But Carla…Carla was different. I hoped.
I spotted her patrol car near the main parking lot. I had to admit, my heart skipped a beat. I also looked at myself in the rearview mirror. Yeah, I looked like shit. No surprise there. Not after the night I’d had. Anyway, there was nothing I could do now but try to hastily flatten my wayward hair.
That was what I was doing when I saw her patrol car door open. Oops, she’d been inside the whole time, undoubtedly watching me make a fool of myself. She stepped out as I got out of my vehicle. We instinctively headed for a quiet spot in the parking lot overlooking the northwestern hills, where I could see the HOLLYWOOD sign in the not-too-far distance.
As we leaned on the wooden rail, she looked over at me and said, “You look like crap.”
“Can’t say the same for you.”
“Why, Mr. Ranger, if I didn’t know better, I would think you just gave me a compliment.”
“It’s been known to happen,” I said. “Once or twice.”
She was about to laugh, but didn’t. Instead, she looked at me sideways, squinting. Cops—good cops, anyway—often know when something is wrong. They’ve learned to pick up on just about anything that might save their lives, honing their sixth senses to a fine edge. Like I said, the good cops. And Carla was a damn fine cop. Then again, I might have been a little biased.
After a moment, she said, “Something’s wrong, but it’s not Anna.”
I blinked. She was good, but I didn’t know she was that good. “How do you know?”
“You’ve never had a problem talking to me about her.”
I nodded. She waited. Like I said, she was good. A couple wandered by, holding not-very-discreet brown paper bags. We ignored them for now, although I made a mental note to find them later and flush them out of the park.
At the moment, I was trying to decide whether I knew Carla well enough to tell her what I’d done. That is: I was holding my deranged brother and his friend prisoner. Mostly, I wanted to know if Carla had any special access to what little my brother had told me about finding some extraterrestrial rock (the size of a basketball, not a football) and their subsequent illness.
I turned to face her. Her expression was serious; she knew it was something bad. Her eyes belied trust. Yeah, I could confide in her.
And so, I told her everything. Or as much as I knew. That my younger brother and his friend were sick, that they were losing their minds fast. That both were AWOL and presently chained to the beams in my basement.
When I mentioned the basement part, her mouth dropped open. Admittedly, hearing it come out of my mouth made it seem pretty bad. When I was done, it was my turn to wait. Not surprisingly, I was sweating.
Finally, she said, “Why hasn’t the military come to your house? I mean, surely they’re trying to find your brother.”
“Well, the house isn’t in my name. Actually, few people know I have that house.”
“What about Anna? Is she safe?”
“She’s at the zoo studying. She’s not to leave there without Brice or myself.”
“Call to make sure.”
“I will...but Carla, what do you think of all this?”
Again, she hesitated. “It’s, well, pretty weird, Carter.”
“I know.”
“It’s almost unbelievable.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied. Anyway, it’s all true, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.” I looked to her for some kind of acknowledgment, approval, anything—but she was looking over my shoulder, frowning.
“I’m beginning to believe you,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve got company.”
I turned and saw them. Two men, both dressed in black suits and wearing shades. They’d spotted us somehow, and were headed our way. I said to Carla, “What are the chances they’re here to see the observatory?”
“About as good as your chances of not landing in jail. They look like trouble.”
“They look like clowns,” I said.
“Which can be the worst kind of trouble.”
They ambled over to us, looking around casually. We were alone in the parking lot. Lucky us. Both were wearing shoulder harnesses. I knew this by the way they held their left arms away from their bodies. The pistols were under their left arms. They needed only to reach inside their jackets with their right hands and withdraw.
“Both are packing,” I said to Carla.
She nodded slightly. “No shit.”
They appeared identical except for their hair. One blond, one dark. As they approached, the blond one nodded and said, “Good afternoon.”
“They’re both wearing black suits,” I said to Carla.
“I think it’s supposed to intimidate us,” said Carla.
“Do you feel intimidated?” I asked her.
“I might have just wet myself,” she said.
I grinned. The two men in black didn’t grin. The dark-haired one shifted slightly, opening his jacket a little so that I could see his weapon.
“We all have guns here,” I said. “You can close your jacket, cowboy.”
The tension was probably a little higher than the two guys had intended. The first guy, the blond guy, turned his head slightly to his friend and shook it once. The second guy relaxed a little, settling in next to him.
Blondie said, “You Jack Carter?”
“A helluva guess,” I said.
“Perhaps we could speak in private, Mr. Carter.”
“How about some ID, boys?” I said.
They both flashed their badges. Office of Naval Intelligence. I studied the badge closest to me, and said, “What can I do for you, Agent Johnson?”
“We’re trying to locate your brother, Lieutenant Commander Joseph Carter. Have you seen him?”
“No,” I lied. “Is there a problem?”
“He’s on leave, and we thought you might know his whereabouts.”
“If he’s on leave, he could be anywhere. Sometimes he visits me, but not all the time. You don’t know his location? I mean, aren’t you supposed to keep tabs on that sort of thing?”
They hesitated. Then Johnson said, “Normally, we do. But your brother’s gone…missing, and we think he might be in trouble. He’s ill. He may not be thinking straight.”
Understatement of the year, I thought.
“Mr. Carter,” Johnson said from behind his cool black shades, “we understand you’re very close to your brother. He may have come in contact with a very rare virus. It tends to...alter the imagination. He may be delusional. Others have been infected, and have been cured.”