Class of '59 (American Journey Book 4) (29 page)

"You've laid out a brutal case, counselor. Even I wouldn't go out with me."

Piper laughed.

"Fortunately for you, I'm a forgiving person."

"So you really think I'm a bad boy?" Ben asked.

Piper nodded.

"I do. I think you're bad and ornery and needlessly difficult," Piper said. She turned to face him. "I also think you're caring, considerate, and way too sexy for your own good."

Ben beamed.

"Now you're talking!"

"Don't get too excited," Piper said. "All I'm saying is that your virtues outweigh your vices."

Ben offered a playful grin.

"What do you think we should do about that, Miss McIntire?"

Piper smiled sheepishly.

"I don't know."

Ben raised a brow.

"We could drive back to the house. I have a big empty room."

Piper looked at Ben thoughtfully.

"You also have a big empty car."

She kissed him softly and sighed.

"Why wait?"

CHAPTER 47: DENNIS

Los Angeles, California – Saturday, May 2, 1959

Dennis Green mumbled and moaned when his unfriendly friend jabbed him in the shoulder and told him to wake up. He didn't like waking up before ten on weekend mornings and suspected that the clock had yet to strike eight.

"Stop poking me, Carter. I'm awake," Dennis said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Carter Williams said. "Now throw on some clothes and get your ass downstairs. Some men want to see you."

"What men?"

"FBI agents. They want to talk about Mark."

"What?" Dennis asked.

"Just go downstairs," Carter said. "I'll meet you in the living room."

Carter walked away from the bunk bed, one of ten on the second-floor sleeping porch of Zeta Alpha Rho fraternity, and took his leave. He left his fraternity brother dazed, confused, and more than a little irritated on a morning he should have been none of the above.

Dennis threw back the covers on his bed, swung his legs over the side, and lowered himself to the cold tile floor. He vowed to investigate Carter for criminal harassment if this law-enforcement matter turned out to be nothing more than a case of double parking.

He walked across the porch, pulled a few items from a closet, and headed for the door. Dressed in striped pajamas, a bathrobe, and corduroy slippers, he was ready to take on the world.

Dennis asked himself some questions as he walked down a hallway and then a flight of stairs. Why did the FBI want to talk about Mark? Why did the FBI want to talk about
anyone
in a fraternity on a Saturday morning? Was someone in serious trouble?

Dennis gave the questions a moment of thought and then turned his full attention to the matter at hand. He had a date with J. Edgar Hoover.

The college senior reached the bottom of the stairs a moment later. He turned to his left, walked across a large parlor, and made his way toward an open door. He heard voices even before he passed from the parlor to the living room. He had a crowd waiting.

Dennis felt uneasy the second he stepped into the room. Seven people gathered in a group in front of the console television, including three men in crisp suits and four fraternity brothers in not-so-crisp pajamas. Carter turned his head as Dennis approached.

"Dennis, these are the men I mentioned," Carter said. He turned toward the men. "Gentlemen, this is Dennis Green. He is Mark Ryan's roommate."

Each of the suited men flashed badges. The closest stepped forward.

"Good morning, Dennis. I'm Special Agent Trent Richards of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. These are my colleagues, Agent Frank Dennison and Agent Manny Trujillo."

Dennis shook three hands.

"We're here to investigate a serious matter that may involve Mark Ryan," Richards said. "Do you have a moment to answer some questions?"

"Of course," Dennis said.

Richards, a tall man with a deformed ear, pulled out a pen and a notepad. He scribbled a few notes, glanced at his colleagues, and then smiled at Dennis in a way that left him cold.

"I'm told you're Mark's best friend. Is that true?" Richards asked.

"It is," Dennis said.

"When did you last see him?"

"I saw him yesterday. Is he in trouble?"

"No," Richards said.

"Is he in danger?" Dennis asked.

Richards shrugged.

"I don't know. That's what I'm here to find out."

Dennis nodded.

"How can I help?"

"You can help by telling me if Mark has come in contact with a young woman who recently moved to this area," Richards said. "We believe her name is Colleen Finley."

"I don't know any Colleen."

"I see," Richards said.

"What does Colleen look like?"

"She's about five-foot-five and 120 pounds with long brown hair. She's very pretty and very southern. We think she came here from Huntsville, Alabama."

Dennis felt his stomach turn the second he heard brown hair, pretty, and southern. He had no doubt the FBI wanted Mary Beth McIntire.

"Is she dangerous?" Dennis asked.

"We don't know," Richards said.

"What makes you think Mark may be associating with this woman?"

The agent stared at the student.

"We have three independent sightings of Miss Finley with a man fitting Mark Ryan's description. They were seen together twice in Las Vegas six weeks ago and once in Bunker Hill last Tuesday. The man with Miss Finley wore a Zeta Alpha Rho shirt."

"There are four Zeta chapters in the area," Dennis said. "Have you checked the others?"

Richards lowered his pad.

"We've checked every one. This is our last stop."

"I see," Dennis said.

Richards fixed his gaze.

"I sense you know something."

"I might," Dennis said. "But before I say more, I'd like to
know
more. I'd like to know why the FBI is looking for Colleen Finley and why she may be a threat to Mark."

The agent cocked his head.

"It's real simple, Mr. Green. Colleen Finley is a fraud artist. She has defrauded nearly a dozen men out of more than four million dollars in the last three years. Most of her victims have been college men with access to family money. Has your friend come into money lately?"

Dennis sighed.

"He has."

"Please explain," Richards said.

"Mark's father died last fall and left him a large inheritance."

Richards stared at Dennis.

"Do you know where your friend was last night?"

Dennis took a deep breath.

"I know where he is right now. He's at the beach with the woman you want. He's at the Surf Side Hotel in Santa Monica."

CHAPTER 48: MARK

Santa Monica, California

The ring of the phone woke Mark with a jolt. Loud, incessant, and obnoxious, it rattled him, mind and body, until he rolled out of bed and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

A man spoke over a scratchy line.

"Mark?"

The time traveler put a hand to his temple as he tried to match the familiar voice with the information stored in his head. He couldn't do it.

"Yes, this is Mark. Who is this?"

"It's Dennis."

"Dennis?"

"Yeah, I know. It's early here too."

Mark glanced at the clock next to his bed and then at the woman
in
his bed. Each had a revealing face. Both were alive and ticking at eight thirty.

"What's going on?"

"I don't know. I'm sorry to wake you, buddy, but something happened a few minutes ago that I think you should know about."

"What?"

Dennis sighed loudly over the phone.

"Three FBI agents came to Zeta Alpha Rho and asked questions about a woman who fits Mary Beth's description. They asked a lot questions about
you
."

Mark rubbed his temple.

"FBI agents?"

"That's what they called themselves," Dennis said. "They talked to Carter and Jack and then asked for me. They wanted to know where they could find you."

"Did you tell them?"

"I did."

"Dennis!"

"They had badges, Mark. They had information too. They said that Mary Beth is some kind of traveling criminal. They said she's a con artist who steals money from people like you."

"What are you talking about?" Mark asked.

"The agents claimed she's a woman named Colleen Finley," Dennis said. "They said she's scammed millions of dollars from people."

"You don't believe that."

"I don't know what to believe."

"You've met her," Mark said.

"I met a woman who came to California out of nowhere. How well do you really know her?" Dennis asked. "How do you know she is who she says she is?"

"I just know."

Mark did not tell his best friend
why
he knew. He did not want to compound his morning with a time-travel tale that would surely make things worse.

"Is Mary Beth with you now?" Dennis asked.

"She is," Mark said.

"You might want to fill her in then."

Mark glanced again at Mary Beth and saw that she was following the conversation closely. He could see fear and apprehension in her bleary blue eyes.

"Tell me about these agents," Mark said. "What did they look like?"

"I just remember the one. He said his name was Trent Richards. He was tall with black hair and dark eyes. He had a bad ear too. His left ear was messed up."

Mark put his hand over the speaker and turned to Mary Beth.

"Get dressed."

"Why?" Mary Beth asked.

"Just do it," Mark said. "We have to go."

"OK."

Mark returned to Dennis.

"Are the men still there?"

"No," Dennis said. "They left twenty minutes ago."

"Did you name the hotel? Did you tell them exactly where we were?"

"I did, Mark. I didn't think I had a choice. Please tell me these guys are cops."

Mark took a breath.

"I can't, Dennis. I can't."

"Oh, crap."

Mark closed his eyes as he tried to process a hundred thoughts. Somehow, someway, the bad men from Bunker Hill had tied him to Zeta Alpha Rho. They knew his name and his present location and would likely figure out the rest before the morning was done.

Mary Beth had no doubt concluded the same. She had already put on the white cotton dress she had worn on Friday and was now busy throwing makeup and toiletries in a bag.

"Did you tell the men I've been living at home?" Mark asked.

"No," Dennis said. "I didn't say anything about your house or your family. I didn't get the chance. They took off the second I named the hotel."

Mark sighed. He was grateful for that. He had only begun to consider what all this meant for Ben and Piper and the mother who would soon return home from San Diego.

"Did you see the car?" Mark asked.

"Did I what?"

Mark cursed the bad connection.

"Did you see the car the men drove?"

"I did," Dennis said. "I saw it plain as day."

"What was it?"

"It was a Lincoln, Mark. They left the lot in a new black Lincoln."

CHAPTER 49: BEN

Los Angeles, California

Ben huffed as he left his warm bed, a beautiful woman, and the tranquility of a peaceful morning to answer the phone in his mother's room. He wanted to ignore the ringing distraction, but he could not. One could not ignore a device that rang more than twenty times.

He entered the room a moment later, picked up the receiver, and waited to blast the person on the other end. Unless the caller was someone telling him that his mother was hurt or that he had won a valuable prize, he was ready to fire with both barrels.

"Hello?" Ben asked.

"Ben?"

"It's me."

"Thank God you're home," Mark said over the phone. "Where's Piper?"

"She's asleep, Mark. Why are you calling? It's eight forty."

"Listen to me, Ben. Listen real close."

"I'm listening."

Ben felt his stomach twirl as he sat on the edge of Donna Ryan's bed. He detected fear in his brother's voice, along with an unmistakable sense of urgency.

"Look out the window."

Ben lifted the phone off a nightstand and walked to the room's lone window. He opened the blinds, peered through the glass, and looked at the scene beyond. He saw an empty driveway, a quiet street, and a paperboy making the last of his morning deliveries.

"I'm looking," Ben said.

"Do you see a car out front?" Mark asked. "Do you see a black Lincoln?"

"No. I don't. What's going on?"

"I'll explain later. I don't have much time."

"Mark?"

"Just listen, Ben. I want you to lock the front door, wake Piper, and tell her to get dressed. Tell her to gather her things and prepare to go through the tunnel."

"Why?"

"Just do it!" Mark said. "Do it the second I hang up."

"All right. All right."

"Do something else too."

"What?" Ben asked.

"Get the crystal and the key. Then get the book. All three should be in my dresser. Have them ready when we arrive."

"Where are you?"

"We're at the hotel," Mark said.

"What is going
on
?"

"I'll tell you later. Just lock the door and don't open it for anyone but me. I'll honk when we arrive. I mean it, Ben. Don't open the door for anyone."

"I won't."

"I have to go," Mark said. "I'll see you by nine thirty."

Ben sighed when he heard a click and looked again out the window. He saw a neighbor fetching his paper and a red car moving down the street. He did not see trouble.

He suspected that trouble was on the way though. He had never heard his brother speak to him that way. Mark did not make urgent calls to warn about the weather.

Ben returned the phone to the nightstand, walked toward an open door, and stepped into an empty hallway. He resisted the temptation to wake Piper immediately and did what Mark had asked him to do first. He went to secure the residence.