“Inside the backpack you will find a lot of leads that will prove I am not only who I say I am but that what I am telling you is the truth. You will have to dig for some of it, but if you are really interested, and the investigative reporter that I have heard you are, you will find what you’re looking for.”
The interviewer played with the strap of the bag, trying to make up his mind. This could be something really big. It could possibly be his ticket to fame and fortune. The thing was, if this was a hoax, it could drag him down and end his career.
“Let’s say I buy your story for now. I would have to make damn sure that this is all on the up and up. My career would be on the line here,” he said.
“I appreciate that but my
“Well Robert, let me look into this a little more and I will be back in touch with you one way or the other, I promise,” the interviewer said.
“That’s all I could ask for. If you find the material in there,” he said, tapping the backpack with his toe, “to be factual, and you will, you can reach me at this number.”
He scribbled out a phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to him.
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Good,” Lake said as they shook hands.
Lake climbed into his car, checking around before pulling out. He wanted to see if anyone was following him. Sure enough as he passed a line of parked cars, one pulled out a little ways behind him. He turned left to see if they would follow and they did. He slowed down and they slowed as well. He was trying to time the light so he could just slip through on yellow. He slowly crept toward the cross street and when the light turned yellow, he floored the car.
The dark car sped up as well but was unable to make it without going through on the red. He quickly raced up the street and made a quick right turn followed by another right. He wanted to make sure they had no idea where he was headed.
After a few minutes of turning and backtracking, he decided he was safe and headed back to his house. Shack was a more accurate description. Most of the windows had been boarded up and he had no electricity. His bed was a mattress on the floor with a couple of worn blankets. Water he could get from a well outside the back door but it had a heavy sulfur smell and covered everything with a light brown residue. He hid his car in a barn that was just barely standing. He thought it might collapse at any time.
When he got home the ice in the chest had melted and everything was floating in water. Just great, he thought. He dug around in the water and found a soggy lump of cheese. It would have to be his dinner tonight. He wasn’t about to take a chance going out again.
He had run a phone line from the booth at the edge of the street back to the house. Now all he had to do was stay out of sight and let the reporter do his job. If he was any good at all, he would find proof that Lake was telling the truth.
The investigative reporter Lake had talked to, George Snapp, wasted no time in trying to sort out the truth. The backpack contained copies of a birth certificate, high school and University yearbooks, medical records, a DD 214 discharge form that verified that Lake had served in the Navy, and a stack of newspaper clippings.
He spent the rest of the day just organizing and planning how he was going to proceed. The last thing he wanted to do was leave some stone unturned or show his hand too soon. If what Lake had said was true, they might come after him too. Whoever
“Hello. My name is George Snapp. I’m an investigative reporter and I'm doing a story on a student who graduated from your high school.”
“Just a moment. I’ll transfer you to records.”
Terrible music filled the phone while he waited.
“Records, can I help you?”
“I’m looking for the graduation date of one of your students. I don’t need his grades or anything like that; I just need to verify that he graduated when he said he did. His name is Lake. Robert Lake. He graduated in 1971. Can you verify that for me?”
“Just a moment,” she said as she placed him on hold again. Within seconds another voice came on the line.
“Sorry, we have no one by that name on record here.”
“You’re sure? It certainly didn’t take long to check,” Snapp said.
“We do not have a record of anyone by that name. Sorry we can’t help you.”
“Wait. Would you check again? According to your yearbook, which I have in my hand, he graduated in 1971,” Snapp said.
“Your information is incorrect. We have no one by that name on our records. Goodbye Mr. Snapp,” the man said and severed the connection.
Snapp put a check mark by the high school and began calling the Universities he was supposed to have attended. He got the same answer at each place. No such person on record as having ever attended their University. Even when confronted with the signature of the University President, his existence was denied.
