John Locke - Now & Then

Special Smashwords Edition

NOW & THEN

(a Donovan Creed Novel)

By

John Locke

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

NOW & THEN

Special Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Copyright © 2010 John Locke.All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

Cover Art Design: Telemachus Press, LLC

Cover Art:Copyright © istockphoto/Larysa Dodz (girl on beach)Copyright © istockphoto/Lurii Kovalenko (ancient ship)Copyright © istockphoto/Kirill Vorobyev (cat)

Edited by: Winslow Eliot

http://www.winsloweliot.com

ISBN: 978-1-935670-07-0 (eBook)

Published by: Telemachus Press, LLC

http://www.telemachuspress.com

Visit the author website: http://www.lethalbooks.com

For my mother, Maurine, the remarkable woman who has been a life-long inspiration to me: I have finally written a book that contains less than two dozen truly dirty words.

Foreward

There are people in this world who move through our lives quietly, unassumingly, who, seeking nothing in return, take away our pain.

Prologue

TWELVE MONTHS EARLIER…

The young reporter’s name was Joe, and he was unhappy about the assignment. He had to interview the lead in a college play and try to make the segment interesting enough to fill two minutes on the local TV news. He’d rather be covering a murder or congressional scandal, but Joe was new to the station, and dues had to be paid. He’d come here tired and his back was killing him from the elbow shot he’d taken in last night’s rugby game.

When Libby Vail entered the room he showed her where to sit, and after the camera guy spent a few minutes checking the lighting, Joe tried to sound like he gave a shit about the interview.

But he didn’t.

It was such a small-town production, and Libby, while certainly adequate for this role, was an unlikely candidate for Broadway stardom. As Joe slogged through the list of bullshit questions, he couldn’t help but notice the light tingling in his back where the pain had been. As the pain dissipated, a feeling of euphoria began sweeping over him. Were the anti-inflammatories finally kicking in?

Just before wrapping up, he said, “Tell me something about you that few people know.”

Libby Vail’s face grew animated. She looked from side to side, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

“Well,” she said, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m a direct descendant of Jack Hawley, the pirate.”

Joe gave her a confused look.

“Gentleman Jack Hawley?” Libby said.

“Sorry, never heard of him.”

Libby giggled. “Oh well.”

Joe signaled the cameraman to pack his gear.

“Sorry I wasn’t more interesting,” Libby said.

Joe took a moment to glance at her. Was she pouting over her complete snooze of an interview? She didn’t appear to be. He studied her a moment longer and decided Libby Vail was a pretty little thing, frail, with big green eyes and an expressive face.

“You did fine,” he said.

“Really?”

Joe prepared to ease himself to a standing position but suddenly realized there was no “easing” necessary. His back was completely fine. There had to be something more at work here than anti-inflammatories. Crazy as it seemed, there was something about being near Libby Vail that made him feel stronger, more energetic. Without giving a second thought to his former back injury, he took up a swashbuckling pose, pretended to cut a swath of air with his imaginary sword. Then he removed his pen and note pad from his pocket and started to write.

“Jack Hawley, you said?”

Libby’s laugh spilled out of her smile. “ Gentleman Jack Hawley.”

She stood and brandished her own imaginary sword, struck a pirate’s pose, and said, “Arrr!”

Joe laughed and said, “Aye, Aye, wench. That just might be the angle this story needs.”

That night his station ran the story.

Three days later he had an even better story:

Libby Vail had gone missing.

Part One

NOW

Chapter 1

IT WAS ONE of those arguments you could see coming a mile away.

“Things are going great between us,” Rachel said.

I nodded, warily.

We were on the porch swing of The Seaside, a bed and breakfast in St. Alban’s Beach, Florida. It was early evening, and the light summer breeze from the ocean kept the mosquitoes at bay. We’d had dinner at Chez Vous, a pretentious little grease pit on Cane Street, and though I’d rate our meal somewhere between appalling and insulting, neither of us seemed worse for the fare.

“You love me,” Rachel said.

“I do.”

“And I’m fun, right?”

“Undeniably.”

“Just imagine how much fun we’d have if we lived together!”

I didn’t respond, didn’t so much as lift an eyelid.

“Kevin?”

“Mmm?”

“What do you think?”

It was one of those moments when you have to be honest or happy, and you can’t be both.

“Kevin?”

A train rumbled faintly in the distance. Rachel’s head was in my lap. She looked up at me, studying my face, as I rocked the swing with my feet.

“Kevin?”

Rachel knows my name is Donovan Creed, but she’d met me as Kevin Vaughn, and she’s comfortable calling me that, so I don’t make a big deal out of it.

“Know what I think?” I said.

“What’s that, honey?” she purred.

“I think things are perfect just the way they are.”

Her body stiffened a half-second before reacting—a useful bit of information to file in my brain, since my continued existence often comes down to knowing such details. Compared to most humans, a half-second is quick. In my line of work (I kill people) it’s a lifetime.

Literally.

So Rachel was painfully slow by my standards, a good thing, since her bi-polar personality dysfunction had become more pronounced each day of our vacation, occasionally leading to sudden violent outbursts. I love dating her, but my life could be in danger with a live-in relationship. As long as I remain conscious, she can't seriously harm me. But if we were to live together I’d eventually have to sleep, and all bets would be off.

“You’re a fucking bastard and I don’t want to see you, ever again!” Rachel shrieked.