LOST

Later that day, with only a couple of hours before they would have to board their flight, Marie, Stew and Wiz relaxed in her living room watching a movie on television. “You know what I find comfort in?” Stew asked the other two. “Zachary has been stuck in New Jersey all day and won’t leave until one in the morning.”

“New Jersey isn’t as bad as people make it out to be,” Wiz commented as they heard someone outside her door. Goose lifted his head and growled as whoever it was put the key in and turned the knob.

“Oh, hell,” Marie said as she stood up. “I forgot.” Her partner Robles opened the door and looked very startled to see her, not to mention, two other people and a dog.

Stew grabbed a hold of Goose’s collar to keep him from attacking Robles, but the dog’s strength took him by surprise and he was nearly yanked off the couch.

“I thought you were going out of town. We’ve got a kidnapping case to work on and you’re having a slumber party?” Robles said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Next, you’re going to tell me it’s not what it looks like.”

Marie was slightly amused by the irony, but felt ashamed to have been caught in a lie, and could not think of anything to say that would get her out of the hot water she was in.

“If you needed some time off, you should have just asked for it. If the case is too stressful, I can work with someone else.”

“It’s not too stressful, Derek,” she replied as her nostrils flared.

“Just… relax tonight. Have fun with your friends… and in the morning… wait a second. Isn’t that the Kasey kid? Aren’t you Stewart Kasey?” he asked Stew. “And you…” he said, turning to Wiz. “I recognize your face, too. The homeless guy, right? So, what…” he turned back to Marie. “You’re hanging around with the people involved with the case, now? Ever heard of conflict of interest? Look… I don’t want to know what’s going on. You’re a good cop and I don’t believe that you’d be up to no good. You show up ready to work tomorrow and maybe… just maybe I can forget what I see now.”

“Derek… I’m not going to be at work tomorrow. I actually do have to be out of town. I thought we were going to be gone this morning, but we got delayed. We were just about to leave. So, I still need you to feed Napoleon.”

“The cab’s going to be here in fifteen minutes, Marie,” Stew said as he and Wiz, with Goose trailing behind, walked past her and out the door.

“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You’re going out of town with them? What are you doing?”

“I’d explain… but it would take more time than we have right now. Honestly, it will be much easier to tell you after I get back.”

“You better hope you still have a job when you get back. You are going to owe me so big,” he said, chuckling. “If Internal Affairs finds out about this,” Robles shook his head, “your career is over. You’ll be a door-greeter at Wally World.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

The three of them walked toward security, Goose following in shadow, with a mixture of confidence and anxiety. They were silent as they stood in line, waiting to go through the metal detector and as they placed their belongings on the conveyor belt to be scanned, fear tugged at Stew’s heart. Fear that they would be held up for some reason and miss their flight. Fear for not knowing what mental torture Alex was going through. Fear that they were jumping into an ambush and would not be able to escape.

Sensing Stew’s hesitation, Wiz turned to him, “Everything will be all right. Don’t worry.”

“Sir,” one of the security agents told Wiz. “Can you step over here, please, and empty the contents of your bag into this bin?” Stew clenched his jaw as he walked past to retrieve his keys, wallet and loose change.

“Sure,” Wiz said as he complied with the officer’s request. He reached in the bag, pulled out each item and put them in a plastic bin—two composition books, a package of beef jerky, a small leather pouch, a bunch of papers bound with string and a wooden box. One of the officers picked up the box and opened it, finding the dagger.

“It’s a gift for my grandfather in Bergen,” Wiz told them.

“Are you Norwegian? You don’t have much of an accent. Where’s your passport?”

“I’ve lived here in America for…” He nearly said eighty years but caught himself as he took his passport out of his jacket pocket and gave it to them, “…twenty-five years.”

“I’m sorry sir. This knife can’t go on the plane.”

“I understand,” Wiz answered calmly.

“What’s in the pouch?”

“A few personal sacred items. Gemstones, herbs.”

“Open it up, please, and empty it into your hand.”

Wiz did as they asked, calmly, but as quickly as possible, and showed them.

“He’s good to go,” one said to the other. “Thank you for your patience and cooperation, sir,” the officer told Wiz, handing him back his passport. “Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you,” Wiz replied, as he gathered up his things and joined Stew, who was waiting a few feet away.

They turned, continued down the concourse and Stew leaned over to Wiz, “What now? Without the dagger, do you have a Plan B?”

“What do you mean without the dagger? It’s in my bag.”

“It’s—” Stew opened the bag as they continued to walk and looked back up at Wiz, stunned.

“The security officer put it on the desk in the office behind them. And I transferred it into my bag.” Stew could do nothing but shake his head. Wiz grinned. “How much time do we have, Marie?”

“It should be boarding in another thirty minutes or so.”

“And how much farther do we have to walk?” Stew asked.

Marie sighed as she answered, “About twenty gates.”

“Oh, well. I guess we don’t have time to stop for coffee,” Stew replied, disappointed.

“I don’t know about you two,” Marie said, “but I plan on sleeping a good portion of the way there. I’d like to be as rested as possible for tomorrow.”

“Yes. That would be nice. However…,” Wiz noted, “I don’t think Stew nor I will be able to sleep much.”