FICTION
Sins Of The Past Part 4
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson and Henry James Series By P.G. & Sharon Barnett
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson. And I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
As showdowns go, our meeting with Rick McDonnell Monday afternoon certainly wasn’t a repeat of the Gunfight at the OK Corral. No guns were fired. No shots were taken. What surprised us was how easily the man capitulated, which should have put us on guard immediately. It was almost as if Rick knew what we were going to throw at him before we threw it. Anytime a batter knows what a pitcher is about to send to the plate, it’s a pretty safe bet that ball’s going to take a trip out of the park.
After leaving his office, we huddled up again in the newly acquired office, shut the door, and stared at one another in shock.
“What the hell just happened?”
“I honestly don’t know, Henry. It was like he was expecting it.”
“So first he says he’s grounding me, then he has the copy desk drown me in editing, then he agrees to let me back out in the field? Something ain’t right here, princess. Hello? Earth to Sunny.”
“Sorry. I was just thinking about Dante and Alicia.”
“What about ‘em?”
“Well, I’ve been on the road a lot lately, and Robert’s been having to handle the load with the kids. It’s not fair to him if I go running off on another story.”
“Okay, then we take ’em with us.”
“Have you lost your mind, old man? If this story is anything like the last one, there’s no way in hell I’m going to put my children in harm’s way.”
“So, what are you saying? I take this one by myself?”
“No way.”
“Dammit, princess, we can’t have it both ways.”
“I know. It’s just…”
“Okay, Sunny, here’s the deal. I’m leaving tomorrow morning at six from here. You and Robert talk it over tonight. If you show, we go together. If not, then I’m on my own.”
“Henry.”
“I’m serious, Shaundrika. You have a family, and I get it. So far, all of us have been helping out. Like I said. I get it. You’re feeling a little guilty like maybe you’re taking care of your own needs before your husband and kids.”
“Since when have you gotten so smart, Sigmund?”
“Since I married your mother, I guess. Maybe Cynthia’s rubbing off on me.”
“Okay, I’m headed back to the bullpen. I’ll give Donnie and Becca a call and see what they can come up with.”
“Yeah, in the meantime, I’m going to be slaving away at this queue of mine. You wanna do lunch?”
“Not really. I need to chase down the info, pick Dante and Alicia up from school, then get home.”
“Good enough. See you tomorrow.”
“We’ll see Henry. I still need to talk this through with Robert.”
“I understand, princess. I really do.”
Precisely five minutes until six Tuesday morning, we met in the parking garage of Dark Sides. Though the sun wouldn’t be up for another hour or so, the brightly lit garage certainly didn’t hide the smiles on both our faces. We leaned against the fender of the car in silence for several seconds taking in the vacant lot, listening to the muted roar of traffic from the nearby highway.
“Well?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“Not what I meant, princess.”
“Well, he wasn’t thrilled, but he understands. What about mother?”
“Oh, and me going out in the field?”
“Yeah.”
“She blew my ass up.”
We were silent for another minute, taking in the sights of grey concrete, yellow directional arrows painted on the pavement, and the freshly painted parking slots running the length of the long concrete support columns in the center of the garage.
“Whose car?”
“I’m thinking mine. You want to drive?”
“Please tell me you brought caramel flavored rice cakes and some sparkling water.”
“What makes you think I brought anything?”
“Henry, come on. This is a road trip. When was the last time you ever took a road trip without stocking up on that disgusting crap you eat?”
“I did.”
“You did what?”
“Got you plenty of those pieces of caramel shit.”
“Okay, I’ll drive.”
We were just passing into the southwest corner of Arkansas around three in the afternoon when the call came in. We stared at the in-dash display then gazed at each other. It was an unknown caller, which meant the number was not in the contact list of a particular person’s telephone.
“Hit the button on the wheel that looks like…”
“I know how to do this, Henry.”
“Fine. This is James speaking. Who’s this?”
We listened to a few seconds of static, and then a voice trickled out of the speakers. A voice that filled us with a sense of panicked dread. A voice we’d hoped we’d never hear again. Distorted and robotic, the altered sound of the Fixer filled the silence of the car’s interior.
“Hello Sunny. Hello Henry. Well, it seems as if I have the pleasure of working with you again.”
“Oh, dear God.”
“I assure you Shaundrika, I’m not. What I am is someone who has a definite, how should I say this, interest in discovering the whereabouts of Pamela Lambert. And Henry? Before you ask how I know you and Ms. Johnson are attempting to find her remember, I know many things about many people. I hear things and see things neither of you do. You will just have to trust me on this.”
“I don’t trust your ass as far as I can throw you. Look, Fixer, we don’t have time for your fucking games.”
“Oh but you do Henry. My “games” as you call them will keep Shaundrika from harm’s way and most probably save your life.”
“Henry, let’s hear what the Fixer has to say.”
“I would listen to your partner Henry.”
“Fine. Okay, what in the hell do you want?”
“There is a doctor in Lebanon I want you to see. He specializes in changing things.”
“Changing things? What things?”
“Remember Lebanon. His specialty is changing things.”
Further questions were useless as the connection cleared, and the in-dash display went dark.
“Ah, damn. Not again. Not this shit again.”
“What choice do we have, Henry?”
“None, from where we’re sitting. It looks like we’re being forced to play in the Fixer’s ballpark again. This shit is starting to piss me off.”
“What doesn’t piss you off, old man?”
“Bite me, Johnson. You know what I mean.”
“I think we ought to stay the night in Memphis, then get up early. If we leave at six in the morning, we should make it Lebanon by noon or just after.”
“Then what?”
“We find this doctor who’s specialty is changing things.”
“We might as well be looking for the answer to world peace.”
Read On — Sins Of The Past Part 5
Let’s s keep in touch: P.G. & Sharon Barnett ([email protected]) © P.G. Barnett, 2020. All Rights Reserved.