The Whisper Box (25 page)

“I went to school with a guy who works in New Jersey now. He is a reporter for a little station called WNJZ. He has been waiting his whole life for a story like this and he would do anything to help us. I have not spoken to him for years but whenever I travel north I watch him on the news. I know he'll do this. His career will skyrocket and he'll know it.”

Aaron was willing to give into anything right now. He wanted this to end. “OK, so we go to a hotel right now, check e mail for the Hart guy, pick him up in Jersey or wherever he is, then we shoot over to your buddy's station up there. Correct?”

“That sounds like a plan to me. I saw a sign about a mile back for a Marriott off of exit seventy-four. I guess we can go there.”

Aaron swerved to the right off of Exit seventy-four. The Marriott was just ahead on the left. He eased the little yellow CRX under the brown stucco entrance. They walked to the front desk. Aaron told the young man that they were traveling on a business trip and his wife had just had their baby this afternoon. His father in law emailed him a picture from labor and delivery. He begged the front desk clerk to please let him use their executive center for five minutes to allow him to access his e mail and see his brand new daughter. The young desk clerk smiled through his long brown locks. They only allowed hotel guests to use the executive center, but under the circumstances, they would be glad to oblige. He showed Grant and Aaron the way.

Once the laptop was plugged into the phone jack and the printer Grant accessed his e-mail. There was one message downloading. It was about seventy-two degrees in the Marriott and both men were shaking with excitement, nervousness and curiosity. The name popped up in his 'Inbox': GMH3. They read Mac's desperate email. Both were simultaneously out of their chairs looking for a telephone. Aaron ran to the front desk for change. He wanted Grant kept away from the public as much as possible. Grant was recognizable. Aaron was just another traveling blue-collar gentleman who went unnoticed.

Aaron took his five dollars in quarters to Grant who was standing by the phone shifting his feet like a four-year-old trying to hold back his bladder. He was also guarding the phone like the same four-year-old guards his toys. Grant dialed the phone and tapped his fingers on the side of the black payphone as he overflowed with impatience. Aaron stared at Grant waiting for him to raise his eyebrows when someone answered. He almost wanted to motion to Grant to move aside so he could hear too. They were in a life and death situation that could potentially and probably sway the balance of power in their country and they were acting like two children.

The phone receiver was suddenly picked up on the other end. There was a pause before a very deep voice muttered, “Hello.”

“Is this GMH3? This is Grant.” Grant was bouncing up and down on his tiptoes now.

The voice got stronger and livelier immediately. “Yes. Yes it is! I've been scared to answer the phone. I'm actually living in a model home in a brand new subdivision. Long story. I need you to come get me, like, yesterday.”

“I'm with the other fella' I told you about. We have been traveling north for hours now assuming you were up here somewhere. How do we get to you?” Grant was motioning to Aaron for a pad and pen.

“After floating down rivers, running through the woods, literally, dodging bullets, and so on and so forth, I've wound up in a little town in New Jersey called Lebanon Hills. The problem is that I traveled through a bunch of thick woods to get here. I can't call anyone for directions to where I am. I can't ask anyone where I am. You see my dilemma?” Mac was beginning to get overwhelmed again.

“Yeah, OK, um, there's no one around. I mean you are obviously hiding out all alone, right?”

“Yes, in a sweet little pad, I might add. Well actually, hold on for a sec.” Mac looked outside the window to where the construction company was working. “Hang on Grant. I have an idea.”

Grant just nodded as if Mac could see him. Mac opened up the front door and spotted the same older man who asked about the clearing of the property before. “Excuse me, sir?”

The man started walking towards him. “I know we've been here a while longer than expected. The noise bothering you?”

“No, no, actually I have a question for you. I have a prospective buyer on the phone. They are coming up here from the Southern states. I've only lived here for about three months now. Could you give them directions?”

The owner of Beaver Hill Construction was glad to help. He grabbed the phone smiling. His curly black and gray hair partly covered the earpiece while his gray and black mustache seemed to engulf the mouthpiece. “Hey pal, where are you coming from?”

Grant just shook his head at what the smooth attorney had just pulled off. “I am coming from I-95, I think I'm in Maryland now.”

The construction worker gave Grant directions directly to the subdivision. Grant immediately knew that McFarland Hart had a very quick wit about him. His plan worked like it had been well rehearsed a thousand times.

They decided that they had probably five more hours traveling time. They all agreed that Grant and Aaron would stop at a hotel somewhere in the next three hours or so, wake up tomorrow morning and meet Mac by nine in the morning. Mac did not like the idea at first because he dreaded staying in this house in fear that someone would show up. He thought about it more and decided that it was getting late on Saturday, no one would be here early on Sunday either. He agreed to the plan finally.

Grant and Aaron thanked the boy at the front desk. Grant, always looking for a way to giggle, made a remark to the desk clerk right in front of Aaron about how the baby was ugly as hell. The desk clerk's jaw froze. Grant thanked him anyway and reassured Aaron that his kid was gruesome. The desk clerk just sat there stunned. They got in the CRX and laughed at the kid who was still staring at them through the window. They were about to take this traveling circus to New Jersey.

After three hours on Interstate 95 of trading adventure stories from the last four days both men were spent. They decided to pull off the next exit. There was a Sheraton there. Grant agreed to pay for the best room. They agreed that Aaron would go in with the cash and actually get the room. This was to further preserve the idea that Grant had to keep a low profile. Grant would then enter the building from some predetermined rear entrance where Aaron would meet him to open the door.

The transaction at the front desk was a smooth one. Aaron was getting sick of hotels though. He felt like a rock star. He had been in at least four different hotels since yesterday. He was almost killed in one of them. Aaron took all the bags up to his two hundred and seventy eight dollar a night suite that Grant paid for in cash. While he was up there he seriously debated calling his wife or Miles Ross, his friend from work to let someone know he was alive. He was sure that his wife was probably having a nervous breakdown by now. He decided it would be best if he did not use the phone right now. This was a hard decision but he had no choice. He was so close to this ending, he could not risk it all now over a stupid phone call.

Aaron ran back down stairs to the back of the building by the courtyard and let Grant in that door. They retreated up to the room. They had separate bathrooms in this one thousand square foot hotel suite. They both took showers, and then met in the den. Grant was there first. He was standing in the middle of the room just gazing at the television.

“What's wrong man?” Aaron was curious why his new friend looked so odd.

“Well, I guess I'm a little dumbstruck because I never expected to watch the news about my death, that's all.”

Aaron ran for the television. “No way. They are officially reporting you as dead now? I thought they were saying that you were
assumed
dead. That's gotta be kinda' cool, no?”

“Well yeah, I guess it's kind of cool but it breaks my heart that my mother and father are watching this right now. I can't call them tonight. The phone would be too risky right now. How am I supposed to sleep tonight knowing that my parents are going crazy over their dead son?” Grant was obviously perplexed over this. “What if one of my parents has a heart attack tonight because of this? Ya' know?”

Aaron saw his point but, like before, agreed that the phone was too risky right now. “I know what you are saying but you gotta' wait until tomorrow. Think of how overjoyed they'll be when you come rushing in to save the country tomorrow on televisions all across the country.”

Grant agreed. “You're right. By the way, you better comb your hair tomorrow because you are going to be right there with me on T.V. After all, you were the one talking to Mrs. Farnsworth about her crooked husband before she died.”

Aaron just stood there daydreaming. “Wow, I'm gonna' be on T.V. tomorrow. That's awesome.”

After a minute more of daydreaming Aaron told Grant that he was going to bed. They agreed on a time to wake up and went off to their bedrooms. Tomorrow was going to be the longest of some pretty long days.

The next morning came and Aaron and Grant were awake, showered and ready. Aaron felt like he was going on vacation. When he would wake up on the day his family was to leave for Disney World he would have a special feeling. He could not explain the feeling. He simply felt it. He would make sure the car was packed, get his family tucked in the car early and then he would jump in the driver's seat. He would feel like the best father in the world at those moments. He knew he was about to have a great week. This morning brought the same feelings. He was ready for his day. He was ready for the television cameras. At the same time, he was petrified that he would die today.

Grant acknowledged those same emotions. He told Aaron he was all energy with a touch of fear. At any moment a bullet could crash through the side of their heads and end everything. They met in the living room of their beautiful suite at six thirty in the morning. There was one thing missing though. Grant shaved off all of his hair.

Aaron fought off laughter, but he was blonde, so he just nodded with acceptance and said, “That'll definitely get the attention off your face.”

“I had no choice man, everybody had been looking at me funny. If it was a regular guy and I told him that I just looked like Grant Winchester, I'd usually get away with it, but now, because everyone thinks I died, they'd all notice me. My picture was on television all night last night.”

“Hey man, don't get all defensive on me. Seems like you are trying to convince yourself that shaving off all that pretty boy hair was worth it. Don't worry man, you look fine. Hey, have you seen today's paper? Do they bring one to the room?” Aaron was searching and speaking at the same time.

“No idea.” Grant spoke in a plain voice. There was no pitch in his voice at all as he rubbed his palm over his bald head in the mirror.

Aaron went to the door and looked outside. There was a perfectly folded newspaper at his feet. “Sweet, I promised myself I'd check out the Sports page this mornin'. I think I deserve it.”

Aaron grabbed the paper and sat down at the dining room table. He was about to discard the front page, metro, and business and get right to the sports page when a small article on the bottom right side of the front section caught his eye. The headline read: South Carolina Woman Found Dead. Anything having to do with South Carolina, especially when he was out of state, piqued his interest. He started to read the article expecting to read about a drunken college party at the University of South Carolina that led to death. Possibly a woman from South Carolina who migrated north, lived here a few years and died in some odd fashion, or something other than what he was reading. The article went on to state that a woman that presently lived in South Carolina was found dead in a car just outside of Charlotte, North Carolina.

The car was run off the road into a ditch and the driver was dead at the steering wheel. There is massive search being conducted up and down the East Coast for a murder suspect. The woman should not have been headed toward Charlotte. She was staying in the Columbia, South Carolina based hotel because her home was being renovated the previous week. Her boyfriend, George Glass, and her parents were all mystified. There was no reason for this woman to be heading north, about eighty miles out of town. She was seen in the hotel with a man the day before. His name was Aaron Gallo. His fingerprints were all over her car, inside and out, and all over her. His wedding band was found in her hotel room. Mrs. Gallo could not be contacted and Mr. Gallo was currently running from the law. The article hinted at the idea that Mr. Gallo may have been a disgruntled lover. Maybe Welsh was trying to break off the affair with him. Maybe he did not take it as well as she had hoped. Maybe he forced her in the car, drove her out of town, and killed her.

Aaron sat wide-eyed. The people that were trying to kill him were also trying to frame him. Who would believe anything that a convicted murderer had to say? Obviously, they thought that Grant was dead so he was out of the picture. If they could have Aaron thrown in jail and possibly murdered once incarcerated then Farnsworth would be in the clear.

“Grant, I think you should come see this!” Aaron was now franticly pacing the room. The Sports Page seemed so unimportant all of a sudden.

“Oh no, what now?” said Grant.

“Nothing, just the latest in the 'Destroy Aaron's life' plot. Look at this.” Aaron was shaking as he handed the paper to Grant.

“Wow, Farnsworth is good. He's also desperate though. This is the perfect time to take him on.” Grant began to bite his bottom lip.

“Dammit. That woman, Becky Welsh, was good to me.” Aaron was overcome with guilt.

“You actually knew this woman?” Grant stared at Aaron.

“Yeah, remember the girl I told you about in the hotel? She was the one in the room with the guy and the fight, ya' know, she gave me the ride to the airport,” said Aaron.

“Oh man, so people saw you with her and everything?” Grant was rubbing his bald head again.

“Yeah man, I was in her car with her. I was in her hotel room. I took my wedding band off in her room because I broke these three fingers in the fight with the guy. My finger was swelling and the band made it worse. Yes. I was with her. Holy Shit. Why is this happening to me?” Aaron began to pace around the room faster.

“OK, we definitely have to get moving now. We have to get Hart and get the story on the air. C'mon, grab all your stuff.” They both started rushing around the lavish hotel suite. They were now running from more than a few goons. They were running from the law. Grant was aiding and abetting. This hole was getting deeper by the second and Aaron knew it. They ran to their car without checking out of the hotel.

“Damn, I can see it now, I go to jail for murder and grand theft auto, my wife divorces me because she thinks I was having an affair and Farnsworth is off free. This is the way I should have known it would turn out. Honestly, I can't believe I'm still alive.”

Grant was searching for something to say. Finally he said, “Well, this Hart fella' has some serious evidence, supposedly. If we find him, you are off free, not Farnsworth.”

**************

President Farnsworth walked to the podium in front of five thousand screaming and clapping Democrats in the state of North Carolina. He had done this over a thousand times in his career but today was special. Today he was going to put the cherry on the cake of near disaster. He was never so close to complete destruction as he had been in the past. The news from the plane crash in North Carolina was good. Although the authorities still had not yet claimed the bodies on the chartered jet, they were almost assuring the media that there were no survivors. The murder charges against Aaron Gallo, along with the fingerprints on his alleged victim's coat, car and hotel room were very convincing. If his people could track down McFarland Hart, which he knew they would, this ugly story would be put to rest for good.

“Good Morning, my fellow Americans. The last twenty-four hours in the great state of North Carolina have been trying ones. We suffered the loss of a fine young man yesterday. I have spent a lot of time with Mr. Grant Winchester over my seven and a half years in office. He was a fine young man that was only happy if he reported to his fellow Americans the news of our country in a timely and diligent fashion. He worked overseas. He worked in war-torn countries. He worked long days and flew many miles to report to his fellow countrymen. I, too, suffered a great loss recently. But right now, I know, that my wife and Mr. Winchester are sitting in heaven waiting for their friends. Maybe they are sitting around a fire in that big Oval Office in the sky talking about their love for all of us. They are there. I can assure you, they are there.” Farnsworth had his fist clenched as he held it out over the podium. “I also want to issue deep sympathy for the Welsh family. Their daughter, from the great state of South Carolina - your neighbors, was found dead late last evening in North Carolina. I want the Welshs to know that I am here to help bring the killer to bay. The last few days have been an eye opening experience for me. There is too much violence in this world, too much loss, too much sorrow. We need to focus on our children. We need to focus on our families. We need to focus on peace.” Howard Farnsworth had his salesmanship in cruise control. “I have decided that for the last six months of my term I am going to travel from state to state issuing a big Thank You, and issuing whatever help I can to improve areas that are lacking. We are going to work on education, on welfare, on equality. We are going to start right here in this fine state, this strong state, North Carolina will forever be remembered where the Crusade for Peace in America started!”

The crowd went crazy. President Farnsworth went on to talk more about Aaron Gallo, the suspected killer. He hoped that all of the statesmen of North Carolina would help their neighboring family from South Carolina in bringing this murderer to justice. They were going to make an example of him to help bring peace in the future.

Aaron could not wake up from his constant daydream now. He was petrified of police. He pleaded with Grant not to speed. He begged him to do nothing to instigate a police officer on the side of the road. He knew that sooner or later the person who actually owned this yellow Honda CRX was going to report it missing. He stole it from Long Term Parking for a reason, but knowing his luck, the owner returned from Hong Kong after a four-week stay, last evening.

“We are going to have to change cars soon. You know that, don't you?” said Aaron.

“I know what your thinking is but I really feel good about this. Let's just get to Jersey. Once we find Hart, we'll be OK.” Grant nodded as he pumped his fist.

They were only about an hour away from McFarland's new house. Grant told Aaron of his zeal to see the videos. Aaron shook his head in agreement as he stared out the passenger window. This was the original evidence that the late Laura Greene broke the story about only ninety-six hours ago.

They reached the New Jersey state line and were still on track for an early arrival. They turned off the highway, turned down an access road, and began looking for street signs. The area was heavily wooded and recently developed; there were no street signs. All of a sudden, around a sharp turn just like the construction worker indicated, there was a subdivision sign that read: The Rapids.

Grant pulled in the subdivision and kept on the main road for about one hundred yards as per his directions. There were only four houses built in this subdivision. It was still heavily wooded. The remainder of the land that was cleared was not graded. There were roads and curbs, but there was no neighborhood as of yet.

“If he wanted a place to hide, this is definitely it. How the hell did he find this place?” Aaron scratched his blonde head.

“From what he's told me, he's had it tougher than both of us, so be gentle when you walk in there. I think he’s borderline nervous breakdown, poor fella’.”

They found the new house on the end of the row of four. The vinyl siding was bright and in perfect condition. One side of the house was freshly cleared and the other side was still a baron wasteland of trees, unused pieces of insulation, with empty paint cans scattered throughout. The light was on in the living room. Aaron saw a man walk towards the bay window, move to the far right side of it and peek through the blinds.

Grant and Aaron exited the car, holding out their palms with their arms halfway in the air. Aaron’s plan was to let Mac know that they were unarmed. After all, Grant Winchester was now bald and looked nothing like the man on television. Mac walked away from the window and towards the door.

He opened the door with a smile and said, “Mr. Winchester? Is that you?”

“Hey my name is Grant and, yes, I gave myself a little haircut. Ya' know it's tough having a face that a lot of people recognize when you are supposed to be dead,” Grant just smiled at Mac.

Mac was bruised heavily along the right side of his face. He had a towel filled with ice wrapped around his shoulder and leg where he was bruised and bitten the worst. Aaron thought he looked like Roger Clemens after eight long innings pitched in the cold Bronx air at Yankee Stadium.

“Hi, pleasure is all mine. I'm Aaron, the guy you've probably been seeing on television all day.” Aaron gestured to the television that was on in the background.

“What guy on television?” asked Mac.

“Farnsworth and his boys framed him for a murder. So now we are running from the Farnsworth Clan and the police. He's innocent, don't worry.”

Mac began pacing. “Are you kidding me? The police are after us too? Guys, I can't take this much longer.”

“I know how you feel, I do. I know a fella' at a television station close by. We are going to him right now to break this story wide open and try and regain our old lives back.”

They all started grabbing at McFarland's belongings. He had acquired a lot of survival tools on the way. He had at least four guns Aaron noticed, warm clothes, flashlights, and an assortment of other survival devices. They headed for the car. All Aaron could think about was how much more this house would sell for when the media found out that one of the guys that brought down the President of the United States hid here for more than twenty-four hours. Some Republican was going to pay top dollar for this house. It may be a museum some day. If the Realtors were selling this for three hundred thousand originally then the price would double once the story broke.