Available Darkness Season 1

had another, more pressing concern, though. Their being in the same room could trigger either Caleb’s memories, or worse, his abilities. In either event, it wasn’t a risk John could take, especially not with Jacob nearby. John was certain his oldest brother would sense it if Caleb were to suddenly “go online.”
    While John had never sense Caleb, he had sensed Jacob at times in the past. He could feel him out there in the world, though he’d usually been at a safe distance—until now. And while John had managed to mask his signature on their “radar,” Caleb would pop up like a fire in a snowstorm if he suddenly reverted to his feeder state.
    Hope greeted John with more questions.
    “What’s going on? Who’s downstairs?”
    No sense lying.
    “Another brother.”
    “What?”
    “Only he doesn’t know he’s my brother. And he’s with the FBI.”
    Hope stared at him, as if he’d just said the world was made of rubber bands and he needed his kazoo to go fight the Jabberwocky.
    John put both hands on her shoulders and met her eyes, trying to reassure her, “Everything will make sense later, I promise. But right now, I need your help getting them out of here. I need you to play dumb.”
    “That,” Hope said, “won’t be a problem.”

    **

    Hope

    Hope had been plucked from a peaceful dream and delivered into chaos.
    She tried to bury the rising tide of fear and uncertainty crashing around her. Nothing was solid, and everything was suddenly full of hidden dangers, from the bald man who turned out to be another of John’s brothers to the missing girl that seemed to ignite the match which was lighting their world ablaze.
    The painting flashed through her mind. It was easier to believe John’s innocence before FBI agents stood at their door.
    She shook the hands of the two agents. The world moved slowly and her jumbled thoughts flowed like molasses. Her legs became noodles, and Hope stumbled forward.
    The man who introduced himself as Agent Caleb Baldwin— John’s brother, Caleb! —caught her and she smiled sheepishly, “Wow, I’m not really awake yet,” she said with the same laugh she once used to eek extra dollars in nightly tips.
    She couldn’t help but stare at Caleb, remembering pictures of him from John’s locker. They didn’t look much alike, but at the same time, knowing they were related, she could sense some commonalities between them, like vague shapes on a smoggy horizon.
    Why aren’t either of them acknowledging they’re brothers? Does Caleb not know? And if not, why isn’t John telling him?
    The agents showed them pictures of Maribel and asked them questions about Rebecca, the same ones they’d already been asked by the police. Maribel didn’t look familiar to her at all. She’d not seen her in her paintings—a small relief.
    “Do you think this Maribel woman knew something about Rebecca’s disappearance?” Hope asked.
    “It’s too early to speculate,” Caleb said. “Right now, we’re trying to follow every lead and gather as much information as possible.”

    **

    Caleb

    Caleb couldn’t shake the nagging thought that these two knew something. Every instinct told him he should haul their asses in for questioning, toss them in separate rooms, then go to town. At the same time, another part of him said he was wrong. This wasn’t about their guilt, and they didn’t know a thing about this case, but were hiding something else entirely. He could drag them in, he supposed, but perhaps a lighter touch was necessary in this case.
    He decided he’d give them his card and leave, but assign a tail to them, or maybe even follow them himself.
    Caleb handed his card to Hope. “If you think of anything at all, no matter how insignificant it might seem, give me a call. Anytime, day or night.”
    “Will do,” John said.
    As Caleb reached the edge of the porch, he turned back to John, and caught that look in his eyes again. John didn’t turn away as he had before, but rather met his gaze and held it. Caleb then asked, “I’m sorry, have we met before? Your face seems so familiar.”
    John shrugged, “Have you eaten at Umberto’s? I’m a cook there, though I rarely step out of the kitchen.”
    “No,” Caleb said, shaking his head, “It’s been all McDonald’s and gas station grub since we’ve been in town.”
    “I’ve got one of those faces,” John half-smiled, “I get it all the time.”
    “Well, you all have a good day, and remember, call us if you