“What?” Steve asked as his eyes lit up with anticipation.
“It’s very important that this site isn’t disturbed any further. Spirits get agitated when their homes are messed with, and if there’s any activity, we want to be here to record it.” Sensing the gears turning within the other man’s head, he added, “When they’re agitated, they just might disperse, so we may only get one chance at recording some real good activity.”
Steve kept nodding passionately. “All right. The renovations are already on hold, but I’ll leave a note for the caretakers to take some time off. Just let me know when you’re coming back.”
“Will do. Are there any records or plans for this place, because I’d sure like to see them.”
“They’re in my office. I’ll be right back.” With that, Steve jogged back toward the remains of the mansion and headed for the quarter of the structure that had actually been rebuilt enough to stand on its own.
Once Steve was safely out of sight, Jarvis reached for his phone and flipped it open. The expensive piece of equipment snagged a few bars of signal strength right away and made its connection as soon as he hit the speed dial button.
“MEG Branch 25,” droned the voice at the other end of the connection.
“Hey Will, it’s Jarvis. I’m at the Lancroft Reformatory. Look up Prophet’s number, will ya?”
“Why don’t you have it? Aren’t you supposed to be meeting him soon?”
“He’s one of those guys. You know the ones.”
“Oh. Give me a minute.” The sound of fingers clacking against a keyboard drifted through the phone as Will asked, “You find anything at Lancroft?”
“Yeah. It’s something Prophet might know what to do with. There’s not enough time to explain it to you right now and I wish I could forget I’d even seen it.”
“One of those cases, huh? Sweet.”
Chapter 7
Cole was no stranger to flying. In the first few weeks after he was hired by Digital Dreamers, he’d been forced to fly more than a southbound duck as he made the move from Modesto and got everything squared away. And once his job began, he was saddled with the chauffeur hat dozens of times to pick up visiting executives when they arrived at Seattle-Tacoma International. He’d even been to O’Hare a few times.
Now, landing at O’Hare in a sorry excuse for a prop plane was like ambling along the Los Angeles freeways in an old pickup that couldn’t do more than forty miles per hour. By the time the landing gear bounced on the tarmac, he was longing for the sweet touch of the customs officers who’d sifted through the plane and other things at a smaller airport in Montana.
While he’d been probed in Montana almost as much as the plane itself, his luggage was logged and the bloody knife stashed in a compartment above the landing gear. The officer performing the inspection went through the motions, but wasn’t about to hold the plane up any longer than it took for the proper forms to be filled out. Cole thought he saw some scars on the officer’s palms that vaguely reminded him of Gerald’s, but before he could decide if that was important or not, the plane was on its way to its next refueling spot. He was more than happy to distance himself from what had happened up there.
The old plane had taken its sweet time getting to Chicago, which made it easier for him to focus on more immediate things, like sleeping, being sick, or praying. Landing at O’Hare took place in much the same way: rough, yet successful. Even though he winced at the sound of all those bigger jets in the vicinity, Andy touched down and taxied to his spot without a hitch. After they rolled up to one of the smaller terminals, the engines were cut and Andy pushed open the door.
“This is where we part ways, Squid,” he said, using the affectionate nickname he’d given to Cole after watching him squirm during some of the rougher landings along the way.
Cole staggered down the bent metal steps leading from the plane. Almost as soon as he’d stepped onto terra firma, he was catching Gerald’s luggage as it was tossed from the cargo hatch.
Hunching down beside the musty compartment, Andy asked, “You got anything else?”
“Yeah,” Cole replied as he hefted Gerald’s bag over his shoulder, “but it’s all back in Canada.”
“I don’t think you’ll want to go back to that cabin anytime soon. I heard some Mounties found the whole bloody mess.”
“What day is it?” Cole asked.
Andy looked at his watch. “Thursday. Looks like I made good time getting here.”
“Good time? I could’ve driven here quicker.”
“So I had some stops to make. It ain’t like you had to pay for your damn ticket. Besides, we had to kill some time before our boy at the Montana customs office was on duty. At least you won’t have to visit customs here. They got real fat fingers and know just where to stick ’em.”
Cole didn’t want to argue, and he sure didn’t want to take this conversation any further. Instead, he wanted to find a nice, overpriced airport lounge where he could buy an obscenely expensive drink and let nature take its course. Then again, the thought of those fat fingers was a difficult one to shake, and there were plenty of other places to drop too much on a drink.
“You’ll want to go through there as quick as you can,” Andy said, pointing to a small building at the perimeter of the commercial terminals. “Anyone asks any questions about yer bags, just show ’em the ticket you got in Great Falls. Don’t linger, though. Wouldn’t be wise to push yer luck. Think you can find yer way from here, Squid?”
“Yeah. There might be a sign or two pointing to the front doors.”
The pilot waved at Cole as if sending back an order of undercooked chicken. “It’s been a real…well…it’s been real.”
Walking through the smaller building with almost as many knots in his stomach as he’d had when running away from the rampaging animal back in Canada, Cole nodded at a pair of disinterested customs officers while showing them the slip he’d gotten in Montana. After navigating the crowded metallic mess of walkways, magazine shops, and overpriced fast food booths, he stepped outside of O’Hare’s main terminal. Now he just needed to make his way to the rows of cabs, buses, shuttles, and other vehicles lined up outside the place.
Gazing longingly at the vehicles, Cole reached into his pocket for his phone. It had a strong enough signal, but none of the phone numbers he needed. He flipped the phone shut and replaced it with the satellite device he’d taken from Gerald. After pushing a few buttons and waiting through a few ring tones, he finally heard some familiar words.
“Hello. This is MEG Branch 40. What can I do for you?”
“My name is Cole and—”
“Hey Cole,” the operator replied. “This is Stu again.”
“Don’t they ever give you a day off?” Cole asked.
“Hell no. Ahh. I see you’re in Chi Town. You need to hook up with Paige?”
“Just meeting her would do fine.”
Stu chuckled and clacked through a few more keystrokes. “Actually, I was about to call you. She wanted to know as soon as you landed. I’ll patch you through.”
Before Cole could say another word to Stu, another voice came along to replace his.
“That you, Cole?” Paige asked.
“Yeah. I’m at O’Hare.”
“Great. Here’s the address to meet me. Grab a cab and tell them to step on it. I’ll pay for whatever you can’t cover.”
“All right.”
Paige rattled off an address and Cole repeated it back to her. She then asked, “You feeling all right?”
“I think so,” he replied with a grateful breath. “That plane ride was brutal. Maybe we could get something to eat.”
“Sounds good.”
“You like pizza?” After a few quiet seconds passed, Cole asked, “Would you rather have burgers? Hello?”