The Journal Pt 03

Author's notes:

This is another story that I intended to end but took on a life of its own. It now has 6 parts and I intend to stop there but then again, I intended to stop at part 2.

It could just as well have been placed in the non-erotic category so if you're looking for steamy sex, you'll be disappointed.

For those who haven't read the first two parts, I've woven enough of the background into this part to make it possible to start reading here but it's better if you start with Part 01.

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I waved from the window as Dylan drove away and thought of all the things that had happened. I wonder how many people stayed in that room before me and never looked in that nightstand drawer. And what are the odds that I'd stop at that particular motel, stay in that room and find the journal? Dylan's last words were "Not yet" a hint that perhaps he saw the future as well as the past. I can't imagine a wife and children but then again I never imagined meeting anyone like Dylan either.

The rock, or whatever it was, had indeed shown Dylan a little of the future and that made it a dangerous object to possess. Knowing the future, a person might be tempted to use it for their personal gain or change the course of history. Dylan knew it was best to drop it in the ocean so no one would ever possess such power again.

He knew first-hand the allure of the stone. Even he was not immune. In a moment of weakness he used one of his dreams to pick the correct numbers in the state lottery. Now, fifty million dollars richer, he could only hope he didn't cause too much damage to the fabric of time.

In time he learned that his dreams included events of people he came in contact with. They showed Bob to be a good man, one who worked too hard until he received some unexpected money. Dylan took that as a sign that he was destined to help Bob and so he wrote and mailed a check. In his mind, he wanted it to be life-changing but not so much that it would change him too much. Two hundred thousand seemed like the right number.

It was a week later that I received that check in a registered letter I had to sign for. The spot on the envelope that usually shows a return address was bare. It was obvious that despite his generosity, Dylan didn't want to be found. As I looked at the check I could only stare at the number. If that check was real, even after taxes, it was more money than I'd ever seen.

Thinking about the reaction I might get at the bank, I walked to the teller with a smile on my face.

"Hi, Bob. Back from another sales trip?"

"Yeah and it might have been my last one."

"Thinking of retiring?"

"Not just yet, but I have a little to add to my retirement fund."

I slid the check and a deposit slip over to Sandy, one of my favorite tellers and her reaction couldn't have been more perfect. She leaned over the counter and spoke in a whisper so other people in the bank wouldn't hear her.

"Holy shit Bob, how much farm equipment did you sell?"

"What can I say? It was a very good trip."

"Wait here a minute. I have to get the bank manager. There's some paperwork you'll have to do with a deposit this large. You know, the government has to be notified. They always want to make sure they get their cut."

After filling out the required paperwork, I left the bank. At the time, I knew that depositing that check was going to change my life but I never imagined by how much.

My boss had given me a week to relax after my last trip but two days later he called.

"Boss, it hasn't been a week yet."

"I need you to come into the office. We need to talk."

"About what?"

"I'd rather not say on the phone. Just come in tomorrow. I'll try to keep the visit short."

Before I could say anything, he hung up. Not surprisingly, I didn't sleep well that night. I had a feeling whatever my boss was going to say was going to be bad news.

Jeanine, his secretary, usually greets me with a happy greeting but that day her only words were, "He's expecting you. Just knock and enter."

I tried to stay calm as I closed his office door behind me. I couldn't imagine what I'd done wrong.

"Boss, what's so important that you couldn't tell me on the phone?"

"Anything unusual happen on your last trip?"

"Yeah, I didn't close that sale to Allied Farming. Is that what this is about?"

"I had two visitors asking about you yesterday."

"Who?"

"The FBI. Now, is there anything I need to know?"

"No."

"Bob, the FBI doesn't come around just to say hello. This is a family-owned business that prides itself on its reputation. If you're in trouble with the FBI, I need to know about it."

"Whatever the problem is, it has nothing to do with the company Did they leave a card?"

My boss reached into a drawer of his desk and handed me two cards. I took them and headed for the FBI building. I couldn't imagine why the government was investigating me. My entire criminal record consisted of a total of three parking tickets and a warning for driving 35 mph in a school zone.

What struck me as I entered the FBI building was the lack of any smiling faces. Even the attitude of the man at the reception desk seemed less than friendly.

"May I help you?"

"If either Agent Baker or Franklin are available, I'd like to speak with them. Tell them my name is Bob Russell."

"Have a seat while I check."

Five minutes later I was joined by the two agents.

"Why are you two asking about me?"

"Perhaps we can have this conversation is a more private location?"

"Sure, but if you mean an interrogation room, forget it. If you want to talk, I'll be home in half an hour. I'm sure you already know the address. We can talk there and if I don't like what I hear, you'll be asked politely but firmly to leave."

The knock on my door came at 4 p.m. and I opened it without saying a word. I directed them to the living room and told them to sit on my couch while I sat on the recliner.

"We'd rather stand."

"My house, my rules. Follow them or this will be a very short conversation."

Reluctantly they sat, clearly uncomfortable with not being in charge of the situation.

"Now gentlemen, why is the FBI interested in me? The only thing I can think of is that the check I just deposited was fake because although two hundred thousand dollars is a large amount, it's nothing that would get the immediate attention of the FBI."

Agent Baker replied, "No, the check was real but you're right about the amount. That isn't what brought us here. It was the signature on it."

"Is Dylan in trouble?"

"Don't know but his name appears in an FBI database list with a note to monitor unusual activity."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much about him."

"And yet he gave you two-hundred thousand dollars."

"I found something that was important to him. Perhaps that was his reward for its return."

"Do you mind telling us what it was?"

"It was a personal journal."

"Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"What was in it?"

"His name, a date and a message on the inside cover to anyone who might find it."

"Funny man. You know what I meant."

"That's all I'm willing to discuss."

"Two hundred thousand dollars is a lot for a journal. You know, blackmail is a crime don't you?"

"Are you here to arrest me?"

"No. The FBI is interested in locating Mr. Roberts."

"Even with all the resources available to the government, you still can't find him?"

"He's very good at avoiding detection. Do you know where he is?"

"Sorry, I can't help you. The check came in an envelope with no return address."

"And he's never phoned or texted you?"

"No."

"Well, if he does contact you, I hope you'll notify us. You have our cards."

I replied, 'Of course" although I had no intention of doing that.

"Gentlemen, if you have no further questions, we're done."

The two agents got up and started walking toward the door. As they were about to leave I spoke again.

"And, I'd appreciate it if you avoided future contact with the company I work for. They aren't as comfortable around government officials as I am and it might affect my job. If that happens, you can forget any cooperation on my part."

After the agents left, I thought of the words "No good deed goes unpunished." It never seemed truer than now. Dylan's gift may have stirred up a hornets nest.

A thousand miles away Dylan was dealing with a different problem, managing fifty million dollars without drawing the attention of the government or people around him. Expensive purchases were out of the question and a permanent residence was a luxury. Currently he was living in an apartment that he rented monthly and paid for in cash. The government might have believed him before when he told them the rock was no longer in his possession but maybe not so much after he won the lottery jackpot. The problem was that, in truth, he was a danger to the world. He was aware of some events in the future and worried constantly that someone might kidnap him and force him to reveal what he knew.

There were only two people who he felt he could trust if he needed a favor, his father and Bob Russell. His mother had been kept out of the loop in an attempt to protect her. He wouldn't involve her except in an extreme emergency.

Remembering how pay-by-the-minute phones were used to communicate with his father, he thought about setting up the same system with Bob. The difficulty was that there was no easy way to get the plan to Bob without raising the suspicion of the FBI.

It was two weeks later that he had a solution. With his laptop and small printer he created a letter that looked like it came from Bob's bank. He knew Bob's bank by looking online at a picture of the back of his check after it was deposited. In the letter, Bob was instructed to buy a similar "burner phone" and call Dylan at the number listed in the letter. After that, each one would know the other's phone number. For Bob's help in the future, Dylan was willing to put Bob's name on an account which currently held five million dollars. Dylan had been in that bank only once. To shield his location, all subsequent transactions were done electronically. The only thing Bob needed to do was to fill out a signature card at the bank where the money was. It would be a joint account where Dylan paid all taxes so Bob wouldn't have to worry about getting in trouble with the government.

Of course there was an element of trust in this agreement. Since it was a joint account both people had the ability to withdraw all of the money at any time, and I could always refuse to do what Dylan requested. That being said, the two of us agreed and met a few weeks later at a motel during my next sales trip. The town chosen was forty miles from my office and it was where the bank was. It was close enough to get to and far enough away so that no one knew me. The bank also had the advantage of being part of a national chain so there would never be a problem accessing the money no matter where I lived.

The knock on my motel room door could only signal that Dylan had arrived.

"We meet again."

Once Dylan was inside and the door closed, we could talk freely.

"So, tell me, why do you need my help?"

"All the money I won from the lottery would be great if I didn't worry about my safety. The government hasn't given up the possibility that I still have the rock especially after I won all that money. The other thing is that if people know how wealthy you are, you'll never be sure who your friends are. Since you'll be rich soon, remember that. Couple all that with the possibility that someone may try kill me or turn me in for some reward and the circle of friends becomes smaller. Besides you, my dad was the only other person who knew the whole story and sadly, he died about a month ago. I don't think I can handle this situation alone."

"Of course I'll help and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you."

"Was your father ill long?"

"He wasn't ill at all. The police said he died when the driver of an 18-wheeler lost control and totaled my dad's car."

I started pacing around the room, all sort of conspiracy theories floating around in my head before expressing my concerns. "Were the police sure it was an accident?"

"What are you saying, that it wasn't?"

"Forgive me, but since reading that journal, I've begun to question everything."

"Why would someone want to kill him?"

"You said it yourself, unless the killer knows about me, in his mind you are now the last person on Earth who knows about the rock and it's power. If he could get his hands on that rock there would only be one more person to eliminate... you."

"But the rock is gone."

"Either the killer doesn't know that or doesn't believe it. You have to protect yourself."

"I've already started. Even though I'm not a criminal, I'm hiding like one. I even have two drivers licenses, a real one for my banking and a fake one for everything else. To avoid detection, I live in an apartment and pay cash for everything but I need someone to help me with the things I can't do without revealing myself. That's why I reached out to you."

On that day a deal was made and a friendship developed. Jack Smith or as I knew him, Dylan Roberts became a resident of Windsor, Virginia a town not far from Norfolk. To the townspeople he was just a person renting that property although it was his money that paid for it. We no longer used those pay-by-the-minute phones to communicate but I always called him Jack when I phoned him.

"Hey Jack, I have a question."

"What is it?"

"The first time we met you hinted I might get married. Was that a joke or do you really know my future?"

"It's a funny thing. I thought the dreams would end after I learned who my real father was but they didn't. Time passed in my dreams but at a much faster pace than real life and soon I was dreaming about the future but it wasn't just my future. They also contained the future of people I'd met or, I suppose, people I will meet. To answer your question, yes, I did see your future but you're going to have to discover it on your own. The only thing I'll tell you is that you'll be happy."

"I thought you were just joking."

"That remark was my one slip. Knowing the future can be a blessing or a curse. Watch the 1983 movie "The Dead Zone" and you'll get an idea of what I'm talking about."

"How far into the future did you see?"

"If I told you, you'd know something about when you'd meet your future wife. Sorry, but the future will have to remain a mystery."

"Okay. On a different note, did you ever think about going back to where this all started?"

"Actually, I've been thinking about it for a while. I plan on taking a trip next week to watch a little league game and maybe take a walk in right field."

That was a year ago. Dylan and I are still in contact, mainly to facilitate some project he has in mind but it's a special relationship between two people who share a secret. Since then I've retired from my job as a salesman, bought a house in a town about twenty miles from Dylan and spend most of my time getting involved in community projects. I've gotten to know the people pretty well and some of the personal problems they've faced. What they don't know is that I've become somewhat of a secret Santa. Students who can't afford college suddenly get scholarships. A person who needs expensive surgery is gifted a doctor who'll do the operation with no payment from the family. Everything is arranged through "Angels Unlimited" a company I set up just for this. Since most of my money is in a bank in another city, no one in town ever notices any large withdrawals that they can trace to me. I do have an account at the local bank but it only contains about twenty-five thousand dollars, nothing that draws attention.

Life was good, that is until I received a visit from the County Sheriff, a large, no-nonsense man named Will Burgess who I first met while helping him plan an event for the families of officers killed in the line of duty.

"Morning, Sheriff. Something I can help you with?"

"Unfortunately, this isn't a social visit. There's been an incident on the property you own in Windsor."

"What happened?"

"I need you to come down to my office and answer some questions."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"We'll talk at my office."

"Should I bring a lawyer?"

"Do you need one?"

"From the tone in your voice, I think it's best I have one present. Is this afternoon soon enough?"

"I'll see you then."

When the Sheriff left, I dialed Bradley, Franklin and Hall, the law firm I retain for my business affairs. Besides Dylan, they're the only ones who know of my connection to Angels Unlimited since they did the paperwork to set up the dummy corporation. I'm the only employee.

"Bradley, Franklin and Hall. How may I direct your call?"

This is Bob Russell. Are any of the partners available to talk?"

"Two are in court but Mr. Franklin can talk to you. I'll connect you now."

"Hi, Bob. What can we help you with today, some new gift you want to give?"

"I wish it were that simple. The County Sheriff wants me to see him. They have questions about something that happened on a property I own."

"I'm afraid you'll need a different type of lawyer. We handle civil not criminal law."

"Can you recommend someone?"

"Don't take this the wrong way but since you're still a bachelor I have to ask, do you have a problem with strong-willed women?"

"No. My marital status is a result of lack of opportunity, not one of choice."

"Then I'll have Rachel Mathews contact you. How soon is the meeting with the Sheriff?"

"I agreed to see him after lunch."

"I'll contact Rachel. Expect a text in the next half hour. Either she or one of her associates will represent you."

The text arrived within twenty minutes. It was simple and direct. "Make reservations for two at The Freemason Abbey Restaurant in Norfolk at noon. I want to be prepared when we meet the Sheriff." The message was signed, Rachel. The restaurant was a place I'd heard of but never been to.

I arrived ten minutes early and ordered a coffee while I waited. Rachel's name was also on the reservation so when she arrived she was led to my table. From the way Ted Franklin spoke of her, I expected Rachel to be hell on wheels but I never imagined the woman walking toward me. No more than thirty-five years old, around 5'9", 115 lbs, with shoulder length red hair and hazel eyes, Rachel looked more like a movie star than a lawyer and I'm sure at least some of her adversaries in court made the fatal mistake of assuming her brains didn't match her appearance.

"Bob Russell?"

I stood up and motioned for her to join me.

"Ms. Mathews, I'm glad you were able to meet me on such short notice."

"I don't usually take cases before personally interviewing a prospective client but according to Ted, it was important I make an exception. So, Mr.... Bob... Russell, what makes you so special?"

"To be honest, I don't know what the situation is. The Sheriff said there was an incident on one of my properties and I need to answer some questions. As for being special, I don't feel that way. I just do a little for the community and Ted's firm helps."

"Oh, you're good. I use that same act in court. Poor little me. Now tell me who you really are."

"In time I may trust you enough to answer that, but for now all you need to know is that I want a good lawyer with me when I speak to the Sheriff and you come highly recommended."

"I'll accept that for now, but if the time comes to defend you in court, I'll need you to be completely honest with me."

"Fair enough."

"Okay, let's order something to eat. Then we'll see what the Sheriff wants."

Lunch with my new lawyer went well. By that, I mean Rachel and I were able to have a pleasant conversation without bringing up my connection to Dylan.