Shadow of the Past Chapter 3

         In a second he sees Gid, he lets Gid come near him before letting himself be seen. Rushing from his place in the shadows he tackles Gid, pinning the smaller man to the floor. Gid realizes who his assailant is, he can see the fear on Gid’s face. He knows Travin will not let him live. Suddenly Gid Shifts, changing into a seven foot tall werewolf with hair the color of dried blood. Gid slashes at him with dark black claws. He rolls out of the way just in time to avoid the razor sharp claws. In the few seconds that Gid is free, he gets to his feet and runs toward the back door. Determined to not let Gid escape, he also Shifts and rushes out the door. In a few seconds he crosses the distance between them, he pounces on Gid from behind. They both crash to the wet, dirty pavement. Gid throws Travin off his back and slashes at him, catching part of his leg. He lashes out at Gid’s muzzle, four long streaks of red appear across Gid’s face and muzzle. Scrambling to his feet Gid once again takes off running and disappears into a cemetery as he Shifts back to human to better hide.
Travin Shifts and cautiously follows, as he walks through the silent city of marble and granite he feels a pair of eyes following him. He knows Gid is not far away. He looks around, searching for the other man. Nothing. There’s a sound, barely audible, but still there. A flash of steel, a burning pain. he spins around as the knife lashes out again. He steps to the side. The weapon misses by inches. He reaches out, grabs Gid and slams him against a pillar. In the fading light he can see the hate reflected in Gid’s dark eyes. He knows one of them will not be walking away from this. He wrestles the knife free, twisting Gid’s wrist violently, “You killed her.”
         Gid crashes his knee into his ribs, “Yes.” He breaks free and smiles proudly. “She was a pretty little thing. I can see why you picked her; I thought about keeping her around for myself.”
         He slams his elbow into Gid’s face, “You’re going to pay. All of you.” he lashes out. Unable to move away fast enough, the knife slashes Gid’s chest.
         “You were once like me. What changed?”
         “I was never like you.” He retorts, “For me it was a job, nothing more. But you, you just love to kill and make people suffer.”
         “And I’m good at it.” He leaps forward and smashes his fists into Travin’s ribs.
         He grabs him and once more pins Gid against a pillar, “You’re not good enough tonight.” He presses the knife into Gid’s face, “Now you’ll pay for it.” Harder. “All of you will.” The knife digs deeper. “Before it was just a job, nothing personal. Now it is.” Gid screams. “I’m going to hunt down every one of you,” He continues as the knife cuts deeper and deeper. First into flesh, then muscle, “And you’ll all wish you were never born.”

         Once home he shuffles up the stairs and climes into the shower. There he stands, letting the hot water wash away the dry blood from Gideon that covers him. He closes his eyes, fighting to regain control; he had crossed the line and it scares him more than anything. He shakes the water out of his face, turns the shower off and crawls into bed.

         Almost without realizing it Booker parks his car at the large old cemetery where Emily is buried. Pushing open the tall gate he asks the grounds keeper where Emily is buried then starts along the narrow path. As he walks down the darkening paths, he is not sure what he expects to find. After a few minutes he reaches the grave and stands there in silence for a long moment. “If you could talk,” He asks quietly, “what would you tell me?” He hears someone coming, looking he sees it’s an older woman. She stops near Booker, a bit puzzled as to why he is here. “Can I help you?”
         Booker can sense the hesitation in her question, as if she’s not quite sure she wants to know who he is. “Did you know her?” Booker asks.
         The woman nods, “My daughter.” Her voice catches.
         “I’m sorry.” He falls silent for a moment, “I’m agent Booker.” He shakes the woman’s hand.
         “F.B.I?”
         “Yes. I’m assigned your daughter’s case.”
         “Why is the F.B.I involved?”
         Booker thinks before answering, “Your daughter’s death may be connected to others.” He says, feeling that now is not the time to tell her everything. “Anything you can tell me about her would help.”
         She is silent for a long time, Booker can see bitterness on her face, “Honestly, there is not much I can tell you. I haven’t heard from her in sixteen years.” She stares angrily at the tombstone of her daughter.
         “You’re angry at her.”
         “At Emily?” She shakes her head, “No.”
         “You’re scared for her.” He says thinking of the missing person report.
         “Yes.” Her hands tighten into fists.
         “Why where you scared for her?” Booker asks, his dark brown eyes searching.

         “Her husband.” She says as if spitting out poison.
         “Was he abusive?”
         She wraps her coat around her and sits on a stone step.
         Booker joins her.
         “No, I don’t think he would ever hurt her… He was very protective of her.” She trails off, as if thinking of something.
         “You’re thinking too protective.”
         She nods, “We had hired a P.I to try and find her. One night he did. He stopped her on the street to talk to her and it led to a small argument. Suddenly Travin was there with a gun in his back. He told the P.I to back off.” She wipes a tear away, “That was the last time we heard of her. He wasn’t even the one who told us Emily was killed, it was one of his friends.”
         “What’s the friend’s name?”
         “Walter Egan. Travin wouldn’t hurt my daughter… but I bet he was involved with people who would.”
         “How do you know that?”
         “Do you have children agent Booker?”
         “Yes, four boys.”
         “Then you know what I mean when I say a parent can tell when someone will get their child in trouble. Every time I saw him, I got that feeling.”
         “Thank you for talking to me.” Booker says.
         “You find who did this.”
         “I will.” Going back to his car he decides that he needs to talk with Conlin. He decides to have detective Blackburn call Conlin and come to the police station.

         Travin jerks awake, something woke him, he gets to his feet and stands there, silently listening. There’s a sound down stairs, as if a person who is trying to be quiet is searching the house. Silently he walks to the door and glances out, there’s a man coming up the steps. Quickly he closes the door and waits behind it. The door slowly opens, half way he crashes his shoulder into the door; it slams shut and the intruder is shoved back into the hall. He follows, as he comes around the corner the end of a pistol flies toward his head. He moves but not quickly enough, the weapon clips the side of his head. Feeling the blood running down his neck he grabs his attacker’s outstretched arm and jams his free hand into the other’s elbow, cracking the arm in two. The man screams. Travin shoves him down the stairs then leaps down after him.
                   
         Suddenly, there’s the sound of sirens outside the house. Both men look at each other, in a split second they both realize they don’t want the cops to see them trying to kill each other. The man from the Valterra scrambles to his feet and runs out the back door. At that moment there’s a pounding on the front door. Travin hurries to the door and glances out, several police officers are outside. A neighbor must have called them. He opens the door, finding it ironic that someone tried to do a good deed and actually got in the way and made it worse. The police see the blood running down from his ear onto his shoulder,          “One of your neighbors called us about a break in.”
         “He’s… uh, he’s gone.” He says looking around with fake confusion. Really though he’s annoyed, the man from the Valterra is quickly getting further away.
         “Can we take a look around?”
         He wants nothing less than the police coming through the house, there’s a possibility that the man from the Valterra might have left something behind that Travin doesn’t want them to see. “Uh, sure.” There’s nothing he can do about that now. It’s a risk that can’t be avoided.
         “What happened?” One of the officers asks as they come in.
         “I’m not sure. I was asleep, I heard someone outside my door… we fought, he ran out the back door.” He says vaguely to the back door.
         A second officer goes to check the back door.
         He massages his aching neck, “You won’t find him. He’ll be long gone.”
         “Do you know what he looked like?”
         He shrugs his broad shoulders, “It was dark…”
         The officer finally notices the blood in the darkness, “You should get that looked at.”
         He touches the gash near his ear, “It’s not that bad.” I’ve had worse.
         “Do you live alone?” The officer looks around the sparsely furnished house.
         “Not normally, my daughter is usually here. She’s at a friend’s. But we just moved in.” He only half lies to explain.
         “If we can get your information we’ll be on our way.”
         “Travin Conlin.”
         Quickly the police write the rest of the information.
         Relieved he watches the police leave, then rushes out the back door and looks around; the man from the Valterra couldn’t have gotten far. He searches the small back yard; and finds a footprint leading to the road. Quickly he follows; and soon finds an unknown car. Somehow knowing it is the one he wants he moves down the street and forces open a car door. Quickly hot wiring it he sees the other car leaving. With lights off he trails the other car, grateful for the lucky break.

         He drives slowly through the apartment complex, keeping the second car just in sight. The labyrinth like roads stretch on for at least a mile; roads that could easily confuse an unwary guest. He continues along the streets, carefully staying out of sight from the other. Near the back of the apartment complex they stop. He watches as the man walks up the steps to an apartment on the second floor. Several minutes pass, and the man returns to the car then drives away. Travin sits there, collecting his thoughts and planning what he’ll say and more importantly do. He steps out of the car into the early morning; looking up he studies the building in front of him. The brown paint is peeling and several windows have cracks in them. Silently he starts up the dark steps, grateful that most of the lights are out due to several broken ones and the early hour. At the apartment he saw the man enter, he grips the handle to stop the door from colliding with the opposite wall and slams his shoulder into the door. With a crack it bursts open, he shoves it closed as the woman on the couch starts to scream.
Quickly he crosses the room and grabs her, “Shut up. I’ve vary little patience left so you’re going to tell me everything.”
         “Or…?” she asks faintly.
         “That’s not something you want to think about.”
         The blood drains from her face, she looks as if she’ll collapse on the worn-out couch.

         He shoves her back onto the couch, “Answer me truthfully and you won’t be hurt.”
         She nods, hand shaking she reaches for a pack of cigarettes nearby.
         “First, who are you?”
         “My, my, name is Aderyn Cogan.” She whispers as she pulls out a cigarette.
         “Next, who was the man here just before me?”
         “Why?” Aderyn tries to light the cigarette several times before it finally lights.
         He glares at her, irritated but decides to tell her, “He tried to kill me and helped plan my wife’s murder.” He says matter of factly, as if it were a normal every day thing; though for him it is.

         “Oh no…” She whispers looking ill, “I-I can’t be part of this!” She leaps up and runs for the door.
         Travin grabs her and forces her onto the couch again, “Like it or not, you are part of this.”
         She looks around for her dropped cigarette, but not finding it unsteadily she lights a new one. She closes her eyes, “What do you need to know?”
         “Everything you can tell me about that man.”
         She takes a long draw on her cigarette before saying, “His name’s Bryan Channing.”
         “What’s he do?”
         “He’s a cop.” She says still unsure of what’s going on and eyeing the door in hopes of a chance for escape.
         He leans against the wall, it doesn’t surprise him that the Valterra have people in law enforcement, some of the information that they’ve gotten couldn’t have come from any other source. “Why did he come here?”
         “He wanted me to run an errand.” Ash drops from the cigarette onto the couch, leaving a small round burn on the faded brown fabric.
         “What?”
         “He, he wanted me to go to a church. Just outside the city and give a message to a man there.”
         “Do you go there often?”
         She nods, “At least once a month.”
         “Who do you meet there?”
         “I’m not supposed to know his name…” she lowers her voice, “But I found it out on my own.” She lowers her voice even more, as if afraid the wrong person might hear, “Father Silas Nowles.”
         “Where is it?”

         Quickly Aderyn tells him how to get to the church as if wanting to get this whole miserable experience over as quickly as possible.
         “Good.” He knows the area, it won’t be hard to get there.
         “Just-“
         “Wait,” He stops her, “I heard something.” He looks out the eyehole in the damaged door, “It’s Channing. Why would he come back?”
         “If he finds out I talked I’m dead.” She says jumping off the couch and dropping her cigarette.
         I’ve got to stop him. “Let him in.”
         “He’ll kill me!” She says spinning around to face him.
         “And if you don’t I’ll kill you. If you do what I tell you, you’ll at least have a chance. Let him in. Now.”
         She opens the door as he slips into another room. He watches from behind the door as Bryan walks into the apartment.          He can see Bryan holding his arm at a careful angle.
         “What took you so long?” He snaps.
         “I-I’m so sorry… I was in the bathroom.”
         As Aderyn closes the door Travin steps out into the open.
         Bryan’s eyes widen, “Phantom- How-”
         “You need to get better at recognizing tails… A five year old could have followed you. I’m really quite disappointed.”
         Bryan rounds on Aderyn, “What did you tell him?”
         He takes a step closer, “You need to be more careful. She told me everything… bad luck for you.”

         Bryan swears and backhands Aderyn. She stumbles back a few steps as Bryan pulls a gun with his good arm. Travin shoves his hands down and away from himself, continuing the motion he crashes his knee into Bryan’s kidney and throws him to the floor. Bryan lands on his shattered arm, he fights to stand, but fails. Quickly he kicks one of Bryan’s legs out from under him. Bryan rolls to his back and aiming the gun fires once; Travin avoids the shot. He grabs Bryan’s arm and twists it counter clockwise there’s a loud crack. Bryan drops the gun with a scream of pain. Travin goes in for another attack but Bryan ducts and slams his fist into Travin’s back where he was stabbed the night Emily was killed. He can feel the blood seeping down his back, not caring he grabs Bryan and throws the other man to the floor. Bryan pushes himself to his feet and picking up the gun takes aim once more. He rushes the gap between them and rams the heel of his hand into Bryan’s nose. Blood pours from it as Bryan collapses on the floor. Dead.

         Slowly Travin turns to face Aderyn; she stands there staring at Bryan’s body.
         “Is he, is he dead?” Aderyn asks staring at Bryan’s body.
         “Yes.” He says simply, “If done right, a person can get their nose broken and the bone will go back into their brain. Killing them.” He wipes the blood off his hand using part of Bryan’s shirt. “You need to get out of here.” He says matter of factly.
         She remains speechless, unable to stop staring at Bryan’s bloody figure on the floor.
         He hands her some money.
         “I don’t-” Aderyn glances around the room, numb.
         “You don’t want to. Just do it.”
         “What’ll you do?”
         “Get rid of this,” he nudges Bryan’s body, “And go from there.”
         “But-”
         “Stop arguing. Go.”
         She stands there; looking at the money he gave her.
         “Trust me, you don’t want to stay here when his body is found you won’t want to be here. If the police find him there will be a lot of questions you won’t be able to answer. And if the people he worked for find him, your friends and family will be wondering why you killed a cop, then yourself.”
         In shock she finally nods, “Right.”

         After dumping Bryan’s body Travin sits in a cab, carefully trying to hide the blood that stains the back of his shirt from the driver. He wonders how he is going to rebandage the wound on his back on his own. Reaching a small hotel he pays the driver as he gets out a woman comes out of the lobby towards him. Instantly he recognizes her, even though it has been many long years since he has seen her. It’s his youngest sister, Isis. “What are you doing here?” He demands.
         “Good to see you too big brother.” She says studying him with grey eyes.
         “I’m not joking.”
         “Look, I knew you’d be here, and I knew you could use some help. So now I’m here, are you going to let me help you or not?” She explains in a way eerily similar to him.
         “I don’t want to involve you.”
         “I’m involving myself.” She snaps, “Come on, I’ve got a room and everything you need.”
         Travin shakes his head, “There’s no other way to get you to go is there?”
         “No.”
         “Let’s go then.” Isis leads him to the small room, “I’m so sorry about Emi-”
         “Isis, now is not the time.” He says cutting her off.

         She points to a chair, “Sit.” Quickly she begins to clean the wound. “You look terrible.”
         “I don’t feel a whole lot better than I look.”
         “It needs stitches… it’s going to hurt.”
         “It’s fine, do what needs to be done.”
         “Ok…”
         He sees her pull out a needle and medical thread and takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain he knows will follow.
         Soon however, she’s finishing up, “You handled that well.”
         He pulls on a clean shirt Isis had brought and buttons it, “After enough surgeries before pain killers where around, you just get used to it.” he says thinking of a Confederate army field hospital from so many years ago, and many like it.
         “You’ll need to take it easy for a few days.”
         “Not going to happen.”
         She glares, “If you don’t, soon you won’t be able to do anything.”
         “I don’t care.” He looks at her worried face, “I’ll be fine, really.”
         She sighs, knowing that it’s useless to argue further, “Just be careful.”
         “I’ll try.”
         She pauses as if searching for something to say, but finding nothing she turns to leave.
         “Thanks.”
         She glances at the clock, “I’ve got to be at work.” she leaves.

         He grabs his keys and pulls on his coat, as he does a spasm of pain runs through him. Every part of his body is telling him not to move, to lay down and rest. Not too many years ago I would’ve been fine. “I’m getting too old for this…” he mutters under his breath. His phone rings, glancing at it he sees it is a call being forwarded to him from the number he left with the police. Wondering why they have to call right now he answers, “Yes?”
         “Is this Travin Conlin?”
         He recognizes Detective Blackburn’s voice, “Yes it is. How can I help?”
         “We have a few more questions, how soon can you be here?”
         He can tell from Blackburn’s tone of voice he means now. “I can be there in thirty minutes.” He says knowing that’s the most time he can get without causing suspicion from Blackburn.
         “Good, I’ll see you then.”
         He hangs up and calls a contact he has with the police, “I need you to find out who Blackburn has talked to this morning. You’ve got twenty minutes.”
         “I’m not superman you know.”
         “You’ll figure something out.” He says hanging up.
         Twenty minutes later the phone rings, “The only person Blackburn talked to that’s out of the ordinary is Agent David Booker from the F.B.I.”
         This is getting complicated. “Ok.” He hangs up the phone and leaves for the police station, wondering what exactly Booker is doing.

         Ten minutes later he’s sitting in an interview room with Blackburn. He knows Booker is here somewhere, before coming in he checked the parking lot and saw the agent’s car.
         “I wanted to give you this.” Blackburn says, handing Travin an envelope.
         Slowly he takes it, not sure what to expect. Opening it he finds Emily’s wedding ring, “Thank you.” He can tell there is more to this visit however. “Have you learned anything new?”
         “About that, your wife’s case is being handled by the F.B.I now.”
         “Why?” He mentally swears.
         “That’s something I’ll let him explain.” He opens the door and lets Booker in.
         He works to keep his face passive as Booker sits down across from him.
         “Mr. Conlin, I’m special agent David Booker.”
         “Hello… I don’t understand why the F.B.I is looking into this now; not that I’m ungrateful.”
         “We found evidence linking her death to others, to a man we believe is a hired hit man.”          
         Gid. “Who?”
         “A man known as Phantom.”