A Different Kind of Animal

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

General Jameson drove slowly through the many side streets branching out from the main road, passing by the tidy rows of civilian houses and searching in vain for any clue as to where Leonardo could be hiding. When last referring to the satellite’s images, he’d seen that Leonardo had been somewhere in this general area, but now that he was here, he couldn’t see any probable places for the boy to hoard himself. Surely he wouldn’t be in one of the houses…

Giving up, he accelerated to the posted speed limit and drove away before anyone became suspicious and reported his black Sedan. These wary small-town people would probably accuse him of being a sexual predator if he hung around too long outside homes with small children.

Clutching the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white, he repressed the urge to turn around and go back. He’d already driven up and down those streets six times. Somebody was bound to notice, and the last thing that he needed was to have to deal with the local policemen, who were no doubt bored out of their minds and looking for some action.

Driving to the Advance Auto Parts, he parked his vehicle and got out, lifting his hood and feigning distress. Just as he’d wanted, an employee came out of the store and crossed the parking lot, wearing a friendly smile.

“Can I help you with anything?” the man asked. He was balding on top and had to keep pushing his thick glasses up into place. As soon as he would pull his hand away, though, they’d slide right back down the narrow bridge of his nose.

“Oh, well, it’s probably nothing,” Jameson replied, purposefully allowing his voice to trail off so that the man could assume that he really didn’t mean “nothing.” Sighing, he went on with, “I mean, I heard a little clicking in the engine; I pulled off the road to see what the problem was. Seems okay now.”

“Clicking, huh?” the man asked, pursing his lips and peering around Jameson’s body to have a look. “You know, it might be a lifter. You could come in and check out our prices for a replacement,” he offered brightly, and Jameson resisted the urge to grimace at the guy’s obvious suggestive selling. 

“Nah, I’ll wait it out. Thanks, anyway.” Struggling to keep a smile on his face, he said, “My brother’s a mechanic. He’ll know what to do. I’m in town to visit his son right now. You’ve probably seen him.” He laughed in what he hoped was a happy-uncle manner. “He’s a strange one, that boy.”

Luckily, the man didn’t seem too eager to return to work, grabbing up the opportunity for small talk.

“Really? He live around here?”

Deliberately avoiding the question, he pretended to not be paying much attention, going on with, “Oh, you’ve probably seen him around. Short brown hair, about six-foot in height. He’s a real ladies’ man.” He smiled again, feeling his cheeks start to ache.

“Sounds like a hundred other guys,” the man replied, chuckling.

The General could see that this lead was a dead end. Closing the hood and walking around to the driver’s side, he said, “Well, thanks again. I really should go. Don’t wanna be late.”

“Have a good one,” the man called after him, turning around to walk back to the store.

Pulling his car back out into traffic, he started in the direction that would take him back to GenLabs.

*     *     *

“How’d it go?” her mom asked brightly as Arabelle came through the door.

Letting her purse slide down her arm to drop onto a kitchen chair, she answered, “Oh, not too bad, considering that I was an unexpected guest. Thanks a lot, Mom.” She couldn’t really be angry, though—not when her mom’s eyes were lit with such good-natured humor.