Quinn paused before he spoke. “I’m not a terrorist. I’m a salesman who’s late for work. My boss is right over there, lying in the middle of the street, dead. He’s not dead because of me, either. He died because you didn’t listen.”
The words hung in the air. Officer Channing gritted his teeth and balled up his fist.
“You’re lucky they banned waterboarding a few years back. I promise you when my team finds out what a scumbag you are, you’re going to regret it.”
“But you’re a cop.”
“A New York cop. I’ve had too many of my family die in 9/11 to let the likes of you get away with another attack. It’s not happening on my watch.”
“Do whatever you want. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just come back here tomorrow like I did yesterday and the day before that.”
“What are you saying? Are you actually admitting to casing the joint? You have more of these attacks planned? I’m going to give you one more chance to tell me what you did before I put you in a hole you’ll never get out of.”
In the rearview mirror, Officer Channing watched Quinn lean back and close his eyes. Officer Channing suddenly flung the back door open and placed his hand around Quinn’s neck, squeezing.
“You deaf?”
Officer Channing kneed Quinn in the stomach. “What did you do?” he asked Quinn.
It was too much. Quinn was out cold. Officer Channing tried to revive him with a quick succession of slaps, but Quinn lay there, motionless.
“You think I don’t know who you are, Quinn? I know exactly who you are,” Officer Channing said to the unconscious Quinn.
A few hours later, Quinn awoke disoriented. He forced his eyelids open and lifted his head up from the cold, aluminum desk. Metal chains connected Quinn’s cuffed wrists to the interrogation table. A mirror stared back at him. He’d seen enough movies to know they were watching.
Officer Channing walked through the door behind him. The scent of stale coffee and pastries didn’t sit well with Quinn’s stomach.
“You’re up. Good. Now we can start where we left off.” Officer Channing tossed a yellow notepad on the desk and sat down across from Quinn. “You said there was going to be an accident, and a lot of people were going to die. A few minutes later, a large truck with phony plates just happened to crash into a major intersection and killed dozens of people. How did you know that was going to happen?”
Quinn said nothing.
“You said, and I quote ‘I’ll just come back here tomorrow like I did yesterday and the day before that.’ That sounds like planning to me, with more attacks to come.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
A younger, moderately attractive female officer opened the door and joined Officer Channing. “What did you mean, Mr. Black?” she asked.
“Listen, I know you’ve got no reason to hold me. I didn’t have anything to do with the accident. I had a feeling is all. Just let me go. I’m tired, and I’m not feeling well,” Quinn said.
“Quinn, is it?” the female officer asked. “I’m Kate. You seem like a nice enough guy. You’ve got no priors. Not even an arrest. If you tell us everything you know, we might just be able to help you. How does that sound?”
Quinn squirmed in his seat.
“You look upset, agitated,” she said.
“My friend just died. What do you expect? I’m handcuffed to this table being questioned by a couple of clueless cops. My head’s pounding because Officer Scott Channing over there got his rocks off, beating the crap out of me in the squad car while my boss was lying dead in the middle of the street. How would you be acting?”
Kate glanced at Officer Channing, then caught herself before she looked too long.
“How do you know my name’s Scott?” Officer Channing asked.
“Let me go.”
“I’ve got you exceeding three violations, enough to hold you for 48 hours. And now I have you on suspicion of terrorism and terroristic threatening. I’m sure we can find a few more charges if we need to,” Officer Channing said.
Quinn smirked.
“Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not staying here. Not for long, anyway.”
“I don’t care what kind of lawyer you have, Mr. Black. We own you for the next two days. That’s a long time to find out what we need to know,” Officer Channing replied.
Quinn stopped talking. Over the next few hours, several different officers came in and out of the interrogation room. They used different tactics, attempting to coax Quinn into saying something about the accident.
After a few more hours, Quinn’s face turned yellow. “I need to use the restroom. Now,” Quinn said.
“You’ll get to use the restroom when we finish with you when you’ve given us what we need,” Officer Channing said.
Quinn’s stomach grumbled.
For once, Quinn didn’t think back on the day. Instead, he thought about the summer before ninth grade and the conversation he would’ve had with Jeremy if he was there. He thought about what Jeremy would tell him he should do to stop Logan’s death without ending up in the hospital or prison. Quinn thought about Bob Barker.
His eyes grew heavy. He didn’t fight it.
“Come on down,” Bob Barker’s voice said through the television, accompanied by the program’s magical musical jingle.
“No, not again, not the hospital.” Quinn kept his eyes closed. Swallows chirped in the background. A French door opened behind him. A humid gust of wind kissed the back of his neck.
“Hey, can you help your old man with this?” a voice said at the front door.
Quinn opened his eyes. He wasn’t on a bed in the hospital. He was on a La-Z-Boy, his dad’s favorite, in his childhood home. “Dad?”
Chapter 4
Sunday morning: August 15th, 1999.
Day 1.
Quinn’s arms and legs were skinnier than they had been in decades. He blinked his eyes a few times just to check to see if he was still dreaming.
“What’s going on?” Quinn asked as his voice cracked.
“What’s going on about what?” Quinn’s dad asked. Frank had thinning hair, a bit of a potbelly, and soft eyes.
“Never mind. I just fell asleep. That’s all,” Quinn said as he stood up to help his dad bring in the groceries. Childhood memories flooded Quinn’s mind. He remembered there was something important about this conversation, but it was a long time ago.
“Quinn, I’m really proud of how you handled things when Mom and Dad died, the way you talked to Amy about the whole thing.”
Quinn hadn’t seen his sister Amy in the last few years, at least not in 2021. She stayed in the upstate area with their parents but then moved to Seattle to go to college after high school. He hadn’t seen her since.
“Amy,” Quinn said as she struggled to carry a glorious purple and black BMX bike over her shoulders. An enormous, shiny, red bow topped it off. Quinn’s mind began to clear.
Amy was just as energetic as he remembered, but that was all Quinn’s doing, even if he was too humble to admit it. Quinn’s parents weren’t sure if they could lift Amy’s spirits after her grandparents’ death, so Quinn took matters into his own hands to cheer her up, spending as much time with her as he could until her mood brightened. The BMX was payback from his parents for helping her through the funk.