Amid the Shadows (12 page)

23

The
New York Archives stood less than a mile from the Simon & Meyer law firm
that Griffin and Buckley had visited in Albany.
 
Established in 1971, but not open to the public until 1978, the massive
building housed 200 million public records dating all the way back to the 17
^th
century which meant it held nearly the entire history of New York state on
microfiche.

The
man sitting in front of one of the microfiche machines slowly moved through the
images, the large monitor creating a dull glow that reflected off of his
tanned, bald head.
 
On the table next to
the machine were twelve large boxes of the special film and a small laptop with
its screen displaying a list of historical documents.

A
young clerk walked by with an armful of books and glanced over at the man
again.
 
It didn’t look like he had moved
since she started her shift almost seven hours ago.
 
The clerk wondered what he was looking for.
 
Usually people asked her for help on a topic,
but this man simply kept asking for more boxes of film.
 
She shrugged and kept walking.

The
man at the table suddenly leaned in and studied the screen carefully.
 
He wrote something down and then turned to
his laptop, bringing up a new window filled with names and dates.
 
He scrolled carefully down the long list
until after several minutes he spotted what he was looking for.
 
He held a finger to the computer screen and
looked back at the microfiche data.
 
He
compared them both several times and then jotted more down on a piece of
paper.
 

The
man removed the microfiche from the machine and looked around.
 
He gently slid it back into the small storage
box, putting it into the middle of the deck.
 
Stacking all of the microfiche boxes neatly together, he shut down his
laptop and put it back in his bag.

As
the man walked to the exit, the clerk glanced up and watched him leave.
 
Strange man
, she thought.
 
I wonder what kind of a name Bazes is.

The
man named Bazes approached a black Mercedes in the parking lot and pressed a
button on his keychain to open the trunk.
 
It was late in the evening.
 
He
casually removed his coat and placed it into the trunk alongside his
laptop.
 
When his phone rang, he removed
it from his shirt pocket and answered it.

“Yes?”
 
He listened for a few moments.
 
“What happened?”
 
He continued listening and looked around the
parking lot, which was almost empty, and glanced at his watch.
 
“Where?”

“I’ll
be right there.” He reached up and slammed the trunk closed.
 
He walked forward and slipped the phone back
into his pocket as he opened the driver’s door, then slid in behind the
wheel.
 
As the engine roared to life, he
pulled the door closed and dropped it into gear.

24

Christine
slowed the old Dodge Charger, looking back and forth between her phone’s
navigation system and the dark road in front of her.
 
A dark forest surrounded her on all sides
making it impossible to see anything that might give her even a clue as to
where they were.
 
Even the stars were completely
blocked by the giant trees.

She
turned and looked at Sarah in the back seat, curled up and asleep.
 
She gazed over at Smith who she had barely
managed to push into the passenger seat after he passed out.
 
She stared at his chest looking for movement.
 
His breathing was very weak, but he was still
alive.

What the hell have I done?
 
She thought to herself.
 
Some guy shows up, gets himself shot, tells me to drive to god knows
where, and I just say yes?
 
Well, she hadn’t just said yes.
 
The fact was that she sat contemplating what to do before getting behind
that wheel.
 
She had no idea who he was
or how he had found them, but he did save them.
 
Had he not arrived just in time, and twice now, she was sure they both
would have been kidnapped or dead.
 

She
snuck a peek again at Sarah who even in an uncomfortable position looked like
an angel.
 
Her blond hair was covering
part of her face with her tiny hands resting together under her cheek.

Even
as innocent and helpless as Sarah was, now many hours later, Christine’s
anxiety was really beginning to set in.
 
It had been years since she’d been around kids, much less in charge of
one.
 
Slowly but surely, the emotions
were beginning to flood back, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to
contain them.
 
But Sarah needed
help.
 
She was all alone, and even if it
wasn’t her, the poor girl needed
someone
.

Christine
peered hard past the bright glow of her phone but could barely see
anything.
 
Her phone’s navigation program
was telling her that she had arrived, but she had no idea where she was or what
she was looking for.
 
She looked at the
fuel gauge.
 
Less than a quarter tank
left.

Exasperated,
she finally stopped the car and turned off the engine.
 
She pushed the button forward and killed the
headlights, then turned the screen off on her phone.
 
After letting her eyes adjust, she quietly
opened the door and stood up on the old, gray, asphalt road.
 
She looked around for anything -- a driveway,
a mailbox, a sign -- anything that might give her some comfort that they were
not lost or, worse yet, in another dangerous situation.

She
heard a noise on the far side of the road and froze.
 
She heard it again.
 
Something was moving through the brush under
one of the trees.
 
It sounded like it was
something large and moving slowly.
 
It
also sounded like it was moving directly toward them.

Christine
ducked down a little closer to the door and gripped the steering wheel with her
right hand.
 
She shifted her weight and
got ready to jump back inside the car.

Just
as she was about to launch herself back into the seat, something appeared out
of the darkness.
 
It was the barrel of a
gun.

She
froze again.
 
The barrel inched forward
until the outline of a man’s face appeared.
 
His short white hair and face eased slowly out of the darkness followed
by his body.
 
He was holding what
appeared to be a scary looking shotgun.

“You
alone?” he asked in a low voice.

She
nodded, careful not to move anything except her head.
 
She continued to remain still, watching as he
approached the car and the passenger’s door.
 
The man shined a red flashlight into the car and spotted Smith’s still
figure.
 

“What
happened?”
 
He looked surprisingly calm.

Christine
spoke quietly.
 
“He’s hurt.”

The
man gave her a sarcastic frown.
 
“I can
see that.
 
How hurt?”

“Bad,”
she answered.
 
“He’s been shot.”

The
man looked at Sarah, asleep in the back seat.
 
“Is she hurt?”

Christine
shook her head.

He
finished looking the car over and turned back to her, placing a finger over his
lips for her to be quiet.
 
He looked back
down the dark road and stood very still.

After
a long silence, Christine realized that he wasn’t looking for something, he was
listening
.

Satisfied,
the man lifted his Mossberg shotgun and slung it over his shoulder.
 
He leaned against the car door and released
the handle, letting it open quietly.
 
He
then reached in, pulled back Smith’s jacket and examined his makeshift
bandages.

He
placed a hand on Smith’s right side and let the door swing fully open.
 
“We need to get him inside quickly.”
 
He motioned to Sarah.
 
“Get the girl.”
 
With that, the man grabbed Smith’s arms and
pulled him out in a rolling motion.
 
In
one quick movement, he ducked down and pulled Smith over his own shoulder,
lifting him up and away from the car.
 

He
looked at Christine who was watching with wide eyes.
 
The man looked like he was in his sixties or
seventies and yet he put Smith’s body over his shoulder with little
effort.
 
“Are you going to get her?” he
asked, standing motionless with Smith.

Christine
blinked and nodded nervously, then circled the car.
 
Through the open passenger door, she flipped
the seat forward and pulled Sarah forward into her arms.
 

The
old man waited and when Christine was ready, he turned and peered down the dark
road once more before leading her back the way he came.
 
“Be careful,” he said and slipped back into
the shadows.

She
could barely follow him through the darkness, even with wisps of moonlight
fighting their way down between the thick forest of trees.
 
She stumbled several times and began picking
her knees up higher with every step.
 
After several minutes of tromping through knee-high grass and with her
arms beginning to ache, Christine spotted a small lit window in the
distance.
 
As they got closer, she could
see the larger outline of a cabin, and when they reached the front door, she
leaned against the railing for support.

The
old man checked over his shoulder and quietly opened the door.
 
He stepped inside and waited for her as she
took a deep breath and lifted Sarah again.
 
She walked into what appeared to be a dimly lit living room and moved to
an old couch set against the wall.
 
With
her arms beginning to shake, it took all she had to set Sarah down smoothly.

Christine
looked back as the man pushed the door closed.
 
His leathery face told her she was right about his age, but he still
seemed barely uncomfortable carrying Smith.
 

“I
need to get a look at him.
 
With a lot of
rest, he may make it.”
 
He locked the
door.
 
“I’ll go back out to hide the car
when I’m done.”
 
He nodded toward a cedar
chest against the wall.
 
“There are
blankets in there.
 
You should both be
able to sleep comfortably on the couch.
 
In the morning we’ll talk.”

Christine
instinctively began to nod but suddenly stopped.
 
“Wait.”
 
She glanced around the old living room and noticed the kitchen off to
the side.
 
“Where exactly are we?”

He
was headed for the hallway when he stopped and turned back.
 
“Someplace safe.”

Christine
awoke with a start when she felt something brush her arm.
 
She opened her eyes to a dark room and the
old man leaning over Christine.
 
He was
quietly laying a blanket on top of her.
 
She looked down to see Sarah curled up against her, breathing easily and
quietly.
 
He removed her tennis shoes and
pulled the end of the blanket over her feet.
 

“How
is he?” Christine whispered.

The
man stood up and gave a sigh of relief.
 
“He’ll be alright.
 
Thanks to
you.
 
If you hadn’t driven him here…”

Christine
wasn’t sure if he could see her grimace.
 
“I almost didn’t.”
 
She stared at
him for a moment.
 
“I still don’t know
what the hell is going on.”

“Well,
you had the right instinct.”

She
glanced down again at Sarah to make sure she was asleep.
 
“Why are they after her?”

His
head shook in the darkness.
 
“I don’t
know.”

She
thought about his answer, then changed the subject.
 
“I don’t know your name.”

He
smiled.
 
“Sorry.
 
The name is Avery, Jonathan Avery.”

She
smiled back and carefully wiggled her hand out from under the blanket.
 
“Christine Rose.”

He
shook it gently with his rough hand.
 
“Pleased to meet you Christine Rose.”
 
He smiled down at Sarah lying against her.
 
“You’ve done well.”

Christine
almost scoffed.
 
“I don’t know about
that.
 
All I’ve been doing is running
without any idea what I’m doing.”

She
could see Avery shake his head again in the dark.
 
“No, Ms. Rose, what you’ve done is keep that
little girl alive.”

Christine
looked down again and gently stroked Sarah’s head.

“Is
there anything I can get you?”

Christine
smiled.
 
“How about a couple
toothbrushes?”

Avery
chuckled quietly.
 
“My pleasure, young
lady.”
 
He leaned down and patted her
leg.
 
“Now get some sleep.”