Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins, page 18
“Yikes,” she complained, picking it up and checking the caller ID, “when will he learn that he can take this thing with him?
“Daaaa-aaaad!” she yelled out into the backyard where Nathan was mowing the lawn. “Doc's on the phone!”
Nathan hollered back over the roar of the mower, “Okay, honey, I'll be there in just a sec.”
She flipped the phone open and answered it cheerfully. “Hey, Doc. What’s new?”
His reply was short and uncharacteristically serious. “Boo, I need to talk to your dad. It’s important.”
“Er, yeah . . . okay,” she answered, “he’ll be here in just a . . . oh wait, here he is.”
Nathan came through the old storm door. He was covered in grass clippings and patches of dirt, and his straight black hair was matted to the sides of his head with sweat. He smiled exhaustedly at Maggie and reached out for the phone.
She handed it to him with a perplexed look on her face, shrugged her shoulders and then ducked out into the living room.
“Paul, muh-man!” greeted Nathan as he brushed a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “Whaz up?”
“Nathan? Are you okay? I mean . . . how are the two of you doing?” Doc asked. His voice was strangely intense and urgent. “Are you all right? Is Maggie all right?”
“Yeahhh,” Nathan answered slowly, “shouldn't we be?”
“You’re sure there's nothing wrong?”
“Um, Paul, what’s going on?” Nathan quizzed. There was something disturbing about the way his friend was interrogating him. “We're just fine. Why are you acting so . . . er, bothered?”
Doc’s voice softened a bit. “Good . . . good,” he sighed, “I'm glad to hear it. I know this sounds nuts, but I just had a feeling that something was wrong.”
“You had a feeling? Yeah, that does sound nuts.”
“I know,” he continued. “I thought so too. But I just couldn't shake it—that feeling. I had to call, just to be sure.”
“Well, thanks for your concern, but everyone's perfectly fine here.” Nathan smiled at Maggie as she came back into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She poured one for herself and one for him and sat down at the table to see if she could glean any information regarding Doc’s unusual mood.
“So, did you just call to see if we’re . . . ?”
Bang! Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the house. Maggie froze mid-drink; her azure eyes widened.
“What was that?” Nathan asked as he rose to his feet and started toward the living room door.
Maggie followed.
“What was what?” Dr. Brockman's voice cried out from the phone.
“Nothing. Something just fell upstairs,” Nathan reassured.
Boom! This time, a deep, heavy thud rattled through the floor above their heads.
“Okay . . . something just fell upstairs, again.”
“Nathan!” Doc shrieked into the phone, “Get out of the house! Call the police! Where’s Maggie?”
“Paul,” Nathan snapped, “calm down! I'm sure it's nothing. Maggie's right here. She's fine.”
“Nathan, listen to me! Take Maggie and get out of the house! Don't go up there! I mean it. Get out! I'm hanging up right now so you can call the police!”
With that, there was a click and the phone went silent.
CHAPTER XVIII
INTRUDERS
Nathan paused halfway up the stairs and stared at the cell phone in his hand. What if Paul’s right? He thought to himself. What if we're in some sort of danger? Maybe I should . . . wait a second! This is absurd! He shook his head and continued climbing the staircase.
Thud-dump! Another loud noise sounded from down the hall. Maggie quickly ran up behind him. She put her hands on his shoulders, squeezing a little harder than was comfortable.
“Hey Smaggs, did you leave your window open? I bet a squirrel's gotten in again. The branches have grown kinda close to . . .”
He stopped suddenly.
“Dad, wha . . .”
“Shhhh!” Nathan blurted, thrusting his hand up in front of her face. His eyes were wide with panic—and Maggie was about to discover why.
“Hey, look! I found it.” An unfamiliar man's voice sounded from somewhere down the hall.
Maggie’s heart pounded in her chest and a sense of horror washed over her. Frantically, she started jabbing her dad repeatedly in the shoulder.
“Hah! I knew it,” another man replied.
Nathan breathed heavily, but didn't move—despite Maggie’s desperate poking, he stood frozen in place, listening.
“I knew it was them; this proves it.” The stranger's voice was low and gruff.
The second man, who sounded younger than the first, asked, “Is that Tab . . .?”
“Shhh! Yes!” the gruff man answered. “We'll have to show this to Ultara. There won't be any question, now.”
Nathan looked questioningly at Maggie. She stopped poking him and shook her head wildly back and forth.
All at once, the husky voice became louder and clearer as Maggie's door began to creak open. “He and his daughter . . . where are they now?”
The other man responded, “They're downstairs.”
“Perfect,” the gruff man answered, “let's go.”
Nathan jumped. “Go on,” he whispered insistently. He turned and pushed Maggie. “Go . . . go . . . go!” he continued urging as they sprinted down the stairs and out the front door. Once outside, he pulled Maggie across the driveway and behind a privet hedge, flipped open his phone, and dialed 911.
“Hello? Yes. There's someone in my house!” He glanced around the hedge to make sure they hadn't been followed. “Yessss!” He kept his voice low. “They're still in there! No . . . no, we’re outside. My daughter and I got out of there. We’re in the bushes!”
Maggie curled up with her back pressed against the hedge. She was shaking and praying out loud—this was not at all what she had in mind when she had wished for a less boring life.
“Yes ma'am, it's 2163 East Cedar.” He stayed on the line with the 911 operator until a Glenhill Police car squealed around the corner and screeched into the drive.
A tall, muscular officer stepped out and walked toward him. “Mr. Baker?”
“Yeah, that's me,” Nathan answered, bolting out from behind the bushes and stumbling awkwardly across the driveway. “Sir, there are men in my house. At least two of 'em, upstairs! I thought maybe it was squirrels, but my daughter and I . . .” He pointed to Maggie whose dark curls were barely visible over the hedge, “We heard voices. So, ya know, it couldn’ta been squirrels.”
Another short, muscular officer stepped from the squad car and joined them. “Okay, Mr. Baker, just relax. We'll check this out.” He put his hand up in Nathan's face. “You'd better wait here, sir.” Both officers drew their guns and entered the house.
Neither Nathan nor Maggie had any intention of following the gun-toting police officers back inside. They were both sufficiently spooked, and perfectly content to wait outside, as they had been instructed to do.
After more than twenty-five minutes, the shorter officer stepped out onto the front porch, and rubbed his shaved head. “Uh . . . Mr. Baker? It appears that there was an intruder in your house.”
Maggie, who had finally come out from her hiding place behind the privets, looked at him as though that was one of the stupidest things she'd ever heard. “Yeah, duh,” she snipped, “my dad told you that when you got here! We heard ‘em talking, remember!”
Nathan looked at her and scowled. “So, you didn’t catch ‘em then?”
“No, sir, but we checked the whole house. It's all clear now.” The officer glanced sideways at Maggie and a sly smile spread across his face. “Oh, hello, young lady! I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”
Maggie’s mouth dropped open. In the chaos, she had failed to notice that this was the totally hot cop who had helped her out of the pond.
He chuckled at her obvious embarrassment, and then cleared his throat. “Hm-hmm. Would you come with me please, folks?”
They followed him back into the house and directly upstairs.
“Whoever it was . . . well, it looks like they only went into one room.” He stopped outside of Maggie's bedroom door and pushed it open.
“Oh, no way!” Maggie exclaimed. “Look at my room!”
Nathan slapped both hands onto his cheeks and slowly slid them down his face. “Whoa,” he moaned.
The room was completely destroyed. Papers were strewn all over the floor. The bedding was pulled off the bed. Maggie’s clothes were pulled out of the dresser drawers, and the drawers themselves were flung everywhere and in pieces. Many of her belongings lay smashed in shattered little piles of rubble.
“Sir,” the taller officer pulled out a little blue notebook. “It looks as though the intruders were looking for something. Do you have any idea what that might have been?”
“No, I . . . uh . . . I don't.” Nathan answered, trying his best to appear calm, but the horrifying fact that someone had rummaged through his daughter’s room left him feeling quite uneasy.
“Wait a second,” Maggie blurted, “they said they had to show someone something, remember?” She struggled to recall what she had heard. “One of them said 'we have to show this to’ um . . . oh . . . what was it? Utalar? Ultrala? No . . . it was Ultara!”
“That's right . . . Ultara,” Nathan nodded. “They were talking about a 'tab' too.”
The taller officer diligently scribbled down their comments. “Ultara . . . tab, eh? Either of those things familiar to you?”
They both shook their heads.
“Is there anything else you can remember?” the hot cop asked.
“I . . . I don't know,” Nathan replied. “We didn’t hear much. It all happened pretty fast.”
The officer handed Nathan a business card with the name Sgt. Bradley S. Jacobsen printed on it. “This is my direct number. If you think of anything else or have any questions, you can reach me here.” He pointed to a phone number at the bottom of the card.
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Nathan shook his hand.
While her dad finished up with the police, Maggie walked around her room inspecting what had been done. It was overwhelming. Her things had been touched by someone she didn't know. They had gone through all of her stuff. They were looking for something she supposedly had, and felt they had the right to just come in and take it. It left her feeling violated, scared, and angry. They said they had found something—but what? What was missing?
She continued wandering through the debris, but then stopped suddenly. “Oh no,” she gasped. She dashed to the other side of the room and ran her hands frantically across the top of her dresser. “Oh no, oh no, oh nooooo!” She started digging through clothes and papers, tossing things violently through the air. “Where is she? Where is she?”
“Who?” Nathan asked. “What are you looking for?”
Maggie was breathing heavily, mumbling to herself furiously. “My hiding seeker, Dad! She's not here! They took Hidey! She's gone!”
“What?” he asked with a surprised chuckle. “Why on Earth would anyone take that?”
Sergeant Jacobsen turned an inquisitive eye on Maggie. “Excuse me, young lady. Your hiding what?”
Maggie, who had no intention of making eye contact with Sergeant Jacobsen, returned to flinging clothes around and ignored him entirely.
“Oh,” Nathan jumped in, “it’s nothing Sergeant . . . just a little statue thing she's had for years.”
“Did it have any significant monetary value, sir?”
Nathan frowned at him. “Uh, nooo. It was just a . . . a toy, given to her by . . . .” He stopped short. There was no way this could be a coincidence. Dr. Brockman had warned him that they were in danger just seconds before the intrusion, and Dr. Brockman had given Maggie the hiding seeker.
“By?” Officer Jacobsen pressed.
“Oh, uh . . . .”
Nathan didn't think he'd better say anything about it just yet. He didn't want this to get any more complicated. After all, Paul Brockman was his best friend. There had to be a simple explanation—one that didn't require the intervention of the law. “I'm sorry,” he apologized. “It was given to her by a very good family friend.
The officer raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, well all right then, if there's nothing more, we’ll just . . . .”
Nathan cut him off. “Nope, don't think so.”
The officer eyed him suspiciously. “You'll, uh, call me then if you happen to think of anything else?”
Oh, absolutely!” Nathan replied. He patted the policeman condescendingly on the shoulder. “Thanks for your help, Sergeant! C’mon, I’ll show you out.”
Maggie stopped digging and watched her dad. He was acting strange all of a sudden—strange even for him. She followed him and the two officers downstairs and looked on as her father noticeably rushed them out the door.
“Thanks again, Sergeant J.!” He waved from the front porch smiling widely. “You guys be safe out there!”
As soon as the police car was out of sight, Nathan’s face dropped. “Okay, Paul, time to explain,” he seethed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and whipping it open.
“Dad?” Maggie stepped out onto the porch with him. “What’re you doing? You don’t honestly think Doc had anything to do with this, do you?”
Nathan ignored her completely.
“Paul, it's Nathan,” he barked.
Maggie had never heard her dad use such a curt tone with Doc.
“Oh, Nathan! Oh, thank goodness. You're all right.”
“I am most certainly not all right, Paul!”
“Dad? What are you . . . ?”Maggie pleaded.
“Shhhh!” he snapped.
“Nathan, what's going on?” the doctor asked. “What's happened?”
“My house was broken into, Paul; but I guess you know that.”
Maggie gasped loudly. She tried to grab the phone away from Nathan, but he turned so she couldn't reach it. “Dad! Stop it!” she insisted.
He covered the phone with his hand. “Maggie, I will handle this,” he scolded, glaring at her sternly.
“But . . . .”
He angrily raised his eyebrows as he put the phone back to his ear. “Well?”
“Nathan, listen,” Doc began, “it’s not what you think. I had nothing to do with your house being broken into.”
“But you knew it was going to happen,” he accused.
“No, I didn’t know for sure.”
“What do you mean?”
Doc was quiet for a second and then asked, “Is Maggie okay? This probably really freaked her out.”
“What? Yeah, she’s fine,” Nathan snipped, annoyed that Doctor Brockman seemed to be purposely withholding information. “As fine as someone can be when their room’s been ransacked and their most prized possession’s been stolen.”
“What?” Doc exclaimed. “What’s been stolen?”
“That silly little figurine you gave her.”
Doctor Brockman was silent for several seconds. “Oh, no,” he finally breathed, sounding like someone had just died. “Nathan, please tell me you’re not serious.”
CHAPTER XIX
DOC RETURNS
Dr. Brockman’s flight arrived at 10:45 a.m. Nathan couldn’t get off work, so Maggie skipped school and made the two hour drive to the airport. It was 10:57 when she got to the baggage claim, where they’d agreed to meet. Doc was there waiting.
“Boodle!” he exclaimed, when he spotted her rushing toward the luggage carousel. He sped over, picked her up and swung her around in a circle. “How is it that you’re even more gorgeous than you were last time?”
“You always ask me that, Doc,” she grinned, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Well, stop getting more gorgeous then,” he scolded, as he grabbed his suitcase from the carousel with a jerk.
They walked arm and arm to the parking garage, climbed into Nathan and Maggie's old silver sedan, and embarked on the long drive back to Glenhill.
Their conversation started in the standard way—Doc asking if she had gotten a boyfriend in the last two weeks and when her dad was going to stop living like a monk and find a nice lady; Maggie telling him that there would never be any prospects for her in Glenhill, and to forget her dad. He was never going to find a nice lady. He wasn't even looking! It was a conversation that took place at least once every time they were together. It would always end with Doc saying, “I just care about you guys. I want you to be happy.”—A phrase that Maggie would mockingly mouth along with him as he said it.
They'd just finished their little dating chat when Maggie asked, “How weird is it that both of our houses got broken into?”
Doc became noticeably uneasy. “It’s really weird, Boo. You okay though?”
Maggie shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. I thought I was, but I still had to sleep in Dad’s room last night.”
“Yeah,” he answered, “I haven’t been sleeping lately myself. I’ve been really worried about you guys. I wish I could have gotten back here sooner, but I was needed at the hospital.”
“So, I’ve been wondering. How did you know that they were coming to our house after yours?” Maggie tried. “Dad wouldn’t tell me. He said it would freak me out.”
Dr. Brockman shook his head. “Then what makes you think I’m going to tell you?”
Maggie smiled and batted her eyelashes. “Because you know I’m a big girl and that I can handle it . . . and because someone promised that he wouldn’t ever keep secrets from me.”
“Oh there it is . . . just go ahead and throw that one up in my face again,” he shook his head and grudgingly relented. “Fine. Here’s what happened.
“I’d just gotten off work and ran home to change before going to the gym. When I got to the house, the front door was open. At first I thought maybe the housekeeper had forgotten to shut it, but then I heard voices. There were at least two men . . . talking. They were saying ‘it wasn't here’ and ‘it has to be with the others.’ I had no idea what they were talking about.”
