The Invitation(7)

“That’s right, or there’s no point in going to school,” he says.

“Well, we better get going,” says Phillip’s wife, as the doorbell rings.

“That’s probably him.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“Well, we’re going, so I’ll let him in.”

“Okay.”

“Come on, Ashley, You don’t want to be late for school.”

Rising to go she kisses Phillip, and says, “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, Ashley. Have a good day at school.”

Moments later he hears his wife greeting the expected visitor, and a few seconds later she presents him.

“This is my husband.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Honey. Drive carefully,” Phillip says to his wife as she exits. He turns toward his guest. “Mr. Colby, you made it.”

“I did. Mr. Garrett, it’s good to meet you, Sir.”

“Please sit down.”

“Thank you.”

“Want some coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.”

As Phillip pours coffee, Agent Colby begins.

“Mr. Garrett, I’m here today simply to hear what you have to say. When we talked on the phone, I assured you that you wouldn’t have to worry about any possibility of self-incrimination, and I want to repeat that. Nothing you say here today will ever be used against you.”

“Mr. Colby, I’m a lawyer. You know I don’t believe that. It doesn’t matter. I’m not worried about incriminating myself.”

“Why did you stop practicing law? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I was an in-house corporate attorney for almost fifteen years, the kind of job that law school graduates dream about. I made a lot of money. New owners came in, and I was asked to do certain things that I thought were unethical, so I quit. I became a freelance photographer. I don’t make as much money, but I’m a lot happier. But you didn’t come here to talk about my photographs.”

“No, I didn’t, Mr. Garrett, although I wish you success in that venture.”

“Thank you. Shall we start then?”

“Sure. Where, and when did you first meet Ken Myers?”

“I met him when we were freshman at Princeton. That was some twenty-six years ago. We shared a small apartment for almost three months.”

“Were you friends?”

“I’d say so. We were on a first-name basis, so, yes.”

“Please go on.”

“I thought it was odd, how little he seemed to sleep. He would stay up at night reading his books. I don’t mean the way you, and I read books. He was a speed reader. I mean a phenomenal speed reader. One night I saw him read three college text books in less than two hours, but it`s the way he was doing it that was so strange.”

“How’s that?”

“His physical action was so automated. I never once saw him yawn, even though he was up half the night with his books.”

“Maybe he was just extra diligent when it came to studying.”

“He wasn’t studying. Studying is when you grapple with something you’re trying to understand. What Myers was doing was effortless. He was comprehending the material as quickly as he read it, and that was at very rapid speed. He was like a machine or something.”

“Did he know that you were observing him?”

“No”

“Did he have any other friends you knew about?”

“None that I was aware of, and he never wanted to go out with any of us, to a football game, or a party, not even on weekends. He was essentially a loner.”

“Let me ask you. From the time you knew him at Princeton, what is the one thing you remember most about Ken Myers?”

“That’s easy. There was another student whose parents lived about a two-hour drive away. His name was Mike Tanner. Once or twice a month he would drive to his parents’ house, and stay for the weekend. One time he asked me to go with him. I was glad to get away for a weekend. When he came to pick me up, Ken was there, so I introduced him. As soon as he looked at Mike Tanner his expression changed.”

“How so?”

“His face seemed flooded with empathy and concern. He shook his hand.”

“You mean Ken Myers shook your friend’s hand.”

“That’s right. At the same time he put his other hand on Mike`s shoulder, almost to reassure him in some way. When I told him we were going up to see his parents for the weekend he immediately asked if he could come with us.”

“You didn’t expect that.”

“No, I was completely shocked. I was so surprised, I didn’t know what to say. Before I could say anything Mike said, ‘Sure, come with us there’s plenty of room.’ I told him again we’re going to visit his parents, thinking that might dissuade him. It didn’t. He just said he was ready to go, so he got a few things, and the three of us got into Mike’s car and started driving. It was strange. Myers was very clear in asking to ride in the front seat that night. I remember that. So, we’re riding along, and they’re doing most of the talking. I’m sitting in the back seat thinking to myself; what’s going on? This is the same Ken Myers who prior to that never, I mean never, went anywhere. Anyway, we drove on into open country. The week before it had rained for six days straight. It was about 8:30 on a Friday night. It was dark. I had no idea where we were. We made a turn on to a secondary road, and drove about a mile, when I heard Ken say to Mike ‘please stop the car for a minute,’ so Mike slows the car to a stop. I’m in the back seat wondering what’s going on. Then Ken reaches over, and takes the key out of the ignition, and just looks at Mike. A few seconds pass. Then we hear this enormous crash. , Mike says, ‘Oh God I think that’s the bridge.’ ‘What bridge?’ I said. Then Ken gives Mike the ignition key, and says, ‘go very slowly.’ So we slowly make a turn in the road, and see the river in the headlights. A section of the bridge we were about to drive over had just collapsed. We wouldn’t have had a chance. There is no doubt in my mind that if Ken Myers didn’t ask him to stop the car that night we would’ve drowned.”