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Authors: L Carroll

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BOOK: Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins
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“I know,” he continued. “I thought so too.
But I just couldn't shake it—that feeling. I had to call, just to
be sure.”

“Well, thanks for your concern, but
everyone's perfectly fine here.” Nathan smiled at Maggie as she
came back into the kitchen to get a glass of water. She poured one
for herself and one for him and sat down at the table to see if she
could glean any information regarding Doc’s unusual mood.

“So, did you just call to see if we’re . . .
?”

Bang!
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed through the house. Maggie froze
mid-drink; her azure eyes widened.

“What was that?” Nathan asked as he rose to
his feet and started toward the living room door.

Maggie followed.

“What was what?” Dr. Brockman's voice cried
out from the phone.

“Nothing. Something just fell upstairs,”
Nathan reassured.

Boom!
This time, a deep, heavy thud rattled through the floor above
their heads.

“Okay . . . something just fell upstairs,
again.”

“Nathan!” Doc shrieked into the phone, “Get
out of the house! Call the police! Where’s Maggie?”

“Paul,” Nathan snapped, “calm down! I'm sure
it's nothing. Maggie's right here. She's fine.”

“Nathan, listen to me! Take Maggie and get
out of the house! Don't go up there! I mean it. Get out! I'm
hanging up right now so you can call the police!”

With that, there was a click and the phone
went silent.

 

 

CHAPTER XVIII
INTRUDERS

 

N
athan paused halfway up the stairs and stared at the cell
phone in his hand.
What if Paul’s
right?
He thought to
himself
. What if we're in some sort of
danger? Maybe I should . . . wait a second! This is absurd!
He shook his head and continued climbing the
staircase.

Thud-dump!
Another loud noise sounded from down the hall.
Maggie quickly ran up behind him. She put her hands on his
shoulders, squeezing a little harder than was
comfortable.

“Hey Smaggs, did you leave your window open?
I bet a squirrel's gotten in again. The branches have grown kinda
close to . . .”

He stopped suddenly.

“Dad, wha . . .”

“Shhhh!” Nathan blurted, thrusting his hand
up in front of her face. His eyes were wide with panic—and Maggie
was about to discover why.

“Hey, look! I found it.” An unfamiliar man's
voice sounded from somewhere down the hall.

Maggie’s heart pounded in her chest and a
sense of horror washed over her. Frantically, she started jabbing
her dad repeatedly in the shoulder.

“Hah! I knew it,” another man replied.

Nathan breathed heavily, but didn't
move—despite Maggie’s desperate poking, he stood frozen in place,
listening.

“I knew it was them; this proves it.” The
stranger's voice was low and gruff.

The second man, who sounded younger than the
first, asked, “Is that Tab . . .?”

“Shhh! Yes!” the gruff man answered. “We'll
have to show this to Ultara. There won't be any question, now.”

Nathan looked questioningly at Maggie. She
stopped poking him and shook her head wildly back and forth.

All at once, the husky voice became louder
and clearer as Maggie's door began to creak open. “He and his
daughter . . . where are they now?”

The other man responded, “They're
downstairs.”

“Perfect,” the gruff man answered, “let's
go.”

Nathan jumped. “Go on,” he whispered
insistently. He turned and pushed Maggie. “Go . . . go . . . go!”
he continued urging as they sprinted down the stairs and out the
front door. Once outside, he pulled Maggie across the driveway and
behind a privet hedge, flipped open his phone, and dialed 911.

“Hello? Yes. There's someone in my house!”
He glanced around the hedge to make sure they hadn't been followed.
“Yessss!” He kept his voice low. “They're still in there! No . . .
no, we’re outside. My daughter and I got out of there. We’re in the
bushes!”

Maggie curled up with her
back pressed against the hedge. She was shaking and praying out
loud—this was not
at all
what she had in mind when she had wished for a
less boring life.

“Yes ma'am, it's 2163 East Cedar.” He stayed
on the line with the 911 operator until a Glenhill Police car
squealed around the corner and screeched into the drive.

A tall, muscular officer stepped out and
walked toward him. “Mr. Baker?”

“Yeah, that's me,” Nathan answered, bolting
out from behind the bushes and stumbling awkwardly across the
driveway. “Sir, there are men in my house. At least two of 'em,
upstairs! I thought maybe it was squirrels, but my daughter and I .
. .” He pointed to Maggie whose dark curls were barely visible over
the hedge, “We heard voices. So, ya know, it couldn’ta been
squirrels.”

Another short, muscular officer stepped from
the squad car and joined them. “Okay, Mr. Baker, just relax. We'll
check this out.” He put his hand up in Nathan's face. “You'd better
wait here, sir.” Both officers drew their guns and entered the
house.

Neither Nathan nor Maggie had any intention
of following the gun-toting police officers back inside. They were
both sufficiently spooked, and perfectly content to wait outside,
as they had been instructed to do.

After more than
twenty-five minutes, the shorter officer stepped out onto the front
porch, and rubbed his shaved head. “Uh . . . Mr. Baker? It appears
that there
was
an
intruder in your house.”

Maggie, who had finally come out from her
hiding place behind the privets, looked at him as though that was
one of the stupidest things she'd ever heard. “Yeah, duh,” she
snipped, “my dad told you that when you got here! We heard ‘em
talking, remember!”

Nathan looked at her and scowled. “So, you
didn’t catch ‘em then?”

“No, sir, but we checked the whole house.
It's all clear now.” The officer glanced sideways at Maggie and a
sly smile spread across his face. “Oh, hello, young lady! I didn’t
recognize you with your clothes on.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped
open. In the chaos, she had failed to notice that this was
the
totally hot
cop who had helped her out of the pond.

He chuckled at her obvious embarrassment,
and then cleared his throat. “Hm-hmm. Would you come with me
please, folks?”

They followed him back into the house and
directly upstairs.

“Whoever it was . . . well, it looks like
they only went into one room.” He stopped outside of Maggie's
bedroom door and pushed it open.

“Oh,
no way!
” Maggie exclaimed. “Look at
my room!”

Nathan slapped both hands onto his cheeks
and slowly slid them down his face. “Whoa,” he moaned.

The room was completely destroyed. Papers
were strewn all over the floor. The bedding was pulled off the bed.
Maggie’s clothes were pulled out of the dresser drawers, and the
drawers themselves were flung everywhere and in pieces. Many of her
belongings lay smashed in shattered little piles of rubble.

“Sir,” the taller officer pulled out a
little blue notebook. “It looks as though the intruders were
looking for something. Do you have any idea what that might have
been?”


No, I . . . uh . . . I
don't.” Nathan answered, trying his best to appear calm, but the
horrifying fact that someone had rummaged through his daughter’s
room left him feeling quite uneasy.

“Wait a second,” Maggie blurted, “they said
they had to show someone something, remember?” She struggled to
recall what she had heard. “One of them said 'we have to show this
to’ um . . . oh . . . what was it? Utalar? Ultrala? No . . . it was
Ultara!”

“That's right . . . Ultara,” Nathan nodded.
“They were talking about a 'tab' too.”

The taller officer diligently scribbled down
their comments. “Ultara . . . tab, eh? Either of those things
familiar to you?”

They both shook their heads.

“Is there anything else you can remember?”
the hot cop asked.

“I . . . I don't know,” Nathan replied. “We
didn’t hear much. It all happened pretty fast.”

The officer handed Nathan
a business card with the name
Sgt. Bradley
S. Jacobsen
printed on it. “This is my
direct number. If you think of anything else or have any questions,
you can reach me here.” He pointed to a phone number at the bottom
of the card.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” Nathan shook his
hand.

While her dad finished up with the police,
Maggie walked around her room inspecting what had been done. It was
overwhelming. Her things had been touched by someone she didn't
know. They had gone through all of her stuff. They were looking for
something she supposedly had, and felt they had the right to just
come in and take it. It left her feeling violated, scared, and
angry. They said they had found something—but what? What was
missing?

She continued wandering
through the debris, but then stopped suddenly. “Oh no,” she gasped.
She dashed to the other side of the room and ran her hands
frantically across the top of her dresser. “Oh no, oh no, oh
nooooo!” She started digging through clothes and papers, tossing
things violently through the air. “Where is she?
Where is she?

“Who?” Nathan asked. “What are you looking
for?”

Maggie was breathing heavily, mumbling to
herself furiously. “My hiding seeker, Dad! She's not here! They
took Hidey! She's gone!”

“What?” he asked with a surprised chuckle.
“Why on Earth would anyone take that?”

Sergeant Jacobsen turned an inquisitive eye
on Maggie. “Excuse me, young lady. Your hiding what?”

Maggie, who had no intention of making eye
contact with Sergeant Jacobsen, returned to flinging clothes around
and ignored him entirely.

“Oh,” Nathan jumped in, “it’s nothing
Sergeant . . . just a little statue thing she's had for years.”

“Did it have any significant monetary value,
sir?”

Nathan frowned at him. “Uh, nooo. It was
just a . . . a toy, given to her by . . . .” He stopped short.
There was no way this could be a coincidence. Dr. Brockman had
warned him that they were in danger just seconds before the
intrusion, and Dr. Brockman had given Maggie the hiding seeker.

“By?” Officer Jacobsen pressed.

“Oh, uh . . . .”

Nathan didn't think he'd better say anything
about it just yet. He didn't want this to get any more complicated.
After all, Paul Brockman was his best friend. There had to be a
simple explanation—one that didn't require the intervention of the
law. “I'm sorry,” he apologized. “It was given to her by a very
good family friend.

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Hmmm, well
all right then, if there's nothing more, we’ll just . . . .”

Nathan cut him off. “Nope, don't think
so.”

The officer eyed him suspiciously. “You'll,
uh, call me then if you happen to think of anything else?”

Oh, absolutely!” Nathan replied. He patted
the policeman condescendingly on the shoulder. “Thanks for your
help, Sergeant! C’mon, I’ll show you out.”

Maggie stopped digging and watched her dad.
He was acting strange all of a sudden—strange even for him. She
followed him and the two officers downstairs and looked on as her
father noticeably rushed them out the door.

“Thanks again, Sergeant J.!” He waved from
the front porch smiling widely. “You guys be safe out there!”

As soon as the police car was out of sight,
Nathan’s face dropped. “Okay, Paul, time to explain,” he seethed,
pulling his phone out of his pocket and whipping it open.

“Dad?” Maggie stepped out onto the porch
with him. “What’re you doing? You don’t honestly think Doc had
anything to do with this, do you?”

Nathan ignored her completely.

“Paul, it's Nathan,” he barked.

Maggie had never heard her dad use such a
curt tone with Doc.

“Oh, Nathan! Oh, thank goodness. You're all
right.”

“I am most
certainly
not
all
right, Paul!”

“Dad? What are you . . . ?”Maggie
pleaded.

“Shhhh!” he snapped.

“Nathan, what's going on?” the doctor asked.
“What's happened?”

“My house was broken into, Paul; but I guess
you know that.”

Maggie gasped loudly. She tried to grab the
phone away from Nathan, but he turned so she couldn't reach it.
“Dad! Stop it!” she insisted.

He covered the phone with his hand. “Maggie,
I will handle this,” he scolded, glaring at her sternly.

“But . . . .”

He angrily raised his eyebrows as he put the
phone back to his ear. “Well?”

“Nathan, listen,” Doc began, “it’s not what
you think. I had nothing to do with your house being broken
into.”

“But you knew it was going to happen,” he
accused.

“No, I didn’t know for sure.”

“What do you mean?”

Doc was quiet for a second and then asked,
“Is Maggie okay? This probably really freaked her out.”

“What? Yeah, she’s fine,” Nathan snipped,
annoyed that Doctor Brockman seemed to be purposely withholding
information. “As fine as someone can be when their room’s been
ransacked and their most prized possession’s been stolen.”

“What?” Doc exclaimed. “What’s been
stolen?”

“That silly little figurine you gave
her.”

Doctor Brockman was silent for several
seconds. “Oh, no,” he finally breathed, sounding like someone had
just died. “Nathan, please tell me you’re not serious.”

 

 

CHAPTER XIX
BOOK: Lor Mandela - Destruction from Twins
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