Shelby might not have believed Phillip if he hadn't shown her the videotape. He and Diane had used a nannycam to spy on Isabel, and had caught footage of her using her extraordinary telekinetic powers to levitate objects in her bedroom. The government agents had apparently confiscated the original tape, but the Evanses had duplicated it earlier, leaving the copy with Shelby, along with little Zan.
Phillip informed Shelby that they didn't want to know with whom she had placed Zan; he had even lied to Max, telling him that a male law school buddy in New York would take care of the matter. «If we ever want to know the truth about where the baby is placed, we'll ask you,' Phillip told Shelby. «But this child deserves a future free from fear.» A few weeks later, Shelby had gotten a second visit from Phillip, and this one was filled with more portent than the previous one. He presented her with all the data he had gathered on the secret government intelligence group called the Special Unit, as well as every bit of information about his children and the others in Roswell who were involved in evading the government's alien-hunting conspiracy.
Shelby was astonished to learn that the Special Unit had actually invaded the West Roswell High graduation ceremony in an attempt to capture Max, Isabel, Michael, and their friends. Now, the kids were on the run, and Phillip was certain that all of the parents were under heavy surveillance.
«Exposure is the one thing that these Special Unit guys think is on their side,' Phillip had told her. «They believe that our kids are more afraid of exposure than anything else. But that's not the case. Max told me before he left that if I ever feared anything was about to happen to us or the other parents, I should use this information against the Special Unit.» «How do you think this is going to help?» Shelby had asked.
«I think that now, the government is more concerned about exposure than our kids are. Think about it, Shelby.
What's the best way to get out of blackmail? All you have to do is come clean. Removing the lies and exposing the truth will blow the lid off all the government's machinations and cover-ups since 1947.» Shelby had shaken her head, trying to wrap her thoughts around what Phillip was saying. «You really think they'll give up on hunting the kids down just because you threaten to go public? And what happens if you don't go public?» He reached forward and took her hands, looking at her directly. She remembered that look from the third grade; he was at his most serious, his most sincere. «Shelby, if it comes down to this, the repercussions from revealing the truth are going to be far less harmful than just sitting on the truth. I have no doubt that if they can, they'll kill our children, or make them wish they were dead. And they will probably 'disappear' anyone who they think knows the real truth. So, the only way out of this is for everyone to learn the truth.» Shelby had stared at him for a long moment then, her mind whirling. «Do you really think that the American public that the world is ready to learn that aliens have been living among us for more than fifty years?» His smile was gentle. «I think the public won't be nearly as shocked as you might think, Shelby. This is a generation that's grown up with El and Star Trek and Men in Black and all the science-fiction films and TV shows and books.
This is a generation that uses cell phones the size of business cards, and computers they can slip into their pocket.
They'll adapt.» Before she could stop herself, Shelby snorted. «And what if the populace decides that the aliens among us are really here to steal our water, eat our mice, or blow up the White House?» Phillip grinned ever so slightly. «I don't think it will get to that point. I think the Special Unit won't let things go that far.» «What, you think they're going to back off just because I threaten to blow the whistle? What's to stop them from paying me a visit in the dead of night with a very silent gun?» «What do you want me to do, Shelby?» Phillip pulled back from her, settling into one of her office chairs. «This is my family we're talking about. This is not an abstract 'someone.' This is Max and Isabel you used to read to them when they were younger. And it may be Diane and me they come after.» He paused, his brow furrowing. «You won't have to carry this burden all alone. Call Jesse Ramirez, and follow the other instructions I'm leaving with you.» His next sentence had chilled her to the bone. «They won't be able to stop all of us, Shelby.» Now, twenty minutes after she got the fateful telephone call, Shelby pulled her Toyota into her driveway and let herself into her modest house. Her hands trembling by the time she'd reached the kitchen, she poured some sherry into a glass. The cell phone hadn't rung again since Phillip's previous call, the one that confirmed that his worst fears had finally been realized. She was certain that he had destroyed his phone before they took him. But how long will it take for them to reconstruct it and find a way to determine who he called last? How long until they figure out where those nanny-cam pictures went? She didn't know at this point whether Phillip and Diane or the other alien-affiliated parents in Roswell were dead or alive. But she did know that now she was involved. Phillip had saved her, not only on that long-ago day on the playground, but also many times since. Now she was determined to do whatever she could to return the favor, both for Phillips sake and for that of his family.
Shelby went to the kitchen and opened a cupboard that held a pull-out spice rack. She tugged it forward off its tracks and gingerly placed it on the countertop. Reaching in, she depressed a small button in the back of the cabinet, and the back paneling popped free. Inside the recessed space were all the files and information Phillip had given her.
On the first page was the Boston number of Jesse Ramirez. Since Shelby lived in Newton, she could meet with Jesse in less than an hour if everything went smoothly.
Ij they haven't gotten to him already, she thought with a shiver.
She picked up her cell phone and dialed Jesse's number. One ring. Two rings.
«Hello?» The voice was male, but she didn't recognize it; she had never actually spoken with Ramirez before.
«Jesse Ramirez, please,' she said as calmly as she could.
«This is he.» «Mister Ramirez, my name is… Denise Prinze, and I'm a lawyer.» She wasn't sure if Jesse's phone was bugged, so she played it safe by using the fake name Phillip had given her. «I need to consult with you immediately about a client I have.» «Immediately?» She bit her lip and continued, scanning the notes Phillip had made about Jesse. «It's about a Mr. Antar.» There was a brief silence before he spoke again. «Where do you want to meet?» «Antonio's Cucina Italiana on Cambridge Street.» «Across from Mass General Hospital?» «That's the one,' Shelby said. «In an hour?» «See you then,' he said. And then the line clicked and was silent.
Shelby hoped that it was Jesse to whom she had been talking, and that she hadn't just delivered herself or both of them into enemy hands.
When did I become so paranoid? she thought as she began to fill a bag with some clothes and a few other necessities.
She already knew the answer to her question.
It had happened the day she had learned the truth about Roswell.
Boston Jesse Ramirez hung up the phone, his eyes wide. After the earlier incident with Isabel calling and him finding out his phones were bugged, he had almost been afraid to come home. Now, he found that he was even more afraid of going out.
Whoever the woman who had called him was, she knew the name of Isabel's homeworld. Is she working with the Special Unit? Or is she the one Phillip said might call me one day? He knew that if the latter scenario were true, then something had gone very wrong indeed.
Against his better judgment, Jesse dialed the Evanses' phone number in Roswell.
It had barely rung once before it was picked up.
«Hello.» The voice was crisp and authoritative. And clearly not Phillips. Jesse checked the phone display to make sure he had dialed the number correctly He waited another beat, but the man didn't speak any further. Jesse punched the «End» button as hard as he could.
Whatever is going down in Roswell, I'm sure as hell not safe here at home, Jesse thought. He grabbed a duffel bag and put several things into it, including the gun he had carried ever since he'd left Roswell. It was the same gun he had used to kill the Special Unit agent who'd tried to make him turn on Isabel.
Making sure that the front door was locked, Jesse toggled on the television, and then slipped out the back door and into the small yard behind his apartment building.
