From: lalsoong@sprynet.com (Christine Wirick ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative Subject: Paradox Delusion 04/23 Date: Fri, 07 Feb 1997 12:11:36 GMT Organization: Sprynet News Service Message-Id: <32ff1927.52695942@news.sprynet.com> Nntp-Posting-Host: ad09-044.compuserve.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Chapter Four: For several minutes, Sam pondered over what he'd read and thought about what steps he needed to take to uncover a solution. He knew he should probably call Charles Sheffield, but he didn't have anything new to report. If only he had more information to work with. Meg Miller wants an exclusive, he thought, looking back at the journal in his hands. He set the journal down on the desk and unzipped Patrick's bag. Surely, the psychic carried an address book with him. He found a couple paperback books underneath Patrick's pants, then he browsed through the side pocket, pulling out a small hardbound book with gold letters that read: ADDRESS AND TELEPHONE BOOK. Sam flipped through the pages until he came to the "M's." He found both an address and telephone number for Margaret K. Miller and decided to call the number. He had the receiver in his hand when he realized he couldn't just call her without a legitimate reason. Returning to the journal, he reread the passage about Patrick's luncheon with Meg. He had written about Meg's reaction to this house. That she had not been afraid. That was a good place to start, Sam decided. He could ask her why she wasn't frightened. When a man answered he said, "This is Patrick Marland. I need to speak with Meg Miller." The man asked him to hold for a moment as he got Meg. When she came, Sam introduced himself as Patrick Marland. "I hope I'm not bothering you." "I needed an excuse to get away from my computer for a while. So what did you need?" "I thought I should let you know that the Sheffields hired me and that I'm staying in their home until I'm finished with their case." "Cool! And you're calling to give me that exclusive, right?" Excitement rang through her voice. "That's partially what I'm calling for, but also because I thought maybe you could help me. When you spent the night in this house, you said you weren't afraid. I think probably most people would have been terrified in the same situation. Can you explain why you weren't?" "I could sense that the ghost approaching me was benevolent. She--or at least I'm assuming it was Karen Simms--was frightened. I got the feeling that she was reaching out to me, begging for my help. I don't know. It could have been because I'm a woman. The whole experience was rather exhilarating. It was the most active, as far as I could tell, of the haunted houses I've investigated." "You say that you sensed all this about the ghost? These impressions came to you easily?" "Patrick, as I explained to you when we met, I've been interested in psychic phenomenon since a very young age--not unlike yourself. I'm really surprised you asked that question. You of all people should know that well-developed PSI skills come as a result of years of fine tuning them." "Yes, of course. Look, I know you're a very busy person, but I could really use another perspective here." "Tell me when, and I'll be on the freeway." "Are you serious? I wasn't going to ask you--I mean, could you on such short notice?" "Patrick, when you promised me an exclusive, I turned in a proposal to my publisher. He's prepared to pick up all expenses for an exclusive on this case. Now I hope you have a bed prepared for me, because I will be arriving sometime tonight--if you'll have me." "Just like that, you can drop whatever assignment you're working on?" "Just like that! Only the quick bird gets the can of worms. I don't plan on letting anyone get the scoop from underneath me. It's about a five hour drive from Atlanta. I'll need a couple of hours to gather my things, so I should arrive around--" she paused, apparently either to look at a watch or clock, "--seven p.m." "Then we'll plan on dinner around seven-thirty," Beckett replied. "We'll see you then." After hanging up, Sam removed the paper Charles Sheffield had given him from Patrick's wallet. He dialed the number, asked the hotel clerk to connect him with Sheffield's room, and after two more rings, Charles picked up. "Mr. Sheffield, this is Patrick Marland," Sam began. "I just got off the phone with Meg Miller. She's on her way here." "Has something happened?" "Not exactly, but I was hoping that she would be able to help us. I hope you don't mind if another person stays in your house for a while." "Just get the job done, Mr. Marland. I don't care about your means." "I assure you that we'll take good care of your home, and we'll have it safe for you to move back into as soon as possible." "I'm counting on that. Thank you." "There's one other thing I'd like to ask you. Did you believe in ghosts before you purchased this house?" "No, but I don't see how that is relevant.." "Mr. Sheffield, this house spent a number of years vacant. I was just wondering if you felt any alarm about that." "Well, I was concerned at first, but not because I thought there would be any ghosts. I was worried that there was something physically wrong with the house. One doesn't normally find a house this large for as cheap as my purchasing price." Sam had no idea how much the other man had paid for the house, but didn't figure it was any of his business to inquire. "Thanks for your time, Mr. Sheffield." "You're welcome." Charles Sheffield hung up. Sam went to prepare the remaining spare bedroom for Meg. Afterward, he went to find Raymond to let him know to expect a guest that evening. He found Raymond sitting on the back porch. "That sounds like an excellent idea," Raymond said after Sam told him. "I'm sure Meg will prove to be an asset to us." "I'm glad you feel that way." For a moment, they stared at the back yard, watching the trees blowing gently and the sun shining brightly on the pond. "I finished reading Patrick's journal. He sounds like a perceptive and intelligent man. I still feel a bit uneasy--and afraid--but with a man like Patrick as my guide, I'm willing to open myself up to the possibility that I may have some PSI abilities myself." "I'm happy that you were able to reach that decision so quickly." Raymond stood to look Sam directly in the eyes. "Rest assured that with Patrick as your guide, you're in good hands. He will make sure that all necessary precautions are taken to protect you." "What should I do right now?" "Relax. Your first couple of visions will be stable and sanguine. Don't be afraid to just let them happen." "Are you saying now that I've acknowledged my psychic potential that visions will come as a natural outcome?" "If you relax and are not afraid, they will come." "I think I'd like to be alone for a while," Sam said and returned to his own room. He picked up one of Patrick's novels, Julian's House by Judith Hawkes, and laid atop the covers to read. The story was about a young couple who, after moving into a house, learn that it already has an occupant--of a ghostly nature. The remarkable similarities between the work of fiction and the situation he now faced dumbfounded Sam. He read several chapters before setting the book aside. He contemplated over what Raymond had said to him earlier and realized he felt very relaxed at the moment. Glancing out the window, he noticed that it had started to rain. He had been so wrapped up in the novel that he hadn't heard the patter against the window until now. He saw a woman as she covered her hair with a scarf and dashed several yards to a car. She stepped inside from the passenger door and leaned over to kiss the man in the driver's seat. Suddenly, they disappeared and Sam realized he'd had a vision without knowing it. But what could it possibly have meant? He tried to will the vision to repeat itself. Instead, he saw a young woman in a white wedding dress, walking down an aisle. Her brunette curls danced with her every step. A man was escorting her, but Sam could not make out his face. The people in the church smiled at the bride as she past, tears of joy creasing some of their faces. They reached the chapel and the woman stepped up beside the groom, while her escort sat down in the front pew. Sam could still not make out his face. "Who gives this woman to be wed to this man?" the preacher asked. "Her mother and I," the escort replied. "Do you Samantha--" The image faded and Sam, again, found himself back inside his room in the Sheffield house. He smiled, because this time he fully understood the vision. Then almost immediately, he had an unexpected and unexplainable sense that something wasn't right. He wondered if he shouldn't have said no to awakening his psychic abilities. What could happen now? Would he experience any of that volatility Raymond spoke of? Something's going to happen! Sam thought. He couldn't explain how he knew this or what specifically was going to happen. I better talk to Raymond about this. He got up to search for the assistant. He found Raymond in his bedroom viewing a tape through his camcorder. "Ah Sam," Raymond said. "I was just reviewing a recording that I'm thinking about submitting for a news program." He set the equipment down on his desk. "Something's happened, hasn't it?" Sam nodded. "I had a couple visions. They were stable, just like you promised. I think I witnessed my daughter's wedding." Sam paused. "I'd forgotten that I had a daughter." "That sounds like a good stable vision." "I've realized something else, too, since we spoke earlier. I don't know why I didn't think of it before. PSI is an awful lot like quantum physics. The theory of manipulating time can apply to both concepts. I change the past through quantum leaping, whereas a psychic could potentially alter the future through knowledge obtained through visions." "Sometimes that is true. It is a very rewarding side to being a psychic." "Then why did I come out of the second vision feeling a sense of foreboding?" "I believe that you're intuitively picking up on something that is about to happen." "What?" Raymond's expression mirrored Sam's fear. "I'm not sure." * * * Sam opened the front door to a woman in her middle thirties. She had long golden blond hair and was wearing red cotton slacks and a sweater with a rose print. Lifting a bag in one hand and a bottle in the other, she said, "I hope you don't mind that I brought desert and a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne, Patrick." "No," Sam replied, taken aback by her forwardness. He stepped aside, so she could enter. After a brief pause, Sam said, "Actually, I'm glad you brought the--" "It's a dried fruit and nut mix. I picked them up at a health food shop on my way through town." "They'll be great for after dinner." A buzzer went off in the kitchen and Sam chuckled lightly. "You know, your timing is perfect." She followed him into the kitchen, where Raymond had removed the roast from the oven and was now setting the table. "This must be the assistant you told me about during our luncheon," Meg said. Looking at her bag of dried fruit, she added, "I hope I bought enough." "I'm sure you did," Sam replied. He nodded toward Raymond. "Meg, this is Raymond Steele, my assistant." Raymond held out his hand and Meg shuffled the bottle of champagne, so she could shake it. "It's good to meet you," she said. Without looking away from Raymond, she said, "Patrick, the roast smells delightful." "I'll get the wine glasses," Beckett offered. A search through the cupboards finally produced some glasses, and Sam joined Meg and Raymond at the table. Meg opened the bottle and then handed it to Sam so he could fill their glasses. As he did so, Raymond began cutting the roast and dishing it out. "Thank you both," she said, accepting her meal. They sat down around the table and dished out portions of potatoes and carrots. "So, tell me what's been going on since you arrived here," Meg said. Sam glanced at his assistant. "Raymond here made a video tape. Karen Simms materialized right in front of us, and we were prepared." "Really! I have to see that." Meg's eyes grew wide with excitement. "It isn't very long, a minute or two. That's all," Raymond commented. He turned toward Sam. "I developed the pictures while you read the journal, too. We should compare them to the image on the video and look for any possible discrepancies." "Do you expect to find any?" "If we're truly dealing with a spectral phenomenon, then it's possible that the video and the snap shots won't totally match." "A skeptic would say that they weren't taken at the same time," Meg pointed out. "Probably no one will believe it's authentic." "I would like to see it for myself before I form an opinion." "All right," Sam agreed. "I'll show it to you after dinner." "That would be great. So has anything else happened?" "This morning, while Raymond and I were eating breakfast, our coffee cups slid across the table, and then our plates began spinning, dishes flew out of the cupboard. It lasted for only a minute and then the dishes flew back into the cupboard undamaged. I felt something touch the back of my neck." "It must have been Karen! When she came to me, I could sense that she didn't mean any harm. She's simply a very troubled spirit. Oh Patrick, we have to help her." Reflexively, Meg reached across the table and grasped Beckett's hand. When she realized what she had done, Meg blushed and released her grip. "Sorry about that." "That's all right," Sam said. "I have a feeling that things are going to get far more active around here over the next several days. I hope I haven't placed you in any danger by inviting you here." "I thought you understood that when I accepted your invitation, I accepted the danger. It's a part of my job description." We've been conducting our own research into the Simms past and have learned that after Ben Simms returned from Vietnam, he believed that his wife had had an affair with a reporter named Andrew Montgomery." "Did she?" "No!" Sam replied, raising his voice. "They became friends when he was covering her father's campaign. Her father was a state representative. Maybe there were feelings between them--we can only speculate, but there was no proof that they had actually had an affair." "So, Ben Simms got it into his head that his wife was having an affair and managed to kill himself and his wife in a car crash." "That about sums it up," Raymond said. "I thought you could help us figure out how to convince Ben that he's wrong," Sam said. Meg smiled. "I will certainly give it my best try." "How much contact did you have with Charles and Lisanne Sheffield?" Raymond asked Meg. "Enough," she replied, showing distaste. "I had to interview them, of course, for my articles on this house. Mr. Sheffield was quite eager to provide me with information, but he was extremely protective of his wife--a little too protective." "He can be rude," Sam said. "Yeah. But for some reason Lisanne seems to love the man. Quite frankly, he worries me. I just hope that he never lays a hand on her." "If he has, maybe she'd open up to another woman," Beckett suggested. "If I can get her alone long enough, I will certainly try." Raymond cleared his throat. "I'll wash the dishes, while you two view and discuss the video tape." "You don't want to watch it again?" Sam asked surprised. "I've watched it at least a dozen times already. I don't think I'm going to see anything I haven't already. Maybe a fresh eye can." "I'll give it my best shot," Meg promised as she leaned back to grab the bag of dried fruits from the counter. "Would either of you like some of the dried fruits now?" "Maybe after I'm done with the dishes." Raymond stood and, taking his and Meg's plates, walked to the sink. "The pictures are on the coffee table, and the video's already in the VCR." "Thanks, Raymond. Let's get the video running," Sam said, and he and Meg stood, heading into the living room. After turning on the television, he grabbed the remote and sat down on the sofa beside Meg, leaving a full seat between them. He hit the rewound button. Meg removed a handful of the mixture for herself, and then held the bag out toward Sam, who also took a handful. "A weakness of mine," she admitted. "Most people eat popcorn while they watch television. I like my dried fruits and nuts." Sam picked up the small envelope and removed the pictures. As he laid them across the table, he and Meg glanced at each one. In some, it was difficult to even make out Karen's features, while in others her features were quite clear. "I think I have them in the right order," he said. Using the remote, Sam ran the video in slow forward mode. Several, times, he rewound the tape and began over as they tried to compare the video with the snapshots. They could not find any differences. He allowed it to advance further. Meg leaned forward and waved her arm. "Pause it!" she exclaimed and jumped off the couch, nearly spilling the bag of dried fruit in her excitement. She walked to the screen and tapped Karen's wrist. "She's wearing a bracelet." "What's so significant about that?" "When I was in high school, my best friend and I exchanged bracelets all the time-- friendship bracelets. That's what this is." She turned back to take a closer look at the bracelet. "Hey, Patrick. It has the initials 'AM' on it. Didn't you say the guy who handled her father's campaign in 1970 was named Andrew Montgomery?" "Yes. " "I see?" Meg's expression grew distant as her mind began to work overtime. "Patrick...in the beginning there was AM...Patrick...PM." "What?" "Don't you get it? It's like time--AM, PM. In the beginning there was Andrew Montgomery and now there is Patrick Marland. AM was the beginning of the problem and now hopefully PM will be the end of it. I need to get my computer out of my trunk," she said as she rushed toward the door. "Now, at this hour?" "You have to get inspiration down as soon as it hits. Besides, my clothes are still in the trunk, too." She stepped outside. Sam shook his head, trying to understand how Meg's mind worked. Even as he internally laughed at her impulsiveness, he realized that she had hit on something significant. If Andrew Montgomery had given Karen Simms a friendship bracelet, then they had to have had further contact after Sam's leap in. Was Ben Simms right? Did his wife have an affair? Sam unpaused the tape and continued to watch the video, while waiting for Meg to return. He froze the film on the bright ball of light, then advanced it a single frame at a time. He studied the screen carefully, hoping to see a face amongst the blurred flash. Over and over he rewound the tape to watch it again. He saw the outlining shape of a face, but couldn't make out any features. Meg stepped back inside, barely managing to juggle both her suitcase and portable computer. Sam flicked off the video and coming to her rescue, grabbed the suitcase. He accompanied her to her room before saying good night and retiring to his own room.