Imposter
755 Words
Ezra had been driving for 14 hours straight. He knew he'd need to pull over eventually and get a couple hours sleep, but he really wanted to just keep pushing. He didn't know what Bridgit and the Silverwater Pack were up to, if anything, but he knew figure it out sooner than later could be crucial. If there was anything to find out, that is.
He hadn't traveled more than a couple more hours before he started to nod off. Taking this as his sign, he pulled into a large superstore, parked in the very back of the lot and went to sleep. After just over two hours of rest, he went inside the store, bought energy drinks and hit the road again. He had the ID and paperwork for a Markus Daniels, an address for previous residence and place of employment. If he was right, no such man existed. He was about to find out.
Another 12 hours later and he was pulling into a large city. He knew where to go first, Markus Daniels last place of employment. A large prison facility where he had supposedly worked as a parole officer for over a decade. Ezra walked into the building and requested to speak with the top authority available at the moment. He was ushered into an office and told to wait. Soon, a tall, distinguished looking man in a uniform walked in and sat down across the Ezra. He extended his hand, "Brent Smith, what can I help you with?"
Ezra shook the man's hand and introduced himself. He pulled out a photo of Markus and slid it across the desk. "Do you know this man? He worked here, yes?"
"He did, that's Markus Daniels. What do you need to know about him?"
"Did you sign off on his transfer to the palace?"
The man raised his eyebrows and sat straighter. "I absolutely did not."
Ezra's heart beat faster, he was on to something. He pulled out all the information he had on Markus that had been sent with the transfer. "Is all of this correct?"
Brent looked it over, nodding his head. "Yes, it's all correct."
"Why didn't you sign off on his transfer and how did he end up transferred?"
Brent slid the papers across the table back to Ezra. "Because Markus Daniels is dead. He didn't transfer, he died."
Ezra sucked in a sharp breath. "How did he die?"
"Heart attack they say... he was found in his apartment after not showing up for work three days in a row."
"So we have a man that matches Markus Daniels description, pretending to be Markus Daniels, floating around the palace as a parole officer..." Ezra said quietly to himself.
"Seems like it," Brent said as he stood. He pulled a picture out of a drawer. A full color photo and very clear. Unlike the black and white, somewhat grainy, images Ezra had. He handed it to Ezra, "take a look at this. Is this the man you have employed?"
Ezra studied it. He remembered the man who confronted him in Bridgit's house. There were definitely subtle differences. Subtle enough that they could be missed if one wasn't paying attention. He must be a brother or cousin with a strong family resemblance. "Was the death suspicious at all?"
"It was ruled natural causes, but I had a hard time believing he had a heart attack. He was the picture of health. He ate clean like a religion, he was active and strong. He had no health problems at all. I would know, every person employed here has a yearly, indepth, physical and health screening. If there was so much as an ounce of cholesterol, blood pressure even a few points too high, diabetes... I would know about it. He had nothing of concern. But, I supposed a freak heart attack can happen to anyone."
Ezra nodded, "thank you for your time."
"Not a problem, always ready to help out the Royal Guard."
Ezra sat in his car and looked over the paper work again. Everything checked out, straight down to Brent Smith's forged signature. The palace had been in such a hurry to get parole officers that they likely didn't call anyone to actually speak to them. They saw the paperwork was all in order and accepted. A definite short coming on the palace's part. One that likely wouldn't go unpunished.
Ezra got ready to head back to the palace grounds and confront the imposter. He hoped he wasn't too late...
- Writer
