Gone in Mere Minutes 3 - Sequel

This is in tribute to Vandemonium1, "Gone in Mere Minutes- 3", the third part of some truly good stories. I loved this story. It was simple, and the main character (I like to think of him as the hero) was an average guy: not a former Seal, secret agent, or a martial arts expert. A good guy who got screwed by life and was looking at the deep dark chasm of his life ending with no hope or help. He has an epiphany and takes matters into his own hands, using only his brains, and a cell phone.

It's great. Read it for context. He gives you an open ended lease to 'flesh it out' and make an ending. I tried. Only the readers can tell if I did him justice or not.

To Vandy, thank you, sir, for the opportunity. NOW, enjoy.

I came home with my two kids, son Mike, age 10, and daughter Rachel, age 8. The house was silent, deserted. I called out, "Honey, we're home."

Quiet.

I was a little worried what I'd find, and wasn't sure if I should bring the kids home. But I wanted to cover my back as far as my involvement, in case it came back to me.

But there was nothing.

Backpacks landed on the kitchen table and the kids went looking for drinks. On school days, the first order of business was homework, then supper. Then maybe some t.v. But on Fridays, it was their decision. They could goof off and do homework tomorrow, or hit the books right away, if they had something planned for the weekend.

They got juice boxes and Rachel made a b-line for the television. But Mike had Little League tomorrow and he knew the rules, so he plopped down at the table and started. Math, History, and English.

The kid was sharp, but he hated English. So after knocking out the other two, he called me and asked if I could help with diagramming sentences. (My High school English teacher would laugh her head off if she saw me.)

All the while I was on the phone, calling her parents, her best friend Jo-Anne, my folks, then the police. Nothing. No one had seen or heard from her. Our neighbors either, except an older lady across the street who said she saw a big black car leaving a few hours ago. The cops were no help and told me I had to wait a minimum of twenty-four hours to file a missing person's report.

Mike and I finished his English homework (I'm glad he wants to be an engineer like me.) I told him to go into the television room with his sister.

We sat and I asked if their mother said anything about going anywhere. They didn't know anything, but Mike wouldn't hold my eyes. I told my daughter to go get ready for bed. She got up and left and Mike started to fidget.

"O.K., Champ, let's have it," I said, in my best Leroy Jethro Gibbs manner. He looked at me.

"I'm sorry, dad, but I think Mom was messing around on you."

"What do ya mean, son?"

He sighed and he teared up a little. I reached out and took him to me, hugging him to comfort him.

He sniffled, and said, "I came home one Wednesday from practice a little early, we got rained out, and there was a guy here. He was buttoning his suit coat and getting ready to leave. I came in through the side door, after leaving my bike under the overhang, and mom was in her robe, the short one. She kissed him and told him to hurry because I might be home soon. She didn't see me, and I watched as she hugged him close and kissed him again.

"He told her he would see her again on Friday. ....."

"I should have told you dad, but I was so scared. I didn't want you two to break up." By now he was crying. I hugged him and told him it wasn't his fault.

Then I asked him, "Does your sister know about any of this, or does she suspect anything?"

He looked at me and said, "No, she doesn't know any of this. She was at Girl Scouts that afternoon. I never told her." He thought for a minute, and then said, "I don't think she thinks anything about Mom or her behavior." He was blinking back the tears and trying to look brave.

"O.K., son, here's what we're going to do. I need you to keep this to yourself. Nobody but you and I can know, not Grandpa or Grandma, or Pop-pop or Mamaw. Understand? We need to see what your mother is going to do. I need your help to protect your sister. Copy, bud?"

"I copy, pop." He liked it when we got military.

We got through the weekend.

Sunday, after church, the grandparents showed up. I got the third degree, but they appeared satisfied that I was as in the dark as they were. They said they didn't realize that we were having problems.

'Neither did I', I thought.

About an hour after our parents left, her best friend, Jo-Anne rang the bell. I opened the door and she blew in.

"WHERE IS SHE?" she bellowed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?"

"Hello, Jo, how are you?" I said. Bad feeling here.

She fixed me with a withering stare and calmed a little bit.

"What's going on, Mike?"

"You got me by the shorts", I said. "I came home Friday and my wife, and my life were gone. I haven't seen or heard from her since, nor has anyone else. The cops can't help me till it's been twenty-four hours at least, so I will be swearing out a missing persons report Monday. Then I will be consulting an attorney."

She staggered.

"The cops? AN ATTORNEY?? Why is that? Don't you think you should give her some time??"

"TIME FOR WHAT, JO-ANNE? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?? SPILL IT!!"

She hesitated and stuttered, "I .... uh .....I don't know what you mean. Just don't do anything stupid, or rash."

And as fast as she came in, she was gone, even though I attempted to restrain her. The kids boiled into the living room and Rachel said she thought she heard Aunt Jo-Anne.

"You did, but she had to go. Real quick. I don't know why," and I winked at Mike. He nodded back at me.

The rest of Sunday passed and we watched Sunday Night Football. Giants and the Jets, at the Meadowlands. (I'm sorry, old habits die hard.) The Giants creamed the Jets, 23-22. Hey, if you're a Giants fan, that's a massacre.

The kids and I had ordered pizza, and we celebrated. But without their mother here, they were subdued. Me, not so much. The anger was building and festering. They cleaned up, and changed and got to bed. I read my daughter a story, and kissed her good night. I went in to my son's room and sat on his bed.

"How you holding up, dad?"

WOW, my son the psychiatrist.

"I'll make it, bud."

"I know. WE will, dad. We all will"

I hugged him again and tickled him.

"Alright, enough mushy stuff. Go to sleep. "

"Good night, pop."

"Good night, son." I turned off the light and closed the door to a crack. After all, he was still only ten years old.

The next morning, I rousted everyone from bed and started them to get ready for school. They both attended St. Edward's Catholic School. We had breakfast and then I took them to school. (A job their mother usually did.) I had called in and taken two days off to take care of some 'personal business.'

I rolled up to the police station, and talked to a cute little African-American detective sergeant, Jane Woodall and gave her everything I had. She filled in the paperwork and gave me a file number. I thanked her, and asked if my attorney could call for a copy. She raised her eyebrows and asked if there was a problem with our marriage she should know about.

"Not that I know about, but obviously my wife has different ideas. Her cell phone is off, and no one knows where she is." I hesitated, and then I dropped the tactical nuke.

"But come to think of it, her best friend, Jo-Anne Wilson came over and she thought I had done something to Rachel. She became very nervous when I asked her if she knew anything, and she lied and bolted out. You might want to talk to her."

"Thank you. We will also want to come and do a walk through to see if here is anything you missed."

"No problem. We'll be home after 4:00 p.m so come on by anytime."

I thanked her and left for my lawyer's office.

Joseph Mamah was a high school friend who specialized in family law. We had been friends for seventeen years.

I got married on graduation from high school when my girl friend scared me with the news that she was pregnant. I had already enlisted in the Army and was scheduled to leave five days after graduation.

So we went and got married, took a long weekend in Niagara Falls, and I shipped out to basic. I had selected engineering as an MOS, so I was sent to Ft. Leonard Wood in Missouri. After basic, I moved across the base to engineering school. That's where I found out -FALSE ALARM!! She wasn't pregnant. I never found out if she had lied or not.

I asked Joe if he would represent me.

"Sure," he said. "What's going on, Mike?"

I asked to have everything made legal before I told him the story. He stared at me, shrugged, and pulled some forms out. We filled them out and he had his paralegal notarize them, "Just to make me happy".

"Write me out a check for $300,the family rate, and I'm your attorney."

So we did, and I showed him the tape and the messages and told him what I thought had happened. He sat and listened.

Then he started: "I didn't think she was like that. And with a slime like him. So, what do you want?"

We laid out a plan and I agreed to everything. Restraining order, divorce based on abandonment, custody of my children, all our assets. He finalized everything, and seeing as how we didn't know where my wife was, we took out ads in the Newark Star Ledger, the Hudson Dispatch, the Ocean County Times, and the New York Times regarding dissolution of marriage.

Time passed. It would take a year, but after six months I got a letter. From my 'wife'. It was postmarked from Mexico City. It read:

Micheal--

Stop looking for me. Get on with your life. I am gone. Get over it.

Rachel

I also noticed a news report: "One Mr. Gino Carlucci had missed an appointment with the Federal Prosecutor about a subpoena for racketeering. He was no where's to be found. His wife was still here, and his father-in-law was co-operating with the FBI. Details at ten. In sports ...."

Short, but not so sweet. I made two copies and went to Joe's office. I showed him the letter and gave him a copy. Then I left for the police station.

I walked in and asked for Detective Sergeant Jane Woodall. When she came out and saw me, she frowned and said, "Mr. Boyles, How are you? I haven't got any news."

"But I do," I said, and handed her the letter and the envelope. She looked at my extended hand, pulled out latex gloves and took the letter from me. She read it and asked me to follow her. We walked to her office and she motioned me to sit. She put the letter and the envelope in an evidence bag, read it again, and asked me when it came and did anyone else know about it.

"No, I made two copies. One for me, it's home. One for my lawyer and I just dropped it off. And you have the original."

She thanked me and said she hadn't any news.

I told her no-else had heard from her either, and her phone was now dead.

"We'll try and find her, but if she's in Mexico, she'll be able to hide real easy."

I sighed, thanked her for her efforts (yeah, right) and asked if she could keep me apprised.

So life went on. Four months later, I got a post card. It was sent from Jakarta, Indonesia. It read simply- 'Stop, Micheal.' It was addressed to me and had been postmarked five days ago. Again, I burned two copies and I took it to the cops, with one for Joe. Jane Woodall was walking to the back hallway when she saw me come in. She smiled and turned to me.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"Yeah," I said. "I know."

I shook her hand and handed the postcard to her. She looked down, smirked, pulled out latex gloves again, and took it. She read it, and turned it over.

"Got it yesterday?", she queried.

"UH huh," I said.

"Well, we'll try and ....."

"Yeah, I know, 'You'll try to find her.' Good luck."

No one else had heard from her. No phone calls, no other letters, no one had seen her. The bitch.

So time passed again, and my divorce became final. One year later, I was a 'free' man. But nothing had changed with my social life.

Until today.

I got a phone call as I was going out to work. As I pulled out my cell, I looked at the time. Ten o'clock.

It was Joe. "Hey, buddy. Did my check bounce?", I chuckled.

"Micheal, I need you to come to my office right away. No excuses. Trust me."

Whoa! I guess it did bounce. "What's wrong, Joe?"

"Just get down here, no questions. Don't tell anyone." And he hung up.

I was scared, a little. I looked at my phone. 'Screw this' I thought. I dialed the kid's school and asked for the principal. It took a while, but they knew me and Sister Maria Theresa and I were on good terms.

"Mr. Boyles, how are you doing?" She also knew about my story and had a lot of sympathy for our family.

"I'm fine, Sister. I don't want to alarm you, but I need a favor. Can you check on my children and make sure they are all right?"

"Certainly. Is there a problem?" I could hear her in the background motion to someone and scribbling something.

"I don't think so, Sister. Probably just a father's paranoia. Or a bad feeling."

Moments later I heard her speak to someone. Then, "Mr. Boyles, they're both fine. There's nothing wrong, here. How about on your end?"

I resumed breathing. "It's fine, Sister. Do me another favor and keep them with you after school until I pick them up. Can you do that?"

"It will be my pleasure, Micheal. Take care of yourself."

I hung up and got in my truck, going to Joe's office. Why?? You got me.

*******************************************************************************

I pulled up to Joe's office and parked. I went up to his office and his receptionist led me to the conference room. Opening the door, I entered to find Joe, a stenographer, a petite young woman, a gorgeous mature woman, and a good looking, fit mature man.

"Mike, thanks for coming so quickly." He shook my hand and led me to the other side of the table. The distinguished gentleman had stood and waited patiently.

"Mike, this is Mr. Andrew Falconi." He extended his hand and shook it- a solid, masculine handshake, non-threatening.

"Mr. Boyles," Mr. Falconi said. "I'd like to introduce my wife, Carmen. And my daughter, Isabella. You may have met her at your children's school." I thought Isabella looked familiar.

O.K., after they revived me, I nodded to everyone and thankfully sat down. Carmen was stunning, very composed and staring at me. Isabella looked like she was maybe twenty one years old, cute and very well put together. She was dressed modestly and was smiling at me. Her eyes .....oh, her eyes! She looked at me with an impish grin.

Joe started.

"Mike, Mr. and Mrs. Falconi called to talk to you." He turned and said, "Folks, the floor is yours."

For the first time Mr. Falconi looked uncomfortable.

"In we could just have the room with us and your attorney, Mr. Boyles. It will be better for everyone. Trust me." Joe looked at me and I looked at everyone else, and nodded. Joe turned to the stenographer and asked her to excuse them. She stood and left.

It started with Mrs. Falconi.

"My husband has an apology to make, to you, Mr. Boyles. Andrew??"

HE BLUSHED.

"AAWW, Carmen!"

She stared at him and if looks could kill, we would be calling for a hearse.

He grumbled.

"Mr. Boyles, oh hell, Mike, I am very sorry for doing this to you and your family."

I shot him a puzzled look, and turned to Joe. His wife continued the death stare and his daughter just chuckled.

"I don't understand, Mr. Falconi. What are you talking about?", as the fog started to lift in my mind.

He grumbled again, his wife prodded him and he continued.

"It was my fault that the piece of sh .....

"ANDREW!!!" started his wife.

"Yes, dear. I mean my 'former son-in-law' Gino. I hired him and he romanced my daughter, proposed, and married her."

"The prick," said Isabella. It was the first words she had spoken. Her mother turned and glared at her.

"AHEM!", said Carmen."THAT'S ENOUGH, YOUNG LADY!"

"Yes, Mother." She smiled at me, and winked.

Mr. Falconi looked back at me and continued. "Like I was saying, AGAINST MY WIFE'S WISHES, I agreed to the union. I should have listened to my wife. I don't often go against her wishes, and never when it concerns our family, but this time I thought I knew best. I was wrong."

Mrs. Falconi finally smiled. "Thank you, dear." She turned to me.

"Mr. Boyles, we are here to make things right. My husband has paid his debt to me. He doesn't like to admit, in public, when he 'screws up'."

Mr. Falconi was squirming and looking very uncomfortable.

"Okay, Carmen, I'll finish this," he said.

"May I call you Mike,?" he asked me.

"UHHH, yes, sir. I suppose you could."

He grinned. "Call me Andy, for now. I am talking to you as one father to another. I assume you sent me the videos?"

O.K., time to man up.

"ANDY, when I recognized the," and, looking squarely at Carmen as I spoke, "PIECE OF SHIT, I knew my life and my marriage, and everything we had together was over. That was when it popped into my mind that I could get someone else to take care of it for me.

"I regret what I caused your family, because I was afraid for my family. I am truly sorry." I turned to Isabella and said again:

"So very sorry."

Andy stared at me as I lowered my head and sobbed a little.

"You still love her, don't you?", he said.

I looked at him. "I do, but I'm not IN love with her. Sounds a little lame, doesn't it?" I hesitated. "Can you tell me what happened, .......between us?"

He grinned and said, "Your wife took a little trip and is 'working' in an 'establishment' in Cartagena, Columbia. She is alive and doing o.k. My ex-son in law took a trip. 'Nuff said."

He smiled at me. "Does that answer your question?"

"Pretty much, sir. Thank you."

"It's Andy. When we got to your house, some associates of mine picked the lock, and we went in. We had parked around the corner and it looks like no one saw us. We entered your bedroom, and it was a few minutes before they noticed we were there. ......Sorry, Mike.

"When they saw us, they panicked. Gino jumped up but by that time, I was right behind him, and I slapped him and he fell to the floor. Your wife was screaming. My two associates restrained him and I blew up at him. It wasn't pretty, but he was my daughter's husband. They were trying to have a baby.

"I was thinking where I could send him to get him out of the area, and kept him out of trouble. My anger surfaced and I yelled at him, asking him what the fu .....Err, hell did he think he was doing.

"That's when he smirked at me and said, 'What any man would do. She is some fine, errr stuff', he said, pointing to your wife." He turned to his wife and daughter and blushed.

"They didn't know about this comment. I had let my girls down. I knew then what I had to do."

His wife had a horrified look on her face, and his daughter was spitting nails. Carmen leaned to her husband, hugged him, and, with tears in her eyes, kissed him.

"I'm sorry, Andy; I didn't know. I just thought you lost your temper. Forgive me, darling."

His daughter, on the other hand, was seething.

"Thank you, daddy. Thank you very, very much."

Andy was scrambling to capitalize on his good fortune.

"My daughter's marriage was ended by divorce and annulment, thanks to the good graces of the Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese. She might forgive me now."

Isabella got up and came and hugged her father.

Andy continued."So, Mike, where does that put us?

"Isabella tells me she has been talking to your daughter at school. She says little Rachel was a little troubled. Something about her brother keeping secrets."

Isabella stared at her dad, gulped, and turned to me.

"I didn't want to intrude or try to influence your decision. Rachel was confused and a little scared about a year ago. Then her mother disappeared, and she panicked. We have been talking for about six months. She is a strong, confident nine year old. I love her. She introduced me to your son. A fine young man." She stared at me. "A lot like his father. I love him too. In fact," she smiled, "I love all three of you."