He then began making his way toward the back of the big, open planned room, toward the glass enclosed rectangle where the office of his boss was located.
Through the glass door, he could see Peter Woods sitting at his desk reading some documents. His reading glasses were halfway down the bridge of his nose, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled halfway up his forearms and his grey hair parted sideways from one side of his head to the other as if it was being held in place by invisible tape.
Michael gave the door a light rap, before he opened it and stuck his head inside.
“Hey, Peter. Do you have a minute?”
The editor of the Phoenix Star shot him a quick glance without raising his head.
“Sure, just give me a minute.” He nodded toward the visitor chair, and told his young employee to take a seat.
Michael did what he was told and spent the time looking around the office. One day this will be mine, he thought as he gazed out the window behind his boss’ desk at the numerous skyscrapers and the tall mountains in the distance.
“Well, so what is it you wanted to see me about Mike?” Peter said as he leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head, his brown eyes casually studying his young employee’s face.
Michael put the printed email on the desk, tapped his index finger on it twice, before sliding it across to his boss.
“I want you to have a look at this email I received about thirty minutes ago.”
Peter Woods twisted his lips, looked down at the paper, then up at Michael again before leaning forward and picking it up.
He read a few lines, raised his eyebrows and turned the chair so he was sitting at a ninety degree angle to Michael. A frown had appeared on his face, and Michael recognized the emotions that were running around inside his boss’ head right there and then. It is the rush that every journalist experiences whenever they realize that they are sitting on a major story.
When Peter turned the chair back toward his desk again and faced Michael five minutes later, he let out a low whistle. Then he placed the piece of paper down on the desk, removed his reading glasses and looked back up at Michael again.
“That’s quite a tip, to put it mildly,” he said. Then he paused for a moment and added, “That is provided of course, that it is true.”
“Do you think it is?” Michael asked.
Peter took a deep breath and twisted his bottom lip. He grabbed the piece of paper again, glanced at it for a few more seconds before putting it back down on the desk.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But it is certainly a very detailed and convincing tip. That however does not mean that it’s true. It could be written by one of the many serial nutcases who feel the urge to lie and supply the authorities with false information whenever cases such as these appear. Who knows?”
Peter turned his head and gazed out the window to his left.
“It would be a different story if the author of the email had provided us with his name and contact details. That, and informed us that he was willing to talk. If that had been the case, we could have had a chat with him and seen what his mental state was like.”
“I am of course aware that it could be a hoax“, Michael said as he shifted his position in the chair. “Or let me rephrase that. I know that it probably is a hoax, but still, it’s worth looking into. And if you let me, I’ll get onto it and see if I can try to get the individual who sent this email to talk to me, or at least provide me with some additional details.”
Peter turned his head back again and nodded.
“That sounds like a good idea. But you do realize that we have to forward this information to the police. If we don’t, we’ll be withholding evidence, and that’s a criminal offense.”
Michael leaned forward and picked up the piece of paper from the desk. The momentary daydream that he’d had after first reading the email, about scoring a major scoop and making a name for himself as a reporter, was rapidly going down the drain. And even though he had realized that this would be the most likely outcome, that he wouldn’t be able to write the article he wanted, he was still disappointed. But he was good at masking his emotions, and he didn’t think that his boss could tell.
“I will of course let the police know,” Michael said. “But as I mentioned, I would still like to look into it and do some research. Then if it turns out to be true, we’ll at least have something to write about. I’m sure the police would let us know if there’s some substance to the story, as a courtesy for providing them with the information in the first place.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Peter said. “I’ve got a few good contacts in homicide. And even if they don’t want to go on the record and say so, they’ll do it off the record.”
Peter got out of his chair and walked around the desk, and Michael got the hint. He stood up, straightened his shirt and turned toward the door.
“Listen,” Peter said and placed a hand on his shoulder. “This could definitely turn into something major, but we have to proceed with caution and let the police do their job. It’s not for us to do it for them. By all means, look into it. Find out whatever you can about this guy, but be discreet. We don’t want to alert him or any of his acquaintances. Then when we hear back from the police, and if it turns out that he is a credible suspect, we’ll go for it full throttle.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Michael replied and flashed his boss what he thought was a decent smile. “I’ll forward this to the Phoenix Police Department, then I’ll get down to business.”
He held up the piece of paper in front of him, gave his boss a quick nod and walked toward the door. And as he turned around to close it, he could see his boss leaning up against the desk, arms crossed, looking at him with a blank expression.
5
“I just can’t believe that someone would place a hundred grand in your account, and especially at a time when you’re running low on funds. I mean what are the odds of something like that happening? It’s gotta be a couple of million to one at least.”
James Matthews was leaned back in the plastic deck chair, his right elbow propped casually on top of the backrest, his left hand wrapped around a bottle of Coors. He was shaking his head incredulously, his eyes focused on some imaginary point on the glass table in front of him.
Matt nodded and lifted his own bottle up to his lips and took a big sip.
They were out on the patio in James’ backyard. Matt had arrived fifteen minutes earlier, and after having opened up a bottle each from the six-pack he’d brought over, he had told James - the only person he could truly refer to as a friend - about the mysterious bank transaction.
“I know,” Matt said after he put the bottle down and let out a loud burp. “I have difficulties believing it myself. But someone did, and the money is still there. That is, minus the three thousand I withdrew earlier today.”
James lifted his eyes from the table and looked at Matt.
“You know, I wish something like that would happen to me once in a while, because I could really do with some extra cash. Heck, I’ve only got four thousand in my bank account, and that has taken me nearly two years to achieve. At this rate I should be able to go on a nice vacation in about three or four years.”
“Well, at least you’re a homeowner,” Matt said, and placed his hand on the back of his neck and started rubbing it. “And once you’ve paid off your mortgage, the money you earn is going straight into your savings account. And when that happens, you’ll have a hundred thousand bucks in there in no time.”
James pursed his lips and studied the bottle in his hand.
“That is of course true, but it’s still a long way off. Another ten years to be exact. But all in all, I guess I can’t complain. I’ve got food on the table and a roof over my head. I can’t really ask for more than that.”
Matt replied by lifting his bottle off the table and holding it out in front of his face, before bringing it back up to his lips and downing the rest of what was in there.
>
Today had been a hectic day. After he had hit the daily limit on his card, he had gone back to the house and started packing. There wasn’t all that much as far as personal belongings were concerned, and he had managed to squeeze everything into five cardboard boxes. He didn’t anticipate having any difficulties fitting it all inside the car tomorrow when he would leave for the coast. It would be slightly cramped, but then again, it would only be him in the car.
He had made the decision to leave straight away on the way back from the mall, where he had managed to coax another two grand out of the ATMs. And why not? There wasn’t anything holding him here in Phoenix. Other than James, he didn’t have any friends here. The ones that he used to have when he was growing up had all moved on. They had done what society expected of them, started families and focused on their careers. And as time had gone by, all the people he had used to hang around had slowly started to drift away, or maybe it was he who had drifted away from them? He knew he wasn’t the most sociable person, some might even refer to him as a bit of a loner, and that was never a desirable trait if you wanted to maintain friendships. Maybe he had lost his friends because he didn’t have what it took to hang onto them?
But he had managed to hang onto James, but then again James was a bit of a loner too. Maybe it was easier for loners to be friends with other loners? A psychologist would probably be able to give him a truthful answer to that question, but he suspected there was something there.
Another thing that the two of them had in common was that neither had gotten around to starting a family. That was probably even a bigger reason why they had managed to maintain their friendship.
Matt knew that it would be difficult to say goodbye to James, and in a way he guessed that was what he was doing now.
He studied the man that he’d first met when he was in kindergarten. He was of the same build as himself, possibly not as muscular and slightly taller. James also had a more chiseled face than he had, as if life had treated his friend more unkindly, although Matt knew for a fact that that wasn’t the case.
James led a normal life and had a decent job working as a manager at an electronic warehouse downtown. Nor had he ever been out of a job, or in a dire financial situation such as the one that he had found himself in earlier today. Likewise, James had never had to witness the horrible things he had experienced while serving with the US Marines in Iraq. So, yeah, he guessed that looks could be deceiving.
And now the time had come to leave behind his only remaining friend. Would he ever see him again? Matt didn’t know. Time would tell. But unless he decided to come back to Phoenix for a visit, he didn’t think so. The two of them would probably stay in touch for a while, but then things would slowly die a natural death, and that would be the end of it. Neither of them liked to talk on the phone, and emails just weren’t their thing.
The thought made him sad. He had known James for such a long time, and now it looked like everything was coming to an end.
He leaned forward, grabbed two more bottles from the six-pack and handed one to James.
“So what did they say at the dojo when you told them you were quitting?” James asked after he had opened the new bottle and taken a big sip.
Matt turned his gaze toward the fence at the back and sighed. Then he took a quick swig and rested the bottle in his lap.
“To tell you the truth, I think they were relieved. They are struggling financially at the moment, and with me out of the picture it’ll be a bit easier for them. Cory will take over as the main instructor, and he’s certainly more than qualified to do so.”
He turned around and looked at James.
“I’ve been in contact with a dojo up in Seattle. They’re looking for a new instructor, and they’re willing to pay what I’m asking. I’ll start on Monday. And who knows, if I like it up there, I might hang around for a while.”
James nodded and his face took on a more somber expression.
“Seattle is far away,” he said. “Not to mention cold as hell. But I guess you have to do what you have to do.”
He paused for a moment and looked over at the fence that Matt had been gazing at a few moments earlier.
“It will be quiet here when you leave though.” He didn’t add that Matt was his only friend, and that from now on he would be rather lonely. He didn’t have to. They both knew it. It was just one of those things that couldn’t be helped.
Matt stayed for another hour, and before he left, he told James that he would stay in touch despite knowing that he probably wouldn’t. Then he got into his car and drove off. By this time tomorrow, he would be halfway to Seattle, starting on a new chapter in his life. The thought made him both sad and excited at the same time. But deep down he knew that it was his only option.
The police officer that pulled him over followed him for more than two blocks before he eventually turned on the blue lights and ordered him to stop.
Matt cursed through clenched teeth when he saw the lights flashing in his rear view mirror, and feared that he was going to get done for DUI. The second thought that popped up in his head was that he didn’t think he’d been driving erratically. He had stopped drinking after the third beer, and that had been almost an hour ago.
Then a much more terrifying thought entered his mind, and his heart started to speed up. The money in his bank account. Was that why the police had decided to pull him over? Had the people at the bank finally realized their mistake and discovered that he had helped himself to some of the cash?
Matt tightened his grip on the steering wheel, and tried to focus on his breathing. Take it easy, he told himself. You don’t even know what they want yet. It could be anything. It could be a smashed tail light, him unwittingly having run a red light or doing a few miles over the speed limit. He shouldn’t expect the worse.
He could hear the door of the cruiser slam shut, and moments later saw a beefy police officer approach his car through his side view mirror.
Matt rolled down the window and tried to empty his mind. Just act naturally. Smile and be polite, and you’ll be on your way before you know it. Heck the police around these parts have more pressing matters to attend to. But deep down, he was anything but calm. He had a very bad feeling about this.
The police officer stopped in front of the door and bent down so his head was in line with his, and Matt felt his pulse quickening. But despite his internal turmoil, he managed to put on his finest poker face and looked at the officer without flinching.
“Good evening, officer. What seems to be the problem?”
His voice sounded funny to his own ears, but he didn’t think he came across as overly nervous. Not more than what was expected in situations such as these. He prayed that the smell of beer on his breath wasn’t too strong.
The police officer, a Latino with a crew cut and hard, cold eyes looked at him for a couple of seconds before giving him a quick nod.
“Are you Matthew Brunner of 2250 Amber Avenue?” He asked and placed his hands on the open window. The question took Matt by surprise and he felt his body tense. How come the officer knew his name, and why on earth was he asking him in the first place?
“Yes, that’s me,” Matt answered, after first having cleared his throat. But in spite of the nervousness that had come over him, he still managed to hold the cop’s gaze. “Why are you asking, sir?”
The officer tapped his thumbs a few times and twisted his lips, before taking a few steps backward and placing his right hand on top of his sidearm holster.
“Could you please step out of the car for me sir?” he said, and Matt could see him nod to someone on the other side. Matt quickly turned his head and saw a second police officer had taken up position on the right hand side of the car. He also noticed that this officer had assumed the same defensive position as the first one.
Jesus Christ, he thought. Do they actually think I physically robbed the bank?
He turned around and faced the first cop again.
“What is this abo
ut?” he said, making his voice as calm as possible and making sure that his hands never came off the steering wheel. He had no desire to get shot because of wandering hands.
“Please, just do as you’re told and step out of the vehicle, sir.” The officer raised his voice, but he wasn’t quite shouting yet. Matt was however pretty confident that he would if he had to repeat his message for a third time.
“Ok, Ok. I will,” Matt said, and slowly let go of the steering wheel, hands held up in front of him, palms facing forward. Then he carefully opened the door with his left hand and got out.
“Ok, step to the back of the vehicle and turn around, sir,” the cop said, gesturing with his head. The right hand was still hovering just above the holster, ready to get the weapon out at the first sign of trouble.
Matt did what he was told, and a few moments later, he could feel the cold metal of the handcuffs tighten around his wrists. The uneasy feeling that he’d experienced when he was first pulled over had now morphed into something that was very close to panic. And in his mind he could see himself being hauled in front of a judge and given a very long prison sentence.
“Hey, what the hell is this about?” he said, his voice now clearly showing his nervousness and confusion.
“If you’re arresting me, I have the right to know why!”
The cop that had handcuffed him placed a hand on his shoulder and began escorting him toward the cruiser.
“You’ll find out once you’re down at the station.”
Then he opened up the rear passenger door and pushed Matt inside.
Once that was done, he got behind the wheel, put the transmission in drive and pulled away from the shoulder. At the next set of lights, he did a quick u turn and started driving toward the police station in Central City.
The cop that had arrested him escorted him to an interview room on the fifth floor. It was a tiny thing without any windows, and the only furniture in there was a rectangular table and four plastic chairs. Matt could see a camera in the ceiling in the far corner, and he suspected that the little gadget recorded everything that took place in the room.
Shock and Awe Page 4