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Immortals- The Complete Real Illusions Series

Page 34

by Tanya R. Taylor


  His stare was unreadable, but Tina sensed that he was truly listening.

  "With everything that appears so wrong with your life, honey — with our lives," she continued, "there's still some good. You have not been robbed of the ability to love and that's why we're together in this space and time. We'll fight it all together. Nothing is beyond our reach. Just don't ever make the mistake again of thinking you're all alone."

  Trent realized that the two women in his life needed him to hold it together although for completely different reasons. Foster's safety had taken center stage in his and Tina's life. Now his sister's freedom was hanging in the balance.

  As he and Tina warmly embraced, Trent was sure he had glimpsed a black, swirly figure near the top of the ceiling, which had effortlessly floated down toward the lower end of the wall.

  Trent pulled away, got up and walked around to the front of the desk.

  "What is it?" Tina asked.

  He switched on the wall light nearby and looked again.

  Nothing.

  Combing his fingers through his hair, he continued to look down at the base of the northern wall, then up again toward the ceiling.

  "Honey?"

  "It's nothing. I thought I saw something, but I didn't," he soon returned.

  "Let's go back to bed, okay?" Tina said.

  Trent nodded in agreement and switched off the lights as they headed out. Before shutting the door behind them, he looked back into the room once more. He had an awful feeling.

  * * *

  "Why bother?! We may as well let him wipe out the entire town and don't worry about it!" Detective Quint roared in front of the Chief.

  Lieutenant Sparkman was sitting with his legs crossed with newly-elected Chief of Police Alan Morzack. Quint slammed his fist against the wall; his back was to both men.

  "You're trying to blame Matheson for this too without a shred of proof that the man's involved," Morzack responded to his subordinate's outburst.

  "My sentiment exactly," Sparkman added.

  Quint shot around and leaned over the desk like a tower. "The guy from the waterworks company said one of the people who slaughtered those workers last night called Matheson's name! We all know that! So, why aren't we doing something about it?"

  The room was quiet for a moment.

  "Look, Chief. I've been saying for ages that this guy's guilty. We have to do something now. We can't just let him go on living his high-style, affluent life without having to answer for all these senseless murders. These people, each and every one of 'em, has been massacred. Aren't we supposed to protect and serve the citizens of this town? You know his sister was just arrested the other day for murder and facing extradition. I got a gut feeling their sickening taste for blood runs in the family."

  "You're still missing the point, Quint," Morzack retorted. "You're not listening. We have absolutely no evidence to be able to charge Trent Matheson with any crime. He has a good reputation in these parts and I know this department has thoroughly investigated him when the first series of killings happened. He turned out to be squeaky clean! Furthermore, the DA refuses to haul him in with no concrete evidence tying him to any crime. You knew that from before. His sister's trouble is a separate issue. What part of that don't you understand?" Morzack was clearly becoming agitated. His eyes now held a coldness that spoke volumes. "Furthermore, Trent Matheson isn't the only Matheson in this State. How can we pin-point a man based on his surname? That's just plain silly."

  "Clearly, he wasn't the one out there snuffing the life out of those men last night, partner," Sparkman said to Quint. "Those are the people we have to find. They are the ones likely responsible for the killings before that too. Maybe they have some vendetta against this Matheson guy. Trying to make him look guilty."

  "Makes sense to me," the chief said. "It's called 'putting two and two together', Quint." He shook his head at the still fairly irate detective. "Now get outta here and let's proceed with this investigation."

  As the detectives headed for the door, Morzack was tapping on the desk with his treasured black, ball point pen.

  Quint stopped suddenly and looked back at the chief. "Ah, sir?"

  "Yeah?" Morzack answered.

  "What do you make of the description that guy from the waterworks company gave of the killers?"

  Morzack thought for a moment. "Not sure."

  "He said they looked like ghosts or something of the sort," Quint added.

  "Yeah, he did. I don't know. Maybe fear got the best of him, providing he didn't make the whole story up," Morzack said. "We keep him at the fore-front of our investigation until we can completely eliminate him as a suspect."

  The detectives quietly left the office.

  "You acted like a real nut in there," Sparkman said to Quint as they walked the corridor toward the exit.

  "Can't blame me if I hate to see wealthy murderers on the street," Quint subtly retorted.

  "That's what the core of your issue is. Isn't it?" Sparkman slowed down a bit.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're hating on this guy because he has everything going for himself; has more than he could ever spend and you don't."

  "Bull! I've worked for everything I've got and I'm glad I wasn't handed everything on a silver platter from the day I was born," Quint asserted.

  "Now, that's bull!" Sparkman laughed before pushing the door open and heading into the morning sun.

  3

  The Visit

  Trent sat alone in the room that held a frigidity that seemed to seep through to the bones. Behind the steel desk, he was unsure it if was the room itself giving off the depressing energy or the mere circumstances surrounding his visit to the jailhouse. He surmised it may be a combination of both.

  He heard the twisting of a lock and knew the moment of truth had finally arrived. Sliding back the chair, he stood to his feet as the door screeched open. The sight before him just seconds later made his heart drop with a silent thump. Wearing prison overalls and handcuffed like a common criminal, Solange was escorted inside the room. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail; strands along her hairline had curled upwards and were apparently untamed. Added to that was the sheer look of defeat on her face and what Trent sensed was shame shrouding her like a cape. He wanted to go over and hold her, but knew contact with the prisoner was forbidden. The guard led her to a chair and Solange made eye contact with Trent just briefly before they both sat down at the desk facing each other.

  The guard stood some distance off to the side.

  Her head lowered, Solange didn't seem anything like the woman Trent had met only months earlier. Her face was pale and it appeared as if the very life had been sucked out of her.

  "Are you okay?" Trent asked her.

  She didn't respond.

  "Look at me, Solange." Trent spoke delicately.

  She slowly looked up. Her eyes were welling with tears.

  "Luke told me what you wanted me to know. I am not judging you. You can trust me."

  A single tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry that I upset your life like this and caused you embarrassment. I should have never done this."

  "Done what?" Trent pressed.

  "Told you who I was."

  "Solange, please listen to me. I don’t want you to regret ever letting me know that you are my sister. No matter what, you coming into my life was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I could never regret that and neither should you."

  "But you have such a good name in this town and now, I've tarnished that. It was a huge mistake on my part. I never should've come here," she cried.

  There was brief silence in the room and by now, Solange's tears were flowing uncontrollably as she wiped them away on her sleeve.

  Trent's heart ached terribly for her. The intensity of his sister's pain was more than he could stand. He felt helpless in that moment, wanting nothing more than to break down the prison walls and lift her right out of there. He had never before noticed the t
hin veins barely visible beneath her remarkably beautiful face. They had suddenly become prominent as her thoughts apparently intensified.

  "Everything will be all right," Trent told her. "You've got to believe me. Remember what Luke said: You are not to admit to anything. You will be counseled further in France."

  Scenes of that fateful morning almost two years ago flashed through Solange's mind. She could see Ferdinand's large hand covering her mouth as he dragged her into the bedroom; the evil smile on his face. She could still smell the stale, rancid odor of liquor on his breath. She re-lived the brutal assault. Solange gulped, the tears cascaded down her narrow face and she lowered her head again.

  Trent leaned forward. "It's okay, Solange. It's okay." He gave her room to cry. She needed to get it out.

  "Thank you for being here for me," she eventually said, her voice breaking.

  "You are my sister; I love you. I could never turn my back on you no matter what. You're going to beat this. You hear me? Already lined up for you is the best counsel money can buy over there. You're in good hands."

  Those words, though seemingly undeserved, penetrated Solange's soul.

  "They're flying me back tomorrow," she said.

  "I know. I'm going to fly over as soon as I can, okay?"

  She nodded.

  "I don't want you to worry about this nor anything else. Before you know it, this nightmare will be over and you'll be back here with Tina, Foster and me, and helping me run First Provincial like before. Give me an 'okay'." Trent smiled.

  "Okay," Solange said softly. She had managed a smile too.

  "Time's up!" the guard announced moments later.

  "I'll see you soon, sis. Remember what I said." Trent watched as the guard took hold of Solange and they started toward the door.

  "Please give Tina my love. Tell her that I'm very sorry and kiss baby Foster for me," Solange said to Trent.

  The sadness in her eyes could not be mistaken nor ignored. "I will," Trent replied. "We love you."

  4

  Hagged

  Trent filled Tina in about his visit with Solange while on his way to the office.

  "My heart goes out to her. It really does," Tina said.

  Trent heard the baby crying in the background. "I'd better let you go," he said.

  "Okay. He's hungry again. This little guy eats like a grown man."

  "Is everything okay?" Trent asked.

  "You mean…"

  "Yeah." His voice lowered almost to a whisper.

  "Everything's fine. I'm praying by some miracle it stays that way," Tina replied.

  "Remember… don't open that door for anyone. Remind Amina."

  "I know and she knows," Tina affirmed. "You've reminded her a dozen times already. Besides, if those people, things or whatever you wanna call them choose to come back here, honey, we both know they don't need doors to get in."

  The veracity of her words sent chills up Trent's spine. "Just keep the doors locked. I'll be back there as soon as I can."

  Clara Eaves was standing at the front desk chatting with a younger female colleague when Trent arrived.

  "Good morning, sir!" Clara greeted him with a huge smile as he approached. The colleague eagerly followed Clara's lead.

  "Good morning, ladies," Trent hailed back as he headed for the elevator.

  As the double doors of the lift closed before him, the woman with Clara said almost in a whisper, "Isn't that something about Miss Matheson?"

  Clara instantly cleared her throat. "It is, but I won't engage in any gossip about it. Mister Matheson is a good man with a solid reputation and I will have no part in tearing the man or his family down. He's been too good to all of us here for that."

  The colleague was obviously taken aback by Clara's brusque response. "Oh, no! I wasn't about to gossip, Mrs. Eaves."

  "I'm sure you weren't, Sandra. Is there something else you need other than the manila folder you came for with the Sanovie documents?"

  "No, ma'am. That will be all." Sandra felt slighted and terribly embarrassed. Never before had the office's main gossip been put in her place like that. She grabbed the file from Clara and sashayed down the corridor.

  "The nerve of that woman!" Clara muttered under her breath as she attempted to organize her desk. "No decorum whatsoever. No decorum for a woman of the church!"

  As Trent walked to his office, Will Salstrom hurried over to him. "Sir, I'm very sorry about what happened to Miss Matheson. It's terrible." He kept up the pace.

  "Thanks, Will. I appreciate it," Trent responded evenly.

  "Is it true about what they're charging her with?"

  Trent grimaced. He wasn't sure he heard Will correctly.

  "I mean, is she really being charged with murder?"

  Trent stopped in his tracks just in front of the office. "Will, I'm grateful that you're concerned and all, but I'm not at liberty to discuss my sister's case. I'm confident though that she'll be cleared."

  "Yes, sir. That's good to hear," Will replied. "I surely hope it turns out well for Miss Matheson."

  "Thanks."

  Will nodded, then turned to leave.

  "Sir?" he wasn't finished.

  "Yes, Will?"

  "Sir, may I speak with you privately for a minute?"

  Trent invited him inside the office and they both sat down.

  "What's on your mind?" Trent asked across the desk.

  "Sir, I was just wondering what the plan is now that Miss Matheson is no longer here."

  Trent was confused. "I'm sorry? What plan?"

  "I mean… who do you have in mind to fill her position?" Will clarified.

  Trent cleared his throat, but with somewhat of a tinge of anger. "Look, Will, my sister has just been hauled out of here the other day against her will. It's like she only just arrived and now, she's gone. Not an easy thing for me and my family to digest. Even so, we don't know how long she'll be gone, but in spite of that dismal fact, her position is not available to fill."

  "I understand your point, sir, but someone needs to take care of the duties she once performed." Will was adamant.

  "You act as if she's been gone forever."

  Their eyes met and a brief lull invaded their space.

  "And moreover, you think that someone should be you?" Trent asked.

  Will shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  "Will, I know you've held things down around here when I was unable to come in and as I told you before, I'll always appreciate that. However, we're not talking about the post of any other employee here. We're talking about my sister's. So I repeat: Her position is not available for anyone to fill. I will pick up where she left off and carry on until she gets back."

  Will could tell that Trent's mind was made up. "Okay. I respect that, sir. I totally understand." He got up to leave.

  "I knew you would," Trent answered with a slight smile. "See you at ten in the boardroom for the meeting."

  "Yes, sir."

  After Sonia saw Will leave, she tapped at the door.

  "Come on in, Sonia," Trent said. "Shut the door behind you. Will you?"

  "Yes, sir," Sonia quickly obliged.

  "How is she?" she asked, sitting down.

  Trent sighed heavily. "Not too good. As you can imagine, it's really difficult for her."

  "I know." Sonia rubbed her hands while shaking her lowered head. Her eyes were watering. "She only told me some story about her being on the run from a situation involving her ex-boyfriend."

  "We've got a good attorney lined up for her, so she's in good hands." Trent tried to assure Sonia and at the same time hoped to convince himself.

  "Okay. That's so good to hear." Sonia breathed a sigh of relief, dabbing her eyes with a napkin she had balled up in her hand.

  The morning's newspaper had been placed on Trent's desk before he arrived at work. His eyes soon met the headlines. Picking up the paper, he gazed at the photo below the large, bold letters. "Gruesome scene discovered during early morning hours," he
read.

  "I read it this morning," Sonia said. "It's terrible what happened out there to those men who were only trying to make a living for their families."

  Trent was reading quietly. "Out of the whole crew, one man survived." He suddenly had a sickening feeling. Hooded figures in black who had at last invaded his living room darted through his mind. A headache was gradually coming on. He massaged his right temple with two fingers.

  "Are you all right, sir?" Sonia asked.

  Trent nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. Just horrible what happened to those guys. I hope they catch whoever is responsible."

  "I hope so, but I won’t hold my breath. The Law's track record as of late hasn't been impressive."

  Trent sighed heavily. "Well, I guess I'd better let you get back, Sonia. I will keep you updated on how my sister's progressing." He stood as she got up to leave.

  "Thank you, sir. I'd really appreciate that. When you speak with her again, would you tell her that I'm rooting for her?"

  Trent smiled. "Sure. I'll tell her. Thanks, Sonia."

  Trent sat down again after Sonia left and carefully read the rest of the top story.

  He soon pulled out his cell and punched in Deed's number.

  "Shoot!" went the familiar voice.

  "Did you see today's headlines?" Trent got straight to the point.

  "Yeah, I saw it. We both know who's responsible."

  "Isn't there something, anything we can do?"

  "We already went through this," Deed said.

  "I know, but there has to be some way…"

  "Are you willing to give up your son?" Deed interjected.

  "Of course not!"

  "Well, then, there's no other way."

  Trent was exasperated. "Are we supposed to just sit around and watch as all these innocent people get slaughtered by those tyrants?"

  Deed was quiet.

  A few uneasy seconds rolled by when Trent said, "I still have my powers. If we can find out where their main gathering place is, I can take out as many of them as possible."

 

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