Platinum Prey

by Sophie Davis

  For all intents and appearances, I’d been a normal, carefree girl sitting at her desk, perhaps searching excitedly for things to do on her upcoming vacation; a girl only months out of high school and weeks away from the life her parents had carefully planned; a girl with a bright future, full of promise and prosperity.

  Only I knew the truth: I was a girl a few weeks away from the life I’d carefully planned; from the freedom I’d methodically arranged; from slipping out of the noose my parents had tied.

  The fact that I’d been dealing with something much darker, much heavier, wouldn’t have been apparent to any onlooker. I was so careful, never allowing the façade to crack, let alone crumble. But I’d been holding my breath for months, waiting for McAvoy to slip into my room at night and smother the truth, and my life, all at once. If something happened to me, I needed a way for the world to know. A way to ensure they’d see, even if someone silenced me forever.

  That was why I had the butterfly.

  With the weight of the world, the weight of the truth, and the weight of the love I’d lost just moments from crashing down on me, I met David’s eyes.

  Here goes the hundred-and-second time. “Why am I here? Why can’t I leave?”

  Was that hesitation I saw? A falter in David’s seemingly steel resolve?

  Fixing my eyes with his, David took a deep breath. The long, slow exhale that followed was shaky, as if he was expelling a tremendous burden along with all that air.

  “Lila,” he said plainly. “Lila is the reason you’re here.”

  The boulders that hovered just above my head, each one representing all that I’d lost—my future, my love, my innocence, my world—had been waiting with bated breath for David’s answer.

  All that weight now thundered down upon me.

  The world turned black, and I was lost.

  EPILOGUE

  THE DOOR TO his boss’ office was cracked open about an inch. He knew he should knock. It was protocol, after all, but his nerves drove him to rudeness. In a panic, he shoved the door open with nothing more than the flipping and flopping of his shoes to signal his arrival.

  “We have a problem,” he blurted, not waiting for his boss to acknowledge him before rushing on. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to handle this anymore. I think…I think…. It seems that the situation is worse than we thought.”

  The older man—who was not only his boss, but also head of the Montauk Institute—glanced up from where he was eating breakfast at his desk. Bushy eyebrows crawled up the man’s forehead as he was startled by the interruption first thing in the morning. No one interrupted him—ever. Particularly not with an outburst. The hardboiled egg and dry wheat toast were mostly consumed, much to the relief of his employee.

  “Please, sit. Explain.” The employer’s muddy-brown eyes assessed the younger man’s rumpled appearance.

  Having caught sight of his reflection in the car’s rearview mirror, he knew what his boss saw. Strands of his sandy-blonde hair stuck out every which way. Fine, red webbing surrounded his brown irises from too little sleep and too much caffeine. He hadn’t bothered changing his clothes before leaving, and the flip-flops and khaki shorts were a far cry from the attire he usually sported in this setting. Even his fingernails, chewed bloody on the four-hour drive, indicated a man on edge.

  “I don’t even know where to start,” the younger man said.

  His boss wiped the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin, then leaned back in the leather office chair and crossed one leg over the other. Threading thick fingers from both hands together, he placed them on the small paunch of his stomach. Clearly, the diet wasn’t working.

  “The beginning would be preferable,” his boss said.

  The newcomer took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. In his head, he’d scripted this very conversation twenty times on the drive north. Now that he was here, sitting in the very office where he’d pleaded for this assignment months ago, he was at a loss for words.

  “First off—did you know about the apartment?” he asked.

  “I told you when we spoke last week that I did not. Though, admittedly, I did assume that she probably had a place in the city. It was rented in Lila’s name, did you say?” his boss replied.

  “Yeah. There’s also a safety-deposit box that I believe is in Lila’s name. She found it a couple of days ago.”

  “I viewed the footage,” his boss said plainly. “The safety deposit box is where she found the package addressed to Mr. Greyfield, if I am not mistaken?”

  The employee nodded in affirmation.

  “She mailed the package, correct?”

  Another nod.

  “Have you found out what was inside of that package?”

  “No, sir. Not exactly. But Blake went to the apartment last night, which is—”

  “You didn’t call me immediately?” his boss interrupted. “Did she see him? I was just about to watch the footage from yesterday.”

  “No, I…I mean, yes. Well, no, I didn’t know when to call you. Yes, she did see him. But only very briefly,” he said, looking like a scolded puppy. “And they didn’t speak.”

  “I see.”

  The two syllables were a stall tactic that his boss frequently employed, so he waited the older man out. He was already aware of his boss’ intense displeasure with this development. Not that the younger man could blame him, or that he himself felt any differently about it. Blake’s appearance at Lark’s apartment had been unexpected. Blake was a wild card that they couldn’t control. Which had the potential to be dangerous. Neither he nor his boss had planned to involve the boyfriend. At least, not yet.

  “Forgive me, but I fail to see an issue that warranted you driving all the way up here. Particularly since that means you left Raven unsupervised,” his boss rebuked in a stern tone.

  “Sorry, sir. I’m getting to that.” He inhaled deeply, followed by a long, slow exhale—just as his boss had taught him to do when dealing with a particularly stressful situation. Only after this exercise did the young man continue.

  “When Blake stopped by last night, it was to drop off a key. As it turns out, that key unlocks a secret compartment on a butterfly necklace.”

  His boss’ watery eyes widened, smoothing the wrinkles at the edges. “The necklace she discovered in the car?” the older man asked.

  “Yes,” he replied simply.

  His boss made a move-it-along gesture with one of his hands, clearly impatient for his employee to get to the point.

  “Inside the secret compartment was a flash drive. And on the flash drive are a ton of video files. These include recordings of Kingsley Diamond’s board meetings and conference calls between Mr. Kingsley and his second-in-command—a man named William McAvoy.”

  The employee reached into the front pocket of his shorts and withdrew both the butterfly pendant and the corresponding key. After inserting and turning the latter, the younger man gently pushed back the twin hinged doors concealing the end of the jump drive. He then leaned forward and placed both items on the desk.

  “I think you’re going to want to see this for yourself, David,” the employee said.

  His boss didn’t move. Instead, he simply stared at the flash drive, as if it contained the answers to all the most daunting questions in the world. In a way, it might’ve.

  “Did she watch this?” David demanded. “Did you?”

  “She only saw the beginning, which is mostly innocuous meetings. After she went to bed, I watched the whole thing.”

  “I see.” David paused. The wheels in his mind spun as he considered his next move. “And is what we’re looking for on that drive?”

  “I believe so,” the employee hedged, not wanting to be wrong.

  “Really?” David asked, his dark eyes gleaming eagerly as he leaned forward.

  The younger man paused, considering the gravity of his next words. The stakes were tremendously high. As was the cost of a mistake. Many lives hung on the answer to this
question. Probably even more than they’d initially calculated.

  After careful consideration, he hedged his response appropriately. “I believe so,” he repeated. “But obviously, you will need to make that decision yourself. It’s your opinion that matters.”

  “Remarkable,” David breathed. “Do you have any idea what this means? This is unprecedented….” He trailed off, lost in the implications of this discovery.

  The younger man began to feel uncomfortable. Would all humanity be stripped from his assignment? Unsure, he waited patiently until his boss spoke again.

  “Does she know you have it?”

  “I don’t know, sir. She was asleep when I took it. I’m not sure when she will discover that it’s missing.”

  Remembering himself, David leaned back in his chair and easily assumed his composed façade once more. After a minute of silent deliberation, he came to a decision.

  “I will make a copy of the files and send the original back to D.C. with you. If the recordings are as significant as you believe, then I don’t want our girl left alone. Do not let her out of your sight. Especially with Mr. Greyfield coming around,” David said.

  After thinking for several moments more, he continued. “You must talk to him, you know. Mr. Greyfield, that is. See how he feels about this situation. Divulge only as much as you must. If he’s onboard, it might be a good time to bring him into the fold. He could be quite valuable to our cause. If not, you’ll just have to see that he stays far away from Raven.”

  “She’s going to want to watch the rest of the videos. What should I do?”

  Sighing, David looked up at the ceiling. It was something he always did when pondering particularly delicate situations. “In time, certainly. But…,” he trailed off, again gazing at the ceiling.

  “Sir, if I may suggest something?”

  His boss arched one eyebrow. “Certainly,” he said, seeming almost amused that his employee would have an idea.

  “The video of particular interest to us is only one of many. Perhaps you’d want to view it now? If you agree with me about it, we can simply remove it from the flash drive before returning it to her. Then, when the time is right, you can choose when and where it is revealed to her.”

  Since it was nearly impossible to elicit an observable response from his boss, the young man was particularly proud when—for the second time that day—he was able to do so. David shot him a look of pride before nodding in approval. Then the older man wheeled his chair off to the side and gestured to the laptop sitting on his desk.

  The employee hurried around to the other side of the massive, mahogany desk—a line he’d never before crossed—and set about queuing up the video in question. After pressing play, he stepped back, watching the horror unfold on the screen for the second time in twelve hours.

  Throughout the sixteen-minute clip, he glanced over at David every so often to gauge his employer’s opinion. Meanwhile, even though he’d seen it before, he again felt utter disgust rise within him while it played. He also began to appreciate the extent of what it meant for Lark Kingsley. And his heart shattered into a million pieces.

  Conversely, despite the appalling content, David’s reaction was imperceptible. Which should’ve been impossible.

  When the video ended, David continued to stare at the screen while his employee crossed back to his proper side of the desk and took a seat once more. After several minutes, when David still had not moved or said a word, the younger man cleared his throat. This served to bring his boss back to the present.

  “That…that’s it,” David said, equally astonished and exhilarated. “This is…this is incredible.”

  The younger man found David’s choice of words abhorring. While he understood why his boss would feel that way, he did not share the sentiment.

  “Is there anything else on here of the same…nature?” David asked.

  “No,” the employee answered. “Some allusion to the subject, but nothing at all like…that.”

  “Very well,” his boss said, suddenly spurred into action.

  Opening a desk drawer, the older man withdrew a USB drive of his own and plugged it in to the laptop. He then proceeded to copy all the files over, before deleting the single video from the butterfly jump drive. As he watched, the younger man felt a deep sense of relief that he had—without the knowledge of his employer—already made his own duplicate of the drive, in its entirety, before arriving.

  Finished, his boss slid the gold and opal butterfly pendant back across the desk. “If you can, try to stall for a couple of days,” David instructed. “That will give me some time to watch the rest of them myself and determine just how to move forward.”

  “Yes, of course,” his employee responded automatically.

  “Also, if you happen to see Lila, find out what she knows about the videos,” David requested. “Since Lark hid the flash drive so well, I’d wager that the contents somehow play into the little scavenger hunt.”

  “I’ll be sure to ask her,” he promised.

  “Lastly, don’t forget to call Mr. Greyfield on your way back to D.C. to set up a meeting. Call me after you’ve spoken with him.”

  “Yes, sir,” the younger man said, recognizing the dismissive tone for what it was.

  Standing up, he retreated to the door. His hand was on the doorknob when David called after him.

  “And, Asher?”

  The young man turned when his boss called to him. “Yes?”

  “Keep Raven close. She’s our only chance.”

  As the lifeblood of all authors, honest reviews are greatly appreciated.

  Click HERE to leave a review for Platinum Prey.