by Dobi Cross
Calvin grimaced as his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten anything all day and he had just missed lunch. Maybe Sarah would grab something for him to eat. She sometimes did, but it was totally on her whim. Anyway, food had to wait for now considering all that he had on his plate.
He looked down on the piles of paper strewn everywhere on his desk and sighed. He still had a long way to go with the deal he was working on, and he had a meeting with the other party in three days. Most of the deal terms had been locked in, but there were still two critical areas that needed to be hashed out for the deal to be worthwhile. And Calvin was shooting for it to be highly profitable. That meant he had to be prepared for every eventuality. This deal could net him a generous bonus and a chance to move from this generic office—only big enough to fit his brown oak desk and two black swivel chairs—to a much larger office on the twelfth floor with its huge windows and spacious dimensions. It would be a glorious day indeed when that happened.
Calvin ran a hand through his dark wavy hair. His colleagues would say that he wasn't particularly handsome with his beak-like nose and thin set lips that curled easily into a frown, but his physique more than made up for what he lacked in beauty and charisma. Calvin worked out religiously and kept his body in top form. And he didn’t neglect making sure that he wore the right clothes to complement it. Today he was wearing a grey custom Italian suit with white crisp cotton shirt matched with a pair of black Stefano Bemer shoes. He had received multiple compliments from the ladies in the office as he headed in. But he wasn’t interested in any of them; they had neither money nor connections. And he needed both.
He heard a knock on his door. He looked up to see Tom Cavanaugh poking his head into the office. Calvin had worked with Tom on previous deals for the company where Calvin had been the external counsel. Tom had also been the first friend he’d made at the company when he joined a year ago.
Tom pushed the door open and strode in without waiting for a response, shutting the door behind him. The smell of bacon followed him in. He squeezed his bulky frame into the black swivel chair opposite Calvin. Tom was unassuming, with curly brown hair, a double-chinned face, and a pendulous belly that was a testament to how much fried chicken he loved eating. Tom had never missed a day at the cafeteria as long as Calvin had known him.
Calvin tried to mask his annoyance. He wasn’t really up for a visit, but there was no point in telling Tom he was busy. He would not leave until he had said his piece.
“Have you heard?” Tom said.
“Heard what?”
“Martha Adams in HR is dead. She was murdered.”
Calvin arched one eyebrow. “Murdered?”
“Yes, she was found at the Lexinbridge Medical School lab. It was all over the news in the cafeteria.”
Calvin leaned back. He remembered her. Skinny, with a forgettable face and a voice that tended to grate on the nerves. She was constantly going on about one diet or the other. Not that any of it would have enhanced her chances of scoring with the opposite sex. Her attitude made sure of that. She was a notorious complainer, and after working with her for a week, he had been ready to pull out all his hair. He got the sense she wasn’t really liked in the office, but he didn’t think it was to the point where she would be murdered for it.
“Too bad for her,” he muttered. He looked at his friend suspiciously. “Why are you telling me about this?”
“You guys seemed to have been joined at the hip last year.”
Calvin gave a sardonic laugh. “Me? Martha Adams?”
“Seriously. I thought you guys were dating. When I stopped seeing you together, I figured the flame had fizzled out, so I didn’t bother asking about it.”
Calvin gave Tom a stern look. “Tom, are you trying to insult me by any chance?”
“Hey, no need to get pissy at me.” Tom fiddled with his tie. How he managed to get it around his fat neck was anyone’s guess. “It’s a pity she’s dead.”
“A pity indeed,” Calvin agreed.
“Anyway I just came to tell you about it.” Tom dragged himself upright. The chair groaned as if ready to fall apart. “I gotta go. I’m off for a meeting. Later.”
Calvin didn’t hear Tom leave. His thoughts were on that fateful day with Martha.
It had been a terrible affair. One that he regretted to have been involved in. The thought of it still made him grit his teeth. But it had turned into a great opportunity. And he had not hesitated to take advantage of it. Anyone else would have done the same thing.
He sighed. All of that didn’t concern him anymore. It was in the past. And there was no reason for it to be related to Martha’s death.
He chucked it out of his mind and turned his attention back on the papers on his desk.
It was time to wrap up this deal.
And it was best to put the incident out of his mind.
CHAPTER SIX
Zora heard the key turn in the lock. The front door opened, and Christina walked in. Petite with the most gorgeous red hair, Christina was a sight for sore eyes. People had always wondered how they could be friends since they were polar opposites; Zora was tall and curvy with curly dark hair.
Christina set down her keys and bag on the black granite kitchen countertop and walked over to the couch, where she dropped herself next to Zora. A soft lilac scent wafted up Zora’s nose. The familiar fragrance of Christina.
“You are back,” Zora said. She had remained on the couch after the call with her mom and had somehow lost track of time. She could see the dying rays of the sun peek through the curtains into the room.
"I'm so exhausted,” Christina responded, letting out a big yawn as she kicked off her shoes. “How was your day?”
Zora sighed. “A nightmare.”
Christina looked sharply at Zora. “What do you mean, a nightmare? I thought you were starting Gross Anatomy lab today. And I know you’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Didn’t you see the news?”
“What news? My shift was so busy that I didn’t even have the time to catch my breath, and the patients never seemed to end. What did I miss?”
“Well, it turned into a murder.”
Christina sat up abruptly. “What? A murder? How did that happen? Are you okay?” Her stunning green eyes searched Zora’s face.
“I’m okay, or I think I am.” Zora then told Christina everything that had happened at the lab.
Christina's mouth hung open. "Unbelievable! Seriously though, are you okay?”
“I really don’t know how I feel.” Zora rubbed her eyes. “But I can't seem to get it out of my mind.” She fingered the pendant on the gold necklace around her neck.
Christina placed a hand on Zora’s arm. “This was a pretty traumatic experience for you, you know,” she said softly. “Have you thought about seeing your therapist?”
Zora gave her a harsh look. “That’s not going to happen.”
“But Zora, I’m just afraid—”
“I mean it. I’m not going back there. You know how it was when my sister disappeared. And I’ve sworn off all therapists since then. I’m not going through that again.” Zora got up. “You know what? I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I’ll probably feel better when I wake up in the morning.”
“Won’t you eat dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
She picked up her phone from the coffee table and headed into her room. She could still feel Christina’s eyes on her.
Zora knew Christina was right to be worried. But she was going to handle it on her own, better than last time.
The cadaver on the table had no scars on its body. Zora ran her hand down its back; it was smooth to the touch. Perfect. She picked up her scalpel from the stainless steel surgical bowl and made a horizontal shoulder-to-shoulder cut on the body. As she was about to make a vertical cut down its spine, the cadaver turned its head to the left and stared straight at Zora.
Zora screamed. Her heart pounded against her chest. The scalpel cla
ttered from her hand and fell on the dissecting table. She stumbled backwards and almost fell on her backside. A face that looked like her sister’s stared back at her from the cadaver. It opened its mouth and let out a keening wail.
Zora grabbed her chest as the sound pierced her like a hot knife and scorched her insides. Her skittish heart threatened to burst from her ribcage as if fleeing from the intensity of the heat. She scrambled backwards and didn’t feel any pain when her back hit the leg of another dissecting table behind her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, desperate for fresh oxygen like a man on fire. She pressed her hands hard against her ears to block out the sound.
The cadaver sat up with its legs dangling from the side of the table and continued to stare at Zora from soulless blue eyes. Blood dripped from its back onto the table in rivulets as she remained huddled under the table. Zora watched the blood spread and cover the hands of the cadaver that rested on the table surface.
She screamed again.
Her eyes jerked open. Zora’s pulse raced, and her heart beat furiously. She was back on her bed, her hair limp with sweat and her sheets wrapped around her in disarray. The air felt oppressive as darkness choked the room.
She stumbled out of bed and ran into the shower. Zora crouched in the corner of the stall as water from the rain shower head streamed around her.
She lost track of how long she stayed there mumbling Psalm Twenty-Three over and over again till she felt her heart slow down to a more regular pace and the knot in her stomach relax. Her grandmother had taught her the psalm when she was just a little girl, and it had always been a solace to her whenever she had nightmares. It did not fail her this time as well.
Zora dragged herself out of the shower and stripped off her wet clothes. She toweled herself dry, ran the hair dryer through her hair, and changed into a fresh pair of sleepwear. She straightened her sheets, and then crawled back under the covers. She checked the time. It was just eleven p.m. She still had a long way to go before morning. And there was no guarantee that she would be able to fall back asleep.
Zora cringed at the thought of what was to come. The nightmares would never let up and would run her ragged until the cause of the distress was resolved. It was like a warning. It had been that way whenever bad things happened to her after her sister was kidnapped. In this case, it was because of the dead victim who had been found on her table in the lab. The murderer needed to be found quickly if she was to maintain her sanity and find peace again. Things had gone worse for her in the past whenever she ignored the nightmare and didn’t do anything about what had triggered it. And she wasn’t ready to make the same mistake again. The outcome would be far worse in this case.
There was one person who could help her. Zora would reach out to him later in the day.
With that decision made, sleep came quickly.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Drake Pierce leaned back on his plush black leather swivel chair and folded his arms across his chest. It had been a long week so far attending useless departmental meetings, and he was ready to call it a day. He didn’t understand why his old man insisted that he attend all of them. After all, those employees were been paid to make money for him and his family, and he didn’t see any sense in handholding them. If they couldn’t live up to their responsibilities, then they needed to go. There were many more willing to take their place.
He got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed the beautiful skyline of Lexinbridge. The sun receded in the horizon, casting its red-orange glow on rows of towering glittering skyscrapers arranged in a grid-like pattern and interspersed by city-planted blooms. This was his city, and he planned to own every corner of it. Money ruled here, and Drake’s bank accounts testified he was bursting at the seams with it.
The years spent investing in risky deals had paid off, and he had spent the money expanding his influence in the city. Everyone had a price and could be bought. No one was immune to it. Even the politicians—who were incentivized to keep their hands clean or else face jail time—were susceptible. They all had weaknesses; he had learnt to exploit them. He was now biding his time till his old man croaked.
He had to admit that his father was smart. It was no surprise—Drake had gotten his money-making qualities from him. But his father was limited by his views. Drake didn’t see anything wrong with skirting around the edges of the law. He would never be caught. He was that careful. And even if he was exposed, he could afford the best lawyers money could buy, and the judges were already in his pocket.
Drake could see, reflected in the window, his Adonis looks that the ladies adored—sun-kissed wavy hair that curled up at the base of the neck, a chiseled symmetrical jaw line, piercing blue eyes, a smile that made the girls swoon, and a lean build accentuated by a light blue dress shirt and grey three-piece suit with matching burgundy silk tie and pocket square, topped off with diamond-encrusted gold cuff links. It didn’t help that he had graduated with a major in Finance from NYU, followed by an MBA at Harvard. The ladies clamored and sold themselves for a chance to be with him. All he had to do was flick a finger and they would come running. He was, of course, happy to oblige their wishes, and even then, he always remained in control.
Except for that one time when he hadn’t been able to help himself. Her pale blue innocent eyes had drawn him in and awakened the animal in him.
Drake shook his head to drive the thought away. It was a time he didn’t want to remember only because cleaning up the ensuing mess had made him vulnerable to those who helped him. And that was a position he did not plan to put himself ever again.
He had been lucky that his father hadn’t figured it out. Of course the old man had his suspicions, but there was no evidence. It would have been the perfect excuse to cut Drake off from the company. Which his father would have done. The old man was brutal that way. He made no allowances for anyone, not even if you were his son. If Drake didn’t know better, he would have thought he was adopted.
Drake could not allow his hard work to be in vain—not now, not in the future. He had to be more careful. His old man had eyes and ears everywhere, and Drake needed to stay under the radar till the firm became his.
He ran his hands through his blonde wavy hair. It was time to let loose. A trip to the H Club was in order. Drake had heard about the new girl, Susie, and he needed to see for himself if she lived up to expectations. If she did, then she would be perfect for tonight’s exercise. Just thinking about it got his blood flowing.
He walked back to his desk and pressed a hidden button beneath the desk. His bodyguard, Tiny, knocked on his frosted glass door and stepped in. Tiny filled the entrance of his office with his wide muscled build and tree-trunk legs. Drake had saved Tiny five years ago from life imprisonment, and Tiny had sworn allegiance to him then. They had been together ever since.
“Let’s go to the H Club,” Drake said.
The night was about to get interesting.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Professor James Oakley exited the elevator at the basement floor of the Genetics building and walked into the darkened parking lot. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted. The parking garage’s hidden illuminance sensor and presence detectors triggered the lights as his long legs ate up the distance to his car. The vehicle, a BMW E30 M3 Coupe, winked at him from the far right corner of the garage.
Seeing his car always made his heart race. It had been an impulse buy many years ago right before his career started its meteoric rise. He loved everything about it from its salmon-silver metallic color, to the supple all-black leather interior, and to its boxy body form which hid a powerful inline-four engine under the hood. He had maintained it religiously over the years, and the car shone in response. It was still as gorgeous today as it was the day he bought it. He considered the car his good luck charm; his career had accelerated beyond his wildest dreams since its purchase, making him the envy of all his colleagues.
Professor Oakley glanced at his watch and frowned. He was already
very late. He had promised his wife that he would be home in time for dinner. She had told him this morning that she was making her special chicken-beef lasagna—his favorite dish, one that he never missed. The mere thought had made him postpone any meetings today that could have derailed his dinner plans. But the unexpected had happened.
His secretary had received an unmarked envelope this afternoon on his behalf. Professor Oakley had tried to track down the courier service that had delivered the envelope, but the courier company had confirmed they had not sent a package to him today.
Professor Oakley had torn open the envelope in haste and a single photo had dropped out. A picture that he had hidden in the safe behind the wood panel in his office.
He could never forget the day the picture was taken. After a particularly tiresome day, he had decided to head to the local hotel for drinks at the bar. It was a ritual he had started while still in grad school and which he had maintained over the years. After a few drinks, he’d been ready to head home when he met a young lady in her twenties called Laura who said she was a graduate student at the university and who had a strong interest in genetics. It wasn’t everyday he saw a lady with both beauty and knowledge of a topic he loved.
They had talked over more drinks, and the next thing he knew, he’d opened his eyes to see himself lying naked on a bed next to a different girl—clearly underaged and nude. A rotund man with tattoos peeking out of his collar had been taking pictures of him. It dawned on him that his drinks had been spiked. But it had been too late to do anything about it. The pictures would ruin his career and marriage, and the police would never believe that he did not sleep with the minor.
The blackmails had started that day, and he had been paying them off ever since. But there had been no issues, as he always made the payments. So he hadn’t expected one of the pictures to surface again today.