“This is it,” Courtney said nervously.
“Now do you trust me?”
“No.”
Dodger took a small piece of paper out of his pocket. “My friend said the patent was issued to Mark Dimond at this address. Apartment number four-A.” He put the paper back into his pocket and asked, “If you could get the patent number, how come you couldn’t get the address?”
“I don’t know,” Courtney answered as she started toward the door. “Computers aren’t infallible I guess.”
“There you go again not making sense,” Dodger said as he followed her toward the door.
“It’s only going to get worse,” Courtney said. She stopped at the bottom of the steps that led up to the black front door.
“Now what’s the problem?” Dodger asked.
“I’m debating about letting you come in with me.”
“Why?” he whined. “I got you this far, didn’t I?” Courtney nodded.
“So why don’t you trust me?” Dodger asked. Courtney looked him over, thinking, then said, “You can come. If you’re Saint Dane, I’d rather know where you are.” “Good. I think.”
Courtney walked up the stairs and scanned the door.
“What are you looking for?” Dodger asked.
“The panel with the security buttons so we can get buzzed in.”
Dodger gave her a strange look and opened the front door. It wasn’t locked.
“Oh,” Courtney said, and stepped inside. It was yet another subtle sign that she was in a different time.
The building was too small to have an elevator, so they climbed the marble staircase up to the fourth floor. It wasn’t a fancy building, but it was clean. The smells of cooking filled the stairwell. Good cooking. Courtney thought it was either spaghetti sauce or some yummy soup. It gave the building a warm, inviting feel. She was glad that Mark had landed in such a comfortable place.
Mark. With each step up, Courtney grew more tense. What would she say to him? More important, what would he say to her? Courtney couldn’t imagine any excuse for why he’d brought technology from home to a different territory. He knew how wrong that was. She couldn’t come up with a scenario that would explain it. As she grew closer to her reunion with Mark, Courtney wasn’t sure how she should feel. Angry? Hurt? Frightened? Sympathetic? All the above? The best thing she could do was take it one step at a time. First find Mark and make sure that he’s okay. After that, the way to go would be clear. Or so she hoped.
They arrived on the fourth floor, where they were faced with five doors leading to different apartments. Number 4A was to the far right of the landing.
“What do we do?” Dodger asked.
Courtney’s answer was to stride across the landing to Mark’s door. Before she could change her mind, she boldly knocked. No answer. She knocked again, louder. Still no answer. They waited a solid minute, knocking a few more times.
“Either nobody’s home or they don’t want company,” Dodger said.
“I’m not leaving until we find out who lives here,” Courtney said adamantly.
“That thing you said before? You know, about saving humanity from total destruction? That was a joke, right?”
Courtney gave him a serious look. She didn’t confirm it, but she didn’t scoff and say, “Nah! Just kidding!” either.
“Right,” Dodger said thoughtfully. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.”
“I can’t begin to tell you how huge it is,” Courtney finally answered.
“Right,” Dodger said again. “Just making sure.” He took a step away from the door, rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, then suddenly ran for the door of apartment 4A.
“Hey!” Courtney shouted in surprise.
She had to jump out of the way or she would have been bulldozed. Dodger hit the door with his shoulder, hard. With a loud crack the door gave way, swinging in and smashing against the inside wall. Dodger tumbled inside, falling to his knees. Courtney ran to him.
“You’re crazy!” she exclaimed.
“A little.”
Courtney helped him to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Dodger rubbed his shoulder. “Sure,” he answered casually. “Wasn’t the first time I had to break down a door. Won’t be the last. Being a bellhop ain’t all glamour.”
Courtney quickly closed the door. She didn’t want nosy neighbors peeking in to see strangers smashing into the apartment.
“Looks like we’re too late,” Dodger said.
Courtney saw that the place was empty. It was a small, clean apartment with white walls. The short front hallway led into a small living room. To the right was a door leading to a kitchen. To the left was another short hallway that led to a bedroom and bathroom. There were no pictures on the walls. No plants. No rugs. No clues as to who may have lived there. Courtney walked into the kitchen. There was a small stove and a table. That was it. She left the kitchen, walked through the living room and into the bedroom. She found a small bed with no sheets or blankets. The one piece of furniture was a wooden bureau. Courtney deflated.
Dodger said, “If he was here, he’s long gone now.”
They were about to leave the room when something caught Courtney’s eye. On the floor was a plain white piece of paper. Most of it was underneath a closet door. One corner stuck out, which was the only thing Courtney saw. She knelt down and pulled it out. The paper turned out to be a four-by-five-inch rectangle. Courtney turned it over. When she saw what it was, she started to cry.
“What is it?” Dodger asked.
“It’s an accident,” she said, wiping her eyes. “No way this was left on purpose.”
Courtney handed him the paper. Dodger took a long look and asked softly, “This him?”
Courtney nodded. It was a photo that could have been taken at a local drugstore on Second Earth. It had a cheesy fake background that looked like a Cape Cod beach. Courtney knew It was fake because she didn’t think Mark had ever been to Cape Cod and nobody in the picture was dressed for the beach. It was a photo of Mark and his mom and dad… the mom and dad who had been killed. It was the sudden, shocking death of his parents that catapulted Mark into the trouble he now faced, and the trouble he was bringing to Halla.
“He looks about fourteen here,” Courtney said. “He’s older now.”
“His parents?” Dodger asked.
Courtney nodded. She took the picture back. She wanted to see it again. She wanted to see the old Mark. The Mark who ate too many carrots and loved Japanese animation. The Mark who was Bobby’s best friend and had become her best friend once the doorway to Halla had opened. She wanted to see that Mark again. She wanted to hear him stutter. She wanted to know why the hell he had done what he did.
Courtney wiped her eyes and stood up, tucking the photo into her back pocket. She was in control again.
“So what do we do?” Dodger asked.
“We talk to the neighbors,” Courtney announced, all business. “Somebody here must have known him. Maybe they know where he went.”
They started on the fourth floor and worked their way down, knocking on doors and asking suspicious neighbors if they knew anything about Mark and where he might have gone. They pretty much got the same answer each time. Many people saw Mark, but nobody spoke with him. Nobody had a clue as to what had happened to him either. After a futile hour Courtney and Dodger found themselves back out in front of the building, not knowing much more than when they had started.
“At least we know he was here,” Dodger offered hopefully. “That’s something. Maybe I can call the city, or the post office, and see if he left a forwarding address.”
Courtney brightened. “That’s a good idea!”
“Thank you,” Dodger said. “Trust me yet?”
“No. No offense, but no.”
“None taken. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
