Big Bang Challenge: A New Leaf
Title: A New Leaf
Rating: PG
Author: pvtwitt
Word Count: 8136
Summary: The newest number turns out to be Anton, the punk from Reese’s infamous subway ride. But he’s turned his life around now. He’s no longer working for his father, and he’s not involved in any of the criminal activities anymore. So who could want him dead? Or is this just a very good cover, and he’s not really as clean-cut as he says he is?
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. This is just for fun.
Author's Note: This is not the original story I started out with. I changed it literally at the last minute, so my artist, sevencorvus, didn't have enough time to create a new banner. Thanks to Lil for doing the beta read!
“Good morning, Mr. Reese. Are you on your way in?”
“Just stopping for some breakfast,” John said, opening the door to a coffee shop and stepping inside. “Would you like anything?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
Something in Harold’s voice caused John to pause before joining the line.
“Is there a new number?”
“Always, Mr. Reese. And this one is...interesting.”
“I’ll be right there.”
John left empty-handed, walking briskly to the library where he took the stairs two at a time, patted Bear’s head, and then joined Harold at the board. Harold was just taping up a newly printed picture, and John eyed it in surprise.
“You’re kidding,” he said.
“You know that doesn’t happen,” Harold said, then added, “very often,” at John’s raised eyebrow.
He turned back toward the computer monitors and sat down, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he brought up screens of information.
“Anton O’Mara, son of Irish gangster Seamus O’Mara,” Harold began, and John stood and stared at the face of the wannabe gang leader that had harassed him on the subway. “Seamus O’Mara, died ten months ago in a stabbing incident. On the subway.”
“Hm. Kind of funny,” John said.
“I hardly think bleeding out with a knife wound to the femoral artery could be considered fun.”
John threw him a look over his shoulder, and Harold shrugged.
“The crew sort of fell apart after that. Anton tried to keep everything together, but he lacked the leadership skills.”
“So what’s he up to now? Did he join another group?”
Harold typed some more. “No, he went back to school.”
“What?”
“He’s enrolled at a junior college, criminal justice program. He’s studying to be a police officer.”
John turned and faced Harold, sure this had to be some kind of joke. He pointed to the picture.
“This kid,” he said, “who got off on picking on homeless people. This kid, who was all decked out in gold chains, with his pants hanging off his ass, wants to be a cop?”
“Perhaps after his father died he had a change of heart. It’s not altogether unheard of. Children of criminals have been known to go the opposite way of their parents.”
Each of them paused as they thought of one in particular who had become even more ruthless than his father. John appeared unconvinced that Anton had changed.
“Either way, he’s our number, and we need to determine who is behind the threat to his life,” Harold said, peering at John over his glasses, “regardless of any past issues.”
“Basically, you’re telling me to play nice,” John said. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “All right. I’ll go check on him. But remember, he could turn out to be the perp. If that happens, I’m personally dropping him at Carter’s doorstep.”
Harold didn’t argue, just handed John a slip of paper with Anton’s current address. John flinched as he read it. New Rochelle.
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered, before spinning on his heel and stomping away.
Harold and Bear exchanged a nervous glance.
#
The house was modest, a two-story structure on a corner lot with neatly tended flower beds beneath the porch. Two cars were in the driveway, and a recycling bin sat at the curb. This did not look like the kind of place a punk like Anton would live in. John checked the paper again, just to make sure he was parked across from the correct house. The numbers matched. John raised his camera and snapped off a few shots. He touched his earpiece and waited for Harold’s response.
“This is weird,” John said, and the words sounded funny coming from him. “Are you sure the Machine gave you Anton’s number? Could you have gotten it wrong?”
Harold made a sound of derision. “You might as well get over it, Mr. Reese. Anton has turned over a new leaf.”
“What other info have you learned?” John asked, brushing aside that last comment. “There are two cars parked here. Is he married?”
“Not yet, but he is in a serious relationship with Miss Kelsey Langer. They’re engaged. She’s a, uh, she’s a nurse,” Harold said.
John pursed his lips and remained quiet.
“They have separate bank accounts, neither of them overflowing with funds, and the house was purchased together six months ago.”
“Maybe she’s the threat.”
The front door opened, and John raised his camera and zoomed in. Anton emerged from the house, and John immediately thought the kid looked good. Healthy, clean, grown-up even. He carried a computer bag slung over one shoulder. His fiancé, Kelsey, stepped out after him, and he pulled the door shut. They turned toward each other to share a kiss, revealing Kelsey’s very pregnant belly.
“Or perhaps not,” John murmured. “Check on the fiancé. See how far along she is.”
“How far along what?” Harold asked, sounding confused. Then, “Oh. Of course. I will find out.”
John ducked in his seat as they each backed out of the driveway and drove past him. Once they had turned the corner, he got out of the car and hurried across the street and around the side of the house. The backyard was small, and the lock on the sliding doors to the deck was easily picked. He let himself into the kitchen, closing the blinds.
Everything was neat and orderly. Breakfast dishes were stacked in the drying rack, a washcloth draped over the faucet. A vase of fresh flowers sat in the middle of the table with a placemat at each setting. A stack of mail sat on the breakfast bar, and John thumbed through it. A utility bill, a water bill, a couple of credit card applications, and an invitation to a wedding in June.
A desktop computer was set up in a corner of the living room, and he switched it on, clicking on folders here and there. Then he inserted a flash drive and downloaded several files and emails. Harold would look them over at the library. There was one folder labeled “Project” and his curiosity piqued, John opened it. There were all the articles about the mysterious Man in the Suit, even copies of the grainy photos that Donnelly had. John copied that folder as well, then removed the flash drive and slipped it in his pocket.
John did a quick walk through of the rest of the house, surprised to find no pictures of Anton’s father, just framed ones of him and Kelsey. The nursery was ready for them to bring home a little girl, judging by the amount of pink. In the back of the bedroom closet, he found a lockbox that he was pretty sure contained a gun. Other than that, no other firearms were located, not even in the garage.
“Send me his class schedule,” John said, and a minute later, his phone pinged with a new email.
The drive to the Monroe College campus was short, and John easily located Anton in his criminal law class. He waited patiently for class to let out, then blended in with the other people in the hallway, but still got close enough to connect with Anton’s cell phone. Anton stepped outside and dialed a number.
John hung back, listening.
“Hi, baby, what’s up?” Kelsey asked.
“Nothing, just wanted to hear your voice.”
She laughed. “You just saw me not that long ago. How was class?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Learning new things?”
“Everyday.”
“All right, well, I hate to do this, but I have to go. Are you working tonight?”
“Yeah, dinner shift. I should be home by nine.”
“Sounds good.”
“Give our girl a hug from me,” Anton said, and John could hear the tenderness in his voice as he spoke about the baby.
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Anton hung up, tucked the phone in his pocket and turned to step back inside the building. John ducked into an empty classroom as Anton passed.
“Where does he work?” John asked.
“He works part time at a local hardware store,” Harold said, “stocking shelves and such.”
“He said something about a dinner shift.”
John waited as Harold clicked away on the computer. There was a pause, and then a sigh.
“What is it?” John asked, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“He also volunteers a couple of nights a week.”
“Volunteers? Doing what? Teaching kids how to incorrectly shoot a gun?”
“Serving meals at a soup kitchen.”
John’s mouth dropped, and he shook his head. “Is this some kind of -”
“Joke,” Harold interrupted, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I assure you, it’s not. And really, I’m surprised at you, John. You seem to be having some serious trouble with this case. Should I have Detective Carter or Fusco look into it?”
“I’m fine,” John growled, then cut the connection.
As he walked back to his car, he thought about what Finch had said. Why was he having such a difficult time with this case? It wasn’t the first time he had investigated a number with a criminal background. But most of them also hadn’t done a complete 180 and turned up all sunshine and daisies either. Yes, Anton and his crew had tried to attack him on the subway, but he’d taken care of that. And he’d even taken some of their guns for his own use, leaving behind a bit of mess. So he really shouldn’t still have a beef with this kid, should he?
Frustrated, he drove back to the city to give Harold the flash drive.
#
Harold had been just as intrigued as John about Anton’s information regarding the Man in the Suit. Had he made the connection between the man on the subway and the man who’d taken the guns? Did he know it was the same person, and also the man the FBI had been investigating? Did he know who John was?
Leaving Harold to do some more digging, John made his way to the soup kitchen on Amsterdam Avenue. It was located inside the basement of a church, and at 6:00, the line was already out the door. John slipped around the back and looked for another entrance, smiling a little when he saw a door propped open with a brick to let in some cool evening air. He could hear voices from inside, calls for more plates and dinner rolls.
He stepped inside, instantly spotted Anton in a long white apron mashing a huge pot of potatoes. He was alone at the moment and focused so intently on his task, he didn’t see John had come to stand beside him. When he did notice, he yelped and flailed, falling back against the counter.
“Holy shit!”
“You shouldn’t curse. You’re in a church,” John chided. “Hello, Anton. Nice to see you again.”
“It’s you. You’re the subway bum. What are you doing here?”
“That’s a good question. I was hoping you could answer it for me.”
Anton’s eyes were wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“More potatoes!” came the call from the serving table.
Anton eyed John, who stepped back with a flourish.
“Please, by all means, finish what you were doing. I’ll be outside.”
John was waiting when Anton emerged from the kitchen twenty minutes later. He untied the apron strings and pulled it over his head, balling it up in his hands. He kept his distance from John, his jaw twitching nervously.
“So, Anton, I see you’re keeping yourself busy,” John said.
“Yeah, I guess. What are you doing here?”
“Well, it seems as though you’re in some kind of trouble. Care to share?”
Anton frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not in trouble, I’m clean, I swear. I left that life behind when my dad died.”
“On the subway, yes, I heard. Lot of things happen on the subway,” John said lightly.
Anton cringed and had the grace to look ashamed. “Look, man, I’m, I’m sorry about that. I was stupid, a stupid kid. And besides, you weren’t in any real danger. You kicked our asses pretty good.”
“Any of your dad’s old cronies looking to take you out? Did he have any old debts that weren’t paid?” John asked.
“I don’t know. I cut all ties with that crap. I started over. I’m in school now. I’m getting married, and we’re having a baby. I don’t want that kind of life for my own kid.”
John gave a little smile. “Congratulations for coming to your senses.”
“Hey, I started out bad, yes, I know this. But doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”
At that, John swallowed hard and straightened. Anton took a fearful step back.
“Please don’t shoot me,” he said, his voice soft.
“I’m not going to shoot you. Now you’re sure you don’t know of anyone who may want to hurt you? What about Kelsey? Does she have any enemies at the hospital where she works?”
“Kelsey? How do you know about her?”
“Doesn’t matter. I need you to think.”
Anton shook his head. “No, she’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet. She’s a nurse, she helps people. Oh God, if she’s in danger -”
“I’ll stop it. For now, go home. I’ll keep an eye out. And tomorrow, I want to meet with both of you.”
“Sure, sure. Anything. Hey,” Anton said as John began to walk away. “It was you, you know. You shooting up my dad’s crew, that was the start of the end of that life for me.”
“Why was that?”
A slow grin crossed Anton’s face. “I realized I was the only guy you didn’t kneecap. Out of all of them, I’m the only one doesn’t walk with a limp. I figured you spared me for a reason.”
John didn’t say anything, just stared hard at Anton, studying him with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded, gave Anton the name of a diner in the city, and told him to be there with Kelsey in the morning at 8:30.
“Um, can I at least know your name?” Anton asked.
John paused for a minute before answering, “John. You can call me John.”
#
“How long have you been here?” John asked the next morning, sliding into an empty chair across from Anton and Kelsey. He knew the answer, forty-five minutes, since he’d been watching them from across the street, ever since they arrived and Kelsey tried in vain to sit in a booth, then decided a table would be best, but he wanted to see if Anton would answer honestly.
“Forty-five minutes,” he said, and John mentally gave him a point. “We didn’t want to be late or miss you. We didn’t, er, I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Can you please tell me what is going on?” Kelsey said, pinning John with an icy blue glare. “He’s been all flustered ever since he came home last night. Who are you? What do you want from us?”
John quirked a brow. “You mean you didn’t tell her about our history?”
Anton gulped and shook his head. “I mean, I did, but not that it’s you. I told her everything, it’s how we met.”
Kelsey was right. Anton was terribly flustered. He took a deep breath and tried again.
“She was working the night my dad got brought in after the stabbing. She sat with me for a long time. We talked, and eventually, we went out. I told her everything about me, my wrongs, my rights, everything.” He paused and took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. “So, Kelsey, this is the guy. The guy we, uh, roughed up one night on the subway.”
Kelsey frowned and looked at John, who couldn’t help but give her a cheery smile.
“This guy? You said he was a homeless bum,” she said.
Anton’s eyes widened as he glanced at John, as if he was afraid John would kneecap Kelsey for insulting him somehow.
“I’m doing much better now,” John said. “I was given a second chance. Kind of like Anton here.” Anton visibly relaxed, then tensed again when John added, “But someone wants that to change.”
“So what can you do?” Kelsey asked. “We’re not involved in anything dangerous or illegal. We’re a perfectly boring couple expecting a baby in the next few weeks.” Her hands went protectively over her stomach.
“And I intend to keep you that way,” John said, “so I need to know everything about your lives, beginning from the time that you met. Chances are, the threat is someone you both know or have had an encounter with.”
They talked for an hour while John listened, and he actually had to keep himself from yawning. Kelsey was right. They were boring. At one point, Anton asked if John was going to write anything down, and John simply pointed to his head and said, “Got it all right here.” John heard Harold laugh in his ear.
“Well, no one was watching your house last night,” John said, “other than myself, so you’re all right there.”
“Wait, you were watching our house?” Kelsey asked, her voice rising a bit. “Did you bug our phones, too?”
At John’s slight smirk, Kelsey made a disgusted noise. “Who are you? Some kind of spy or something? How are you able to do this, and where did you get this information that we’re in danger?”
“John, something, technology, and a reliable source,” John answered, moving out of the booth and standing up. “I’ll be in touch.”
He left them in the diner, walking outside and into the morning sun, pausing to button his suit jacket.
“You certainly have a way with women, Mr. Reese,” Harold chirped in his ear.
“She’s alert now, and that’s good.”
The bell above the door dinged, and Kelsey and Anton stepped out. A police patrol car pulled into the parking lot, and two uniformed officers exited the car and started for the entrance of the restaurant. At the same time, an older model black sedan with tinted windows came speeding up the street. John watched as the driver’s window rolled down slightly, and he spotted the flash of a gun barrel.
He spun and grabbed Kelsey and Anton by the arms, pushing them to the ground, and using his own body to shield them. Bullets shattered the windows of the diner, and glass rained down on them. The police officers hit the pavement, screaming for everyone to get down, and the car sped away. John heard one of the officers calling it in on his radio, while the other hopped in the patrol car and went after the shooter.
“Mr. Reese?” came Harold’s concerned voice, and John lifted his head and quickly made sure Kelsey was all right, then Anton.
“We’re fine.”
“What happened?”
“Possible ambush. We need to move them someplace safe.”
Harold gave him the address of a brownstone nearby, and John wasted no time in guiding them away from the scene. The area was in such chaos, no one noticed them leave.
Kelsey was on the verge of hysterics, but Anton had his arms around her and was talking to her in soothing tones as they walked quickly to Harold’s safe house. John punched in the security code on the front door and ushered them inside. Anton helped Kelsey to sit down on the plush sofa, and John checked her over.
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaky but strong. “Oh my God, this can’t be happening.”
Anton brought her a glass of water, then sat down beside her, taking her in his arms while she cried. John stepped away, giving them a moment. He peered through the curtains, not seeing anything suspicious. They hadn’t been followed, he was sure of it.
“The call came in on the police scanner, and Detective Carter has contacted me asking if you were involved,” Harold said. “I assured her you didn’t shoot back. Was I correct in that assumption?”
“Yes. There were two cops there, just arrived. I didn’t fire my weapon.”
“Do you believe this was an attempt on Anton’s life? Made to look like a random shooting at police officers?”
“I’d say it was highly possible. Have you learned anything new, Finch?”
Harold sighed. “No. They haven’t even been late paying their cable bill. I honestly don’t know what we’re looking at here.”
“Keep digging.”
“Of course.”
John turned and came face to face with Anton. He’d helped Kelsey to one of the bedrooms to lie down and rest, and then came back to have a talk with John.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
“My partner. He’s helping me investigate your situation.”
“Are you really going to help us?” Anton asked, and John nodded. A look of relief washed over the younger man’s face. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“Stay here. I’m going to see what I can find out about the shooting. Don’t open the door unless a Harold Finch comes by, and don't take or make any calls from your cell phones. Turn them off. I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah, you got it. Anything else?”
Anton was eager to help.
“What’s your project about?” John asked, and Anton’s expression changed from confusion to understanding to fear.
“It is you,” he said softly. “You’re the man in the suit. All the stuff I’d heard, it sounded like you, I mean, before I knew it was you, before I knew you.”
John reached out and put a hand on Anton’s shoulder, and his voice trailed off to silence.
“Why are you looking into it?” John asked, neither confirming or denying he was indeed the Man in the Suit.
Anton shrugged and said, “I just thought it was cool. This guy goes around and helps people who need it, gives them the opportunity to maybe start over. I thought, well, I felt like I owed him something.” He pursed his lips together for a moment. “I’ll get rid of all of it.”
John half-smiled. “Good.”
Then he left Anton with Kelsey and headed back to the diner.
#
Detective Carter spotted John out of the corner of her eye. He was standing off to the side, behind others who were craning their necks to see the damage to the diner. She excused herself for a moment and tipped her head so he would follow.
They met around the side of the building, and Carter gave him a quick once-over.
“I don’t see any bullet holes in you,” she said.
“I would have patched them up by now.”
She shook her head. “Were you here?”
“I was.”
“Alone?”
“With a couple of friends.”
She quirked a brow.
“What?” John asked innocently. “I can make friends.”
Carter rolled her eyes. “So did you see it?” “Yes, black sedan, obscured license plate, tinted windows.”
“Did you see the driver? The shooter?”
John shook his head. “Unfortunately no. But I believe it was one person, and either he can’t aim worth crap, or he was just trying to scare everyone.”
“Were your new friends the target?”
“Possibly.”
“And you’re not going to tell me anything more?”
John glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot.
“Anton O’Mara,” he said.
The name sounded familiar to Carter, and it took a minute before recognition crossed her features. She stared at John in disbelief.
“That’s who you’re protecting this time?”
“He seems to have...turned a new leaf,” John said, using Harold’s choice of words.
“Where is he now?”
“He and his pregnant fiancé are safe.”
“His what? Am I hearing you right? I want to talk to him.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, I mean it. Do you have any idea what kind of hell that little punk put me through? All the crap he pulled?”
“I’m very aware, Detective. But if it hadn’t been for him, you and I may never have met.”
John was as surprised as she was at the words he’d just spoken. There was a moment of awkward silence before Carter coughed and said, “I’ll be in touch,” and walked back to the other officers. John went in the opposite direction.
“How very profound, Mr. Reese,” Harold said.
John made a noise of annoyance.
#
“Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong viewpoint,” John said, staring at the picture of Anton hanging on the board. “We keep thinking the threat is coming from his father’s past. What if it’s simpler than that?”
“How so?” Harold asked.
“Carter said that Anton had pulled a lot of crap, got into a lot of trouble. What if it’s someone from his past?”
“That would make sense. But if someone really wanted to hurt him, why not go after his fiancé instead? It would make a bigger impact if she were harmed.”
John glanced over his shoulder at Harold. “Your thoughts are turning a little more devious with each passing day.”
Harold just blinked, then focused on his computer screens. “So if we look into Anton’s criminal past, I see a lot of petty incidents involving harassment on the subway, a couple of automobile thefts, some purse snatching, and general complaints of him being a nuisance in public places. He wasn’t as violent as his father. He never actually killed anyone.”
“Well, that’s good,” John said. A frown crossed his face. “But he was a thug, albeit a low-grade thug. Why would a girl like Kelsey want to become involved with him?”
Harold typed some more, then leaned back in his chair. “Langer is not her original name. She was adopted as a young child. I was in the middle of cracking into those records when all the excitement started.” He brought up a few more windows, his eyes scanning the lines of information. “Her real father was a criminal as well, and she ended up in foster care at age three when he murdered her mother.”
“Where’s the father now?”
“Brian O’Neill, just released from prison a month ago.” Harold studied the screen in front of him and made a noise that sounded like one of “aha”.
“What is it?”
“It appears that Mr. O’Neill used to run around with Seamus O’Mara in their younger days. There is a police report from a domestic incident, right before the death of Kelsey’s mother. She claimed that her husband beat her because he believed she was having an affair with Anton’s father.”
John slowly turned and faced Harold. “So O’Neill’s wife cheats with Seamus O’Mara, then he kills her for it. Now he finds out that his daughter is with O’Mara’s son and expecting his child. Fantastic.”
“You need to stop this family reunion from happening,” Harold said.
“Send me O’Neill’s information,” John said as he headed for the stairs. “In the meantime, I need you to check on Anton and Kelsey. Take Bear with you for protection.”
Harold gave a curt nod and stood up, grabbing Bear’s leash. The dog was immediately at attention, his tail wagging in anticipation of going out.
“I wish I shared your enthusiasm for field work,” Harold said, clipping the leash to Bear’s collar. Bear just grinned.
#
The apartment building where Brian O’Neill was living could definitely be classified as a dump. The stench of old garbage and urine permeated the dimly lit hallway, and John’s nose twitched. He moved stealthily to the door marked 10A and listened for a minute before trying the door. He wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked. Holding his gun at his side, he stepped inside and took in the surroundings.
Empty food containers lined the countertop and overflowed from the trash can. A dirty couch sat along one wall, cigarette marks burned into the arms. John checked through the contents of the papers on the coffee table, picking up and reading one with scribbles about Kelsey Langer. Her home address, work address, even the make and model of the car she drove, was written down.
John sighed and moved on to the bedroom. Pictures of Anton with his face crossed out in red ink were taped to the wall, along with a copy of his class and work schedule. His father’s obituary was sitting on the bedside table. Opening the drawer, John saw a half-empty box of bullets for a 9mm handgun, but no weapon.
“Finch, you there?”
“I’ve just reached the safe house.”
“I think it’s safe to say that O’Neill is definitely our guy. He’s been doing some research about Anton and Kelsey on his own.”
John heard the door to the brownstone buzz open, then close with a definite click once Harold was inside.
“Should I warn them?”
“Wait for me. I’ll be there soon.”
“All right, Mr. Reese. Be careful.”
John left everything as it was, although he doubted anyone would notice since the place was such a pit. Just as he reached the living room, the front door opened, and in walked Brian O’Neill. He was a rough looking character with several days worth of stubble covering his pock-marked face. He carried a bag from a fast food restaurant under one arm. He took one look at John, dropped the bag, and bolted. John chased after him.
They reached the end of the hall, and O’Neill whirled and threw a punch. John easily ducked and kicked out with his leg, catching the other man behind the knee and causing him to fall. O’Neill caught himself though, and thrust his elbow directly into John’s left shin. Cursing, John grabbed the man by his shirt collar and shoved him against the wall, pressing his forearm against O’Neill’s throat.
“Who the hell are you?” O’Neill asked.
“Someone who would like you to give up your stupid idea of revenge and let your daughter live a normal life.”
O’Neill’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Stay away from her. Stay away from Anton. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to force you myself. Do you understand me?”
O’Neill shook his head. “No way am I letting that bastard take my daughter away from me. His father already took my wife!” “I believe you did all of that on your own.”
An apartment door opened, and they both turned to look. O’Neill took this opportunity to dip his head enough to bite John’s arm. Stunned, John released him, and the man ran through the building’s doors and disappeared. O’Neill hadn’t been able to bite through John’s jacket sleeve and shirt, so he hadn’t broken skin, but his teeth had hit a nerve that caused a spark of pain to shoot up John’s arm.
John dialed Carter and let her know what was going on. He could tell by her tone that she was not pleased, but she promised to get to the apartment as soon as she could to check it out.
“Is Anton safe?” she asked.
“For now,” he answered.
#
John entered the safe house, slamming the door hard behind him, which caused everyone to jump, even Bear.
“Mr. Reese, what happened?” Harold asked, concern etched on his face.
John stood right in front of Kelsey and Anton and glared at them both.
“Your father bit me,” he said to Kelsey, and she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “And he’d like you dead,” he said to Anton.
“But, but, what? I don’t get it,” Anton said.
Harold was up in a flash, hurrying to retrieve a first aid kit.
“Not necessary,” John called after him. “I’m not bleeding.”
“My father? He’s in jail,” Kelsey said.
“He’s out, and he’s none too pleased that you’ve become involved with Anton. Were you aware that both your fathers had a thing for your mother?”
Kelsey stood up as quickly as her pregnant stomach would allow her. Then she angrily jabbed a finger into John’s chest.
“How dare you!” she yelled at him. “What kind of bullshit are you spewing?”
John took a step back. “You didn’t know.” He turned his gaze to Anton, who cowered before him. John sighed and rolled his eyes. “But you did.”
Kelsey froze. Then she turned toward Anton. “What? It’s true? And you knew about it?”
Anton was on his feet in an instant. “I did, but -”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said, his voice pathetic and meek.
Kelsey was aghast. “It didn’t matter? My dad killed my mom because he thought she was having an affair. But it was your dad? Your dad?!”
“Weren’t you ever curious about what happened?” John asked.
“No,” Kelsey said, shaking her head. “I was too young to know what was going on, and when I got old enough, I didn’t want to know. I don’t remember my dad, and I’m okay with that.”
Anton tried to pull her close, but she moved away, slapping him so hard across the face that the sound reverberated in the small space. Even John winced.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed before going to the bedroom.
Harold stood at the end of the couch, the first aid kit in his hands.
“I see that went well,” he said dryly.
“Anton,” John said, and Anton held up his hands.
“I knew about it, yes. My dad bragged to me about it, but I didn’t seek her out, I swear,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell her because I was afraid she’d never talk to me again.”
John refrained from saying a smart remark, sinking into an armchair. He waved off Harold and the first aid kit, with Harold pursing his lips and muttering something about a rabies shot.
“He wants you dead. He had your pictures, your personal information, and a gun,” John said.
“I have a gun, too. I can defend myself.”
“You still shooting sideways?”
Anton glared, and John sighed. He absolutely hated this case.
“Detective Carter is checking out O’Neill’s apartment right now, so we can get him on planning a homicide.”
“Detective Carter? She hates me.”
“You haven’t exactly been an angel,” Harold pointed out. “But she is duty bound to protect you if you’re in danger.”
Anton paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in agitation. John simply sat back and watched him. This was such different behavior from the first time they met. Gone was the arrogance and cocksure attitude. In its place was genuine fear and uncertainty.
“I have to do something!” Anton finally said. “I have to make Kelsey understand why I lied to her. I have to find her father and get him to stay away from us.”
“Talk to Kelsey,” Harold said. “Let us handle her father.”
Anton gave a curt nod and went down the hall toward the bedroom. As soon as he was gone, Harold turned to John.
“So.”
“How do we handle the father,” John finished, getting to his feet. “I’ll go see Carter.”
“I’ll stay here. I brought a laptop with me, so I can do some work.”
#
Twenty minutes later, John was back at O’Neill’s apartment, having a chat with Detective Carter.
“He’s got a serious grudge,” Carter said. “Judging from all the stuff he’s got in there, I’d say he’s a bit obsessed.”
“He wants his daughter back,” John said.
“And he’d like Anton to go the way of his wife. I can’t let that happen.”
“Neither can I. Any idea where he might have gone?”
Carter shook her head. “I took a look at the original case file for his wife’s murder. He shot her in the face, John. Four times at close range. That’s a lot of rage.”
John mulled this over, then said, “He bit me.”
“Excuse me?” Carter studied his face, wondering if he was kidding, then shook her head when she realized he wasn’t. “All right. So why don’t I go with you to talk to Anton? See what he remembers about that time period.”
They were walking away when John suddenly heard Harold’s voice, out of breath and a little panicky, and Bear barking in the background.
“He said she was in labor, but she wasn’t. He locked us in the bedroom. He’s gone, Mr. Reese!”
John stopped, frowning hard. “Say that again, slowly.”
Harold repeated his words, explaining that he and Bear had been sitting in the living room when Anton came running out, saying that Kelsey’s water had broken. They all raced to the bedroom, Bear leading the way, and then Anton shoved Harold to the floor and pulled the door shut. He jammed something in the lock and left.
“I think he’s gone to find O’Neill,” Harold said.
“Is Kelsey all right?”
“She’s fine. We broke through the door, and I’m moving her to another place right now. I’m tracking his cell phone’s GPS, and he’s headed for New Rochelle. Why would he go home?”
“To get his gun,” John said. He clicked off with Harold and gave Carter the details. They hurried to her car and sped toward the house Anton and Kelsey shared. When they arrived, John pointed to the black car parked in the driveway, the same one he’d seen at the diner. Carter motioned for John to move around back while she took the front.
He could hear the yelling before he even reached the sliding door on the deck.
“Your bastard of a father stole my family! There’s no way I’ll let you go anywhere near my daughter again!”
John peeked into the kitchen and saw Anton on his knees. He was bleeding from his mouth and nose, and clutching his abdomen with one hand, the other raised in the air in a pleading gesture.
“She’s p-pregnant,” Anton said, his voice wavering. “She’s having my baby.”
He swayed a little, and John saw the blood seeping through his shirt from what he guessed was a gunshot wound.
“I’ll take care of it,” O’Neill said.
John’s blood ran cold at the tone. He knew O’Neill wasn’t talking about providing diapers and a college fund. He was going to kill the baby if given the chance.
Anton shook his head and tried to stand, but O’Neill punched him in the face, and he fell backward onto the tiled floor.
“That’s enough,” John said, stepping into the kitchen, his gun aimed at O’Neill’s chest. “Whatever happened between his father and your wife is ancient history, and you already ruined lives because of it.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, or how you know what you know, but you have no business in this,” O’Neill said.
Carter came around the corner from the living room, her gun drawn as well. “He may not, but I do. Drop your weapon.”
Anton coughed and spit up blood.
“You’re going to have to pry it from my cold dead hands,” O’Neill said with a sneer. “I’m going to kill this sonofabitch and get my daughter back.”
“And if you were to get out of here alive, what are you going to do then?” John asked. “It’s far too late to be the strong father figure she needed as a young girl.”
O’Neill shook his head. “I’ll think of something. I’ll make her understand. I made her mother understand, didn’t I?”
At that, Anton let out a roar of rage and flung himself at O’Neill. They struggled for control of the gun, and it went off, firing a bullet into the ceiling. Bits of plaster fell down around them. Another bullet went wild, and Carter ducked as it whizzed past her head and slammed into the living room wall. John carefully aimed and shot O’Neill in the left leg. He released Anton and grabbed his leg, howling in pain.
Anton picked up O’Neill’s fallen gun and got to his feet. He pointed it at O’Neill, holding it with both hands as he continued to bleed through the wound in his abdomen. His face was pale and he was sweating, but his grip was steady.
“Anton,” John cautioned. “Put it down.”
“This is the only way to ensure Kelsey and the baby stay safe.”
“It’s also a great way to ensure that you’ll never see them without bars between you,” John said.
Carter was standing again. “As much as it would give me immense pleasure to shoot your stupid ass for all the crap you’ve done,” she said, “I’d rather see this end with you going back to Kelsey and your baby.”
“You can both leave, and I’ll take care of it myself,” Anton said. “I won’t involve either of you. You can pretend you never saw any of this.”
“You know we can’t do that,” Carter said.
O’Neill’s cries of pain only got louder, and John resisted the urge to shoot him again just to shut him up.
“Anton, you need a doctor,” he said, motioning to the blood. “Kelsey needs you alive. She loves you, and she’ll forgive you for not telling her the truth, but she’ll never forgive you for this. Don’t become a monster. Don’t become him.”
Anton’s jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, John thought he was still going to shoot. Then he lowered the weapon and held it out to John, who took it, and then caught the young man before he hit the floor. Carter quickly cuffed O’Neill and called for backup.
“You can’t stay,” she said to John, who nodded. “I’ll call you later.”
John slipped out the back door and hurried to the corner where a city bus was coming to a stop. He hopped on and the doors shut behind him, just as two police cars and an ambulance came around the corner.
He didn’t immediately return to the library. He checked in with Harold, who assured him that Kelsey was fine and on her way to meet Anton at the hospital. Then he disconnected and removed his earpiece, tucking it into his pocket. He wandered around the city for awhile, stopping at a diner to get something to eat. When his food arrived, he merely picked at it.
Usually after the completion of a case where the victim was saved and the bad guy was either arrested or dead, he felt better. There was always a small sense of accomplishment, a feeling of victory at doing his part in making the world a better place. He had never experienced that during his work for the CIA. But now, doing this job with Harold, he realized he served a real purpose.
“So why do I feel absolutely nothing about this case?” he murmured.
“Perhaps, Mr. Reese, because you see a bit of yourself in our friend, Mr. O’Mara, and that bothers you.”
John looked up to see Harold standing at the end of his booth.
“May I join you?”
John nodded.
“I took Bear back to the library, where he is probably chewing up another set of reference materials as we speak.” Harold pointed to John’s nearly untouched plate. “Not hungry?”
John pushed it across the table. “Help yourself. I thought I had turned my phone off.”
“Please, Mr. Reese. Do you really think that I wouldn’t be able to track down my best employee?”
John smiled. “I’m your only employee.”
“Ah, I believe Bear also does his fair share of work.”
“What were you saying before? I’m nothing like Anton.”
Harold nibbled on a potato wedge. “You were never a thug, I will give you that. But you have made some rather questionable past career choices.”
“I did what the government told me to do.”
“Just as he did what his father told him to do.”
John pursed his lips. “Not the same thing.”
Harold sighed and said, “Maybe you see how things could be for you if you found the right woman and settled down. Anton has turned his life into something any ordinary person would find enviable. We, on the other hand, are not ordinary people, so it seems that much more out of reach. When you first met him, you thought of him as a young man who was wasting his life. You were feeling the same way about your own life.”
A moment passed, and John said nothing, so Harold continued.
“In the way that my offering you a job was a turning point for you, you shooting up his father’s gang was a turning point for Anton. You should feel proud about that. You saved him, and he wasn’t even a number.” Harold took one more potato wedge and stood up. “I’ll see you at the library.”
John sat there for several minutes, mulling over Harold’s words. Then he paid his bill and went to the hospital. He located Anton’s room and knocked on the door. Kelsey greeted him with a smile and then threw her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He almost jumped back, feeling her belly press into his own. Then he relaxed and returned the hug.
“Thank you so much,” she said, releasing him and guiding him over to the bed.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Anton shrugged and sat up a little straighter. “Hurts like hell, but the doctors say I’ll live. I bet you and Detective Carter are pretty pissed about that, huh?”
John stared at him, then shook his head. “I can’t speak for her, but no, I’m not. I’m just glad you’re going to be all right.”
“Thank you, John. Really.”
“You’re welcome.”
“If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I do,” John said. “You wouldn’t have killed him. It’s not your nature, and you’re not like your father.”
Anton’s eyes welled with tears, and he wiped them away. Kelsey reached out and took his hand and smiled.
“I’m going to make you proud,” Anton said, and John blinked.
“Just be a good husband and father.”
Anton nodded. “I will.”
They shook hands, and then John left. As he exited the hospital, he exhaled deeply, that feeling of accomplishment returning, along with just the tiniest bit of pride. Then he turned on his phone, not surprised to see a message from Harold that a new number had come in. He smiled.
#
A month had passed since their case with Anton ended, and Harold was busily tapping away at the keyboard, Bear comfortably curled up at his feet, when John arrived one morning.
“You’ve received some mail,” Harold said, and John frowned.
“I don’t get mail.”
Harold slid an envelope toward him. “Well, now you do, and I expect you will for several years.”
Puzzled, John examined the envelope, noticing the top had been neatly sliced open. “You already read it.”
“The envelope was addressed to me, one of my PO boxes, but the letter and the picture inside are for you.”
John pulled out a piece of paper first, neatly folded into thirds, and read the handwritten words, his eyes widening.
“It’s from Anton and Kelsey,” he said.
“I know,” Harold said, starting to grin.
“They had their baby. A boy.”
“Yes, it appears their doctor missed an important part of the baby’s anatomy during the ultrasound. I hear they sometimes can turn in such a way as to hinder the viewing.”
“And they named it...John.”
Harold’s expression was almost gleeful as he nodded. “Isn’t that sweet?”
John reached the last line of the letter and began shaking his head. “And they want me to be godfather? No, no, no, no.” He removed the wallet-sized photo from the envelope and studied it, feeling his heart constrict just a little at the big blue eyes staring back at him. “Damn,” he growled. “He’s cute.”
And Harold just laughed.
~end
Rating: PG
Author: pvtwitt
Word Count: 8136
Summary: The newest number turns out to be Anton, the punk from Reese’s infamous subway ride. But he’s turned his life around now. He’s no longer working for his father, and he’s not involved in any of the criminal activities anymore. So who could want him dead? Or is this just a very good cover, and he’s not really as clean-cut as he says he is?
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. This is just for fun.
Author's Note: This is not the original story I started out with. I changed it literally at the last minute, so my artist, sevencorvus, didn't have enough time to create a new banner. Thanks to Lil for doing the beta read!
“Good morning, Mr. Reese. Are you on your way in?”
“Just stopping for some breakfast,” John said, opening the door to a coffee shop and stepping inside. “Would you like anything?”
“Nothing for me, thank you.”
Something in Harold’s voice caused John to pause before joining the line.
“Is there a new number?”
“Always, Mr. Reese. And this one is...interesting.”
“I’ll be right there.”
John left empty-handed, walking briskly to the library where he took the stairs two at a time, patted Bear’s head, and then joined Harold at the board. Harold was just taping up a newly printed picture, and John eyed it in surprise.
“You’re kidding,” he said.
“You know that doesn’t happen,” Harold said, then added, “very often,” at John’s raised eyebrow.
He turned back toward the computer monitors and sat down, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he brought up screens of information.
“Anton O’Mara, son of Irish gangster Seamus O’Mara,” Harold began, and John stood and stared at the face of the wannabe gang leader that had harassed him on the subway. “Seamus O’Mara, died ten months ago in a stabbing incident. On the subway.”
“Hm. Kind of funny,” John said.
“I hardly think bleeding out with a knife wound to the femoral artery could be considered fun.”
John threw him a look over his shoulder, and Harold shrugged.
“The crew sort of fell apart after that. Anton tried to keep everything together, but he lacked the leadership skills.”
“So what’s he up to now? Did he join another group?”
Harold typed some more. “No, he went back to school.”
“What?”
“He’s enrolled at a junior college, criminal justice program. He’s studying to be a police officer.”
John turned and faced Harold, sure this had to be some kind of joke. He pointed to the picture.
“This kid,” he said, “who got off on picking on homeless people. This kid, who was all decked out in gold chains, with his pants hanging off his ass, wants to be a cop?”
“Perhaps after his father died he had a change of heart. It’s not altogether unheard of. Children of criminals have been known to go the opposite way of their parents.”
Each of them paused as they thought of one in particular who had become even more ruthless than his father. John appeared unconvinced that Anton had changed.
“Either way, he’s our number, and we need to determine who is behind the threat to his life,” Harold said, peering at John over his glasses, “regardless of any past issues.”
“Basically, you’re telling me to play nice,” John said. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “All right. I’ll go check on him. But remember, he could turn out to be the perp. If that happens, I’m personally dropping him at Carter’s doorstep.”
Harold didn’t argue, just handed John a slip of paper with Anton’s current address. John flinched as he read it. New Rochelle.
“Sonofabitch,” he muttered, before spinning on his heel and stomping away.
Harold and Bear exchanged a nervous glance.
#
The house was modest, a two-story structure on a corner lot with neatly tended flower beds beneath the porch. Two cars were in the driveway, and a recycling bin sat at the curb. This did not look like the kind of place a punk like Anton would live in. John checked the paper again, just to make sure he was parked across from the correct house. The numbers matched. John raised his camera and snapped off a few shots. He touched his earpiece and waited for Harold’s response.
“This is weird,” John said, and the words sounded funny coming from him. “Are you sure the Machine gave you Anton’s number? Could you have gotten it wrong?”
Harold made a sound of derision. “You might as well get over it, Mr. Reese. Anton has turned over a new leaf.”
“What other info have you learned?” John asked, brushing aside that last comment. “There are two cars parked here. Is he married?”
“Not yet, but he is in a serious relationship with Miss Kelsey Langer. They’re engaged. She’s a, uh, she’s a nurse,” Harold said.
John pursed his lips and remained quiet.
“They have separate bank accounts, neither of them overflowing with funds, and the house was purchased together six months ago.”
“Maybe she’s the threat.”
The front door opened, and John raised his camera and zoomed in. Anton emerged from the house, and John immediately thought the kid looked good. Healthy, clean, grown-up even. He carried a computer bag slung over one shoulder. His fiancé, Kelsey, stepped out after him, and he pulled the door shut. They turned toward each other to share a kiss, revealing Kelsey’s very pregnant belly.
“Or perhaps not,” John murmured. “Check on the fiancé. See how far along she is.”
“How far along what?” Harold asked, sounding confused. Then, “Oh. Of course. I will find out.”
John ducked in his seat as they each backed out of the driveway and drove past him. Once they had turned the corner, he got out of the car and hurried across the street and around the side of the house. The backyard was small, and the lock on the sliding doors to the deck was easily picked. He let himself into the kitchen, closing the blinds.
Everything was neat and orderly. Breakfast dishes were stacked in the drying rack, a washcloth draped over the faucet. A vase of fresh flowers sat in the middle of the table with a placemat at each setting. A stack of mail sat on the breakfast bar, and John thumbed through it. A utility bill, a water bill, a couple of credit card applications, and an invitation to a wedding in June.
A desktop computer was set up in a corner of the living room, and he switched it on, clicking on folders here and there. Then he inserted a flash drive and downloaded several files and emails. Harold would look them over at the library. There was one folder labeled “Project” and his curiosity piqued, John opened it. There were all the articles about the mysterious Man in the Suit, even copies of the grainy photos that Donnelly had. John copied that folder as well, then removed the flash drive and slipped it in his pocket.
John did a quick walk through of the rest of the house, surprised to find no pictures of Anton’s father, just framed ones of him and Kelsey. The nursery was ready for them to bring home a little girl, judging by the amount of pink. In the back of the bedroom closet, he found a lockbox that he was pretty sure contained a gun. Other than that, no other firearms were located, not even in the garage.
“Send me his class schedule,” John said, and a minute later, his phone pinged with a new email.
The drive to the Monroe College campus was short, and John easily located Anton in his criminal law class. He waited patiently for class to let out, then blended in with the other people in the hallway, but still got close enough to connect with Anton’s cell phone. Anton stepped outside and dialed a number.
John hung back, listening.
“Hi, baby, what’s up?” Kelsey asked.
“Nothing, just wanted to hear your voice.”
She laughed. “You just saw me not that long ago. How was class?”
“Good. Really good.”
“Learning new things?”
“Everyday.”
“All right, well, I hate to do this, but I have to go. Are you working tonight?”
“Yeah, dinner shift. I should be home by nine.”
“Sounds good.”
“Give our girl a hug from me,” Anton said, and John could hear the tenderness in his voice as he spoke about the baby.
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Anton hung up, tucked the phone in his pocket and turned to step back inside the building. John ducked into an empty classroom as Anton passed.
“Where does he work?” John asked.
“He works part time at a local hardware store,” Harold said, “stocking shelves and such.”
“He said something about a dinner shift.”
John waited as Harold clicked away on the computer. There was a pause, and then a sigh.
“What is it?” John asked, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“He also volunteers a couple of nights a week.”
“Volunteers? Doing what? Teaching kids how to incorrectly shoot a gun?”
“Serving meals at a soup kitchen.”
John’s mouth dropped, and he shook his head. “Is this some kind of -”
“Joke,” Harold interrupted, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “I assure you, it’s not. And really, I’m surprised at you, John. You seem to be having some serious trouble with this case. Should I have Detective Carter or Fusco look into it?”
“I’m fine,” John growled, then cut the connection.
As he walked back to his car, he thought about what Finch had said. Why was he having such a difficult time with this case? It wasn’t the first time he had investigated a number with a criminal background. But most of them also hadn’t done a complete 180 and turned up all sunshine and daisies either. Yes, Anton and his crew had tried to attack him on the subway, but he’d taken care of that. And he’d even taken some of their guns for his own use, leaving behind a bit of mess. So he really shouldn’t still have a beef with this kid, should he?
Frustrated, he drove back to the city to give Harold the flash drive.
#
Harold had been just as intrigued as John about Anton’s information regarding the Man in the Suit. Had he made the connection between the man on the subway and the man who’d taken the guns? Did he know it was the same person, and also the man the FBI had been investigating? Did he know who John was?
Leaving Harold to do some more digging, John made his way to the soup kitchen on Amsterdam Avenue. It was located inside the basement of a church, and at 6:00, the line was already out the door. John slipped around the back and looked for another entrance, smiling a little when he saw a door propped open with a brick to let in some cool evening air. He could hear voices from inside, calls for more plates and dinner rolls.
He stepped inside, instantly spotted Anton in a long white apron mashing a huge pot of potatoes. He was alone at the moment and focused so intently on his task, he didn’t see John had come to stand beside him. When he did notice, he yelped and flailed, falling back against the counter.
“Holy shit!”
“You shouldn’t curse. You’re in a church,” John chided. “Hello, Anton. Nice to see you again.”
“It’s you. You’re the subway bum. What are you doing here?”
“That’s a good question. I was hoping you could answer it for me.”
Anton’s eyes were wide. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“More potatoes!” came the call from the serving table.
Anton eyed John, who stepped back with a flourish.
“Please, by all means, finish what you were doing. I’ll be outside.”
John was waiting when Anton emerged from the kitchen twenty minutes later. He untied the apron strings and pulled it over his head, balling it up in his hands. He kept his distance from John, his jaw twitching nervously.
“So, Anton, I see you’re keeping yourself busy,” John said.
“Yeah, I guess. What are you doing here?”
“Well, it seems as though you’re in some kind of trouble. Care to share?”
Anton frowned. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not in trouble, I’m clean, I swear. I left that life behind when my dad died.”
“On the subway, yes, I heard. Lot of things happen on the subway,” John said lightly.
Anton cringed and had the grace to look ashamed. “Look, man, I’m, I’m sorry about that. I was stupid, a stupid kid. And besides, you weren’t in any real danger. You kicked our asses pretty good.”
“Any of your dad’s old cronies looking to take you out? Did he have any old debts that weren’t paid?” John asked.
“I don’t know. I cut all ties with that crap. I started over. I’m in school now. I’m getting married, and we’re having a baby. I don’t want that kind of life for my own kid.”
John gave a little smile. “Congratulations for coming to your senses.”
“Hey, I started out bad, yes, I know this. But doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”
At that, John swallowed hard and straightened. Anton took a fearful step back.
“Please don’t shoot me,” he said, his voice soft.
“I’m not going to shoot you. Now you’re sure you don’t know of anyone who may want to hurt you? What about Kelsey? Does she have any enemies at the hospital where she works?”
“Kelsey? How do you know about her?”
“Doesn’t matter. I need you to think.”
Anton shook his head. “No, she’s the nicest person you’ll ever meet. She’s a nurse, she helps people. Oh God, if she’s in danger -”
“I’ll stop it. For now, go home. I’ll keep an eye out. And tomorrow, I want to meet with both of you.”
“Sure, sure. Anything. Hey,” Anton said as John began to walk away. “It was you, you know. You shooting up my dad’s crew, that was the start of the end of that life for me.”
“Why was that?”
A slow grin crossed Anton’s face. “I realized I was the only guy you didn’t kneecap. Out of all of them, I’m the only one doesn’t walk with a limp. I figured you spared me for a reason.”
John didn’t say anything, just stared hard at Anton, studying him with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded, gave Anton the name of a diner in the city, and told him to be there with Kelsey in the morning at 8:30.
“Um, can I at least know your name?” Anton asked.
John paused for a minute before answering, “John. You can call me John.”
#
“How long have you been here?” John asked the next morning, sliding into an empty chair across from Anton and Kelsey. He knew the answer, forty-five minutes, since he’d been watching them from across the street, ever since they arrived and Kelsey tried in vain to sit in a booth, then decided a table would be best, but he wanted to see if Anton would answer honestly.
“Forty-five minutes,” he said, and John mentally gave him a point. “We didn’t want to be late or miss you. We didn’t, er, I didn’t want to upset you.”
“Can you please tell me what is going on?” Kelsey said, pinning John with an icy blue glare. “He’s been all flustered ever since he came home last night. Who are you? What do you want from us?”
John quirked a brow. “You mean you didn’t tell her about our history?”
Anton gulped and shook his head. “I mean, I did, but not that it’s you. I told her everything, it’s how we met.”
Kelsey was right. Anton was terribly flustered. He took a deep breath and tried again.
“She was working the night my dad got brought in after the stabbing. She sat with me for a long time. We talked, and eventually, we went out. I told her everything about me, my wrongs, my rights, everything.” He paused and took a sip from the glass of water in front of him. “So, Kelsey, this is the guy. The guy we, uh, roughed up one night on the subway.”
Kelsey frowned and looked at John, who couldn’t help but give her a cheery smile.
“This guy? You said he was a homeless bum,” she said.
Anton’s eyes widened as he glanced at John, as if he was afraid John would kneecap Kelsey for insulting him somehow.
“I’m doing much better now,” John said. “I was given a second chance. Kind of like Anton here.” Anton visibly relaxed, then tensed again when John added, “But someone wants that to change.”
“So what can you do?” Kelsey asked. “We’re not involved in anything dangerous or illegal. We’re a perfectly boring couple expecting a baby in the next few weeks.” Her hands went protectively over her stomach.
“And I intend to keep you that way,” John said, “so I need to know everything about your lives, beginning from the time that you met. Chances are, the threat is someone you both know or have had an encounter with.”
They talked for an hour while John listened, and he actually had to keep himself from yawning. Kelsey was right. They were boring. At one point, Anton asked if John was going to write anything down, and John simply pointed to his head and said, “Got it all right here.” John heard Harold laugh in his ear.
“Well, no one was watching your house last night,” John said, “other than myself, so you’re all right there.”
“Wait, you were watching our house?” Kelsey asked, her voice rising a bit. “Did you bug our phones, too?”
At John’s slight smirk, Kelsey made a disgusted noise. “Who are you? Some kind of spy or something? How are you able to do this, and where did you get this information that we’re in danger?”
“John, something, technology, and a reliable source,” John answered, moving out of the booth and standing up. “I’ll be in touch.”
He left them in the diner, walking outside and into the morning sun, pausing to button his suit jacket.
“You certainly have a way with women, Mr. Reese,” Harold chirped in his ear.
“She’s alert now, and that’s good.”
The bell above the door dinged, and Kelsey and Anton stepped out. A police patrol car pulled into the parking lot, and two uniformed officers exited the car and started for the entrance of the restaurant. At the same time, an older model black sedan with tinted windows came speeding up the street. John watched as the driver’s window rolled down slightly, and he spotted the flash of a gun barrel.
He spun and grabbed Kelsey and Anton by the arms, pushing them to the ground, and using his own body to shield them. Bullets shattered the windows of the diner, and glass rained down on them. The police officers hit the pavement, screaming for everyone to get down, and the car sped away. John heard one of the officers calling it in on his radio, while the other hopped in the patrol car and went after the shooter.
“Mr. Reese?” came Harold’s concerned voice, and John lifted his head and quickly made sure Kelsey was all right, then Anton.
“We’re fine.”
“What happened?”
“Possible ambush. We need to move them someplace safe.”
Harold gave him the address of a brownstone nearby, and John wasted no time in guiding them away from the scene. The area was in such chaos, no one noticed them leave.
Kelsey was on the verge of hysterics, but Anton had his arms around her and was talking to her in soothing tones as they walked quickly to Harold’s safe house. John punched in the security code on the front door and ushered them inside. Anton helped Kelsey to sit down on the plush sofa, and John checked her over.
“I’m okay,” she said, her voice shaky but strong. “Oh my God, this can’t be happening.”
Anton brought her a glass of water, then sat down beside her, taking her in his arms while she cried. John stepped away, giving them a moment. He peered through the curtains, not seeing anything suspicious. They hadn’t been followed, he was sure of it.
“The call came in on the police scanner, and Detective Carter has contacted me asking if you were involved,” Harold said. “I assured her you didn’t shoot back. Was I correct in that assumption?”
“Yes. There were two cops there, just arrived. I didn’t fire my weapon.”
“Do you believe this was an attempt on Anton’s life? Made to look like a random shooting at police officers?”
“I’d say it was highly possible. Have you learned anything new, Finch?”
Harold sighed. “No. They haven’t even been late paying their cable bill. I honestly don’t know what we’re looking at here.”
“Keep digging.”
“Of course.”
John turned and came face to face with Anton. He’d helped Kelsey to one of the bedrooms to lie down and rest, and then came back to have a talk with John.
“Who were you talking to?” he asked.
“My partner. He’s helping me investigate your situation.”
“Are you really going to help us?” Anton asked, and John nodded. A look of relief washed over the younger man’s face. “Thank you. I mean it.”
“Stay here. I’m going to see what I can find out about the shooting. Don’t open the door unless a Harold Finch comes by, and don't take or make any calls from your cell phones. Turn them off. I’ll be back soon.”
“Yeah, you got it. Anything else?”
Anton was eager to help.
“What’s your project about?” John asked, and Anton’s expression changed from confusion to understanding to fear.
“It is you,” he said softly. “You’re the man in the suit. All the stuff I’d heard, it sounded like you, I mean, before I knew it was you, before I knew you.”
John reached out and put a hand on Anton’s shoulder, and his voice trailed off to silence.
“Why are you looking into it?” John asked, neither confirming or denying he was indeed the Man in the Suit.
Anton shrugged and said, “I just thought it was cool. This guy goes around and helps people who need it, gives them the opportunity to maybe start over. I thought, well, I felt like I owed him something.” He pursed his lips together for a moment. “I’ll get rid of all of it.”
John half-smiled. “Good.”
Then he left Anton with Kelsey and headed back to the diner.
#
Detective Carter spotted John out of the corner of her eye. He was standing off to the side, behind others who were craning their necks to see the damage to the diner. She excused herself for a moment and tipped her head so he would follow.
They met around the side of the building, and Carter gave him a quick once-over.
“I don’t see any bullet holes in you,” she said.
“I would have patched them up by now.”
She shook her head. “Were you here?”
“I was.”
“Alone?”
“With a couple of friends.”
She quirked a brow.
“What?” John asked innocently. “I can make friends.”
Carter rolled her eyes. “So did you see it?” “Yes, black sedan, obscured license plate, tinted windows.”
“Did you see the driver? The shooter?”
John shook his head. “Unfortunately no. But I believe it was one person, and either he can’t aim worth crap, or he was just trying to scare everyone.”
“Were your new friends the target?”
“Possibly.”
“And you’re not going to tell me anything more?”
John glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot.
“Anton O’Mara,” he said.
The name sounded familiar to Carter, and it took a minute before recognition crossed her features. She stared at John in disbelief.
“That’s who you’re protecting this time?”
“He seems to have...turned a new leaf,” John said, using Harold’s choice of words.
“Where is he now?”
“He and his pregnant fiancé are safe.”
“His what? Am I hearing you right? I want to talk to him.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, I mean it. Do you have any idea what kind of hell that little punk put me through? All the crap he pulled?”
“I’m very aware, Detective. But if it hadn’t been for him, you and I may never have met.”
John was as surprised as she was at the words he’d just spoken. There was a moment of awkward silence before Carter coughed and said, “I’ll be in touch,” and walked back to the other officers. John went in the opposite direction.
“How very profound, Mr. Reese,” Harold said.
John made a noise of annoyance.
#
“Maybe we’re looking at this from the wrong viewpoint,” John said, staring at the picture of Anton hanging on the board. “We keep thinking the threat is coming from his father’s past. What if it’s simpler than that?”
“How so?” Harold asked.
“Carter said that Anton had pulled a lot of crap, got into a lot of trouble. What if it’s someone from his past?”
“That would make sense. But if someone really wanted to hurt him, why not go after his fiancé instead? It would make a bigger impact if she were harmed.”
John glanced over his shoulder at Harold. “Your thoughts are turning a little more devious with each passing day.”
Harold just blinked, then focused on his computer screens. “So if we look into Anton’s criminal past, I see a lot of petty incidents involving harassment on the subway, a couple of automobile thefts, some purse snatching, and general complaints of him being a nuisance in public places. He wasn’t as violent as his father. He never actually killed anyone.”
“Well, that’s good,” John said. A frown crossed his face. “But he was a thug, albeit a low-grade thug. Why would a girl like Kelsey want to become involved with him?”
Harold typed some more, then leaned back in his chair. “Langer is not her original name. She was adopted as a young child. I was in the middle of cracking into those records when all the excitement started.” He brought up a few more windows, his eyes scanning the lines of information. “Her real father was a criminal as well, and she ended up in foster care at age three when he murdered her mother.”
“Where’s the father now?”
“Brian O’Neill, just released from prison a month ago.” Harold studied the screen in front of him and made a noise that sounded like one of “aha”.
“What is it?”
“It appears that Mr. O’Neill used to run around with Seamus O’Mara in their younger days. There is a police report from a domestic incident, right before the death of Kelsey’s mother. She claimed that her husband beat her because he believed she was having an affair with Anton’s father.”
John slowly turned and faced Harold. “So O’Neill’s wife cheats with Seamus O’Mara, then he kills her for it. Now he finds out that his daughter is with O’Mara’s son and expecting his child. Fantastic.”
“You need to stop this family reunion from happening,” Harold said.
“Send me O’Neill’s information,” John said as he headed for the stairs. “In the meantime, I need you to check on Anton and Kelsey. Take Bear with you for protection.”
Harold gave a curt nod and stood up, grabbing Bear’s leash. The dog was immediately at attention, his tail wagging in anticipation of going out.
“I wish I shared your enthusiasm for field work,” Harold said, clipping the leash to Bear’s collar. Bear just grinned.
#
The apartment building where Brian O’Neill was living could definitely be classified as a dump. The stench of old garbage and urine permeated the dimly lit hallway, and John’s nose twitched. He moved stealthily to the door marked 10A and listened for a minute before trying the door. He wasn’t surprised to find it unlocked. Holding his gun at his side, he stepped inside and took in the surroundings.
Empty food containers lined the countertop and overflowed from the trash can. A dirty couch sat along one wall, cigarette marks burned into the arms. John checked through the contents of the papers on the coffee table, picking up and reading one with scribbles about Kelsey Langer. Her home address, work address, even the make and model of the car she drove, was written down.
John sighed and moved on to the bedroom. Pictures of Anton with his face crossed out in red ink were taped to the wall, along with a copy of his class and work schedule. His father’s obituary was sitting on the bedside table. Opening the drawer, John saw a half-empty box of bullets for a 9mm handgun, but no weapon.
“Finch, you there?”
“I’ve just reached the safe house.”
“I think it’s safe to say that O’Neill is definitely our guy. He’s been doing some research about Anton and Kelsey on his own.”
John heard the door to the brownstone buzz open, then close with a definite click once Harold was inside.
“Should I warn them?”
“Wait for me. I’ll be there soon.”
“All right, Mr. Reese. Be careful.”
John left everything as it was, although he doubted anyone would notice since the place was such a pit. Just as he reached the living room, the front door opened, and in walked Brian O’Neill. He was a rough looking character with several days worth of stubble covering his pock-marked face. He carried a bag from a fast food restaurant under one arm. He took one look at John, dropped the bag, and bolted. John chased after him.
They reached the end of the hall, and O’Neill whirled and threw a punch. John easily ducked and kicked out with his leg, catching the other man behind the knee and causing him to fall. O’Neill caught himself though, and thrust his elbow directly into John’s left shin. Cursing, John grabbed the man by his shirt collar and shoved him against the wall, pressing his forearm against O’Neill’s throat.
“Who the hell are you?” O’Neill asked.
“Someone who would like you to give up your stupid idea of revenge and let your daughter live a normal life.”
O’Neill’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Stay away from her. Stay away from Anton. If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to force you myself. Do you understand me?”
O’Neill shook his head. “No way am I letting that bastard take my daughter away from me. His father already took my wife!” “I believe you did all of that on your own.”
An apartment door opened, and they both turned to look. O’Neill took this opportunity to dip his head enough to bite John’s arm. Stunned, John released him, and the man ran through the building’s doors and disappeared. O’Neill hadn’t been able to bite through John’s jacket sleeve and shirt, so he hadn’t broken skin, but his teeth had hit a nerve that caused a spark of pain to shoot up John’s arm.
John dialed Carter and let her know what was going on. He could tell by her tone that she was not pleased, but she promised to get to the apartment as soon as she could to check it out.
“Is Anton safe?” she asked.
“For now,” he answered.
#
John entered the safe house, slamming the door hard behind him, which caused everyone to jump, even Bear.
“Mr. Reese, what happened?” Harold asked, concern etched on his face.
John stood right in front of Kelsey and Anton and glared at them both.
“Your father bit me,” he said to Kelsey, and she gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. “And he’d like you dead,” he said to Anton.
“But, but, what? I don’t get it,” Anton said.
Harold was up in a flash, hurrying to retrieve a first aid kit.
“Not necessary,” John called after him. “I’m not bleeding.”
“My father? He’s in jail,” Kelsey said.
“He’s out, and he’s none too pleased that you’ve become involved with Anton. Were you aware that both your fathers had a thing for your mother?”
Kelsey stood up as quickly as her pregnant stomach would allow her. Then she angrily jabbed a finger into John’s chest.
“How dare you!” she yelled at him. “What kind of bullshit are you spewing?”
John took a step back. “You didn’t know.” He turned his gaze to Anton, who cowered before him. John sighed and rolled his eyes. “But you did.”
Kelsey froze. Then she turned toward Anton. “What? It’s true? And you knew about it?”
Anton was on his feet in an instant. “I did, but -”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t think it mattered,” he said, his voice pathetic and meek.
Kelsey was aghast. “It didn’t matter? My dad killed my mom because he thought she was having an affair. But it was your dad? Your dad?!”
“Weren’t you ever curious about what happened?” John asked.
“No,” Kelsey said, shaking her head. “I was too young to know what was going on, and when I got old enough, I didn’t want to know. I don’t remember my dad, and I’m okay with that.”
Anton tried to pull her close, but she moved away, slapping him so hard across the face that the sound reverberated in the small space. Even John winced.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed before going to the bedroom.
Harold stood at the end of the couch, the first aid kit in his hands.
“I see that went well,” he said dryly.
“Anton,” John said, and Anton held up his hands.
“I knew about it, yes. My dad bragged to me about it, but I didn’t seek her out, I swear,” he said. “I didn’t want to tell her because I was afraid she’d never talk to me again.”
John refrained from saying a smart remark, sinking into an armchair. He waved off Harold and the first aid kit, with Harold pursing his lips and muttering something about a rabies shot.
“He wants you dead. He had your pictures, your personal information, and a gun,” John said.
“I have a gun, too. I can defend myself.”
“You still shooting sideways?”
Anton glared, and John sighed. He absolutely hated this case.
“Detective Carter is checking out O’Neill’s apartment right now, so we can get him on planning a homicide.”
“Detective Carter? She hates me.”
“You haven’t exactly been an angel,” Harold pointed out. “But she is duty bound to protect you if you’re in danger.”
Anton paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair in agitation. John simply sat back and watched him. This was such different behavior from the first time they met. Gone was the arrogance and cocksure attitude. In its place was genuine fear and uncertainty.
“I have to do something!” Anton finally said. “I have to make Kelsey understand why I lied to her. I have to find her father and get him to stay away from us.”
“Talk to Kelsey,” Harold said. “Let us handle her father.”
Anton gave a curt nod and went down the hall toward the bedroom. As soon as he was gone, Harold turned to John.
“So.”
“How do we handle the father,” John finished, getting to his feet. “I’ll go see Carter.”
“I’ll stay here. I brought a laptop with me, so I can do some work.”
#
Twenty minutes later, John was back at O’Neill’s apartment, having a chat with Detective Carter.
“He’s got a serious grudge,” Carter said. “Judging from all the stuff he’s got in there, I’d say he’s a bit obsessed.”
“He wants his daughter back,” John said.
“And he’d like Anton to go the way of his wife. I can’t let that happen.”
“Neither can I. Any idea where he might have gone?”
Carter shook her head. “I took a look at the original case file for his wife’s murder. He shot her in the face, John. Four times at close range. That’s a lot of rage.”
John mulled this over, then said, “He bit me.”
“Excuse me?” Carter studied his face, wondering if he was kidding, then shook her head when she realized he wasn’t. “All right. So why don’t I go with you to talk to Anton? See what he remembers about that time period.”
They were walking away when John suddenly heard Harold’s voice, out of breath and a little panicky, and Bear barking in the background.
“He said she was in labor, but she wasn’t. He locked us in the bedroom. He’s gone, Mr. Reese!”
John stopped, frowning hard. “Say that again, slowly.”
Harold repeated his words, explaining that he and Bear had been sitting in the living room when Anton came running out, saying that Kelsey’s water had broken. They all raced to the bedroom, Bear leading the way, and then Anton shoved Harold to the floor and pulled the door shut. He jammed something in the lock and left.
“I think he’s gone to find O’Neill,” Harold said.
“Is Kelsey all right?”
“She’s fine. We broke through the door, and I’m moving her to another place right now. I’m tracking his cell phone’s GPS, and he’s headed for New Rochelle. Why would he go home?”
“To get his gun,” John said. He clicked off with Harold and gave Carter the details. They hurried to her car and sped toward the house Anton and Kelsey shared. When they arrived, John pointed to the black car parked in the driveway, the same one he’d seen at the diner. Carter motioned for John to move around back while she took the front.
He could hear the yelling before he even reached the sliding door on the deck.
“Your bastard of a father stole my family! There’s no way I’ll let you go anywhere near my daughter again!”
John peeked into the kitchen and saw Anton on his knees. He was bleeding from his mouth and nose, and clutching his abdomen with one hand, the other raised in the air in a pleading gesture.
“She’s p-pregnant,” Anton said, his voice wavering. “She’s having my baby.”
He swayed a little, and John saw the blood seeping through his shirt from what he guessed was a gunshot wound.
“I’ll take care of it,” O’Neill said.
John’s blood ran cold at the tone. He knew O’Neill wasn’t talking about providing diapers and a college fund. He was going to kill the baby if given the chance.
Anton shook his head and tried to stand, but O’Neill punched him in the face, and he fell backward onto the tiled floor.
“That’s enough,” John said, stepping into the kitchen, his gun aimed at O’Neill’s chest. “Whatever happened between his father and your wife is ancient history, and you already ruined lives because of it.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are, or how you know what you know, but you have no business in this,” O’Neill said.
Carter came around the corner from the living room, her gun drawn as well. “He may not, but I do. Drop your weapon.”
Anton coughed and spit up blood.
“You’re going to have to pry it from my cold dead hands,” O’Neill said with a sneer. “I’m going to kill this sonofabitch and get my daughter back.”
“And if you were to get out of here alive, what are you going to do then?” John asked. “It’s far too late to be the strong father figure she needed as a young girl.”
O’Neill shook his head. “I’ll think of something. I’ll make her understand. I made her mother understand, didn’t I?”
At that, Anton let out a roar of rage and flung himself at O’Neill. They struggled for control of the gun, and it went off, firing a bullet into the ceiling. Bits of plaster fell down around them. Another bullet went wild, and Carter ducked as it whizzed past her head and slammed into the living room wall. John carefully aimed and shot O’Neill in the left leg. He released Anton and grabbed his leg, howling in pain.
Anton picked up O’Neill’s fallen gun and got to his feet. He pointed it at O’Neill, holding it with both hands as he continued to bleed through the wound in his abdomen. His face was pale and he was sweating, but his grip was steady.
“Anton,” John cautioned. “Put it down.”
“This is the only way to ensure Kelsey and the baby stay safe.”
“It’s also a great way to ensure that you’ll never see them without bars between you,” John said.
Carter was standing again. “As much as it would give me immense pleasure to shoot your stupid ass for all the crap you’ve done,” she said, “I’d rather see this end with you going back to Kelsey and your baby.”
“You can both leave, and I’ll take care of it myself,” Anton said. “I won’t involve either of you. You can pretend you never saw any of this.”
“You know we can’t do that,” Carter said.
O’Neill’s cries of pain only got louder, and John resisted the urge to shoot him again just to shut him up.
“Anton, you need a doctor,” he said, motioning to the blood. “Kelsey needs you alive. She loves you, and she’ll forgive you for not telling her the truth, but she’ll never forgive you for this. Don’t become a monster. Don’t become him.”
Anton’s jaw clenched tightly, and for a moment, John thought he was still going to shoot. Then he lowered the weapon and held it out to John, who took it, and then caught the young man before he hit the floor. Carter quickly cuffed O’Neill and called for backup.
“You can’t stay,” she said to John, who nodded. “I’ll call you later.”
John slipped out the back door and hurried to the corner where a city bus was coming to a stop. He hopped on and the doors shut behind him, just as two police cars and an ambulance came around the corner.
He didn’t immediately return to the library. He checked in with Harold, who assured him that Kelsey was fine and on her way to meet Anton at the hospital. Then he disconnected and removed his earpiece, tucking it into his pocket. He wandered around the city for awhile, stopping at a diner to get something to eat. When his food arrived, he merely picked at it.
Usually after the completion of a case where the victim was saved and the bad guy was either arrested or dead, he felt better. There was always a small sense of accomplishment, a feeling of victory at doing his part in making the world a better place. He had never experienced that during his work for the CIA. But now, doing this job with Harold, he realized he served a real purpose.
“So why do I feel absolutely nothing about this case?” he murmured.
“Perhaps, Mr. Reese, because you see a bit of yourself in our friend, Mr. O’Mara, and that bothers you.”
John looked up to see Harold standing at the end of his booth.
“May I join you?”
John nodded.
“I took Bear back to the library, where he is probably chewing up another set of reference materials as we speak.” Harold pointed to John’s nearly untouched plate. “Not hungry?”
John pushed it across the table. “Help yourself. I thought I had turned my phone off.”
“Please, Mr. Reese. Do you really think that I wouldn’t be able to track down my best employee?”
John smiled. “I’m your only employee.”
“Ah, I believe Bear also does his fair share of work.”
“What were you saying before? I’m nothing like Anton.”
Harold nibbled on a potato wedge. “You were never a thug, I will give you that. But you have made some rather questionable past career choices.”
“I did what the government told me to do.”
“Just as he did what his father told him to do.”
John pursed his lips. “Not the same thing.”
Harold sighed and said, “Maybe you see how things could be for you if you found the right woman and settled down. Anton has turned his life into something any ordinary person would find enviable. We, on the other hand, are not ordinary people, so it seems that much more out of reach. When you first met him, you thought of him as a young man who was wasting his life. You were feeling the same way about your own life.”
A moment passed, and John said nothing, so Harold continued.
“In the way that my offering you a job was a turning point for you, you shooting up his father’s gang was a turning point for Anton. You should feel proud about that. You saved him, and he wasn’t even a number.” Harold took one more potato wedge and stood up. “I’ll see you at the library.”
John sat there for several minutes, mulling over Harold’s words. Then he paid his bill and went to the hospital. He located Anton’s room and knocked on the door. Kelsey greeted him with a smile and then threw her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He almost jumped back, feeling her belly press into his own. Then he relaxed and returned the hug.
“Thank you so much,” she said, releasing him and guiding him over to the bed.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Anton shrugged and sat up a little straighter. “Hurts like hell, but the doctors say I’ll live. I bet you and Detective Carter are pretty pissed about that, huh?”
John stared at him, then shook his head. “I can’t speak for her, but no, I’m not. I’m just glad you’re going to be all right.”
“Thank you, John. Really.”
“You’re welcome.”
“If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“I do,” John said. “You wouldn’t have killed him. It’s not your nature, and you’re not like your father.”
Anton’s eyes welled with tears, and he wiped them away. Kelsey reached out and took his hand and smiled.
“I’m going to make you proud,” Anton said, and John blinked.
“Just be a good husband and father.”
Anton nodded. “I will.”
They shook hands, and then John left. As he exited the hospital, he exhaled deeply, that feeling of accomplishment returning, along with just the tiniest bit of pride. Then he turned on his phone, not surprised to see a message from Harold that a new number had come in. He smiled.
#
A month had passed since their case with Anton ended, and Harold was busily tapping away at the keyboard, Bear comfortably curled up at his feet, when John arrived one morning.
“You’ve received some mail,” Harold said, and John frowned.
“I don’t get mail.”
Harold slid an envelope toward him. “Well, now you do, and I expect you will for several years.”
Puzzled, John examined the envelope, noticing the top had been neatly sliced open. “You already read it.”
“The envelope was addressed to me, one of my PO boxes, but the letter and the picture inside are for you.”
John pulled out a piece of paper first, neatly folded into thirds, and read the handwritten words, his eyes widening.
“It’s from Anton and Kelsey,” he said.
“I know,” Harold said, starting to grin.
“They had their baby. A boy.”
“Yes, it appears their doctor missed an important part of the baby’s anatomy during the ultrasound. I hear they sometimes can turn in such a way as to hinder the viewing.”
“And they named it...John.”
Harold’s expression was almost gleeful as he nodded. “Isn’t that sweet?”
John reached the last line of the letter and began shaking his head. “And they want me to be godfather? No, no, no, no.” He removed the wallet-sized photo from the envelope and studied it, feeling his heart constrict just a little at the big blue eyes staring back at him. “Damn,” he growled. “He’s cute.”
And Harold just laughed.
~end