Tom studied the photo that showed his arms spread wide, his hands open toward the ceiling and his mouth sort of crooked as he discussed the features of the Ramsey House. Jake must have had a better photo than this to take up a quarter of Page 1. The story about him becoming the new director of the Seaside Life-Saving Museum, on the other hand, was flawless.
He chuckled at the thought that he was becoming a local celebrity.
When the story about him becoming the director of the Civil War heritage site was published 10 years ago, feelings of terror he thought he had put behind him returned. Although there had not been any new threats during the 10 previous years that he spent in the Midwest, moving to the Shenandoah Valley put him much closer to New Jersey and the HSC headquarters. For a time, he feared that Mauer or some hired gun would suddenly show up, or that he would at least get another threatening letter letting him know they knew what he was up to, that his new identity had not fooled them. Not that they couldn’t have tracked him down before, but for whatever reason, he felt in danger again.
Gradually the paranoia subsided and after a couple years passed with no new threats or shady characters jumping out from the shadows, he rarely thought about it.
Eventually his main concern became people noticing he wasn’t aging. He needed to move on. He’d been considering places to make his next home for more than a year when he spotted the advertisement seeking a new director for the Seaside Life-Saving Museum.
He looked at the photo again. His face sported a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and was a little thinner than it once was, but essentially it was the same as it was 37 years ago. Anyone who knew him back then would surely recognize him now, and if they had any doubts, the closer-up photo with the rest of the story on page four would quell them.
He gazed out the window at the ocean for a few moments and then looked at the clock. It was time. He dialed the main number for The Beacon.
A woman answered: “The Beacon, can I help you?”
“Yes. I would like to speak to Jake Lamonica please,” Tom said.
“Can I tell him who’s calling?”
“Yes, Tom Miller from the Seaside Life-Saving Museum.”
“Just a moment.”
The minute or so it took for Jake to answer seemed like an eternity.
“Hello Tom,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Hello. I wanted to let you know I appreciate the write-up. Well done.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it,” he said.
“I have another story for you, one more suited for a man of your talents,” Tom said quickly.
“OK,” Jake said. “What is it?”
“I’d prefer to tell you about it in person. I have something to show you.”
“I’m pretty busy today. I could spare a few minutes around 11, but I have to hit the road by 11:30 to get to another assignment. Next week might be better.”
Tom thought for a moment. Thirty minutes would be plenty to get started and he needed to get started. He had to do this now. “Thirty minutes will be enough. Let’s go with 11 a.m. today at my office.”
“OK. I’ll see you then.”
He never thought the day would come. That day didn’t have to be today. He thought about calling Jake back to set up another time. He could tell him he missed seeing an appointment on his calendar and next week would be better. Thirty minutes wouldn’t be enough. But he’d contemplated this for so long. Yes, thirty minutes would definitely be enough to get Jake interested. Today had to be the day.
At 10:55 a.m., when Jake pulled into the parking lot his heart pounded and his stomach churned. He could make an excuse. No, Jake was busy. He had to do this now.
Tom opened the door as Jake exited his SUV. He did not grab a camera this time.
“Good morning,” he said as he came close enough that he didn’t have to shout.
“Good morning. Thanks for coming,” Tom responded.
They walked up the stairs to Tom’s office and Jake sat in the chair on his left.
Tom took his seat, put his hands, palms down, on the desk and took a deep breath, obviously concerned about what he had to say.
“OK if I record this?” Jake asked.
“Sure,” Tom replied. “This is going to be difficult for me,” he said as Jake hit record and set his phone on the desk.
Sensing Tom needed some encouragement, Jake looked up from his notepad and nodded.
The time had come.
“I have been struggling with this decision for a long time, many years, but I think you are the right person to tell,” Tom said quickly. “Let me show you something.”