The Paladin's Redemption (The Keepers of White Book 3) Page 2

  Moonie shrugged. “It coulda been genetics.”

  “Maybe,” Jim agreed. “Either way, I managed to do without the smokes then. I figure if that didn’t get me to start up again, nothing ever would. Not sure why it seems even harder to resist now.”

  “Well, I’m no psychologist,” Moonie suggested, “but maybe it had something to do with the fact that you knew she would die.” He paused. “I’m sorry, am I being too blunt? I mean, is this hard to talk about?”

  Jim shook his head as he took another sip of beer. “It’s okay,” he assured him.

  “Okay. So anyway, maybe you accepted that she was going to die, and when she passed, you accepted that too. With Megan, it’s different. You don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. There’s nothing to accept yet. Just the idea that she’s in danger and could die. In a way, that makes it more stressful than the actual loss.”

  Jim didn’t look him in the eye, but remained attentive to every word, considering the truth to what Moonie said. He checked his watch again. “I can’t say I was completely free from vices, dealing with Cheryl’s passing. I stayed off the nicotine, but…” he lifted his bottle of lager and swirled the bottom around in a circle. “…this became an every-night and all-night activity for me. Luckily, I’ve toned it down as of late. I was into some hard liquor for a while. Now it’s just a few beers; nothing that gets me stupid. Still, there ain’t a night goes by where I don’t take a few beers.”

  Moonie took a drag from his cigarette. “We all gotta cope somehow,” he mentioned. “Guess it’s just a matter of picking your poison.”

  “Yep,” Jim grunted as he finished the bottle.

  “Tonight,” Moonie added, “I don’t blame you if you wind up emptying me out. We can always get more.”

  “Awfully kind of you, son. Think I’ll grab another then. Want one while I’m up?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Jim quietly slid the door open. “Kids finally asleep, right?”

  Moonie nodded. “Small favors. They didn’t go down easy tonight.”

  With a strenuous attempt to keep a feathery gait, Jim slipped inside and returned moments later with two, fresh, cold bottles. He slid the door shut again, and handed one of the drinks to Moonie. “So, I’ve been meanin’ to ask you,” he said as he returned to his seat. “None of my business of course, but I’m curious. What is it you do with the kids in their room? Every morning and night? And just now when they woke up?”

  Moonie twisted off the bottle cap and took a sip. “We meditate.”

  Jim looked at him. “Meditate?”

  “Yeah. It’s the first step.”

  “First step of what?”

  Moonie stared straight ahead; his eyes were distant. “What we do.” He took another sip. “Meditating promotes self-awareness. Self-discipline. Eventually, you can expand it to control not just yourself, but your surroundings. That could take years, but once you master it, you can move on to the next step.”

  “How many ‘steps’ are there to… whatever you’re talking about?”

  “Many,” Moonie admitted. “Though, most don’t get past the first one. It’s a long process to explain it all, and you’d have to have an open mind about it.”

  Jim shrugged. “Don’t think I have one of those. I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

  Moonie grunted a slight laugh. “Just think of it as a form of training, Mr. Panco. What we do is pretty dangerous.”

  “You plan on training those kids for danger?”

  He gave Jim a look. “We’re training those kids to protect themselves from any potential danger. Their fath… guardian, my friend…”

  “The guy who sent me here,” Jim clarified.

  “He doesn’t want the children involved in this in any way whatsoever. But they have to be prepared regardless. The same people who took Megan could target them too.”

  “Why?” Jim questioned with concern. He knew little of the two children who were staying here, but he spent some time with them, even played card games with them during his stay, and he decided he liked them enough to gain a sense of protectiveness for them.

  “As much as he doesn’t want to,” Moonie answered with difficulty, “my friend is putting them at risk.”

  “How?” Jim almost demanded.

  Moonie sighed. “He loves them. They’re not his blood, but he considers them his own children. You take these people on, they come after you. If they can’t get to you, they go after the ones you love.”

  Jim tried to suppress his feelings of innate disapproval. “How could he allow those kids to be at risk like that?”

  Moonie kept his tone, ignoring Jim’s judgmental one. “It’s not an easy call. You know the saying, ‘the only way for evil men to triumph is for good men to stand by and do nothing?’ My friend has the means to stop these people. If he chose not to get involved, your daughter would be dead shortly after midnight. You want to know how he could willingly put his kids at risk? It’s simple. Helping people is what we do. Because we can.”

  Jim looked down, feeling somewhat guilty. He couldn’t argue against his host. But he questioned himself: if the roles were reversed, would he put his own kid in danger to save someone else’s? He doubted it. He doubted many others would either. Yet he was held in checkmate in this debate, because it was his daughter who needed saving. “Mind if I ask you another question?” he restarted, more mildly tempered.

  “Ask anything you want, sir.”

  “Why did your friend send me here? Why did he lead me to believe he was working for… for them, and threaten me to follow directions here? Why…”

  “Why didn’t he just tell you the story straight?” Moonie cut in.

  Jim nodded.

  “From everything you told me about your encounter with him,” he began, “he wasn’t actually lying to you. He told you if you wanted to see your daughter again, to do as he said. That was the truth. He just left out any implications that he was on your side.”

  Jim wasn’t buying it. “And just how is my coming here to sit on my ass going to increase my chances of seeing her again? And why the charade in the first place?”

  “I’ll answer your second question first,” Moonie replied as he lit a fresh cigarette, then took a long drag. “Think about it, Mr. Panco. If he was straightforward and filled you in on his intentions to find your daughter and bring her back safely, would you have been so easily convinced to leave the area and come here? Would you really allow him to go off alone while you, Megan’s own father, leave peacefully and wait idly on the sidelines? Especially if you knew then what you know now about these people, that they’re attempting to murder your daughter in a sacrificial ritual?”

  Jim looked away. “No,” he admitted. “I s’pose I would demand to go with him.”

  “And if he refused to allow that?”

  “I’d probably try to follow him.”

  “Or possibly call the police and report the conversation. That would seem logical, but it would have ruined any chances.”

  “Why? Are the police involved in this conspiracy?”

  Moonie took another drag of the cigarette. “No. At least not most of them, unless there’s a mole or two. Even if there isn’t, let’s just say that these people have eyes and ears everywhere. Our mutual friend had to scare you into doing exactly what he said in order to keep you from possibly exposing him. That would have definitely ruined any chance of success. His purpose had to remain as secret as possible. If his identity were compromised, the ones who have your daughter, would take measures to keep her unreachable.”

  Jim looked straight ahead. He still didn’t want to believe everything Moonie had explained to him over the past few days about the people who referred to themselves as Agents of Shadow. It seemed like a bunch of hogwash to him. But he had very few other options. He could have bailed and left Toms River; immediately contacted Detective Harrison, but then there would still be no information that would reveal Megan’s location. The police wou
ld now be focused on finding the man whom he encountered outside his hotel room the other night instead of his daughter. They would also have to contact the New Jersey State Police to conduct an investigation on Moonie concerning the matter, requiring more paperwork, in which Moonie had already explained that he would deny all of it. The police would now have to spend more time on the matter in order to determine which one, Jim or Moonie, was telling the truth. More time wasted.

  Finally, although he was not one with an open mind, and half of him still believed this legless kid was bat-shit crazy, for some reason, he did believe the part that Megan’s life would end this night if he didn’t follow his instructions. Nothing that gave any evidence, but it was one of those gut feelings he always trusted.

  “I still can’t believe these cultists actually exist,” he said quietly. “That they sacrifice young virgin ladies like they’re some primitive tribe on a volcanic island somewhere.”

  “Yeah,” Moonie agreed, “they’re nuts. But they have a lot of power and influence, believe it or not. Wealthy beyond measure. Which leads me to answering your other question.”

  Jim turned his head back in Moonie’s direction awaiting what he had to say.

  “Our friend sent you here because he needed you out of the way. We can’t risk you getting involved with trying to help save Megan. I don’t doubt your resolve. I’m sure you can handle yourself, given your military background and all, but these people, taking them on… that’s a whole different ballgame altogether. If you were with him tonight, and if you both happened to succeed in saving her, yeah, she would no longer be a candidate for the sacrifice. That window of opportunity for them would shut forever, but they would still probably target you ever after. Hell, it’s still a risk. I’m not gonna lie. If he succeeds on his own, they’ll look in his direction, but that just doesn’t put him and those kids at risk. They’ll try to find her again if they can’t find him. And if they can’t find her, they would look for you. They know where you live.”

  “How do they know?” Jim asked with slight surprise.

  “Because the police know where you live. You met with them when Megan went missing.”

  Jim nodded. “Eyes and ears everywhere,” he repeated Moonies previous claim. “I get it.”

  Moonie made a clicking noise and pointed a finger at Jim, indicating that he was spot on. “And that’s why you have to stay here, at least for now. They don’t know about this place.”

  “And,” Jim inferred, “you’re pretty much sayin’ if your friend… our friend succeeds, I can’t ever go back home.”

  Moonie nodded with a sympathetic expression.

  “So, what do we do after this is over?” Jim inquired.

  Moonie offered a wry smile. “You let me and my buddy handle that. We have resources too.”

  Jim returned a smile, though it was quite crooked. “Perfect,” he grunted in a dissatisfied tone.

  Moonie took a drag from his cigarette; exhaled. “Let’s just get through tonight, sir. At least we have the easy part.”

  “What? Waiting?” Jim took a bigger gulp of his beer. “Not that easy.”

  Moonie laughed. “Nah. It’s not, really. Honestly, it sucks.”

  Jim almost laughed with him, but instead his tone suddenly became deadly serious. “If these people are as powerful and resourceful as you say, then tell me: our friend; what are his chances?”

  Moonie sat back in his white, plastic chair and took a sip from his own bottle. He lowered his voice slightly. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’ll bet that’s the one making you want a cigarette so bad.”

  “Maybe,” Jim considered. “So whaddaya think?”

  “No ‘maybe’ about it,” Moonie argued with a soft, slow tone. “There are only so many possible outcomes we could face here. Our friend could fail to find your daughter, in which case, only he will return.”

  “Meaning she’ll die,” Jim finished for him. “It’s okay, son. You don’t have to put sugar on it.”

  Moonie nodded. “Fair enough. Another possibility is that he could find her, but wind up not succeeding in stopping them. In which case, neither of them will return. Then of course, there’s the outcome we’re hoping for, that he succeeds. If that happens, you’ll be reunited with your daughter soon. And even though that’s the preferred ending, it won’t be an easy aftermath anyway. You’ll both have to start a new life, and you, Mr. Panco, will have to work on mending your relationship with her.”

  Jim gave him a look of both surprise and anger.

  Moonie caught the look. “You told me no sugar, sir, so there it is. You remember when you told me about Megan’s boyfriend? The one that no one can find? Just disappeared when all this went down? You can bet he’s one of them. His job was probably to woo his way into her heart to keep her close, and to keep her from dating anyone else and possibly losing her virginity to.”

  “She wouldn’t have done anything like that anyway,” Jim protested.

  “Maybe,” Moonie shrugged as he finished his cigarette and pressed the butt against the plastic ashtray on the table. “But something tells me that Megan had a loving family growing up, am I right? Lots of good memories and all.”

  Jim said nothing.

  “How well did the family structure hold together after Cheryl died?” Moonie pressed, still with a gentle tone. “I’m not judging here, sir, just observing and offering things to consider. If you don’t make Megan believe that she still has a place to call home, if you don’t provide that family atmosphere for her that she grew up with, she’s likely to look for it somewhere else, and could too quickly run into the arms of the wrong man… some guy that might not be a sadistic cultist, but still someone who will just tell her the things she wants and needs to hear, but doesn’t truly have her best interest in mind; only his own interests. She might be eager to start a family of her own, even if she’s not ready. Just to have that sense of familiarity again.”

  Jim looked down at his hands, both of which were wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle. He refused to show emotion to this kid, but it took effort for him to prevent tears from welling up. “Thought you weren’t a psychologist,” he pointed out. “And how do you know what my relationship with my daughter is like?”

  “I’m not a psychologist, but everything I said is what you already know inside. You just hadn’t accepted it yet.” Jim looked back at him with a suspicious expression. “Don’t ask,” Moonie said in response to his silent question. “You won’t believe me if I told you. Just assume that there are some things I can see that others can’t.”

  Jim looked at him for a few seconds longer, not sure if he wanted to believe him or not. But again, he was too preoccupied with more important matters to call “bullshit” on him. “If you say so,” he replied instead. “But I don’t know how I’m expected to maintain a family environment for Megan by myself… without her mother.”

  “Like I said,” Moonie responded, “it won’t be easy. Nothing ever is. But it’s not like you have to raise her in a stable structure anymore. She’s an adult now and can live on her own like she does already. But that doesn’t mean she still doesn’t need her father. She just needs to know you’re still there for her, that there’s a place she can always come back to and still call ‘home.’ She’ll need to know there will still be Thanksgivings and Christmases, and that you’re only a phone call away when she needs to talk. You give her that, there’s nothing the two of you can’t overcome.”

  Jim closed his eyes. He felt the guilt swell inside, knowing he distanced himself from his only child when she needed him the most, and for the first time, he realized that he had allowed himself to become a weak man; allowed his grief to prevent him from serving any true purpose, which would lead to an empty life. “Think I’ll have a cigarette after all,” he said just above a whisper.

  “Help yourself,” Moonie offered. “Like I said, no judging here.”

  Slowly, he took one from the pack on the table, lit it, inhaled
. “You never answered my question,” he said in a monotone voice. “What are your friend’s chances tonight?”

  Moonie looked away. “Not good, truthfully. All logic and reason, from an intelligent man’s standpoint, would suggest you prepare yourself for the high possibility that you won’t see her again, and I have to prepare myself for the same possibility that I’ll inherit two orphaned children.”

  Jim lowered his head. It wasn’t what he hoped to hear, but understood it was the truth.

  “That answer is the logical one,” Moonie continued. “I only presented it to you because my actual opinion is probably biased.”

  Jim turned to him. “Whaddaya mean?”

  “Well,” Moonie continued, “my friend… Michael… he’s just that. He’s my friend… hell he’s my best friend. Very few people, if any, know him like I do.”

  “So, based on what you know of him,” Jim said with a slightly confused tone, “what are his chances?”

  Moonie took a few gulps of his drink. “We all have our ways of coping with shit,” he started, staring dead ahead, again as if somewhere else. “You took to the bottle when you lost your wife. When I lost my legs, I favored the Marlboros.” A twitch of anger began to reveal itself in his eyes for just a second, then it disappeared. “Losing my legs was no accident either. They did this to me.”

  Jim’s eyes widened. “Why?” he asked with sympathy.

  “Long story. In short, I once interfered with their… operation. Helped thwart their plans, my friends and I. They retaliated. Their intention was to kill me, but by stroke of luck, I survived. Then they sent me a warning, never to attempt to cross paths with them again, or they would finish the job. Shortly after I went into hiding.”

  Jim watched him as he grabbed another Marlboro from the half-empty pack. “Amazing,” he remarked. “Here you are risking your life, by getting involved anyway.”

  Moonie shrugged. “I’m only partially involved. Playing more of a support role…” he pointed to his legs with his eyes, “…obviously. But I went into hiding to stay off their radar, not because I feared for my life. Truthfully, most days I would rather I didn’t survive than to live out my days like this. Man, could I run like hell. And now…” He stopped for a second, as if recounting his glory days was still difficult for him. “So the way I see it, I don’t have much to lose… not much left they can take from me. So fuck it. Nothing pleases me more than having the chance to stick it to them… however I can.”