The Path Not Taken

By Lee Frey

When he was young, Zach had been able to see things that others could not. As he got older, he ignored the visions, though the gift had never left him. Picking up a photograph of his brother’s missing fiancée, the gift reveals itself once again. Knowing that she is dead, Zach embarks on a quest to master his gift and track down her killer. Zach reaches out to Dr. Umbridge, a professor at the Stanford Research Institute, to seek help in controlling his gift. But as Zach closes in on the killer, a chance encounter with Dane Shultz, one of the “viewers” from the Star Gate program, disrupts his plans. Before he can avenge Anna’s murder, he must first stop a disaster that is threatening thousands of lives. As he confronts the one man with the power to stop it, Zach unknowingly places himself at ground zero for one of the attacks.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lee Frey
• Release date: Feb 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310170898

Lee Frey

In the past ten years I have written several short works, six novels and several partial manuscripts. I write because I enjoy it--a delicious retreat each morning before the darkness fades away and reality reigns supreme. Nineteen years as a telecom engineer for an international company might not add to my writing credentials, but it does mean that I am not your typical starving artist.

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LEE

FREY

THE PATH NOT TAKEN

A NOVEL BY

LEE FREY

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Lee Frey on Smashwords

Copyright © 2014 by Lee Frey

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

In order to preserve some suspense, the dedication is given in the Author’s notes section at the end of the novel.

I would like to once again thank my editor and friend, Cathrine Dube.

Prologue

‘So much of our time is preparation, so much is routine, and so much retrospect, that the path of each man's genius contracts itself to a very few hours.’

–Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sitting a block down the road from an ordinary house on an average street in an uninteresting town, Jesse lifted the high-powered binoculars to his eyes and blinked to adjust his sight. Focusing was not required for this was not the first time he had scanned the house. Unlike previous checks on the house though, this time he saw the elite FBI Hostage Rescue Team, HRT, members stream around the house next door and approach the door.

Jesse took a long, deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. This was not the first time he had been on hand when a team, based on his intel, went into a house or structure, yet each time the stress was just as hard on him as the time before. He kept the binoculars trained on the front door as the lead man wedged a pneumatic tool into the door jam and pressed a button. Pressurized air from a tank on the man’s back was forced into the tool, which began prying the door away from the jam.

This op required stealth. They did not pound the door in with the sledgehammer. They did not even announce themselves. This was an exigent situation, a situation of imminent danger to person or persons inside. Besides, they were fairly certain that the perpetrator had left the house two hours ago.

Once the door and jam were separated far enough, the door was pulled open, and the four man team rushed into the house. Jesse lowered the binoculars and mentally started counting the seconds. Of the two dozen HRT entries that he had watched over the eleven years with the FBI, all were a mixed bag of emotions. He never felt satisfied with any of them, regardless of the outcome.

Most of the time, he knew before hand if the op was a body recovery or a rescue. He did not travel to the site for body recovery missions--they were too hard on him. Inevitably, he had witnessed a few of those, exactly four of them--he kept track. Of the other outcomes, two thirds required medics and gurneys though the victim lived. A handful of operations had ended with the victim carried out in the arms of a HRT member. The best possible outcome was for the victim to walk out the door holding hands with a team member.

The count still silently going on in his head, he jerked the binoculars to his eyes as he saw movement at the door. This was a good outcome. He smiled weakly as he saw the six-year old girl defiantly walk out on her own, not even holding the hand that had saved her. She was a tough one. She would survive. Not that she was not damaged goods. She had been missing for over a year.

Parents did not care what their child had to endure--as long as they were alive. Sometimes, though, an early death would have been better. In most cases, death had been prayed for yet not granted. Nietzsche could not have been referring to the horrors of abduction and sexual abuse when he said ‘that which does not kill us makes us stronger.’

Jesse laid his head back against the headrest and sighed. Rubbing his eyes and checking his watch, which was still on Dallas time, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his wife. He knew that she was busy, and would probably not answer, but if nothing else, he was going to hear her voice telling him to leave a message.

The last dozen years or so had been a roller coaster. Two years with the CIA and eleven with the FBI. It was hard to believe that he had once been content as a manager of a video rental store. So much had changed. The only constant was Ginger, his wife. It had been touch and go, but he had managed to hang on to her. Or more appropriately, she had refused to give up on him.

Hello, Ginger answered on the third ring.

Hi, Jesse said, truly smiling for the first time today.

I thought you were on a stake out? she whispered.

I know you are busy, so I won’t keep you. I called to tell you I am coming home on the next flight, he replied.

Can you do that? I thought you were there for a week.

Jesse laughed, What are they going to do fire me?

So I guess it turned out OK?

He was not allowed to talk about his job, but he sometimes gave her bits and pieces.

She’s fine. Walked out on her own.

That’s great!

My job is done here, so I’m heading straight to the airport. My bags are already in the trunk. I’ll cancel my hotel room on the way to the airport.

Don’t rush home just because of me. Do what you need to do.

That’s exactly what I am going to do--rush home because of you. Because that is exactly what I need to do.

Sweet talk will get you nowhere, she laughed.

I’ll let you go. I don’t know how late I’ll be, but expect an old man to climb into bed later. Bye for now.

Bye, she replied and hung up.

He smiled as he thought of Ginger. She was still as smart and beautiful as she had always been. Their relationship had not always been easy. He had nearly lost her. He wondered briefly what would have become of him had she left. It was a very brief thought, one that scared him to even consider. She was a remarkable person, and he was lucky to have her.

Most people’s lives change slowly over time. They get married and settle down. They change jobs or occupations, and some have children. If nothing else, we get old. A small percentage of people endure life altering events, such as the death of a loved one. Jesse had suffered loss, though not of someone close to him. His life had taken a sharp turn as a result of that death, but it had been his choice. His life turned on its side, and he could point to the exact moment in time.

Chapter One

thirteen years ago...

Did they even search her computer? Jesse asked, his voice for the last four days a constant whine.

Lost in his thoughts, Zach did not hear the question. He sat silently, staring at his hands. Cold sweat beads lined his forehead. It was all he could do to keep his lunch down. He had been like this for the last ten minutes. Lucky for him, Jesse had been digging through emails and had not noticed.

Bro! Jesse yelled.

What? Zach replied.

Did the cops search her computer? Jesse asked again as he flipped through emails.

Yes. They didn’t find anything, Zach replied, leaving off ‘and they are not going to.’

Jesse, Zach’s younger brother, had call him four days ago to ask if Zach had heard from Anna, Jesse’s fiancée. As older brother’s do, Zach sprang into action. Four days of searching, gathering evidence, canvassing the neighborhood and there was no clue to her whereabouts--well, only one.

Zach heard a quiet sob and turned to face his brother. Seeing Jesse’s face crumble before his eyes, Zach got up from the couch and joined Jesse at the computer. He roughly grabbed Jesse’s head and pulled it to his chest as Jesse erupted in heart wrenching sobs.

Zach patted his head and said, Don’t worry little guy. We’ll find her.

Zach didn’t have the nerve to tell him the truth. The truth had always been his ally. He could count on one hand the number of times he had lied to anyone, and even then they were lies to spare feelings. He silently clicked off another finger--though they might eventually find her, Jesse should be worried.

Zach held him tighter as a cold shiver ran through him. He tried to vanquish the vision, the memory of seeing her face. A tear ran down his cheek startling him. Crying was almost foreign to him. As caring and self-sacrificing as he was, he was always the strong one. Crying didn’t help anything, so he had always held back the tears. Yet now, they fell without consent.

After a while, Jesse regained his composure and pulled back. Zach looked deeply into his eyes and gave his head a loving rub.

Come on. Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing here that can help find her, Zach said softly.

Again, he clicked off another lie.

You are probably right. Do you think they would mind if I took her computer? Jesse asked.

Who? The cops? Doesn’t matter. Take it. It will make you feel better, Zach said.

Jesse was a software engineer, so computers were an extension of his being, a third hand or a second brain. Zach didn’t even consider that the police were looking at Jesse as a suspect. In cases of a missing girlfriend, statistics indicate that the boyfriend is the most likely perpetrator.

Zach glanced around as Jesse shutdown the laptop and gathered the power cord. He pointed to the computer bag next to the bedroom door when he saw Jesse searching for it. Zach went back to the couch and picked up his Dr. Pepper. Despite his attempt not to look at the photo, he couldn’t help but stare.

It was a picture that Anna had taken with her cell phone at a funhouse during the State Fair of Texas. Jesse and Anna were hugging each other, truly in love. Jesse had turned and planted a kiss on her cheek as she held the phone over her head and took their picture in the funhouse mirror. She had taken several of them in the various mirrors, but this was the only one that didn’t distort them. It was the only picture they could find of her with her hair dyed blonde. It was the picture that the police had returned after making a copy of it.

Anna worked as a stylist in a hair salon and had let her friend highlight her hair with blonde streaks. She didn’t like it, so they added more streaks. By the time they were done, Anna looked like a natural blonde with brown highlights, instead of the other way around. Jesse had like it so much that Anna had kept it up for the last few months, dyeing it as her roots began to show.

Hey, can you grab that photo too? Jesse said as he packed the computer into the bag.

It made sense that Jesse would want the photo. It was his favorite. He kept a copy in his wallet, as did Anna. This was the 4x6 that she kept on the desk next to her laptop. The photo was well worn from constant handling. She often picked it up and held it as she talked to him on the phone.

Zach, however, couldn’t touch it. He knew that as soon as he did, he would see her face--not the beautiful face of his soon to be sister-in-law, the face that would light up any room, but the face that would haunt him. Of all the things in life to be jealous of, he secretly envied Zach because of Anna. Zach had never been resentful, just proud, of his brother the high school football star, the honor student, the girl magnet, the well-paid engineer. None of that matter. Zach’s envy was because of that smile, the one in the picture. But not the one that he would see if he held the picture again.

Despite the distance between Zach and the photo, the image flashed before his eyes again, and his stomach turned sour. Her eyes bulging as the hands around her neck squeezed even tighter. He dropped his Dr. Pepper and darted for the door. He managed to swing the door open just as he vomited, spewing his tacos in the bushes just outside.

Jesse came up and put a hand on Zach’s shoulder, Are you OK, Bro?

Still hunched over, Zach nodded.

It must have been the Mexican food. I’m not feeling too well myself, Jesse said.

He was still dry heaving, but he had to get away. He looked back inside to see if he had left anything. He could see the table and the spilt can of Dr. Pepper, but not the picture. Thankfully, not the picture.

Feeling his pocket, he found his keys and said, Sorry. I’ve got to go.

Jesse watched as Zach half ran to his Wrangler. Zach climbed in and started the engine, squeezing the steering wheel as another wave of nausea came over him. Despite the heat, he left the AC on high and rolled down his window as he put the Jeep into gear. With a chirp of his tires, he was gone.

Chapter Two

So what do you think? Detective Bates asked the more experienced detective.

Boyfriend did it, Detective Carlyle responded.

Carlyle was five years from retirement and took it upon himself to pass on his knowledge to the rest of the force--everyone from detectives to foot patrol. Anyone who would listen was fair game, and it was hard not to listen to him. Carlyle had a way about him that got under your skin and somehow irritated and soothed at the same time. This was one of those times.

Detective Carlyle had tagged along from the very beginning of the investigation. Initially, it was to show the new guy, relatively speaking, the ropes. Detective Bates had been on the force for almost twelve years, the last two as a detective. So while he wasn’t a rookie, he could use a little help. Detective Bates had yet to work a homicide too. The handful of missing persons that he had worked had been found alive, save one that was still missing. That was his first and only cold case file.

Detective Bates let the ‘who’ go for a moment and asked, Did what?

Killed her of course, Carlyle replied.

So she’s dead? Bates asked.

Didn’t I just say that? That’s the problem with youth today. No one listens. Everyone is always talking, and no one is listening. I’m glad the missus and me never had kids. I would have killed them or me one.

And what make you think that? Bates interrupted, "What makes you think one, she’s dead and