Goldilocks Forever

Chapter 7

Walton, New York
February 2043

Beau's voice shook. "What the fuck is going on? Who are you?" The hard, sick feeling in his gut said danger. Something was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. Who was this man?

Toby bent to pick up the chair Beau tipped to the floor earlier. He moved with care and hesitation. Wincing, he pushed the chair toward Beau. "Sit down."

"No." His face wore the stubborn look that signaled the beginning of an argument. "I want an explanation."

"And you'll get it."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened. There was a bullet in your side. A bullet!" He pointed to the pale circle of skin that was already less pink than before.

Toby put up both hands and breathed deeply. "Look." He sighed. "I'm going to tell you, but first I need to take care of something. Cool your jets for a minute, okay?" He backed away toward the direction of the stairs at the back of the living area. "Sit down. Deep breaths."

Beau's voice rose to carry the distance. "Who are you really? And how do you know Anastasia Guillard?"

Toby paused at the staircase. "I'll get to all that. Just hold tight for a couple minutes, okay?" He hurried up the stairs. A door at the top latched shut.

Beau sat in silence for a moment. He took deep breaths and looked around. The fire in the woodstove glowed with a blanket of orange embers. His body tensed in full alert mode. What was Toby doing? Giving him the slip? Beau felt for his gun. No. He seemed willing, maybe even eager, to explain. Beau wondered what kind of fantastical bullshit he was about to hear. He shook his head. Fuck. It was too much.

He checked his tablet. One new message. He put it on silent mode and read the message from Izzy.

I have info re: Anastasia Guillard. Call.

He immediately shot back a message. ?

Missing person. Attempted burglary in progress?

So he'd gathered from the news article. Blood at scene? He could apply for a petition through the court to get access to it if any had been collected during the police investigation.

No blood. Nothing of value taken. Something fishy about this case—investigation files are thin. Can u talk now?

Beau cursed under his breath. No.

Izzy's typed words resumed their flow onto his screen. No real suspects. Assumed dead. She was just about to start at Julliard. V sad case :-(

He sat taller, perking up as he usually did when he received new information about a case. Pics?

No! V weird. File looks compromised.

Beau froze. Toby. He listened again for any sounds of the man but heard nothing. He swiped a message back to Izzy. U still work with Cybercrimes Division?

Y! Teach there

Do u know Chi-Town Punk? Toby had offered the alias jokingly, but Beau knew from experience that jokes often held truth.

Izzy's standby signal, three pink stars, floated across his screen. He took another deep breath as he waited. Thankfully, she didn't keep him waiting long.

Chicago area hacker active 1984-1999. Unauthorized access, phone phreaking, malicious software, the usual.

Beau breathed deeply. Other aliases? Any idea what happened to him after 1999?

Don't assume male! Sexist!

Beau almost laughed. He could imagine Izzy's admonishing tone. He knew she was white hat on the weekends. Have reason to believe male.

Chi-Town Punk + Anastasia Guillard = connection? Would explain why so little on A.G.

Yes. Beau nodded to himself. Yes, it would explain that. His skin tingled with the rush of adrenaline that came with a potential breakthrough. Here at least some puzzle pieces might fit together. Something might finally make sense.

But it didn't explain how Toby healed from a gunshot wound in less than ten minutes...or how he looked so young yet had knowledge of events that took place before he should have been born.

Beau frowned. Ty Izzy. Gtg. He put his tablet back into his jacket pocket and shivered. His mind raced. He rubbed his hands together to both calm and warm himself.

A door opened and Toby came down the stairs. He pulled on a clean green sweater and crossed his hands over his biceps a few times. "It's cold in here, isn't it?"

Beau picked up where they left off. "What do you do that causes people to want to kill you?"

Toby laughed as he walked out the front door of the cabin. His laughter echoed even through thick beams of timber that made up its walls. He carried an armful of logs inside.

"Here." Beau pulled one of the logs off the stack and placed it next to the wood stove in the corner. "You shouldn't be exerting yourself so much."

"Neither should you. Take a seat. I got this." Toby lifted the lid on the stove. He strategically laid the logs inside and then used a nearby electric match to ignite them. "Stand back. This could be a bit smoky at first." The wood crackled until one of the smaller logs collapsed onto the others with a hiss of red embers. He collapsed into a plush chair across from him and put his bare feet onto the coffee table.

Beau crouched gingerly onto the old couch. He wrapped his arms around himself, unable to stop shivering.

"I'm going to answer your questions," Toby started. "I'll explain almost everything even though much of what I'm going to tell you, you probably won't believe. And," he sighed deeply, "this will undoubtedly get me in deep shit if anyone found out." He paused. "You need to understand the severity of what that means. If you repeat any of what I'm going to tell you, both of our lives are in danger." He let his words sink in. "I'm telling you this because I think you have the right to know." His mouth tightened and the wrinkle between his eyebrows deepened for a second. "And I'm doing this for Alex and Cleo because they were my family. Do you understand?"

Beau nodded.

"You're right to focus on her." Toby nodded with approval. "Acacia Guillard's DNA is off the table--"

"What about my father? Do you know--?" Beau shut his mouth when he saw Toby's expression. Whether he was annoyed at the interruption or the subject matter, Beau didn't dare ask or prod. Not while the man was about to parcel out answers, however unbelievable they might be.

Toby sighed. "I'll get to that." He swallowed and rubbed his eyes.  When he lowered his hands, Beau saw, for the first time, sadness in his face. "My story is her story. Some of it, anyway."