulders, until she saw Harlan in the distance. He had his back to her and he was completely naked.

Not wanting to yell for fear of attracting too much attention from possible neighbors, she made her way through the shallow, wet snow until she stood within several feet of Harlan. He was eerily still.

“Harlan?” she asked quietly, with trepidation.

“Yeah.”

His voice sounded normal, yet strangely calm. “What’s going on?”

“Adapt or die. I don’t know where I heard that but it’s true.”

“Okay. Has that got something to do with why you’re naked right now?”

“You gotta expose the body to extremes and then when you’re put in extreme situations, it don’t mean as much to you.”

“Point taken. Put your pants on.” She tossed him the pants and shirts.

He remained still. “I feel lighter, Jane. I feel lighter than I’ve felt since my operation. I always thought it took more energy to suffer than to give up. But if I gave up now, I’d spent whatever time I got left regrettin’ that I didn’t find out what he wants. He wants somethin’, Jane.”

“I know.”

He slowly put on his pants and then the layers of shirts. “Thank you for what you did for me last night. I don’t how you did it…but I feel like I got a new sun shinin’ on me today.”

She waited until he dressed and turned to her. “Well…you do have a new spotlight on you. They’re liking you for Dora Weller’s shooter.”

He shook his head, almost expecting the bad news. “You believe me now, then?”

Jane nodded. “If DH was working this case, there’s no way in hell we’d make that kind of leap or put out your name like that until we had enough evidence. We keep that kind of shit close to our vest and do our due diligence before parading a suspect in the media. They’ve got nothing to link you to the shooting except that you’re on the run and you’re a convenient fall guy. Your profile doesn’t fit the Weller shooting. You don’t allegedly butcher a prostitute and then take a shot at a congresswoman. They don’t follow. Even if they are pegging you as a maniac, even maniacs follow patterns. Whoever fed that information to the media has a kind of leverage and power I’ve never seen. Whoever it is, they really want you badly and they’ll distort you and your past as much as possible in order to turn everybody against you.”

“Except for you.”

“Except for me. And I’m just one person and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do for you.”

“Did you find out what he wants?”

She hesitated a little too long.

“You
did
, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. I have to do more digging.”

“Damn, this is beautiful. He’s been knockin’ at my door, I just didn’t know how to converse with him. Now we can.”

Jane needed to check herself. “Jesus, Harlan, it’s not that fucking simple. Good God! How did you make it this far in your life being so naïve? What I can or can’t figure out will not make this go away. I have a feeling that even if we figure it all out, you’re still not going to be safe.”

He smiled. “Oh, hell, Jane. I’ve been safe my whole life. What did it get me? Now I’ve got the heart of someone who ain’t lived a safe day in his life. I kind of like it now…except for the nightmares that make me want to piss my pants. Not sure why he got put inside of me, but crazier things have happened.” He looked off into the distance. “You got any idea what it feels like to have the heart of champion in your chest? I never felt like I was worth anything, Jane. I never had that moment where someone told me I could do great things. But I feel different today. My heart has been freed.”

She motioned for him to follow her back to the tiny house. Back inside, Jane got on her hands and knees and collected every single pill that Harlan flailed across the room the night before.

“Grab a couple dishrags and figure out how to cover up that hole in the pane of glass where you broke in,” she instructed Harlan.

He dutifully obliged, happy to be useful. She found the last pill and snapped the cap back on the bottle.

“Who do you know that killed himself?” Harlan asked her.

Jane was still on the floor, working her way up to a standing position. Her silence spoke loudly.

“You hear me?” he asked again.

“Of course, I heard you.” She found a piece of paper and a pen. “I’m going to leave Millie and Larry a note with no names. And two hundred bucks. That should cover the damage.”

“How come you don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing,” she whispered as she jotted down a few rushed words to Millie and Larry.

Harlan used tacks he found in a bowl to attach the dishrag to the wooden slats between the glass panes. “
Nothing
?”

She finished the note and laid out two crisp one hundred bills. “That’s right. Nothing. Grab the blankets and let’s get out of here.”

They walked out to the Mustang. Jane swept up the cooler and gathered up any uneaten food or packaging she could find into a trash bag she uncovered from the backseat. Once inside the car, she considered their next move.

“I have no clue how we’re going to get more food. I gotta keep this car off the radar for now.”

Harlan was working his big frame into his usual spot on the backseat. “Well…it’s farm country down there, ain’t it?” Harlan stated, jutting his chubby chin toward the road they drove up on. “Let’s find a farm.”

It was the most intelligent idea she had heard out of his mouth. Jane backed out of the driveway and headed down the narrow mountain road. Once they hit the lowlands, the high mountain snow was gone, replaced by miles of glistening, grassy fields and acres of well-turned dirt, patiently waiting for a seed. The Sangre de Cristo mountain range lay in the distance, as the early morning sun warmed Jane’s face. After driving twenty minutes, Harlan spoke up.

“How come I feel so sad?”

“You said that last night when we drove through here.”

“I know. I feel like my heart is breaking.” He looked up at the passing scenery. “Hey! Up ahead there? Take that right turn where the sign is.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Just do it.”

Jane reluctantly agreed, checking her rearview mirror to make sure no one was following her. Less than one mile down the gravel road he told her to stop. There was a small family farm about a quarter mile away, shrouded in a fence of cottonwood trees.

“We’re gettin’ out here,” he declared.

“Hey, hey, hey! Are you nuts? It’s open season on you!”

He sat up. “Farmer’s season! You know what that is, right? No license to kill needed. You just shoot whatever wanders onto your property when you’re sittin’ on your porch.” He smiled a goofy grin. “Come on, Jane. You’re hungry, right?”

“What’s in the field?”

“I ain’t sure yet. Come on.”

She was hungry and so she grudgingly agreed. Sliding under the barbed wire fence that surrounded the moist field, they wandered for several yards before Harlan reached down and snapped up something.

“Wild asparagus!” he yelled.

“
Shhh
!”

“Ain’t nobody around, Jane.”

“There’s a farm over there.”

“Who cares?”

“
You care
, Harlan! You might feel invincible but you’re not. I bet you’re now worth more than that twenty-five thousand dollar bounty.”

“Yeah? You think?” he said proudly.

Jane shook her head. “Jesus, you are one goofy fucker.” She came upon an unexpected cluster of wild asparagus and eagerly snatched it up. While it wasn’t clear how Harlan knew this field existed, she wasn’t going to bitch about free produce.

Harlan stayed close to her but kept his head down, searching in the vibrant spring grass. “You ever notice how when you’re huntin’ for wild asparagus, how it blends in with the blades of grass? It’s kinda like a camo plant. You can be hoverin’ over it, starin’ right at it, and not see it. Wild asparagus is a very sneaky vegetable.” He looked down in front of him. “Hot damn! I found me the mother lode, Jane!” He snapped up the tender stalks, occasionally chewing on a few to test them. After several minutes in silence, he turned to Jane. “How come you said he was nothin’?”

Jane stopped in her tracks. “I never said it was a ‘he.’”

Harlan looked at her in a strange daze. “But it was a ‘he.’”

She stared at him. “Why is this so important to you?”

“’Cause I saw the look in your eyes last night. You took it personal. You couldn’t save him and you’ll be damned if anybody else is gonna do you like that again.” He waited but Jane remained taciturn. “When you say it’s ‘nothin,’ I don’t believe you, Jane. I think you call things ‘nothin,’ ‘cause you don’t want to feel no more pain. But that don’t mean it ain’t still there.”

“What do you want, Harlan?” Her tone was abrupt.

“You see, right there? That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Kinda knee-jerk. You gonna attack me before I attack you—”

“I’m not attacking you.”

“And I ain’t attackin’ you. I’m just askin’ you a simple question.”

She hesitated and then spoke. “He was my boyfriend from college.”

Harlan waited. “Yeah…Okay…Go on. What was his name?”

Jane snapped the end off an asparagus stalk. “Mark.”

“And you loved him, right?”

Jane sighed. “We were mutually attracted to each other because of our shared addictions.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Jane. Did you love him?”

“Yes. I made that mistake.”

“Mistake? How can lovin’ someone be a mistake?”

“Because when you love someone, you don’t let that person find you with a bullet in your brain! That’s not love!” Her voice caught with emotion.

Harlan looked at her cockeyed. “You think Mark killed himself ‘cause he didn’t love you?”

She trod through the grass in search of more wild produce. “I don’t need to hear you say his name.”

Harlan stood still as Jane circled the meadow. “Mark…
Mark
…”

She spun around. “What in the fuck are you doing?”

“Why are you afraid of hearin’ his name?”

She strode toward Harlan with angry purpose. “I don’t talk about him. I don’t think about him. So,
shut the fuck up
! It was a
long
time ago—”

“Hell, it can’t be that long. You ain’t more than…what? Forty-four? Forty-five?”

“I’m thirty-seven!”

“
Really
? Damn.”

“Fuckin’ take me out of my misery,” she mumbled under her breath.

“If you’re truly thirty-seven, we’re only talkin’ fourteen or so years ago. That ain’t a long time, Jane. And you’re lyin’ when you say you don’t think about him. You don’t talk about him but you sure do think about him.”

“Jesus! When I tell someone to shut the fuck up, they usually comply.”

“Well, that’s probably ‘cause you got a loaded gun to their head,” he offered, matter-of-factly.

She looked at him perplexed. “Why are you doing this, Harlan? Why do you care about any of this?”

“’Cause I like you and I think you deserve a good life. Maybe the first thirty-seven years could have been better but that don’t mean the next thirty-seven are gonna hit the crapper.”

“Nice. Real quaint. You ought to write greeting cards.”

“And
you
oughta call Hank.”

The comment came out of left field. “Are you able to comprehend what in the hell is going on with your life right now? Do you get what a fucking mess we’re in?”

“What’s that got to do with Hank?”

She was stunned and temporarily speechless. “I am begging you to stop being this stupid.”

He smiled. “There ain’t no ‘s’ in ‘tupid.’”

“Huh?”

“My granddad used to call me ‘stupid’ when I was a little boy. He said he didn’t lose a testicle in the Big War and nearly a leg to give me the freedom to be stupid. But I didn’t hear the word right. So, I said, ‘I ain’t tupid, granddad.’ And he looked at me and he said, ‘Well, boy, there ain’t no “s” in “tupid.”’

“I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either. Maybe you’re ‘tupid’ too,” he said with a mischievous grin.

They’d gathered enough asparagus to feed a small family and headed back to the car when Jane turned around.

“We need more food than this.” She looked across at the farm. “Promise me you’ll stay put in the car?”

Harlan nodded and Jane set off across the perimeter of the meadow. It was barely eight o’ clock in the morning but that was prime time for farmers. Jane surreptitiously approached the back acreage of the property and came up on a barbed wire fence. A sign warned her that she was encroaching on the private property of the Kirchner Family Dairy Farm and trespassers weren’t allowed. But Jane Perry never let a little sign slow her down. Wiggling her way between the barbed wire, she managed to just make it through without getting hooked. But she didn’t allow for the sloppy soil beneath her feet. When the sole of her cowboy boots hit a pocket of mud, Jane hit the muck hard. “Fuck me!” she whispered in defiance. Caked with dripping mud, Jane struggled to extract her body from the mess. But just as she was about to get up, she heard the sound of a man’s voice in the distance.

“Sarah!” he yelled, angrily.

Jane hunkered down in the mud and low-lying grass. There was a large barn about fifty yards away, which Jane had to assume was the milking area. A tall, heavy-set man wearing a plaid flannel shirt and overalls led two cows toward the old structure.

“
Sarah
!” the man screamed again, with added frustration.

“I’m coming!”