"When it comes to the past, everyone writes fiction."

― Stephen King

First thing Thursday morning, Jon met with Cory at the District Office and accompanied him to John Quincy Adams Junior High. It surprised Jon to see the young teacher look so worn down and depressed. That simply wasn't the Cory he knew. He'd never seen the man not look forward to going to his classroom.

When they reached the entrance to the junior high school, Cory came to a sudden halt and refused to move. He stared, unblinkingly, at the doors to the school, pale and scared.

"C'mon, Matthews," Jon cajoled, taking a hold of his jacket cuff and tugging. "I'm goin' with you."

"I don't wanna." His gaze was still transfixed on the door.

The superintendent was baffled by this behavior. "Matthews?" he asked with concern.

"I can't take it, Jon." Cory's eyes were wide and unfocused. "I can't take another day of being made out to be an incompetent idiot in front of my students. Or," he gulped, "their parents."

"Parents, too? When?"

"Yesterday. Every single one of my kids' parents were brought down and Pennington read my list of sins out in front of them."

"Minkus, too?"

Cory blinked once. "Minkus, too."

"Did he say anythin' to you?"

"I think?" he said in a question because he couldn't remember. "He said something and looked sympathetic. I dunno."

Jon raised his eyebrows in an expression of incredulity. He put his hands on his waist and took a deep breath.

"You know you're not an incompetent idiot, Cory," he tried to encourage the younger man. "I wouldn't have hired you as a teacher if you were."

"I'm becoming one," he said solemnly.

Jon stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Cory. C'mon. This isn't like you."

"It's true," the younger man looked through him with haunted eyes. "Every day I'm becoming more like they say I am. I can't remember lesson plans. I've forgotten basic classroom management. My kid and Maya had to help me get through yesterday's class. I couldn't think of what I was supposed to do, what I was supposed to say. Maya practically taught the class about the Revolutionary War while I stood there drooling."

Jon arched an eyebrow at the teacher wondering how much he was exaggerating as Cory could be overly dramatic at times. At the same time, he couldn't forget what Audrey discovered about past students and teachers under the Remingtons. He had a strong feeling that the Penningtons were cut from the same cloth.

"So," he said with slight sarcasm, hoping to snap Cory out of his fugue. "Was Maya's teachin' any good? Or accurate?"

Cory looked at him and blinked. "I think?"

The uncertainty in his answer and that blank stare worried Jon. "Well, it's an unorthodox way of teachin' a notoriously unteachable student. But you know me- whatever works."

Cory returned his stare to the front doors. "She can't teach every class."

"Right," Jon said. He took the younger man by the arm and led him inside.

Immediately, the superintendent knew there was something wrong. First, there were no students or staff loitering in the halls and at that time of morning the before school crowd should have been everywhere. Second, he and Cory were greeted by armed security guards he'd never seen before.

Every school under his jurisdiction had security guards due to the volatile climate that unfortunately surrounded all schools now. He had employed them through Sentinel MGI for the entire district. While they had tasers, none of them should have been armed with actual guns.

These were not the security details he had put into place.

"I'm sorry, sir," one of the guards said as he intercepted them immediately. "I'm going to have ask you to leave."

It was too early in the day for this nonsense as far as Jon was concerned. "My name is Jonathan Turner," he snapped authoritatively. "I'm the superintendent of New York Schools."

The young man's eyes blazed a steely blue. "I know who you are, Mr. Turner. You are not permitted on school property."

"Not permitted?" Jon sputtered in disbelief. He put his hands on his waist and stared at the young man. "By who's authority?"

"I have my orders, sir. Please leave." The guard's hand went to the gun holster on his hip, and he gently tapped the weapon.

Cory grabbed Jon's arm and pulled him back.

Jon resisted the social studies teacher's attempts to move him. He set his jaw at an angle as he tried to decide what to do.

"Fine," he snapped.

He turned to Cory and quietly said, "Give me some time to figure this out."

Panic flared in Cory's eyes. He had not been pulling Jon away from the guards but towards his classroom. "Don't go," he pleaded in hushed despair.

"I don't have a choice." Jon glanced at the guards who were advancing on them with clear intent to separate the men. He whispered in Cory's ear. "I will be back."

Cory suddenly went limp and dropped his hold on the superintendent. He gave him a lackluster nod and his shoulders slumped in despair as he trudged to his classroom.

Jon watched him go, glared at the guards, and left the building. As he headed towards the parking lot, a gruff voice called out from across the yard, "Mr. Turner!"

The superintendent stopped walking and turned, looking for the familiar voice that had called him.

"Over here, Mr. T."

Finally, Jon saw a partially open door at the side of the building. Harley Kiner was motioning for him to hurry. He jogged over to where the custodian was and as soon as he was in reach, Harley pulled him inside and shut the door.

"Follow me," he whispered. His voice was dark and serious.

The janitor led Jon through a series of back hallways and finally into the basement. Harley flipped on a single light bulb in a tiny room no bigger than a closet.

"I apologize for the surroundin's," he said sounding embarrassed. "But I don't wanna take a chance of them findin' you."

Jon let out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Kiner, what's goin' on here?"

"I do not know for sure, Mr. T. But it's somethin' unscrupulous."

"Like?"

The tiny light bulb could do little to illuminate the room, it could only dance shadows over Harley's face making him look both sad and threatening at the same time. "Like teachers turnin' into zombies. Some are even worse than Baboon."

It took Jon a moment to realize he was talking about Cory.

"Do you know how that's happenin'?"

Harley shrugged. "I cannot say with absolute certainty but if I had to surmise what it is I would say psychological warfare. The way the Penningtons treat people is bizarre. You can't tell them apart, so you never know who you're talkin' to. One seems like a great guy, the other one a nightmare. Or they're both like that. There is no way to tell.

"Are they goin' after all the staff?"

Harley clasped his hands in front him and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "There are teachers like Baboon who are barely functional and others like Harper ready to walk. Based on my observations they are targeting the strong ones like Baboon and Harper." He shook his head deeply upset. "They broke Cory sooner, but Harper is on her way to join him. She's resisting now, but I see the signs of a breakdown comin'."

This was the same situation Jorgenson dealt with only with different people.

Are they different people? Jon shuddered at the thought that passed through his mind.

"What about students? Are they bein' affected?"

Kiner nodded. "The social workers and guidance counselors are overbooked with a sudden uptick in students needin' counselin'."

"What are you seein' there?"

"It's the same situation as with the teachers, Mr. T. The ones being sent for counselin' are the mentally and emotionally strong kids. Kids like your Julia."

"What are they doin'?"

"I dunno, Mr. T. I mean," a sly smile slowly spread over his face and his speech reverted to casual slang. "I'm just a lowly janitor whaddah I know?"

Jon smiled as he recalled the student the man in front of him used to be. A student in the loosest sense of the word. "Any chance you could use that lowly status to your advantage?"

Harley smirked. He and Jon may have butt heads on many occasions during high school, but he had a great respect for the man. Not too many teachers ever took him on and won. In fact, Jon was the only one. "For you, sure."

"See what you can find out."

Harley nodded, pleased to be of service. "There is one more thing I think you should be aware of, Mr. T."

Jon raised his eyebrows in apprehension. "What's that?"

"Yancy has been spendin' an awful lot of time around here. Almost as much as he did when he was principal."

"Really." After his last encounter with the man, this information did not surprise Jon.

Kiner nodded. "He seems very congenial with the Penningtons."

Jon smiled at the vocabulary. Harley had always been smarter and more educated than he wanted anyone to know. "Thanks, Kiner. I appreciate the information."

The reformed bully nodded and led the superintendent back to the parking lot.

"I got your back, Mr. T. And I'll be in touch if I find out anythin'."

Jon said goodbye and set out quickly from the school building hoping no one was watching.

So Yancy is in on this. Given the accusations against him, his alliance with the new hires seemed apropos.

Shawn was waiting for him when he returned to the District Office.

"Find out anythin'? " His son inquired.

" Yeah," Jon replied grumpily, swinging out his desk chair and taking a seat. "I've been banned from my own buildin's. Or at least one. I have I feelin' I can't get into the high school either."

Shawn stared at him in bewilderment. "How's that even possible? "

"Beats me!" He exclaimed thoroughly frustrated. Jon began to aggressively swivel back and forth.

"What happened?"

He recounted the encounter with the security guards and Harley. Shawn shook his head angrily. "I don't understand how anyone can do this without your consent!"

" I wish I knew."

"Dad, is political espionage and buyin' off people for power a real thing in schools or is that just Hollywood stuff?"

"It's real," Jon said dourly. "And in a district and city as large New York the ties can run deep and rich and filthy."

"So since this isn't a movie that we have a script to," Shawn said slowly as he tried to piece together what their options were. "What are the odds of findin' out who's behind this?"

Jon put his hand over his mouth for a moment, then said, "Not good. We just have to hope that whoever it is, is too arrogant to stay quiet and will slip up."

He paused for a moment. "I haven't exhausted all my resources yet," he said as he picked up his cell phone.

Shawn frowned. "Who're you gonna call?"

Jon smiled wryly, "Your mom."

Audrey was in the middle of wrestling Bella back into the clothes she had stripped off when Jon called. With her mother distracted, the toddler gleefully threw off the shirt and pants that had just been put back on her.

"Jon, are you alright?" she asked suddenly panicked. He never called at this time of day unless something was wrong.

"I'm fine, Aud," he said sounding mildly offended. "Why do you greet me like that every time I call now?"

"I don't know," she mumbled as she struggled to move from the floor to Bella's bed. She did know why. Audrey was convinced that very soon Jon would call her and say that he needed her to take him to the ER.

Or worse, Shawn would call and say Jon was already there.

"Listen, babe, I need your help again."

Audrey let out a breath of relief. "Sure thing, Jonny."

Jon told her about the incident at John Quincy Adams Junior High. "Is there any chance you can get down there today? I need you to see if you can get any information from Jordon Pierce about what's going on inside. The last time I spoke to him he was still one of the good guys but now who knows. They may have gotten him, too."

Audrey glanced at their daughter who was running around the room as though she had limitless energy. "Yeah, I'm taking Bella to the Preschool of the Arts for the afternoon. I'll head down after I drop her off."

"Aud," he said with trepidation. "Don't identify yourself. If anyone asks who you are, give them your middle and maiden name."

"Okay, sure." The worry in his voice made her own concern rise.

"Make sure you let Harley know you're in the buildin'," Jon went on. She could hear him swiveling in his chair, something he did when he was upset or anxious. "If you get a bad feelin' about anythin'- and I mean anythin' you get out and get to Harley."

"Yeah, sure, Jonny."

Jon sighed. "If you have time, I need you to go to Julia's school too and talk to Devon. Call her before you go, so she can let you in the back."

"Okay." She was distracted momentarily by a loud crash in the corner as Bella toppled over her blocks that had been stacked up by her brothers. "Do you want me to come by the District Office after I'm done?"

"Yeah, if you can."

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon."

"Aud."

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

"I will."

Audrey hung up feeling unsettled. Bella's play time wasn't until 12:30 so Audrey busied herself which household chores. It also kept her in-laws at a distance.

Blake and Jacklyn had been extremely helpful since Shawn got a hold of them.

Too helpful.

And they wanted her help to get in Jon's good graces.

It wasn't that she didn't want to see Jon make peace with his parents, but it had to be on his terms. And that was the concession his parents did not want to make. They wanted an uncomplicated reunion; one that did not acknowledge the past but simply moved forward with no apology as though no wrong had been done.

A great many wrongs had been done.

Her husband deserved much more than an apology, but an apology was where they could begin.

Audrey was not convinced Blake and Jacklyn would ever reach that that point. She knew that her in-laws excelled at being as harmless as doves, and as cunning as vipers. They did not do anything without expecting something in return.

Speaking of the in-laws...

Jacklyn descended into the nursery where Audrey still sat on Bella's bed, lost in thought.

"Audrey darling," the older woman gave her a syrupy smile. "Blake and I are headed to the Penthouse for the day. Would you like to come with?"

She shook her head with a polite smile, thankful that Jon had given her something extra to do. "I've got errands to run. I'll see you tonight."

"All right, dear." Jacklyn blew an air kiss to Bella who giggled as she "caught" the kiss.

All right, dear. That was too simple. Jacklyn always expected other people to do what she wanted, and she did not just let things go.

And yet she let this go.

Audrey allowed the woman to hug her and said goodbye. Then she resumed trying to dress Bella and get the little girl to keep her clothes on.

Audrey was under the impression that no one knew when she was going to the junior high school, but Jon must have called ahead because Harley Kiner was waiting in the parking lot and directing her to a spot when she pulled in.

He greeted her with a cheery wave, opened the car door, and helped her out as though she'd recently gotten over an injury or illness.

"How's everythin' goin' Mrs. T?" Harley asked genially as he insisted she take the arm he offered her.

Audrey smiled and allowed him to escort her to the back of the building where the maintenance entrance was. "I'm doing okay, Harley. How about you?"

"I cannot complain about anythin' outside of this job."

She smiled "What about on the inside of the job?"

"That's a whole 'nother thing and it ain't pretty at the moment."

"That's what Jon said."

"Everything has been arranged, Mrs. T. Jordon Pierce is waitin' for you."

Audrey rolled her eyes and shook her head. "He called, didn't he?"

Harley grinned. "From the parkin' lot of the DO. He's worried about you and the little one and wants to make sure someone is lookin' after you."

While pregnancy did slow her down some and cause some physical discomfort, more so as she got closer to her due date, she was hardly on bed rest. This was something Jon always tended to forget.

On the other hand, given how far removed he seemed from this pregnancy she was grateful that he was behaving more typically in that regard at least.

"Jon's really worried about what's going on."

"Yeah." The smile faded from the man's face. "And to be honest, Mrs. T, so am I."

Harley led her into the building, walking just ahead of her. He seemed overly cautious about running into anyone and often stopped when someone passed by, making her step back into the shadows of which there seemed to be too many in a relatively new school.

They reached the corridor that housed the counselors' offices, both guidance counselors and social workers. Harley took her straight to Jordan Pierce's room and knocked a three-four-three tap on the door.

"Come in, Harley," a nervous voice inside called.

Harley opened the door and motioned for Audrey to enter, then followed her in.

Jordon was a thin, lanky man in his thirties with short blond hair and wire rimmed glasses. His green plaid shirt and khakis certainly made him stand out in the business environment of the school. He reached out a pale hand towards her and smiled apprehensively.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Turner."

Audrey tried to put him at ease with a smile. She had never encountered such a jumpy educator before. "You too, Mr. Pierce."

Jordon cast a worried look at Harley and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Where will you be?"

Harley glanced at Audrey then back to Jordan. "Just outside. Cleanin' of course."

He turned to Audrey, giving her a small salute and smile before he left.

Jordon pushed his glasses back up on his nose even though they hadn't slipped down again. "Please have a seat, Mrs. Turner." He said gesturing to the chair. He sat down limply on his own seat. His cheeks were flushed red, and he looked slightly ill. "I know why you're here. Your husband already called."

"That doesn't surprise me," she said taking her phone out of her purse. Pierce didn't look like someone who would relax with small talk so she got right to the point, "What can you tell me about what's been going on here?"

The younger man sighed heavily then took a deep breath. Audrey tapped the red circle on her voice recorder app.

"I can tell you it's abnormal." His voice was hushed, and his eyes darted around the room as though he expected someone to jump out at them.

"Oh?"

"I'm a guidance counselor, Mrs. Turner, not a psychologist." Unconsciously, he pushed at his glasses. "But a week ago I had my regular caseload dumped. I was no longer supposed to be addressing academic issues but psychological ones."

"What?" Audrey had never heard Jon talk about anything like this happening at any schools he'd been at previously.

Jordon shook his head and clasped his hands in front of him. "I was given assessment worksheets and online curricula to develop psych profiles on students I have no business seeing."

Audrey leaned forward making sure that the microphone on her phone wasn't obscured. "So why are you doing it?"

"What choice do I have?" he moaned. "I told them I couldn't do this; it wasn't legal or right. But they told me I'd never work in education again when the public found out about the unethical practices, I was engaging in."

"What unethical practices?"

"The student profiling. Look there are files on students I've never heard of before sitting on my computer. Honestly, I don't think those kids were ever students here."

Audrey recalled her conversation with Jorgenson about the Remingtons' track record and it occurred to her that the Penningtons may also have closet full of damaged students and teachers as well.

"Any chance you could take a few screenshots and send them to my husband. Or to me if you're afraid of sending them through interoffice email."

This suggestion obviously frightened Jordon. "I'll try," he agreed reluctantly. His voice was barely above a whisper. "But only if I can be absolutely sure they won't find out."

"Take pictures with your phone. You can email or text them to me."

Jordon nodded and pushed his glasses up again.

"Can you tell me anything else?"

He licked his lips then thought for a moment. Before he could answer his office door flew open and for the first time Audrey saw the severe, gaunt face of Mr. Pennington. She wasn't sure if it was the principal or vice principal, however.

"Mr. Pierce!" the man snapped in a very strange accent. "What is going on here? Why are you not with students?"

The younger man nearly jumped out of his chair. "I am so sorry, Mr. Pennington. I didn't have anyone in this time slot, so I thought..."

"You thought?" the man sneered. His voice was dark and threatening. "Please don't do that anymore. There are enough issues with staff around here without you thinking!"

Audrey knew at once that this was the one Cory had been complaining about.

The man zeroed in on her next. His eyes were soulless. His swampy glare tried to bore through her, but she stared back blankly. Had she not been given the heads up on these people she would have been very afraid.

"Who are you?" he hissed as he advanced on her.

Remembering what Jon told her to do, Audrey started to answer, hoping that telling the partial truth would not end up drawing attention to Jon's search for information.

"Theresa," she responded with her middle name.

"Kiner," a voice behind the man said.

Pennington whipped around to glare at the custodian who was now blocking the exit to the room. "Kiner?" He spat in disdain. "She's related to you?"

Harley smiled at the man as though there was little more than a dim bulb on in his head. "My sister," he replied, meeting and holding Audrey's gaze. "Everyone calls her T.K."

Pennington turned back to Audrey and advanced on her another step. "Why are you here?"

"What?" she drawled, allowing her natural New York accent to overflow in her speech. "Can't a girl visit her big brothah when she wants tah?"

Harley smiled his approval and winked at her.

"Not during work hours," Pennington's voice became as smooth as glass and even more dangerous. "Why are you here?"

"Okay." Audrey threw her hands up in surrender as she fell back on those handful of acting classes she took at Julliard. "Ya caught me. An old boyfriend teaches 'ere and I wanna find out if he's still single, ya know?"

Pennington looked suspiciously at her. "Then why are you in here?"

"Because," Harley interjected, positioning himself between Audrey and Pennington. "That old boyfriend is married to a real nice girl. I went to school with both of 'em and I'd like them to stay married, so I thought I'd introduce her to Jordon here."

Jordon, who did not want to be involved with the truth much less a lie, looked like he was going to pass out.

Pennington did not accept Harley's explanation. "What school did you go to, T.K.?"

"John Adams High in Philly." Audrey looked down at her nails as though she was bored.

"Who was your principal?"

"Mistah Feeny."

Audrey sincerely hoped that he would not ask to whose English Lit class T.K. transferred into her sophomore year. She didn't think it would be a good idea to bring up Jon's name for any reason.

"You can check the records," Harley told him.

Pennington gave them a sly smile. "You better believe that I will." To Audrey he gave a contemptuous look, motioned at her, and asked, "Who's the father?"

Audrey knew the real T.K. well and knew exactly what kind of shock value comment she would make. She gave him a smirk and shrugged. "How should I know?"

Pennington gave her a final glare, Harley a murderous look, and slithered out of the room.

Jordon promptly passed out.

After getting the guidance counselor situated with the school nurse, Harley escorted Audrey out of the building through the front doors since Pennington was watching. However, in the parking lot, he walked her in circles for several minutes so that the man would be less likely to see the car she got into in case he was still watching.

"I hope they don't bother T.K. over this," Audrey said as she opened the driver's side of the SUV.

Harley grinned and leaned against the open door. "Don't worry about her. I'll tell her what happened and to dye her hair red. If they come for her, she'll run 'em into the ground and make 'em think they're the crazy ones."

Audrey laughed. "Thanks for the help, Harley," she said as she gave him a kiss on the cheek before getting into the vehicle.

"Hey, no problem. Always happy to help Mr. T out. He was my favorite teacher, ya know."

She didn't know and gave him a funny look. "Did you ever actually go to his class?"

"Yeah, at least four," Harley said sincerely. "More than any other teacher's class I might add." He flashed her a toothy smile. "Like I said he was my favorite."

Shawn stood just outside of the entrance to Abigail Adams High School repeatedly checking his watch. Harley texted Jon the moment Audrey left the parking lot at his school and Jon told him to go meet her. He wanted him to be with her for her next meeting at Julia's school. He was to be on the lookout for anything suspicious and not to allow Audrey to stay in a dangerous situation no matter what she said.

Shawn was more than a little worried about Jon's reason for concern as well as his own ability to protect Audrey since he had no idea what they might be up against.

As Audrey drove into the parking lot, his phone notification went off.

It was Jon.

When Audrey gets there, head to the back of the school. Devon will let you in.

Shawn texted back his understanding. As he put the phone back in his pocket, he jogged out to meet Audrey. She was appreciative of the fact that he did not treat her like she was injured. He did take her hand as they made their way to the building just in case.

Just in case what, he didn't know, and he felt himself becoming paranoid.

Sure enough, Devon was waiting at the back of the building to let them in. It surprised Shawn a great deal that his former guidance counselor greeted his mother with a hug. She pulled away from Audrey, turned to him, and saw how disturbed he was.

"I didn't know you were bringing Shawn with you!" she exclaimed teasingly. She did know, of course; Jon had told her. "Wow, Shawn," she took hold of his upper arm. "You've really grown up to be so very handsome."

There was a twinkle in her eye that made Shawn feel very uncomfortable. Devon had been his guidance counselor all of once in high school. Jon had sent him to her because he'd been skipping school, including Jon's class. All he'd gotten out of that session was that taking a year off school to find yourself was a good thing and not to wait until he graduated to do so. From there, he took off on his own accord without saying goodbye to anyone but Cory. Because he rarely paid attention in Mr. Feeny's classes, he thought he could take a bus to Europe and ended with a ticket to Paris.

Texas, that is.

That incident along with a few other mishaps with other students sent Devon packing. She was only at JAH for two months. The last time he saw her was during the Christmas season when he was 15. Jon and Audrey had taken him to the Christmas Village where they ran into a tipsy Miss Collins who unashamedly hit on Jon and tried to take him away from Audrey. So seeing the two women on friendly terms was a bit disturbing to Shawn. Almost as disturbing as the handsome comment.

"Thanks," he said slowly, taking his arm back. He took a step behind Audrey.

"Love the beard," she purred.

Devon winked at him and led them inside. Although she wasn't as cautious as Harley had been she did take them the backway to her office where there weren't many people.

"So, Shawn," Devon said once they were in her office and the door was closed. "Now that you're all grown up, are you seeing anyone?"

Shawn, who was already extremely uncomfortable, stared at her. "Kinda?"

He looked to Audrey for help, but she was too busy trying to comfortably sit in one of the office chairs.

"So it's not serious?" She licked her lips.

"Um," he gulped. "Maybe."

Devon glanced at Audrey and bit back a laugh. Then she held up her left hand and showed him the engagement ring and wedding band on her ring finger. "I'm teasing you, Shawn. You looked pretty horrified when I hugged your mom. And I remember our last meeting. I just couldn't let that go."

"Sorry," he mumbled feeling embarrassed that he missed the tease. "It's been a long time since I've seen you."

Devon grinned and gave his shoulder a playful punch. "Yeah, even though I only had you for one session you taught me the biggest lesson of my career."

"Uh-oh," he said aloud. He'd heard that more than once from teachers in the past and it was never a good thing. "I didn't think I was that bad."

She laughed. "You taught me to be more professional with how I dealt with my students."

"I did that in one session, huh?"

"You and your dad, yeah." She sat on her desk and swung her feet back and forth. "Before I officially began my job at John Adams High, I did some interning with the counselor I replaced so I knew who your dad was before you and I met. When I saw how he interacted with his students, I wanted to be like that but more so. I wanted the attention he was getting from students and faculty."

Shawn sank into the seat next to Audrey and put a hand over his mouth much the way Jon always did.

"You were my chance to show off and to show up Jon," she went on, blushing slightly. "Clearly that did not work. I thought that by being your friend and putting myself on your level that you'd trust me, and you'd like me just like everyone liked and trusted Jon. What I didn't know was that he was also an authority figure who had his students respect. And that would be why I didn't last at John Adams High. Mr. Feeny thought I should try a less intense environment to gain experience before returning to high school. He was right."

"Wow," Shawn said. He was growing anxious to get on with the real reason they were in her office. He really didn't care to revisit this part of his past. "I had no idea. I just wanted to go to Paris. Sounds like you were jealous of Dad."

"Yeah," she admitted. She caught Audrey's eye and gave her a sheepish smile. "Mostly I wanted to impress him and get his attention. I had the biggest crush on Jonathan Turner."

While Shawn knew that from their encounter at the Christmas Village, he could have lived without hearing the confirmation. "Eh?" was all he could say.

"Are you surprised?"

"Not really," he said, wishing they could get past this topic. "It's just really weird to hear."

"I wasn't the only one, you know."

Actually, Shawn didn't want to know. But he didn't want to be rude either, so he sat stiffly in the chair with a look of feigned interest on his face.

"Jonathan Turner was the bad boy with the heart of gold. Add in that Harley and those looks- Jon was the talk of the teacher's lounge! He loved that attention too. Until one day," she shot a look in Audrey's direction and smiled. "He stopped hanging out in the lounge and when he was, he tried to duck the attention."

She laughed. "I figured out why on my last day as I was leaving and caught a glimpse of your parents in Jon's classroom."

Shawn put his left foot on his right knee. There was one thing he wanted to know. "Then what was the deal at the Christmas Village?"

Devon shrugged. "Well, I had to try one last time."

Shawn raised his eyebrows but remained quiet, hoping Audrey would say something soon.

"Well, after he stopped you from going to Paris, I thought he gave me this look like he was really interested," she laughed at her younger self who had been so far removed from reality back then. "I snuck into his classroom between periods when no one was around. I'll spare you the gory details, but it didn't go well. He was not interested. I didn't know about your mom then."

Shawn pressed his lips together and stared at her, deeply regretting that he said anything. He couldn't imagine why she thought he wanted to know this. It was a weird thing to say to someone's kid.

Next to him, Audrey covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. He gave her a confused look, not understanding what was so funny. "Oh, Shawn! You should see the look on your face right now. It's the same one you gave Devon at the Christmas Village!"

Shawn looked at the two women who clearly had no issue between them and felt ridiculous when he realized he was judging Devon as though he was still fifteen. "Could we please talk about something else?"

The women laughed together for a moment before Devon grew serious which was not a side of her Shawn had seen before. "Yeah, we should talk about why you guys are here."

"Did Jon call you?" Audrey asked.

"He did. When he called me to tell me he wanted you to see me, he called my personal number. I knew if he wasn't calling on the school line, it was serious."

Shawn frowned. "What difference does that make?"

Devon tapped the phone on her desk. "These lines can be monitored by anyone with the right access."

Shawn nodded his understanding. "With everything that's been goin' on, that would be an obvious thing to do."

"Right," she said. "Jon's worried about what he's been finding out about the new admin at Cory's school."

"Yes," Audrey said solemnly. "We've been learning some disturbing things about their past. Has your job changed recently?"

Devon leaned forward and dropped her voice. "Are you asking if my caseload has been pulled in order to do psyche profiles on students?"

Audrey nodded.

"No, but the other guidance counselors have been."

"Why not you?"

"I assume," Devon replied, "it's because they know of my association with Jon. Mr. Remington is very aware that he was the one to transfer Julia out of his wife's room to me. Based on a few comments she's made, I'm sure they've looked into my employment history."

Audrey leaned forward with a frown. "So why are you still here? Why aren't they bothering you?"

"I wouldn't say they aren't bothering me exactly," Devon chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "They keep trying to convince me that I'm not happy here and that I'm better suited elsewhere. Look, twenty years ago that was true, but it is not now. And I am not going anywhere."

Audrey sat back, mulling everything over. "Other than that, they've left you alone?"

"Yes," Devon paused. "They are pushing for a profile on Julia, but I won't allow it. I keep telling them there is no cause for concern. And there isn't."

Audrey tapped her fingers along her jawline. "That doesn't make sense. At Cory's school, the counselor I talked to was terrified of the Penningtons, but he has zero link to Jon. You do, but they aren't really pressuring you. Why?"

"It's probably my husband's job," she said after a moment. "They may be worried if they go after me too hard, he'll get involved."

"What's he do?" Shawn asked.

"He's the Executive Assistant to the Deputy Mayor for Strategic Initiatives. His old company transferred us out here, but Matías was pretty unhappy with the work here. Because he's fluent in Korean as well as Spanish and English he easily got a job with the Mayor's office."

This was very interesting to both Shawn and Audrey.

"I know Jon's been trying to get through to the mayor," she went on. "Matías is trying to help him out there."

"I hope he can," Audrey said more to herself than the others.

"I'm going to tell you something, Audrey," Devon stood up and began to pace. "I don't have proof of this and neither does my husband, but Matías believes that whatever is going on with these people, it's coming out of the mayor's office."

"The Mayor himself?" Audrey was horrified at the thought. He was the only person who could help Jon with these people.

She shook her head. "No. But someone inside. That's why Jon hasn't been able to get through to anyone."

"Jon's getting desperate, Devon. Anything at all that Matías could do would help us."

"We'll both do everything we can. I'm sorry it isn't more right now."

"You have helped," she said as she stood up. Shawn was at her side to help, and she did not push him away. "And I appreciate it. Stay in touch."

"I will," Devon hugged her goodbye. "Tell Jon I said good luck."

Shawn and Audrey left without an escort. As they exited the back of the building and began to cross over to the parking lot, a shadow moved and caught Shawn's attention. A figure all in black stood behind a streetlight pole a football field length away watching them. Shawn stared at the Boogeyman in defiance. He blinked and it was gone.

Jon was impatiently waiting in his office for Audrey and Shawn to return.

The moment they walked through the door, Jon was out of his chair and practically on top of Audrey to take her coat off and hustle her to his seat.

Annoying as he was being, Audrey allowed him to "take care" of her. She knew he was doing it trying to be useful since there was nothing he could do while she had been gathering information for him. He hated to sit around while others did what he felt was his job.

"So what did you find out?" he asked after unnecessarily digging up a travel pillow that Julia had left to put behind her back.

Audrey gave him the recordings from her meetings with Jordon and Devon. In the recording she had made at the junior high Jon was disturbed to hear the exchange between her, Harley, and one of the Penningtons.

"You're not doin' this ever again," he murmured before putting his hand over his mouth.

Shawn put his hands on the desk and leaned over. "Dad, how serious is this?"

"We have to treat it as worst-case scenario," he responded gravely.

"Jon?" Audrey adjusted the awkwardly placed pillow and turned to better see him.

"Based on what we know so far, it looks like teachers and administrators that suddenly resigned were pressured into in. And it's the how that concerns me.

Other than Julia's former English teacher, none of these people are easily intimidated. That's why I'm worried about the methods used to push them out."

Jon put his elbows on the chair's armrest. Interlocking his fingers together, he leaned his thumbs against his lips. His expression was grim. "You and Shawn are done doin' investigative work."

This sparked outrage from both Audrey and Shawn.

"Jon, you can't do this on your own!"

"I am not gonna risk either one of you," he snapped forcefully. "Julia is in one of their schools. They've already tried to go after her. And I have every reason to believe they'd head to the elementary school to get to Grayson and Jamie. This has to do with me. You're done."

He started to say something more when Shawn interjected just as vehemently. "She's right, Dad. You can't do this alone. Mom can get out of it. But I'm stayin!"

Jon caught the furious look Audrey was giving him. There was a part of him that wanted her to stay so that the three of them could solve this mystery together, but he didn't think either of them fully realized the gravity of the situation. As much he wanted Shawn at home and safe, he was no longer a teenager and Jon didn't have say in what the young man chose to do.

Shawn was absolutely prepared to give Jon the "I'm not a child" anymore speech. There was no way he was going to let Jon take these people on alone. Especially with those text messages out there. Ultimately, he didn't have to make that speech as Jon sighed in resignation, knowing he'd lost half the battle. If not for Audrey's pregnancy, he'd have lost the entire thing.

"Shawn, take your mom home."

"Okay," Audrey huffed, standing up abruptly. "That is not necessary. If Shawn needs to go with anyone it's you."

She gathered her purse and got her keys out not bothering to hide her annoyance. She kissed Shawn goodbye with strict instructions not to let Jon out of his sight.

Jon walked her to the door with deep worry etched into his features. Before she left, Audrey turned to him and took his face between her palms.

"You're always telling me to be careful but you're the one who needs to follow that advice." She pressed her lips together tightly, trying to hold back the fear that was welling up. "Jon, I'm scared."

He looked surprised and she knew she finally had his attention. She debated on whether to tell him any of the morbid thoughts that had been plaguing her lately. His health concerned her more than anything that was going on in the district. It often took a major event to get him to take things like that seriously. Hoping to shock him enough to take precautions, she said, "I won't be able to go on if something happens to you."

Jon stared at her, surprised by the admission. His mouth fell open as immediately his thoughts went to Richie and what happened to him after the death of his wife. The weight of her words slowly sank in.

He'd almost forgotten whose daughter she was.

He kissed her and hugged her tightly for a long while before returning to his desk and burying himself in work.

Audrey gave Shawn a sad smile and left. As she crossed the parking lot to her car, a movement nearby caught her eye. She looked over her shoulder and nearly tripped.

A figure dressed all in black, covered in a strange gray ash stared at her through polarized sunglasses.

Quickly, Audrey got in the car and locked the door. When she looked back to where the figure stood there was nothing but open space.

The dreary, chilly weather hung about all day and made the back-to-back meetings that took up the rest of the day seem more depressing than usual. Jon spent his time in the meetings on the phone or email trying to get through to the mayor's office. Around three, Devon's husband Matís called to inform him of the obstacles he was encountering in the government offices.

Nothing but dead ends.

The background checks still hadn't come thorough. The ROE "lost" the requests again. Matís told Jon that he could authorize the checks and would have them by the end of the next week.

Jon wasn't sure what good the checks would do at this point, but something was better than nothing.

Julia came in shortly after he hung up the phone. She sat her belongings on the floor and wrapped her arms around her father. She was quiet in a way that Audrey often was when something was bothering her.

"You feelin' okay?" Jon asked brushing her dark curls off her face.

"Only if you are."

He was deeply touched by her concern. "I'm okay, Jules."

She obviously didn't believe him, but she nodded, kissed his cheek, and buried her face against his neck.

After a while she pulled back and looked at him seriously. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, Princess," he said, his voice choked with emotion. He cleared his throat and went back to work.

Shawn sat at his desk bouncing his knees anxiously. He had another meeting to make but he'd promised Audrey that he wouldn't leave Jon's side.

At four-thirty Jon surprised them by announcing he was ready to go home.

"Home?" Shawn asked, exchanging concerned looks with his sister. "So soon?"

Jon rubbed his eyes and nodded. "Monday starts Spring Break. There's no point in stayin' late today or tomorrow. Students checked out today and half won't attend classes tomorrow. Neither will half of the teachers." It wasn't a condemnation, simply an observation. "Besides," he went on. "Julia has her last freestyle for two weeks tonight and I'd like to relax before we have to leave for that."

Shawn felt conflicted. Jon wanting to leave early should have pleased him, but instead a heavy sense of foreboding hung over him.

Unsurprisingly, Audrey had dinner going when they returned home. What was surprising was that it consisted of Chinese takeout.

"I'm sorry, Jon," she said with a weary sigh. "I just didn't feel like fixing dinner."

A frown flashed across the superintendent's face. It was highly unusual for her to order in without planning ahead for it. He worried that the events of the day took more out of her than she would admit. "Ah, don't worry about it, babe," he assured her with a hug. "Do it more often if you need to."

Shawn hung around the living room with Jamie until Jon left to lie down. After he was gone, he said to Audrey, "There's something I need to do. When should I be back for the Arena?"

She gave him a weary smile. "We need to leave by six."

"You mind if I grab dinner now?"

She shook her head. "Help yourself."

Shawn grabbed some egg rolls and Satay chicken on skewers, leaving behind his favorite, orange chicken. He kissed her goodbye on his way out.

A heavy fog was rolling in when he reached Bleeker Street. Shawn popped the collar of his leather jacket up to shield himself from the cold. It seemed like a strange time of day for there to be so much fog. As he made his way down the street with his hands in his pockets, the cold, which rarely penetrated the jacket, chilled him to his core.

Shawn was on edge. Warning bells of danger were screaming in his head. Carefully he watched the shadows for movement so that if they should come alive, he would be prepared.

The further down the road he got the thicker the fog became. As Shawn neared his destination, he heard haunted, hollow strains of music that sounded very far away yet very close at the same time. Shawn couldn't tell what direction the melody was coming from.

Fog's rollin' in off the East Riverbank like a shroud.

It covers Bleecker Street.

Fills the alleys where men sleep hides the shepherd from the sheep.

Voices leaking from a sad café, smiling faces try to understand.

I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand on Bleecker Street

Simon and Garfunkel, he thought with a shiver. It was a song he'd heard many times in the year he lived with Jon; they were one of his teacher's favorite groups.

I heard a church bell softly chime in a melody sustainin'. It's a long road to Canaan on Bleecker Street.

Mm-mm-mm-mm

Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh

Bleecker Street

He'd heard the song so many times, but never like this. The words and music seemed as though they were being stretched and thinned as they passed through the fog. A song he never paid attention to before, now filled him with inexplicable dread as he arrived at the steps of the Lynn Redgrave Theater.

Before he could reach the front door the figure of a woman stepped out of the shadows startling him. Shawn guessed she was at least 70, but it was hard to tell. She could have been much older or much younger. The harsh platinum wig that she wore made her look so very haggard. She was too thin for her age and the thinness sucked her in her cheeks and cast them down to her jowls. Her skin had the texture of someone who lived unprotected in the sun for decades.

As Shawn drew closer to her an unreasonable sadness engulfed him as he looked at her face. She wore the makeup of a young girl experimenting with face paint for the first time. Yet there was something in the style that was so very outdated.

He'd seen it somewhere before.

Jon's penchant for movies and television shows from the 60s and the 70s came back to him. It was as though a screen had been set in front of him and he could see all these forms of entertainment passed by- relics of his mentor's past all chattering at him.

The makeup looked like the woman was trying to emulate a model popular at the time. The name evaded him then suddenly sat down in the forefront of his mind.

Twiggy.

As twilight dwindled the fog seemed to expand and thicken. Shadows of people swarming by him never fully materializing before they vanished. Their voices were unintelligible. Their words were distorted as they passed through the fog. Somewhere behind him he heard Jon's voice. But it wasn't Jon's voice as it was today. It was his father's voice from 1995 talking about the music of his youth.

From somewhere up ahead, he heard Cory complaining about having to listen to Cat Stevens on Jon's answering machine when he called to leave a message for him.

But Cory wasn't there. He was at home with Topanga trying to recover from the school day.

Something brushed up against Shawn and he shuddered. He looked to his left and saw what he thought was a 15-year-old boy in a jacket just like his with curly dark hair escaping into the vapor. A group of older teens chased after him. Their cologne smelled impossibly expensive.

Shawn's head snapped to the left as he swore he heard a man's deep voice scream the name Jay in panic and fear.

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe.

Someone stopped and put his hand on his shoulder. Shawn looked to his right again and saw Jon, but it was Jon as he ever knew him. His father was much younger than him. The Jon that grinned at him was a teenager from the photo Audrey had shown him.

Shawn whipped around and back again as he tried to make sense of what couldn't make sense. Panic settled into his heart.

What is going on?!

Jon and the others disappeared into the fog. The fog consumed every person who walked down the street be they past or present figures. Shawn was now gasping for breath as fear made it impossible to understand what he was seeing and hearing.

He was surrounded by a past he didn't understand.

He was surrounded by a past that wasn't his.

It was Jon's.

The woman watched him with a sorrowful understanding as she took a drag on a cigarette. The smoke she puffed into the air was eaten by the fog before it could be seen.

"Whatchya runnin' from, Shawn?" The deep smoker lines around her mouth were intensified by the bright red lipstick that bled into them from her lips.

"I don't know, " he answered honestly, still panting.

"Ya see it though, doncha?"

"See what?"

"The past, honey," she stared off into the mist. "It lives here; always alive. Always roamin' the streets lookin' fer someone to devour."

Shawn shuddered. "I don't have a past here."

Her head bobbed lazily as she gave him a crooked smile. "Someone does or you wouldn't have asked to meet with me."

Shawn squinted. "Sandra?"

The woman's smile broadened and the deep lines of her face made her look like a marionette. "Sandy Dee, that's me."

Sandy Dee. The name sounded familiar. From a movie? Jon would know. Shawn felt about the same age as Grayson in the woman's presence. And like a ten-year-old, he wished his father was with him.

"Yer here about someone important to ya, aren't ya, Shawn?"

Her dark gaze bore a hole through his soul. It was so unsettling the sing-song way she said his name that he wished she'd stop.

"M-my dad," he stammered unable to get a sentence out. Trepidation increased as he realized there was something not right with her.

"Your father is Jay?" She blinked twice then went back to staring at him.

That she knew that made Shawn take a step back. The desire to run overwhelmed him, but he took a deep breath and planted himself on the pavement in front of the theater.

A living, breathing past was a terrifying place to live in even for a moment.

Sandra smiled and inhaled the burning tobacco of her cigarette. "Ya said ya were Richie's grandkid, so I assume Jay is yer dad. I ain't mind reader, sweetie. And I know that's what yer thinkin'." She gave him a dark smirk then stared off into the fog.

"I'm Audrey's son," he said. In an attempt to sound confident his voice came out in a shrill bark.

The woman chuckled. "Aren't you a little old to be her kid?"

"No," Shawn said defensively. "I'm not here about my mom. I wanna know about my dad."

"And who would he be?"

"Jonathan Turner."

Her dark, empty stare turned to him again. She said nothing.

Shawn didn't know what to make of the woman or the street they were on. Something was wrong. It was like time had come to a standstill and it stood still somewhere in the 70s.

Finally, Sandra spoke. "I don't know a Jonathan Turner."

Shawn caught this. Everyone he'd spoken to told him that they'd never heard of Jon, not that they didn't know him.

"But you have heard of him," he prodded. He tried to take a step forward but suddenly felt lightheaded, so he stayed where he was.

"Did I say that?" Her smile was crooked. She flicked her cigarette onto the ground. The fog ate it before it hit the street, fire and all.

"My dad grew up here. He lived with my grandfather. Please. Can you tell me anything about him? It's important."

"Why are ya diggin' up a past that doesn't belong to ya," she snapped. Gone was the pleasant, loopy smile. Her face was angry and her eyes blazed with fury. "Ya young punks think everythin' belongs to ya or that ya discovered it. Wearin' our threads, takin' over our music with yer terrible covers."

Her voice escalated to high pitched squawk as she advanced on him. Her moth-eaten fur coat hung off of her bony shoulders that were exposed in the vintage jumpsuit she wore. "If yer father wants ya to be a part of his past he'd have told ya. He didn't so butt out, kid. It doesn't belong to ya."

Shawn stared at her, breathing heavily from fear. He didn't know if the woman was mentally ill or on something. But Oliver Shortman told him that this Sandra knew everything about everyone who frequented Bleeker Street back in the day. She was the It Girl of the music scene then. If anyone knew Jon, it would be her. He couldn't leave without trying to get something out of her.

"Please," he said imploringly. "I think my dad's in trouble. That's why I'm askin'."

Sandra cocked her head to the side and stared at him again. Not taking her eyes off him she reached into her Char patchwork bag and pulled an old-looking tube of lipstick. Without blinking she pressed another layer of the makeup on top of what was already on her lips. With a wet smack she popped her lips together like the girls Shawn went to high school with used to do.

The loopy, chill demeanor was back. "Why do ya think yer daddy is in trouble?"

Shawn inhaled deeply. "He's been gettin' some texts messages that worry me."

She closed one eye and the large false lash hung crookedly off her wrinkled eyelid. "Why isn't he dealin' with that? He knows his own past."

"Because," Shawn stopped wondering about how much he should tell her. It wasn't like she'd remember this conversation after he left. He wasn't sure she was retaining any of it now. "Because he's under a lot of stress. If I can take care of this for him, I owe it to him to do it."

She stared at him as though she was already checked out, but Shawn had the strong feeling that she was expecting something more from him.

"I haven't been a very good son." His shoulders slumped as they took on the weight of his words.

Sandra gave him an almost grandmotherly smile. "Yer one of us aren't ya, Shawn?"

He blinked. "I don't understand."

"A runner."

"Pardon?"

She laughed. "Runnin' from the past while you're still livin' in it."

Is that true? Two months ago, yes it was.

Now? Shawn didn't know the answer.

"I'm 1969, honey. What year are you?"

Shawn looked at her in disconcertment, then said, "'95."

"What a babe you are!" she cackled as she fished in her purse for another cigarette. "What year is yer dad?"

"'77."

"'77. That wasn't a good year."

"About my dad," Shawn was afraid that if she got off-track, she'd never get back on.

"'77 was when Elvis died and the City went dark," she sighed dreamily, and Shawn feared he'd lost her completely to the past. "Jonny Turner, hmm."

She knew Jon's nickname. Instinctively, Shawn took a step toward her. This was the first hopeful thing he'd heard since Sonja recalled it.

"Jonny, right," he encouraged gently. "You knew him?"

"I knew everyone then, honey, I was a big deal. I was the biggest deal."

"So you knew my dad," he prodded trying to distract her from telling him about her own past.

"Of course, I knew Jonny," she replied, sounding slightly irritated. She adjusted the thinning fur collar around her shoulders. "He was a good-lookin' kid who hung around Richie all the time."

Yes, yes, I know that! Shawn silently fumed. Dad and everyone else told me that much! Outwardly, he kept trying to encourage her to stay on topic.

"He hung 'round a bad group. That leader of theirs, Dustin, wanted to go out in a blaze of glory and he intended to take his whole gang with him."

"So what was my dad's role in that?"

Sandra tipped her back and blew smoke into the fog. "Jonny tagged along if Richie let him."

"Did Pops let him?"

"Nah, honey."

"So what did my dad do?"

"Do? What all the kids did then."

Shawn was growing increasingly frustrated. "I don't know what all the kids did then." Under his breath he muttered, "That was before my time."

"Sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, honey. He smoked a lot too if I'm rememberin' which one he was right."

Shawn slapped his hands over his face when he realized she wasn't even sure she was recalling Jon. Sandra wasn't bothered by this reaction; she was smiling as the memories passed by.

"Yeah," he huffed grumpily. "Guess there's a lot Dad didn't tell me. I didn't know he smoked."

Sandra squinted at him. "Ya don't look either one of yer parents."

Shawn flinched. When he was a teen, he was told he looked like Jon. As an adult he knew he didn't but to be told so bluntly hurt more than he thought it would.

"It's strange," she scrutinized him with half-closed eyes. Pointing a bony finger at his head, she said, " How'd ya get such dark hair from a blond and a redhead?"

Blond? Great! She isn't talkin' about the right person at all! Shawn felt like a whistling kettle about to boil over.

"My dad has dark curly hair," he muttered.

"Oh, ya mean Jay?" She gave him a dirty look. "Why didn't ya say so instead of lettin' me talk about the wrong guy?"

Shawn shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled.

Sandra wrinkled her nose. "How are ya Jay and Audrey's son?"

"I'm not," he insisted. "I'm Jon and Audrey's son."

"Yer confused, honey."

Someone is, he thought dourly. And it's not me!

"Jay was the one with dark curls, dark eyes, and a killer grin. Quite the player too."

Feeling that any further questions would yield nothing, he still asked, "What happened to Jay after he went to college?"

"After college?" The light in her eyes looked like it had been snuffed out. She suddenly looked very frightened and very frail.

She rushed at Shawn and grabbed his arm, curling her sharp nails into his jacket. She reached into her purse with the other hand and shoved something into his pocket.

"He disappeared," she whispered fearfully. Her eyes darted around looking for an unseen villain. "The fog got 'im."

And the fog got Sandy Dee too.

The moment she let go of him the miasma engulfed her and Shawn could see no trace of where she went.

With a shaky exhale, he took cover under the awning of the Lynn Redgrave Theater and reached into his pocket, praying that Sandra hadn't left her drugs behind. Paper crunched under his fingertips; the softness of age buckled it under his grip.

It was an old newspaper clipping.

Twilight was gone, and it was too dark to read. Shawn was too nervous about the fog and what it held to stay where he was. So he took off from the theater's threshold and jogged in the direction of home. At the Bleeker Street station, he took a moment to shelter from the weather and read the clipping.

It was from the New York Times, May 15, 1977:

Four Teenagers Among Ten Persons Seized in Drug Crackdown

By Richard Adams

Spurred by the recent heroin overdose of a thirteen-year-old boy, a special task force arrested ten persons, including four teenage students who ranged from 14-17, for alleged narcotics transactions.

The arrests by policemen were made in two raids an hour apart near an elementary school and junior high school on Manhattan's Greenwich Village.

Heading the task force was Sgt. Harold Hauser who said the action was prompted by hopes of preventing another death such as that of Michael Leoni, 13 years old, who was found dead last Sunday in the bathroom of a Harlem apartment from an overdose on heroin.

The first raid at 3 PM took place outside a record store at 149 Bleecker Street where the police took into custody one 14-year-old boy and two 16-year-old boys. Their names were withheld because of their ages.

Also taken into custody was Angelo Sartori, 18, of East 11th Street, who the police said supplied the 14 bundles of heroin to one of the boys and who was charged with the sale of narcotics.

An hour later, near the Booker T. Washington Junior High School at Columbia Avenue and West 108th street, the police took into custody two 15-year-old boys. They also arrested Charles Maldonado, 20, and Elvis Bonnet, 19, after they allegedly supplied drugs to another teenager who fled. Both were charged with possession of narcotics.

The teenagers involved, three of whom attend Public School 165, at West 109th Street near Amsterdam Avenue and one who attended Booker T. Washington had reached the "skin-popping" stage of injecting heroin into the skin but not into the vein. The other teenage of Collegiate School on the Upper West Side, had not yet partaken in the drug usage. The teenagers will be charged with juvenile delinquency and loitering for the purpose of obtaining narcotics, the police said.

All of the names provided, including the Sargent involved, provided Shawn with more information than anyone else had so far.

God bless that crazy lady, he thought as his spirits began to lift above the fog. As he got on the subway to go home, he reread the article.

Collegiate School.

Shawn looked up sharply and stared at the back of the seat in front of him with a look of shock on his face.

Collegiate School. That's where Jon would have attended school in May of 1977.

Friday morning arrived with another chilly blast. Although it was spring, New York City weather decided to revert to mid-winter temperatures for the foreseeable future. Dylan Masterson hated the freezing weather and wished one of his parents would move to a warmer climate.

Because the season had changed, and he was overly optimistic about warmer temperatures being around to stay he had not brought any jackets or sweaters from his father's house with him to his mother's. He did have a couple of hoodies but after searching his room and calling Mathias about the missing clothes he learned that his brother had taken his hoodies, all three, and worn them to their dad's.

Dylan refused to leave the house and freeze to death on the way to school.

"Go upstairs to my closet," his mother instructed him, "On the left-hand side there's a leather jacket you can borrow. But you have to promise to take good care of it and bring it home in the same condition."

Dylan rolled his eyes. He wasn't wearing some old jacket that he would look stupid in. And besides no one at his school wore leather anything anymore. He told his mother this and she laughed at him.

"Don't worry, honey, it's a man's jacket," she pinched his cheek as though that was all he was concerned about. "You'll like it. It has a Flat Rock Pro 4 series racing patch on it."

Dylan blinked. He had no idea what that meant.

"It also has a hydraulic brake service certified parts patch on the other sleeve."

That made even less sense to Dylan. "Huh?"

"Motorcycle racing, sweetie. I'm surprised you don't know that given how much you love bikes."

Bikes? Dylan wondered if his mother had another kid stashed somewhere no one knew about because he certainly had never shown an interest in motorcycles before. Mathias was too involved with basketball to know anything else existed.

"Okay," he said slowly. When she was out of earshot, he added, "whatever."

Because it was cold and he wasn't going to be allowed to stay home alone, Dylan trekked up to his mother's closet to find this leather jacket. He opened the closet door and fumbled for the light switch. When the light came on, he was stunned by what greeted him.

The side where his father's clothes used to hang, that had been empty for so long, was now full of men's clothes that he didn't recognize. Dylan stepped in to closer inspect the clothing.

There were a lot of jeans of various washes, tank tops, T-shirts, and button up shirts, a few polos, and a couple of suits. They looked older, but also awfully familiar. Dylan couldn't figure out where he'd seen them before.

One thing was certain- these were not Eli's clothes.

Dylan shook off the eerie feeling that clung to his shoulders and began to sort through the clothes looking for that jacket. Towards the far end of the closet there was an assortment of casual clothing with various sports logos on them. A gray hoodie with a Rangers hockey club logo on it caught his eye. Then he saw the brown leather jacket with the patches his mother told him about.

Dylan took it off the hanger and as he was about to put it on, he noticed a strange texture on the back of the jacket. He turned it around and held it at arm's length.

It was a mess.

The left sleeve and most of the back was shredded like a wild animal had attacked it. The damage was so bad that the hydraulic brake patch was partially hanging off.

What is Mom thinking!? This junk should have been thrown out years ago.

The longer he looked at the jacket the stronger that eerie feeling became. Dylan was disturbed by the presence of the jacket and quickly put it back. He chose to take the Rangers hoodie and get out of the closet as fast as he could.

But he couldn't get rid of that terrible sensation. Those clothes and that jacket did not belong to his father or to Mr. Williams. He had the strong feeling that it didn't belong to anyone who had ever been in his home.

Whose is it?

There was something very weird about that leather jacket and he had the strange feeling that he knew the owner.

Just a couple of chapters left until the end of Book II.

I know a few of you have chimed in with your preference for Book III: keep the trilogy together or separate Book III from the first two. I'm leaning toward keeping it together, but I would still like to hear from you. Drop me a PM, comment, or a vote on the poll on my profile if you haven't already.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you're enjoying all the twists and turns. Every comment, etc. is very much appreciated. Again, thank you!