Page 40 - WTP VOl. XI #1

The Stranger Inside (continued from preceding page)
The man’s smile looked both mischievous and trium- phant, like that of a chess player whose opponent had just fallen into his trap. “Sure, I know you’re Mitch,” he said. “But who’s Mitch?”
Mitch blinked, said nothing for a moment. “You’ve known me since college.”
“Met you in college. But did I know you then? Or now?” The man leaned forward. “Do we ever really know anyone—our friends, our family, ourselves? Know them all the way through, way deep inside? Un- nerstand what I’m sayin’?”
Mitch grimaced. On the plus side, this was more evi- dence that the man really was who he claimed, since Billy had always indulged in pseudo-metaphysical horseshit as if he still lived in the dorm and life was just a late-night bull session. But by this point in life, Mitch had little patience for time-consuming mind games.
“Hey,” said the man. “Gotta use the facilities, exercise my excretory functions.
"Where—?” Mitch pointed.
“Thanks, dude,” the man said as he stood up. “Think it over while I’m gone. Then when I get back you can confirm that we’ve got an agreement.”
“What if we don’t have one? What then?”
The man smiled and patted near the top of his pants. “That’s one thing you don’t wanta find out. One of many.”
Mitch’s eyes widened slightly. As the man walked out of the room Mitch looked for a bulge where the man had patted, any sign that the man was carrying a piece. But he couldn’t tell.
Then he felt his cell phone vibrate. Pulling it out he saw that Becca, a few yards away in the bedroom, had texted him. He opened the message and read:
“Googled Billy B of Eagle Pass. Did time in state prison. Got out, got rich, nobody seems to know how. Then just disappeared about yr. ago, after cashing out all accounts. Still missing. Associates are suspects, but case still unsolved. GET THIS GUY OUT OF HOUSE!!”
As Mitch finished reading, another message arrived: 33
“Should I call cops? Dangerous if he finds out I did! But got to do something to GET HIM OUT!!”
“What’s the good word?”
Mitch looked up from his phone. The man stood at the edge of the living room, smiling. Mitch won- dered if there truly was more menace in the smile now or if he was just now noticing what had been there all along.
“The good word is you’re missing,” he replied, manag- ing to keep his voice steady.
“Vanished about a year ago.”
“Dude, you Googled me?”
“I didn’t,” Mitch replied. “A text—somebody—” Immediately he realized he shouldn’t have spoken.
The man smiled. “How’d somebody know what name to look up? Don’t recall either of us sayin’ my name since I been in the house. Do you?”
Mitch said nothing, trying to remember. The man had identified himself as Billy on the porch, but Mitch was pretty sure Becca couldn’t have heard that in the bedroom.
“No matter,” the man said casually, returning to the sofa. “Reliable information, bro. Got on the wrong side of some very devious people. Folks who’d think nothin’ of reachin’ down your throat and tearin’ out your very islets of Langerhans.”
“What?”
“I’m talkin’ bad hombres, compadre. So I had to lay low. Sound familiar? Now you see me, now—” He