Noah's Quest - 14. I Noah a guy

I walked into the living room, completely unsure of what to expect next.

Grandma sat on the sofa right next to Lucky. I took a seat in one of the plush armchairs and noticed Little B was back at the island counter, pencil in hand, drawing furiously.

“Noah, this is not going to be easy for you to hear,” Grandma said sincerely, turning to look at Grandpa. “You can sit down, honey.”

Grandpa nodded heavily, taking the armchair opposite mine.

“I was about three years old,” Lucky began, his voice raspy.

Crap. Not again.

Before he could say another word, a loud, disorienting sound rushed through my ears, and the room dissolved. Suddenly, I was standing inside Lucky’s memories.

I saw a little boy playing in a grassy backyard while a woman stood on the patio, chatting with another woman and a teenage boy. My blood ran ice-cold. I recognized the teenager instantly—it was Jack. And the other woman had to be his mother, given how much they shared the exact same facial features.

“Are you sure he can keep an eye on a toddler? Kevin is pretty active, and sometimes a wild child,” Kevin’s mother said with a nervous chuckle.

“Jackie has babysat a ton of kids,” his mother assured her.

My pulse spiked. I knew exactly where this was headed, and I hated every single second of it.

“We should get going or we won’t get the best seats,” Jack’s mother said, grabbing Kevin’s mom by the wrist and leading her toward the driveway.

As the women walked away, I desperately tried to step forward and interfere.

“You can’t interfere, Noah,” a quiet voice said behind me.

I spun around to find my father standing right there beside me.

“Dad? Why am I here?”

He looked at me grimly as we were forced to watch the horrific scene unfold. “You’re here so you can see where to find the proof. You’re going to be the one to bury Jack’s entire family.”

“But Dad...” I whined, feeling instantly childish, though under the circumstances, I didn't care.

“Noah, trust me. You are going to help a lot of families.”

I watched in gut-wrenching horror as Jack assaulted three-year-old Kevin, using a rag soaked in something chemical to knock the toddler unconscious.

“How old is Jack here?” I whispered, choking back nausea as I looked at my father. “He lied about his age and had multiple surgeries over the years to change his appearance, right?”

“He did,” Dad said. “He’s fifteen here.”

“Fifteen?” I stammered, horrified.

“It’s okay, Noah,” Dad said, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Watch.”

In an instant, time accelerated. The backyard vanished, replaced by dense woods in a state park. Jack was carrying an unconscious Kevin through the trees.

“Dad... is this...?” My voice trailed off.

“Catoctin Mountain Park,” Dad confirmed softly. “Yes.”

Jack stepped off the main trail, pushing through thick brush until he reached a secluded clearing. I noticed several small, dirt mounds—shallow markers in the earth.

Dad wrapped his arms securely around me. “Noah, trust me. Kevin doesn't die here. You already know this.”

I nodded, though my entire body was shaking uncontrollably.

Kevin looked so frail and helpless in Jack's arms, but as Jack laid him on the ground, the toddler's eyes fluttered open. He looked around, spotted Jack, and a look of pure, primal terror flashed across his tiny face.

Suddenly, I felt my weight shift in the memory. A dry branch loudly snapped under my shoe.

SNAP.

The noise echoed through the quiet woods. Jack froze, crouching down in the shallow hole he had dug. Kevin seized the distraction—he scrambled up silently and tore off into the brush like a rabbit.

A few agonizing minutes passed before Jack popped his head up out of the hole. “Son of a bitch!” he screamed, whipping a flashlight around. But Kevin was already gone, swallowed by the dark forest. Curse-muttering, Jack hastily kicked dirt over the hole and took off in the opposite direction.

With a loud whoosh, the memory shifted again.

Dad and I were standing inside a rustic park cabin. Little Kevin was wrapped in a blanket, surrounded by several Secret Service agents. They kept reiterating how insanely lucky he was that their patrol had stumbled across him. The local police had already been dispatched, and an ambulance was en route.

The cabin door opened, and a tall, imposing man walked in—a man I would know anywhere.

“Mr. Michaels, thank you for coming so fast,” the lead Secret Service agent said.

“No problem, Agent. But why did you call for Black Hawk?” TJ asked.

The agent pulled an evidence bag from his pocket, holding up a heavy gold chain. TJ leaned in, examining it with a low whistle.

“That’s an expensive piece of jewelry,” TJ noted. “You think this belongs to the Golden Rapist?”

“I do. And you know as well as I do that the FBI hasn't been able to land a hit on him. He’s either insanely well-connected...”

“Or filthy rich,” I muttered from the corner of the room.

TJ suddenly turned his head, looked directly in my direction, and gave me a subtle wink.

I gasped, looking at my father. “Wait... can he see us?”

“I sure can,” TJ said, smiling casually. “not rule out the filthy rich part.”

“I need you to take this chain into direct Black Hawk custody before it magically disappears like all the other evidence,” the agent told TJ.

“Can’t trust anyone these days,” TJ chuckled. “That’s for sure. Make sure you maintain a strict chain of custody on the DNA from any forensic kits they run.”

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied as flashing red and blue lights illuminated the cabin windows.

TJ grinned. “I know a guy who might be able to help us break this wide open,” he said with a laugh.

I groaned aloud.

TJ vanished into thin air, and Dad and I watched as the paramedics loaded little Kevin into the back of the ambulance. I finally understood why Kevin had earned the nickname "Lucky"—everyone had spent his entire life telling him how lucky he was to have survived that night.

(Though I was still completely stumped on how my ghostly foot had managed to snap an actual physical stick in a memory.)

The cabin dissolved, and Dad and I were standing back in the clearing in Catoctin Mountain Park.

“Noah, you need to help solve this once and for all,” Dad said, turning to face me.

“How do I do that?”

“You saw the chain, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, a bit sarcastically. “But Dad, there are probably thousands of chains like that.”

“Sure. But the one TJ secured mysteriously grew legs right after it was taken into the lab to be photographed.”

Images began flashing rapidly through my mind like a slide projector—until one image locked into place. Damian.

“Damian,” Dad nodded in agreement.

“He was wearing that exact chain around his neck earlier,” I gasped. “What are the odds?”

“I’d say higher than you think,” Dad smirked. “Get the necklace, Noah. The rest of the dominoes will fall right into place.”

He gave me a proud smile, and then he vanished.

SNAP.

“Noah, you zoned out on me,” Grandpa said, looking annoyed from across the living room.

“No, I didn’t!” I said quickly, sitting up straight. “Grandma, I know how to prove everything.”

“Prove what?” she asked, though I could tell from her eyes that she already knew.

“What a fucking slimeball Jack was.”

Little B looked up from his drawing at the counter, perfectly mimicking Grandma’s sharp tone: “Noah, language!”

The entire room burst into sudden, much-needed laughter. His impression of her was scary accurate.

“I made you a map,” Little B said, walking over and holding out a piece of paper. He had drawn a detailed forest trail with a big red X marking the clearing.

“We are going to need forensic teams and several coroners,” I said, standing up and taking the paper.

Lucky stared at me in complete bewilderment. “I didn’t even get to tell you the story...”

“Let’s just say I got the unabridged edition,” I said. “Grandma can fill you in. We’re going to nail Jack and his whole legacy. But first—I need to see Damian.”

“He left with Daddy,” Little B chimed in.

“Where did they go?”

Little B just gave me a look that silently screamed 'Are you stupid?'

“He went to Uncle Nathan’s,” I realized aloud.

Little B nodded, taking my hand. “I take you, Noah.”

Before I could brace myself, the living room vanished in a flash of light. I blinked several times to clear the spots from my vision—only to find myself standing in Uncle Nathan’s foyer, coming face-to-face with Shiloh.

So Jack changed his appearance several times to maintain a youthful look.
Who would repeat school constantly and how did people not catch on?
Any one know a guy...  alright how many times can I beat this terrible joke? Anyone Noah an answer?
Noah saved Lucky's life and he will find out more about that later.
Little B takes Noah to see Damian and he runs right smack into Shiloh.
Will these bad jokes ever end?
How did Little B know what to draw?
For those who don't know Catoctin Mountain Park is home to Camp David and that is why the Secret Service was there.
I also want to tell you the story will have a time jump eventually... actually soon.
First though Shiloh is going to find out who funds his scholarship. 
Then Noah will meet Shiloh's current boyfriend and some hilariousness will ensue. 
 
 Thanks for reading.
Comments and reactions are always welcome.