Page 30 of Stryker

“We have to figure out whyPopov said what he did, which means we have to figure out what Johndoesn’t know he knows,” Brick said.

“It could be as simple asa memory of something his father said, an event, or even alocation,” Conor stated.

“It’s a needle in ahaystack,” Stryker said.

“Yeah, and somebody’s setfire to that haystack,” Brick said. “And I guess it’s up to us nowto put it out.”

“I may be able to helpwith that.” John’s quiet voice made everyone turn as he walked intothe room. “I may have something in my possession that will answersome questions.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

John

John stared at the box.This was the last thing he wanted to do—revisit painfulmemories.As if the nightmares aren’tenough. The choice was no longer his; morewas riding on his decision than sentimentality over his past. Hislife and possibly others’ lives were on the line if they didn’tfigure out what the hell the Noah Project people were lookingfor.

“I’m sorry we have to askyou to do this,” Stryker said. “I wish there was anotherway.”

“I know youdo.”

They were back at the apartment, butthe addition of one of the deputies sitting outside in a vehicledoing surveillance was an added insurance. They’d floated the ideaof John moving out to the lake house to stay for his safety, buthe’d refused. There was no way he’d put Julia, the kids, or anyoneelse in danger simply by his presence, so he’d stay where hewas.

John picked up the box and brought itover to the kitchen table. The contents of his father’s safetydeposit box lay within, and a mystery over two decades old wasabout to be cracked open.

“Can I get you anything?”Stryker asked.

“Maybe a glass of water,please.” His throat was dry.

“Be rightback.”

John picked up the scissors and slowlybegan cutting through the years of packing tape he’d used to sealthe box. The strange thing was, he’d often stared at the box,imagined seeing the contents as they were laid out inside. A box ofenvelopes and files, writing indistinguishable, some coins andjewelry, a watch, and a picture of his family in front of theirhouse. He knew that was impossible; it was only his imaginationrunning away with him.

Ithadseemed weird though that theimage had remained the same throughout the years, eachtime.

“Here you go,” Strykersaid as he set a glass of water on the table besideJohn.

“Thank you.”

He continued to cut away at the layersof tape and cardboard. When he finally managed to get the box open,he found the original metal box he’d been presented with by thebank manager inside. He lifted it out as Stryker pushed thecardboard to one side.

This was it. He’d been haunted by thisbox and its contents for over twenty years.

Taking a deep breath, he took hold ofthe handle and lifted the top off the box, revealing its contents.It took John a second, but he soon realized something important:what he’d imagined seeing inside all those times he’d stared at thebox over the years was, in fact, the items in the box, exactly,down to their positions. How was that possible?

“Stryker, if I told yousomething, would you think I’m insane?” Because he was pretty sureit sounded unbelievable.

“I’ve heard some prettyinsane things in my life that turned out to be real, so I doubt youcould shock me.”

“I’m not so sure aboutthat. You know how I explained to you that I can look at things andsee what they should be in the wood before carvingthem?”

“Yes, I remember youtelling me that. We were looking at that piece ofmahogany.”

“Right. What if I told youthat it happens in different ways with differentthings?”

“What do youmean?”

Here goes nothing.MaybeIaminsane.

“I’ve been staring at thisbox for over two decades, and I’d often imagine seeing what wasinside.”

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