Poe

Chapter Five

“Problems?” Emerick asked.

Alex had no idea what she must look like, but the moment she walked back into Ackerman’s, the old man seemed to sense that something had changed.

She answered him as honestly as she could. “I’m not sure.”

With a shrug, he tilted his head toward the gym door. “Shall we finish your workout?”

“Not today, Hans. I’ve got some things I need to do.”

She showered, dressed, and was on the road fifteen minutes later. She headed south out of the city, along the same highway she’d driven at least once a week for years now. Passing Riverdale, she caught glimpses of water to the left, where an offshoot of the Chesapeake Bay wrapped its way along the shore. Just before she reached Annapolis, she hopped onto Route 50 and took the Bay Bridge across to Kent Island.

The house was on a quiet road in Stevensville, north of the highway. Like many of the other homes in the area, it was set back from the road on a large parcel of land. Where it differed from its neighbors was the fence that surrounded the property. Most of the homes had none.

Alex pulled up to the gate, and pressed the button on the intercom box.

“May I help you?” a female voice asked.

“It’s Alexandra Poe.”

The woman said nothing for a second, then, “I don’t have you on the schedule, Miss Poe.”

“Last minute thing.”

“One moment.”

With a sudden whine, the gate swung open. Alex drove through and parked next to some other cars, then got out and headed toward the house. Before she reached the front door, it opened, and Mrs. Thornton stepped onto the porch.

“Alexandra. Good to see you.” She held out a hand as she always did, and the two women shook. “This is unexpected. Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Alex said. “It’s…well, I might be going out of town and I’m not sure how long I’ll be away, so I wanted to come by first. Just in case.”

An understanding smile creased Mrs. Thornton’s face. “Of course. But I wish you would have called first.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No. But Danny isn’t always good with surprises.”

“I know how Danny is,” Alex said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Mrs. Thornton slipped a motherly arm around Alex’s shoulders. “I’m sure he will be.”

Alex tensed under the woman’s touch, but she knew Mrs. Thornton only had the kindest of intentions. The woman couldn’t help herself; it was in her nature. She was old enough to have a dozen grandchildren but had none. Ryan, her only child, had been born with cerebral palsy and died as a teenager from complications due to his condition. He had been the inspiration behind Ryan’s House, the name Mrs. Thornton had given her home when she’d turned it into a group facility for disabled adults.

She led Alex through the front doorway into the family room that had been converted into a lounge/activity area. Several of the residents were there, working at the table or watching TV.

Alex’s brother was sitting on the couch, his attention glued to the SpongeBob SquarePants cartoon on the screen. His lips moved as he mimicked every line, mostly silently, but with the occasional mumbled word slipping out.

She saw the ever-present watch on his wrist, the watch that had belonged to their father, and suddenly knew she had no choice. If she had been alone in the world, she might’ve convinced herself she didn’t need to see her father again, and turned down McElroy’s offer.

But she wasn’t alone.

“Danny,” Mrs. Thornton said. “Look who’s here.”

Danny’s gaze stayed fixed on the television screen, his mouth still moving.

“Danny, you have a visitor.”

Alex’s brother had always been able to tune out the world when he wanted to, especially when SpongeBob was on. If there had been a channel that showed nothing else, he would have been just fine with that.

Mrs. Thornton glanced at Alex. “Would you like me to turn it off?”

“No,” Alex said. “I’m not in a hurry.”

She stepped over to the couch and sat down. “Hey, buddy. I remember this one. SpongeBob and his bubble friend.”

It took Danny a moment to process her voice, but when he finally recognized it, he looked at her. “Aleck.”

His smile was broad. She opened her arms, and he hugged her.

“Hi, Danny.”

“Aleck. You here. Make me happy.”

“Make me happy, too.”

Danny had been born with Down syndrome. While he was physically two years older than Alex, mentally he was still a small child. Even at a young age, Alex had seemed to sense that it was her job to take care of him, and she’d watched after him ever since. This sense of protectiveness had only increased when their mother was killed and their father, who used to call Danny his “little lieutenant,” disappeared.

It had taken their relatives nearly a year to convince Alex to find a place for Danny to live without her once she reached eighteen. Seven years later, she still felt guilty for making that decision. Almost as guilty as she felt for joining the army and leaving him for two long years. But that was something she had to do. She needed to show the military that enlistees from her family, which had a long history with the army, were good soldiers, and by doing so, prove that they had to be wrong about her dad.

Thankfully, Danny never seemed to blame her for anything. His excitement was the same every time he saw her, whether the absence was a day, a week, or several months.

He turned now, suddenly remembering the TV, and started mumbling along again. Alex was happy just to be next to him, happy to have his hand in hers, happy to see him happy.

When the cartoon finally ended, she said, “You want to go outside?”

“French fry?”

“You want French fries?”

He nodded, and half laughed. “Yeah.”

After letting Mrs. Thornton know they were going out, Alex led her brother to her car. Danny lived at a pace different than most people’s. By the time Alex circled around to the driver’s side, climbed in, and belted up, Danny was only pulling his seatbelt on.

She resisted the urge to help him, and watched as he slowly fastened himself in.

“All set?” she asked.

He smiled. “All set.”

Dairy Queen was their usual stop. They arrived right before lunchtime, so there were only a couple people in line in front of them.

“You want ketchup with your fries?” Alex knew the answer, but she always asked.

“Three ketchup,” Danny said.

“You got it. And to drink?”

“Root beer,” he said, almost singing the words. “Root beer. Root beer. Root beer.”

That caused a few of the customers to look, but most just smiled when they realized it was Danny.

Alex and Danny’s turn came moments later, and soon they were sitting at a table by the window, a hot serving of fries and sodas in front of them.

Alex watched her brother eat, enjoying the pleasure he took out of every bite. There were times when she wished they could talk about whatever came to mind, discuss science and politics, and, hell, even family. But they would never have that kind of relationship. Simple conversations were it with Danny. Anything more and he’d be lost.

As he chewed his fries, he rocked happily side to side. Alex knew he always had a song playing in his head. She wondered which one it was this time. Something from SpongeBob? A Christmas song? “The Hamster Dance”? They were all favorites.

It was at times like this she wished, if only for a little while, she could enter the world he lived in — the simple life he led, the easy joys, and, of course, the easy sorrows. Life where she had to live it was far more complicated. It made her tired just thinking about the difference.

When there were only a few fries left, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. “Danny.”

He looked up, grinning.

She smiled. “Good, huh?”

“Goooood,” he said, laughing.

“Not so loud, okay, buddy?”

“Not so loud. Sorry, Aleck.”

“It’s okay. I know you like them.”

Danny picked up another fry and dunked it in his glob of ketchup.

“Danny, look at me for a moment, okay?”

He stuck the fry in his mouth, then, in typical delayed fashion, he finally looked at her.

She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but knew it left a lot to be desired. “Look, I…I’m going on a trip. And I’m not sure how long I might be gone.”

Danny stared at her, his expression unchanged.

She paused. “Baseball this weekend, remember?”

His face lit up. “Baseball. We go.” He was a huge Baltimore Orioles fan. He didn’t always understand what was going on, but the pace of the game, coupled with the excitement of being in the stadium, was more than enough to make his day.

“I can’t, Danny. Not this weekend. I’ll take you when I come back.”

His smile faltered. “No baseball?” His eyes began to water, the easy sorrow settling in.

“Yes, baseball,” she said quickly, hoping to forestall the tears. “But not this weekend. When I come back.” She could see he was trying to understand, so she reached out and put a hand on his. “We’ll go. Don’t worry. We’ll go a lot this year, I promise. Just not this weekend.”

“Not this weekend.”

“Right.” She still wasn’t sure if he completely got it, but he didn’t cry, so she took that as a small victory.

“Where you go?” he asked.

“On a trip.”

He looked at her as if waiting for more. It was one of his traits that made her wonder at times if his comprehension was better than he let on.

Unable to resist his gaze, she said, “A business trip. Overseas.”

“Doing?” he asked.

“What I always do. Catching a bad guy.”

That usually made him laugh, but not this time. He picked up the last fry, dipped it several times in the ketchup, and set it back down without eating it.

Before she even realized it, the words were out of her mouth. “This person might know where Dad is.”

That did the trick. “Dad?”

She bit the inside of her mouth. “I don’t kn—”

“Dad here?”

“No. Dad’s not here. I don’t know where he is.”

“Trip to Dad?”

“No, I’m not going to see Dad. I’m sorry, Danny. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mom with Dad?”

Alex’s heart clenched. It never failed. Every time she mentioned their father, Danny would eventually bring up their mom, too. “No, Danny. Mom’s gone. Remember?”

“With Dad?”

“No. Mom’s in heaven. Mom…Mom died a long time ago. You remember that. We buried her.”

Buried wasn’t exactly accurate. What they’d buried was an empty casket. Months later, they had been given a small box of ashes containing the remains of what had been found of their mother’s body after a bomb had taken her life. She had been a professor of anthropology at Georgetown University, and was in Lebanon on one of her many academic trips. The bomb had gone off outside a café, killing two others in addition to her. It was officially blamed on Hezbollah, just another moment of violence in a part of the world where it was commonplace. Since an American had died, it had received some attention in the States, but it was soon pushed to the side when a pair of planes smashed into the Twin Towers a couple days later.

Danny was smiling. “Mom in heaven, with angels.”

“Yes, with the angels.”

“Angels on the box,” he said.

“Angels on the box,” she repeated. It was something Danny always said when he talked about their mom. Alex had no idea where it had come from or what it might mean, but it seemed to give him comfort, and it always signaled that he was ready to talk about something else.

He picked up the remaining fry and finished it.

“You go see Dad,” he told her.

She sighed. “No, Danny. I’m not going to see Dad.”

“You go see Dad. Come back we go baseball.” He pointed at her, said, “Aleck,” then at himself, “Danny,” and finally past her toward the door, “and Dad.”

She couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, as if it were possible for her brother to conjure their father out of thin air, so the three of them could go to a ballgame like they used to do when she and Danny were kids.

But the doorway was empty.

“Baseball when I come back,” she said. “Now let’s get you home.”

Alex watched another episode of SpongeBob with her brother before hugging him goodbye and heading out to her car. She started the engine, but instead of heading out, she retrieved her phone and called McElroy.

“Okay,” she said once he was on the line.

“Okay what?”

“I’m in.”

He was quiet for a moment. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.”

“You might want to write this down.”

She grabbed a notepad and pen out of the glove compartment. “Go.”

McElroy rattled off a set of directions. “Be there with your partner at eight a.m. tomorrow morning.”

“Are you going to tell me where this El-Hashim is now?”

“Not until I have your signed contracts in my hand. I’ll see you at eight.”

The line went dead.