Break My Heart For What Breaks Yours
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“I’m not sure if I should be happy or sad that you’re here,” said the woman. “You know, we were just talking about you.”
The man was looking at her with a confused look on his face and she couldn’t help but laugh. She didn’t think he would ever understand why she was there in the first place. It wasn’t like they had any mutual friends. The only thing she knew of him was what he looked like from the newspaper article. He probably thought it was some kind of joke to see her standing outside their door.
She hadn’t been able to get this far without being noticed by someone. She could hear voices coming from inside the house as well. They sounded like two men arguing over something important. There was also another person who was trying to calm them down.
That was when she heard the name, Tom. Was it possible that one of these people was Tom? Maybe he was a relative of hers and she’d never known it.
“It’s no use, Mr. Jones,” came an angry voice from within. “We’ve tried everything to make her stop crying.”
Mrs. Jones’ husband was sitting in a chair next to his wife while holding her hand. His other hand held onto a glass filled with whiskey. Mrs. Jones was still wearing the same dress she wore for dinner last night.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep. She seemed to be doing all right considering how much trouble she was having sleeping.
“Well, I don’t know what else we can do,” said the man. “If she doesn’t want to go, then maybe she shouldn’t have come in the first place.”
He stood up and walked toward the front door. The woman followed him out of curiosity. He opened the door and stepped outside. She saw a man in a black suit standing across the street. He was watching them with a frown on his face. She wondered what was going through his mind. Did he think they were crazy for letting a stranger stay in their home?
“Mr. Jones, please tell me you haven’t forgotten about our agreement?” asked the man. “What are your plans now that she’s here?”
“That’s none of your business!” replied Mr. Jones.
The man shook his head and turned away from the house. As soon as he did so, the woman rushed forward and grabbed the man’s arm before he could walk off. She leaned closer to him and whispered, “Don’t worry about anything, sir. You won’t regret hiring us.”
His expression changed instantly and he smiled. “Good,” he said. “Now, let’s get back inside and figure out how to deal with this problem.”
As the man led the way inside, the woman closed the door behind them. She saw the other man waiting patiently near the front door. This time he was dressed in a black suit and hat. He was tall and thin with dark brown skin and short curly black hair. A pair of glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
“This is my associate, Mr. Jackson,” said the man. “He’ll be helping us with this case.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the woman. “My name is Jane.”
“Likewise,” he replied. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we brought you here today.”
She nodded and felt herself blush again. “Yes, I am. But if you don’t mind telling me, I’d appreciate it.”
“Our client has hired us to find out who killed his son,” explained the man. “But since you seem to have a personal interest in this matter, we figured we might as well ask you to join us.”
“Of course,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I want to help?”
“Because you may end up getting hurt,” warned the man. “Or worse. We need to make sure that nothing happens to you while you’re working for us.”
“Nothing will happen to me,” she assured him. “I promise. And besides, I already told you, I have a vested interest in this case. If anyone is going to get hurt, it should be the killer.”
They went inside and took a seat at the dining room table. She was surprised to see that the house was actually quite large. It was decorated nicely and she guessed that it belonged to a wealthy family. In fact, it reminded her of the homes she’d seen in the movies.
“So, where exactly did this boy die?” asked the woman.
“In a small town called Shingle Springs,” replied Mr. Jackson. “About three hundred miles west of San Francisco.”
“And you say the body was found in a mine shaft?” asked the woman.
“That’s correct,” answered Mr. Jackson.
“How long ago was this?” asked Jane.
“Three months ago,” replied the man. “There was a mining strike there and many miners were killed or injured.”
Jane remembered reading about the incident. One of the mines had collapsed and buried dozens of workers alive. Many of them died from suffocation. The rest were trapped under tons of dirt until rescuers dug them out.
“Was the boy’s death related to the mine accident?” asked Jane.
“We don’t know yet,” said the man. “But we believe it is possible. That’s why we’ve been hired by the boy’s father to solve the mystery.”
“You mentioned something about a letter,” said Jane. “Can you read it to me?”
“Sure,” he replied. “It’s right over here.”
He picked up a piece of paper from the desk and handed it to her. The writing was hard to decipher because some words were crossed out. It seemed like the writer was trying to hide his identity.
“Who wrote this?” asked Jane.
“That’s what we intend to find out,” said the man. “Unfortunately, the boy’s parents didn’t leave any clues when they sent the letter. All we know is that the author signed it ‘John Doe.'”
“Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” asked the woman. “Could it be John Doe, the famous outlaw?”
“Not necessarily,” said the man. “We can’t rule out the possibility that the letter was written by someone else.”
“Maybe the author isn’t even dead,” suggested the woman. “Perhaps he just left the country after killing the boy. Or maybe he’s hiding somewhere and hasn’t returned home.”
“Either way, we need to find out who wrote this letter,” said the man. “If we do, then we’ll know how to proceed.”
“Then let’s hope it wasn’t written by an innocent person,” said the woman.
***
The woman looked at the clock on the wall. They’d spent more than two hours talking and now it was time to go. She got to her feet and thanked them for their hospitality. As the door opened, she saw Mr. Jackson watching her. He smiled and winked.
“Good luck,” he said. “And remember, if you ever need our assistance, call us.”
“Thank you,” she replied. “I will.”
Outside, she paused to look around. She hadn’t noticed it before but the house was surrounded by trees. There were no other buildings nearby except for a barn that stood across the road. A horse was tied to a hitching post outside the barn.
“Mr. Jackson,” she called. “Is your ranch close to here?”
“Just down the road,” he replied. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
As they walked toward the barn, she felt a sudden chill run through her body. Was it because of the cold wind blowing off the mountains? Or was it the sound of the horses’ hooves pounding against the ground? Whatever the reason, she shivered as they entered the barn.
“This place looks familiar,” she said. “Did you use to live here?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Jackson. “My wife and I raised our children here. But we sold the property last year.”
“What happened to the house?”
“We moved to another location,” explained the man. “Our son lives in Washington State and we wanted to spend more time with him.”
“I guess you’re not too happy living so far away from the city,” said Jane.
“No, I’m not,” replied Mr. Jackson. “But my wife has grown old and needs help. So we decided to move closer to San Francisco.”
“Your wife must have loved this place,” said Jane. “She always talked about raising her kids in the country.”
“Well, she liked the quiet life,” said Mr. Jackson. “And she enjoyed having all these animals around.”
“Do you still own this land?” asked Jane.
“No,” answered Mr. Jackson. “Someone bought it.”
“So where are you moving to now?” asked Jane.
“To Montana,” said Mr. Jackson. “A friend of ours owns a cattle ranch there. We plan to buy some cows and start a new business.”
“Montana!” exclaimed Jane. “That sounds exciting.”
“It should be fun,” agreed Mr. Jackson. “But we won’t stay long. After a few years, we’ll probably return to the West Coast.”
“Why?” asked Jane. “Don’t you like the West?”
“I love the West,” said Mr. Jackson. “But I hate the people who live here. You see, most of them are cowboys and miners. And they don’t care much for women. If we stayed here, my wife would never get any respect.”
“That’s sad,” said Jane. “But it shouldn’t stop you from enjoying yourself.”
“You’re right,” said Mr. Jackson. “We’ll make sure to enjoy ourselves while we’re here.”
Jane followed Mr. Jackson into the house. He went upstairs to retrieve his suitcase. When he came back downstairs, he took her arm and guided her to the front door.
“I’ve enjoyed meeting you,” he said. “And I hope we meet again someday.”
“Me, too,” she replied. “Goodbye.”
They shook hands and then watched each other until they turned the corner. The moment the door closed, Jane rushed inside. She pulled out the letter and read it once more. Then she ran up the stairs. She had to tell Tom what she’d learned.
***
Tom sat in the kitchen reading a newspaper. His mother was busy cooking dinner. He heard the front door open and then shut.
“Dinner is almost ready,” said Mrs. Murphy. “Are you hungry yet?”
“Not really,” replied Tom. “I think I’ll wait until later.”
Mrs. Murphy nodded and continued to stir the pot on the stove.
“Where did you go today?” asked his mother.
“To the library,” replied Tom. “I met a girl named Jane.”
“Was she pretty?” asked his mother.
“Very pretty,” said Tom. “And very nice.”
“How do you know?” asked his mother. “Have you seen her before?”
“No,” said Tom. “But I saw her picture in a magazine.”
“What kind of magazine?”
“The Ladies Detective Agency,” answered Tom. “I picked it up at the library.”
“Sounds interesting,” said Mrs. Murphy. “Maybe you can read me one of the articles next time you come over.”
“I will,” promised Tom. “Bye, Mom.”
He left the room and headed upstairs to his bedroom. As soon as he stepped inside, he noticed the letter lying on the floor. He bent down and picked it up. It was addressed to him. He opened the envelope and found a note written by Jane.
Dear Tom,
Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you anything about myself. But I didn’t want to give away my secret.
If you ever need help, please let me know.
Sincerely,
Jane
Tom folded the note and put it in his pocket. He looked around the room but didn’t find any clues. What could Jane mean when she wrote, “help”? Did she mean help finding a missing person? Or did she mean something else entirely?
As he pondered the question, he remembered the conversation he’d had with Mr. Jackson earlier that day. He wondered if Jane knew about the letter. Was she trying to warn him against talking to Mr. Jackson?
Before he could decide, his mother called from downstairs. “Come eat your dinner,” she said.
“Right away,” he replied. “But first I’ll take a look around.”
He walked to his closet and searched through the clothes hanging inside. There were no clues. Next, he checked under his bed. No luck. He moved to his desk and began searching the drawers. Nothing. He tried the bottom drawer. Still nothing. Finally, he reached into the top drawer and pulled out an old photograph album.
Inside the album was a photo of Jane. Her hair was tied back and she wore a white dress. She smiled broadly and held a bouquet of flowers.
“Who is this?” he whispered.
The only thing he knew for certain was that Jane had been married to a man named Richard. That was all he needed to know.
After leaving the album on his desk, Tom went downstairs and ate dinner. He wasn’t particularly hungry. But he forced himself to eat anyway.
When he finished eating, he returned to his room and took another look at the picture. He studied the image closely. Then he looked at the date printed below it: May 5, 1878.
It was the same month and year that Tom had arrived in Arizona Territory. Could Jane have known he would be here? And why hadn’t she told him about the marriage or the divorce? Why hadn’t she mentioned the name of the town where she lived?
A knock sounded at the front door. Tom hurried downstairs. He opened the door and found Mr. Jackson standing there.
“Hello, Tom,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt your evening.”
“Not at all,” said Tom. “Can I help you?”
“Actually, I was hoping you could help me,” replied Mr. Jackson. “I’ve just received some disturbing news.”
“About what?” asked Tom.
“That’s not important now,” said Mr. Jackson. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay,” agreed Tom. “Let me get my coat.”
Mr. Jackson led Tom outside. They rode in silence for several minutes. Tom kept glancing at Mr. Jackson. He seemed nervous.
“So how are things going with Miss Smith?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“Fine,” replied Tom. “She’s very nice.”
“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” added Mr. Jackson.
“Yes, I am,” said Tom. “I like working with her.”
“Good,” replied Mr. Jackson. “I’m glad to hear it.”
They stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking the Colorado River. The sun was setting behind them and casting long shadows across the desert landscape.
“This is a beautiful view,” said Tom.
“You think so?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“It certainly is,” confirmed Tom.
“Do you see anything unusual?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“Like what?”
“Anything that doesn’t belong here,” said Mr. Jackson.
Tom thought for a moment. “No, I don’t,” he finally answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Because there should be nothing out here but sand and rocks,” said Mr. Jackson. “And yet we’re looking at a forest.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Tom.
“There should be nothing here except sand and rocks,” repeated Mr. Jackson. “Yet look at the trees. See how they grow right out of the ground.”
“How can you say that?” asked Tom. “Look around you. You must be mistaken.”
“I’m not,” said Mr. Jackson. “I saw this place for myself today. This isn’t a natural formation. It’s a city.”
“A city?” asked Tom. “Where?”
“I don’t know exactly where,” said Mr. Jackson. “But I will tell you one thing. When I came upon it, I was stunned by its size. I couldn’t believe anyone would live in such a remote location.”
“I agree,” said Tom. “If I ever come across a city like that, I’ll never leave.”
“That’s good,” said Mr. Jackson. “I want to make sure you stay safe.”
“Safe from what?” asked Tom.
“From whoever lives here,” said Mr. Jackson. “Whoever built this city has to be powerful.”
“Powerful enough to build a city in the middle of nowhere,” added Tom.
“Exactly,” said Mr. Jackson. “I also suspect that whoever lives here is dangerous. We need to find out who they are before something terrible happens.”
“I understand,” said Tom. “I’ll keep my eyes open.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Jackson. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to return to the hotel. I have a lot of work to do.”
“Of course,” said Tom. “I’ll walk you back.”
Mr. Jackson mounted his horse. He gave Tom a wave as he rode away.
Tom watched the horses disappear into the distance. He turned toward the hotel. As he walked down the street, he glanced up at the sky. The stars were beginning to appear.
He reached the hotel and went inside. Mary was sitting at the desk. She looked worried when she saw him.
“Is everything okay?” asked Tom.
“Just fine,” replied Mary. “Are you ready for dinner?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I’m starved.”
Mary smiled. “Then let me show you to your room.”
***
After dinner, Tom returned to the library. He sat on the sofa and picked up the book he had started reading earlier. After a few minutes, he closed the book and stared at the ceiling.
The next morning, Tom woke early. He ate breakfast and then went outside to watch the sunrise. The air was cool and crisp. The desert was covered in a blanket of white. The mountains rose above the horizon, sending a stream of light cascading over the desert.
“Morning, Mr. Jackson,” said Tom.
“Good morning,” replied Mr. Jackson. “Did you sleep well?”
“Very much,” answered Tom. “I love mornings like these.”
“I’m glad,” said Mr. Jackson. “We’re going to enjoy some more of them while we’re here.”
“Will we?” asked Tom.
“Yes, we will,” said Mr. Jackson. “In fact, I’ve decided to extend our visit another week.”
“Really?” exclaimed Tom. “That’s wonderful!”
“It’s good to see you so excited about it,” said Mr. Jackson. “I think you’re going to like it here.”
“I already do,” said Tom. “I wish we could stay longer than two weeks.”
“Well, maybe we can,” said Mr. Jackson. “Let’s hope for the best.”
“So what did you want to talk about?” asked Tom after they finished their meal.
“I wanted to discuss something with you,” said Mr. Jackson. “Something that happened yesterday.”
“Oh?” asked Tom.
“Yes,” said Mr. Jackson. “When you left the hotel this morning, I noticed someone following you.”
“Who was it?” asked Tom.
“I didn’t get a good look,” said Mr. Jackson. “All I knew was that they were dressed all in black.”
“Was there anything else?” asked Tom.
“No,” said Mr. Jackson. “They followed you until you entered the hotel. That’s when I lost sight of them.”
“Could you describe them?” asked Tom.
“Not really,” said Mr. Jackson. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Whoever it was wearing a hat pulled low over his face. It wasn’t a cowboy hat or a fedora. It was a different kind of hat.”
“A dark hat?” asked Tom. “What color?”
“Black,” said Mr. Jackson. “Darker than any other hat I’ve ever seen. But not so dark that you couldn’t see the person wearing it.”
“Do you know how tall the man was?” asked Tom.
“About five foot eight,” said Mr. Jackson. “Maybe a little taller.”
“And the woman?” asked Tom.
“She was shorter,” said Mr. Jackson. “Five foot three at most.”
“Anything else?” asked Tom.
“No,” said Mr. Jackson. “I don’t remember seeing her face.”
“You sure?” asked Tom.
“Absolutely,” said Mr. Jackson. “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Tom. “It was probably nothing. Just someone curious about us.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Mr. Jackson. “Still, I would appreciate it if you kept an eye out for anyone who might be following you.”
“I will,” promised Tom.
“Okay,” said Mr. Jackson. “Now, I want you to meet my nephew, Frank.”
Frank stepped from behind a large rock. He held a rifle in his hand. He wore a pair of black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. A bandana covered his head. His eyes were hidden by a pair of black glasses.
Tom stood and shook hands with the young man. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”
“Likewise,” said Frank.
Mr. Jackson introduced Tom to his niece, Grace. They exchanged pleasantries and then headed for the house.
“How are things going?” asked Mr. Jackson.
“Fine,” replied Tom. “Everything is going as planned.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Mr. Jackson. “I just wish I had more time.”
“Me too,” said Tom. “But we have to leave tomorrow.”
“I know,” said Mr. Jackson. “I hate to say goodbye to such a beautiful country. We’re lucky to live in a place like this.”
“Yes, we are,” agreed Tom. “I never thought I’d find myself living in the middle of nowhere.”
“Neither did I,” said Mr. Jackson. “But now that I’m here, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
“Why do you ask?” asked Tom.
“Because I want you to come back someday,” said Mr. Jackson. “As soon as possible.”
“I’ll try,” said Tom. “If I can get away.”
“I hope you can,” said Mr. Jackson. “This has been a great experience for me. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it. And I think you’re going to love it here, too.”
“I already do,” said Tom. “I’m looking forward to getting started on our next project.”
“Good,” said Mr. Jackson. “That should help pass the time while you wait for your wife to recover.”
“Thank you,” said Tom. “We’re very grateful for everything you’ve done.”
“There’s no need to thank me,” said Mr. Jackson. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. You’ll make me proud.”
The End