May 17

Even though it had been two months since Barbara had learned about Monica and he'd kept his promise to not see her again, it had rent a hole in the fabric of their marriage. Being home was a certain kind of hell now. He hadn't slept in his own bed in weeks. His wife was cold towards him on the best of days. Any and every attempt to placate her blew up in his face, and yet he kept trying. Flowers, dinners, presents, jewelry, helping out around the house, none of it inspired anything but suspicion and resentment. She knew that it stemmed from his indiscretion, and every action reminded her of it anew. But to not do anything upset her as well, for she felt he was thinking of someone else. He could do nothing but soldier on.

Every moment of John's personal life was filled with shame and fear, except when he was alone with Luke. But even then, he could feel Barbara's eyes on him. He wasn't allowed to leave the house alone with his son, even to take him for a walk, because, as his wife had told him in a raised voice, she didn't trust that he wouldn't take their son to see "that girl."

There was no trust whatsoever. The officer who had tracked him down, Officer Dunlin, now watched his every move. John suspected that Dunlin called Barbara the moment he left the precinct, and as he wanted his wife to trust him again, he always made a point to tell the officer goodnight.

Despite the extra pair of eyes on him, work offered him what home didn't. Since his return, John had developed a stellar record. His memories of old cases, though weak and hazy, were usually enough to give him an edge on what were now his current cases. He seemed to have a knack for knowing where a criminal was hiding, or what kind of questions to ask a suspect, or what to look for at the scene. He was grateful that work was giving him joy and solace, which were sorely missing from his family life.

But this day, roughly five and a half months since his return, was completely unfamiliar to him. It was a routine domestic dispute call. The wife was hysterical when they arrived on the scene, shrieking and pleading for their help. The husband sat subdued in a chair, barely acknowledging the arrival of two police officers, much less the screaming of his wife.

John's partner, Glen O'Reilly, the partner he had before Duke Tomasick, looked to him for guidance, having learned that John usually knew exactly what to do, but John just raised his eyebrows to show his lack of answers. It was impossible to ascertain what was going on, since the wife, a Mrs. Paulus, was still incapable of speaking in a normal, rational tone, while Mr. Paulus was just refusing to speak at all.

Mrs. Paulus had seen Glen look to John, and she picked up on the cue immediately, prostrating herself at his feet. John helped her up and escorted her away from the living room, leaving Glen to speak to the taciturn husband.

"Mrs. Paulus," he said gently, out in the hallway, "I need you to lower your voice and tell me as simply as you can what exactly happened."

"He threatened to kill me! The bastard said he would kill me!"

"Did he have a weapon?"

"No. Yes. I mean, he could kill me with his hands, or a knife, or a gun. But he means more than that. He means to make me not exist. Ever. He can do that."

"Ma'am, would you like to come to the station and fill out a police report? We can put out a restraining order against him. Do you have some place safe to stay?"

She shook her head. "You don't believe me. But it's true. I don't know how, but he can just rip the soul out of a person and make it like they never existed."

John looked at her and could tell that no matter what her story was, she certainly believed it to be true. He looked back at the husband, scrutinizing his face for the first time. There was something familiar about him, but strangely not about this case. And he felt he would certainly remember such a case.

Mrs. Paulus looked at him expectantly, hoping that he would believe her.

"What do you mean your husband can make it so a person never existed? What makes you think this?"

"He's told me. I don't have any proof, 'cause once he makes someone disappear like that, there isn't anything for anyone to remember. Sometimes he tells me I had a sister, but he made her disappear. I don't know if that's true, 'cause I only remember having my two older brothers, but it's scary. He said he would make teachers disappear in school, and sometimes bullies and once he made the mayor disappear."

After several more minutes of incoherent blathering, John explained that they needed to take her to the station so she could give a statement and so that they could determine the validity of her husband's threat. He did not respond to what she'd said, but part of him felt that there might be a connection to his own strange case. If that were true, he and Monica might be one step closer to solving the mystery.

Back at the station, Mr. Paulus sat in a small, concrete room undergoing questioning. John looked at him from the other side of the window. He knew this man's face, but for the life of him, he didn't know why. The previous two domestic disputes involving the Pauluses had been handled by different officers. The man worked in a borough that John rarely frequented. They had no common interests or activities. Nothing to suggest that other than random encounters on the streets or the subway they had ever had any contact.

Glen came into the room with two cups of coffee, one of which he offered to John. "What do you think?"

"I think we got a world-class asshole on our hands, but probably not a murderer. That ain't saying he's not capable. But he's got no police record outside of two disputes. No tickets, no fines, no incidents, no nothing. Maybe the man's just got a temper and says a lot of shit he really ought to keep to himself. She claims that he's never even hit her, and her medical records are clean. We just need to find out if he's really a threat or not."

John kept the interrogation going far longer than a normal domestic dispute case would last. Usually, they went in, got a statement, asked a few questions, and then dealt with the victim. Glen came out after the second hour. "Alright, buddy, that's about as much as I can take talking to a wall. If you want to keep him in there, you're going to have to take over. Becky's gonna be pissed if I miss dinner again tonight."

John had no reason to hurry home. He left the perp sitting in the questioning room alone while he went to get a cup of coffee for the man, making sure to pass by Dunlin's desk with a nod of acknowledgment. He came into the room, set the coffee down, and sat in front of the guy, drinking his own coffee and staring. Finally, he leaned in. "What gets me is that I know I've seen you before, but I just can't figure out where or when. I've been through your records a dozen times, and there's just nothing to connect us."

"New York's a big city. You can't hold me just because we might have sat across from one each other on the subway once."

"Nah, it's more than that, and I think you know what I mean." Paulus smirked but didn't respond. "Your wife told me something, something about your ability to make a person stop existing."

Paulus laughed. "Too many science fiction movies, Officer?"

"Too much real life science fiction." John looked back at the mirror behind him. He'd made sure it was cleared out before he came in here, but he really couldn't chance that someone might be watching or listening. "With your wife not pressing charges and not showing any signs of abuse, I don't have much reason to hold you here. They're going to make me release you in the next few minutes." His voice dropped to a whisper. "But I've got questions for you, questions that I can't ask you here. I just wanna see if we can make some sort of deal so you agree to talk to me."

"Got no reason to talk to you after I get out."

"True. But I know where you live. So you can either agree to talk to me or I can just track you down."

"Still not gonna talk to you."

John shrugged and stood up, chugging the last of his coffee, and then walked out the door. He hoped that his hands hadn't started shaking until he'd left the room, because right now he could barely hold on to his mug. He sat down on the other side of the mirror, his face ashen, and he knew, without a doubt, that Paulus had something to do with the reason he and Monica were back in 1987.