Chapter Four

The proverbial moment of truth had arrived.

Gary swallowed hard. His secret, as it were, wasn't really a secret in the literal sense since there were already a handful of people who were privy to the knowledge. Yet, with the exception of Chuck and Marissa who he had voluntarily taken into his confidence and who had believed and supported him without question, all of the other people had acquired the information through their own devices.

It never got any easier for him whenever he had to tell someone about the Paper. Maybe it wasn't supposed to. But now, he had no choice. His life depended on him trusting this man.

Grant was clearly losing patience with his client. "Why were you at the train yard, Mr. Hobson? And don't give me that story about how you traveled miles to take a walk and that you like trains."

"Mr. Rashton, as my lawyer, anything that I say to you stays between the two of us, correct?"

"Yes, there's an attorney/client privilege. But..."

"You see...ah...the reason that I went to the train yard was because I had to...I needed...to save Scanlon's life."

"To save his life?"

"That's right." Gary paused briefly, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I...um...I...I get the Paper. The Sun-Times. But it's not today's paper. It's not yesterday's paper. I get tomorrow's newspaper...today. It comes to me every morning, with a cat. I know what's going to happen before it happens. I know who needs help. That's why I was at the train yard. The Paper said that Scanlon was going to be murdered. I went there to save him. That's what I do. I'm out there saving lives, you see."

A brief, yet uncomfortable silence.

"Mr. Rashton?"

"Let me see if I understand you. A local tabloid is delivered to your door. But instead of coming with a genie in a bottle, or your own personal psychic, it comes with a cat. Does that about sum it up, Mr. Hobson?" Grant said sarcastically.

"Mr. Rashton, I know it sounds, but I'm not crazy. I swear, I'm telling you the truth."

Grant let out a wry laugh. "At least it wasn't little green men and flying saucers. About you not being crazy, I think that the 'professionals' will come up with a different diagnosis after you're evaluated. But my take on it? You don't belong in prison. You belong in a psych ward where you won't hurt yourself or anyone else ever again. I'll motion the Court for a competency hearing as soon as possible."

"Please, Mr. Rashton. I'm not crazy. You have to believe me. Please." Gary pleaded.

"Time to go"

"Hobson"

"Hobson! Time to go, Hobson"

The sound of the officer's voice shook Gary from his reverie as his eyes focused on the steel bars that surrounded him. Once again, the cold, unforgiving handcuffs bit into Gary's flesh as the cop escorted him from his cell.