Chapter 1

I wouldn't tell anyone ... ever. I cried the night sweet Amy Clark told me her mother was leaving her father and she had to go with her. Her mother and father were separating. Amy and I were fourteen and had been sidekicks for the last ten years.

I guess you could say we had done it all. Most of the exciting stuff was in the last few months when we discovered what fun it was to explore each other's bodies. The ultimate happened just before Amy told me that same night she had to leave. We swore undying love to each other. "Amy, when I get old enough I want to find you and marry."

"I accept. I want to marry you too." Deep down we both knew in all probability this would never happen.

That was fourteen years ago. A lot of time had passed and a lot of things had happened to me in the ensuing years. I graduated school, going on to university and coming out an architect and with vision. Along the way I married, which my wife and I soon realized was a mistake, we then proceeding to an amicable divorce.

Right now I was back in my home town living in my parent's former home, they having given it to me when they moved away. My situation let me work the hours I wanted to and I was pretty satisfied with my life. I suppose not too many architects of my age were as far along in their chosen careers as I was. I caught a break not long after hanging out my shingle, with my first contract to design a small church.

It was thought to be a brilliant design and it appeared in a couple national magazines. Actually the only brilliance was to choose a staff that could tune into the visions I had, and implement said visions. I was really having a good and satisfying life, only occasionally thinking of Amy Clark

Rodger Clark, father of Amy, still lived next door. We spoke seldom because he wasn't one to chat and I had been rebuffed several times when I tried to speak to him. The last time he told me to get to hell out off his property and not come back. I tried several times to find out where Amy lived and where she was. This was before, when I was married, and again after I divorced.

Looking through my eyes as an architect, I shuddered as the beautiful, large Victorian that was Clark's home slowly falling into disrepair. A rumor persisted that Clark had plenty of money, but didn't care what happened to his home or to him. I had never seen anything to substantiate that he had any money.

Who knows why a rumor starts, and in truth the rumor did die out in the last few years. Strange for when I was younger and had the run of their house, I knew Amy's father was well educated and of a friendly sort before his wife and child left. That was then, but as time went on he soured to become what he was now, pushing everyone away.

Things do change and it was a cold early winter evening when I pulled into my drive. I glanced over at the Clark house as I usually did when closing the garage. No lights tonight. Then a light came on in the upstairs front room which I knew was a study or library of sorts. The rest of the house was dark.

It was only on for a second and then went off. Again it came on. It seemed as if someone was playing with the light switch. It stayed on a little longer and then there were several rapid on and offs. Was whoever there trying to get my attention? Our houses were close enough so old man Clark, (54?) would have known I had come home as the lights from my car swung into the front of the garage.

It had been almost a year since Clark and I had exchanged words. Again the lights flickered. Maybe I had better check it out. I grabbed a two-foot hunk of rebar that was outside my garage and headed across the lawn. The lights went through the cycle again. I tried the side entrance, but that door was locked and the same with the front door.

The back door fortunately, was unlocked and I let myself in, I cautiously advanced through the darkened house to the stairs. The room where the lights were being manipulated was at the head on the right. I knew I made no sound coming into the house and I didn't as I slowly ascended. I eased the door open.

The light came on momentarily and I spotted Clark on the floor trapped under a huge bookcase which was lying across the back of his legs and shoulder. He was face down and his head was jammed against the wall. One hand could reach an electric cord that was plugged into an outlet. I watched for a moment as he went through the cycle with the lights one more time before I spoke.

"Clark, you got yourself in a bit of a bind, haven't you?"

"Dixon, hurry up and get this damned thing off. It's killing me." Usually I was addressed as kid. Having him use my name was a surprise. He still didn't use my first name of Beau, usually calling me "Kid" even now when I was twenty-eight.

"You got any broken bones?"

"Can't tell, but most likely. My legs are numb and I think my shoulder is dislocated or worse. Don't stand there, do something."

It took some doing. If this had landed on Clark's head, it would have killed him. He took the full brunt of the bookcase that was filled with heavy books. I still had the hunk of rebar in my hand and I used it to pry up one side of the wooden case. He screamed when I started prying up because the bookcase rocked onto his shoulder. Hurriedly, I slid a few spilled books under the edge.

I rushed around to the other side. Fortunately I was able to reach down and find enough books to prop up this side the same as the other. I dragged Clark from under the bookcase and turned him onto his back which brought about several groans of agony. I was surprised he didn't pass out. It was time to call 911 and rescue.

Sweat was beaded across Clark's face and I could see how much pain he was in. While waiting for the men to arrive, I asked how this had happened. "I was sliding one side of the case forward and then the other to move it. I thought I had it totally upright and stable and I turned to go around it to the other side. I didn't see it falling until too late."

"Should have taken the books out of it first." Still lying on the floor, he stared at me as if I was stupid. He didn't make a comment. There was nothing else I could see to do but wait on the rescue ambulance.

He was in agony, finally, "Them rescue bastards are taking long enough to get here." I tried to sit him up, but it hurt him and he screamed again. I left him and went in search of a pillow for his head. When I came back into the room, I looked at the propped up bookcase.

Something struck me as odd. All the books from the lower shelves were out and piled on the back of the bookcase, pressing down on Clark's body, pinning him to the floor. The thought struck me; Clark wasn't meant to get out from under the bookcase. If he hadn't figured how to attract my attention, he might have been trapped there until he died.

Just then we heard the rescue vehicle pull into the drive down below. I threw at him as I left the room, "Clark, you're full of crap. I'll let you get better and then you're going to tell me what really happened. You say you turned your back on the bookcase and it fell over. Bullshit! No way could this have happened the way you described. Not with the books from the bottom shelves piled on the back of the bookcase."

"You'll be waiting awhile to hear different and you better keep your mouth shut about this. Something like this could happen to you if you don't." Rescue was outside getting their equipment out of the vehicle. I went down the stairs to let them in. The EMTs put temporary splints on both legs and a soft boot to protect the toes on one foot, which they said at least were dislocated, if not broken. He screamed when they moved his shoulder getting him onto the board ready for transport.

Clark asked me to lock up and finished with more orders. "Go home and I will contact you when I get into a hospital room. Don't go poking around in here, either." No thanks for freeing him from what could have been certain death, if I hadn't come along when I did and being curious about the lights going on and off.

The young police officer who followed the rescue call looked into the room, but apparently didn't see the same thing I had. "That was a dumb move, trying to move the bookcase without taking the books off the shelves. That's what happens when you don't plan ahead."

It was 11:30 that evening when Clark called me from the hospital. "Dixon, I've just been moved into room 223. Get your butt in here tomorrow early. I've got to talk to someone and I guess it might as well be you."

I wondered about him demanding more of me. My work was important, but I was still curious. Curiosity won and I had to find an answer to what brought on the attack to my neighbor.

"Are you family?" This was what I faced when I announced I was Mr. Dixon to see Clark.

Why I said what I did, I have no idea. "The bastard owes me money."

"Well, okay. He said you would be in. He's in a lot of pain and angry."

"I've faced that often enough. He hasn't changed much in the last several years I've known him. He's worse if anything."

"I can believe it. He's pretty obnoxious." We were left alone. The nurse didn't even come into the room.

"Dixon, you came. I didn't know if you would. I've been laying here all night thinking. I've got a couple favors to ask of you. I'll tell you what and why this happened. I have to open up to someone."

"Maybe. First I got questions. I need to know about yesterday? Did you know the men who did this to you?"

"Of course I do. I think Mary must have sent them."

I had momentarily forgotten Amy's mother's given name. "Mary. Who is Mary?"

"The woman whom I told everyone was my wife and the mother of Amy. I claimed I was Amy's dad, but neither is true. Amy isn't related to either one of us. I don't know why I'm going to trust you with a secret that can land me in prison and most likely for life. If anything happens to me, you might see if you can find Amy and tell her. She was the only bright spot in my screwed-up life.

"How is she related, then?"

"She is just a girl Mary kidnapped for ransom. The kid was two years old when we nabbed her."

"Whoa up here, you kidnapped her? Why did you steal her?"

"For the money of course."

"You never returned the child, is that it?"

"That's it and we kept the money. I was after Mary to give Amy back to her parents, but she wouldn't and it was always a contention between us. That's when we separated. She took off with the child. You must remember when it happened?"

"I do. Where are they now?"

"I'm not sure, because I never tried to find them. Mary must have spent her share of the ransom money and contacted her brothers to get what remains of my share. They were waiting for me when I came home after dinner yesterday."

"Did they get the money?"

"Nope, they were coming back later to see if I would change my mind, but you saved me. They didn't intend to kill me at first, although they probably would have eventually. They wanted to make me hurt so badly that I would talk. You prevented that and I want to thank you. I doubt they will give up so easily. You're going to have to watch your back."

"It would be a better plan if you called the police."

"I may do that, but I want you do something for me first."

"What?"

"I want you to go down to the bus depot and empty out locker number 45. It probably will be better if you don't contact me openly for awhile. It may be that I'll be killed and your trouble will be for nothing."

"What's in the locker?"

"There are two suitcases. One is full of money and the other has more money along with a few old newspapers. The papers are accounts about the kidnapping that was published after it happened. You'll get the whole story when you read them. The stories didn't last in the paper long when there was no progress to report about finding the kid."

"It doesn't sound too safe for me to be lugging around two suitcases full of money."

"It isn't. Use your head man. Rent a different locker and move it. Just be careful that no one is watching when you open the locker and take out the cases. Just be smart about things."

"I guess I can figure it out. Where's the key?"

"Here around my neck. Those fuckers had me in their hands and didn't know it. I can be stubborn. The damned doctors and nurses tried to remove it too, but I fought them off. I don't know how smart these men are, so use your cell to call me, or better yet I'll call you. If you see me at home, we'll meet across the hedge after dark back of your garage. Now get out of here!"

The last was said much louder. I thought he was serious until he winked at me. It came to me that he was trying to save my ass if those brothers came looking for that money and tried tracing it to me.

The key was sweaty in my hand and I figured I'd get the chore done as soon as possible. The nurse who had showed me Clark's room smiled at me. She figured I had been kicked out of the room.

I headed to the bus depot. There was a bank of lockers across one wall. The key I had in my hand had the number 45 stamped on it. There was a chart just inside the door at the end of the lockers and 45 was noted as being rented. Directly above it was locker number 25 and it was empty. Below it was 75 also empty and either would serve my purpose. I looked around and saw that people were milling around waiting on a bus arrival. Now was a good time to at least get this done.