by Linda Hawley
Bennett exhaled loudly, visibly relieved. “Thank you, Ann. That’s all I wanted to know.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, who told you that I was in Portland?”
“Oh, I’d rather not say.”
“Hmm,” I said, peering at him in irritation. “So someone is trying to slander my reputation, but you won’t tell me who it is?”
“I’ll deal with it, Ann. That, I promise you,” he said sincerely.
I believed him. “Well, okay, but I hope you won’t let him off easy,” I said.
“Trust me…I won’t,” he said, seriousness trickling into his tone. He stood, smiling. “I’m glad we cleared this up,” signaling the meeting was over.
I stood. “You don’t have to worry about me, Bennett. Remember, I’m the girl with the security clearance. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Yes, I’ll remember that in the future,” he replied, moving around behind his desk.
I turned and left his office, leaving the door open. I paced myself walking down the executive hall, leading to the stairwell. When the stairwell door closed behind me, I stopped on the landing, leaned on the door, and exhaled.
My mind was screaming in shock.
Someone told Bennett that I was in Portland.
Stepping off the landing, I started down the stairs to the basement, grateful not to encounter anyone.
Who betrayed me? I thought as I descended the stairs.
Finally I opened the basement door. Lulu came to greet me, and I saw that we were still the only ones down there.
Sitting at my desk, I reached into my bottom drawer and withdrew my emergency chocolate. Staring into thin air, I pet Lulu, who had come to sit beside me.
The only people who knew I was going to Portland were my GOG contacts and Paul. Paul said he had met with GOG in person, so it’s unlikely that peekers had listened into a phone conversation. That leaves Paul.
I considered that thought for some time.
Could Paul have slipped and told Bennett that I was in Portland, while he was stressed about the crashed server? But Paul’s not a guy who lets anything slip…
Two hours later, Edwin and Paul returned to the basement at the same time. He dropped some things on his desk and then padded over to mine.
“Hey, Ann,” he said, oddly flat.
“Hi, Paul. How did your server repairs go?” I asked.
“Oh, we can talk about that later. Wanna have dinner tonight?” he asked with a quiet voice, to prevent Edwin from hearing.
“Yeah, sure.”
“How about seven?”
“Sounds good. Where?” I said quietly.
“How about the Oyster Bar restaurant out on Chuckanut Drive?”
“Never been there, but I do love a drive on Chuckanut.”
“Trust me, the food’s delicious, the view’s spectacular, and the company is perfect,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper.
I smiled. “Well then, wanna pick me up?”
“Yeah, I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.”
“Okay then,” I agreed.
Paul smiled, then returned to his desk.
I liked the thought of telling him about my conversation with Bennett. We needed to figure out who knew about my Portland trip.
Chapter 4
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
My doorbell rang at six-thirty.
“You’re right on time,” I said as I stood at the opened front door, with Lulu by my side.
“Are you hungry?” Paul asked, standing on the porch.
“I am. Wanna come in for a minute?”
“Okay,” he said willingly, reaching down to pet Lulu.
“Why don’t you have a seat,” I said, motioning to the kitchen bar.
Paul sat, and I followed suit.
“I wanted to tell you about a conversation I had with Bennett when I arrived at work this morning.”
“Oh?” he said, eyebrows up.
“Someone told him that I went to Portland on my day off,” I said, looking into his eyes.
“You’re kidding,” Paul replied, shock trickling over his face.
“I thought you and I could brainstorm about who could have told him.”
“I don’t know, Ann,” he replied, a little defensively.
“I didn’t mean you,” I said with a smile, relieving him. “Who could have known?”
“I just don’t know…”
“Considering why I went on the trip…”
“Oh. Wait a second,” he said suddenly, thinking of something. “Do you think it could have been peekers? Listening here, to our conversation.”
“Nope.”
“Why not? They could just as easily listen here than any other place.”
I considered telling Paul that my house had been secured with a magnetic shield, but this was something I would never volunteer. I thought quickly.
“Why would peekers be listening while you and I were here together?” I asked him.
“I guess you’re right. There’s no reason why we’d be targets.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you…Bennett thought that I had gone to Portland to sell our company secrets.”
“What?”
“He did. Whoever told Bennett that I went to Portland also insinuated that I was going there to commit industrial espionage. I reminded him that I’ve kept our government’s secrets for a long time and that I would be loyal to AlterHydro.”
“What did he say?”
“He was appreciative of the reminder. So who at AlterHydro would have something to gain by telling our company President that I was sabotaging him?” I asked, leaning towards him slightly.
I was reminded of the chemistry between us as soon as I moved in close proximity. He seemed to feel it too, realized it, then pulled away to answer my question.
“Maybe Vicki the scissor-stealer? Or Brock? Brock’s never been fond of you.”
“You knew that? About Brock?”
“The chill in the air when he looks at you is impossible for anyone to miss, Ann. Everyone knows he’s professionally threatened by you,” Paul said, laughing a bit.
“I don’t think that’s very funny. I have a great dislike of that trust fund baby,” I said seriously.
Paul laughed out loud. “No love lost between you two.”
“Well, the Pressintin’s think you walk on water.”
“No they don’t,” he protested loudly.
“Yes they do. You’re almost part of the family,” I said sarcastically, slapping him on the arm playfully.
Paul grabbed me roughly and forced me hard into him, pulling me right off my stool. He planted a passionate and lingering kiss on my mouth. I felt it throughout my body. He had never been that way with me before. It surprised me.
He pulled away from me abruptly. “Suddenly I’m not feeling very hungry for food,” he said, looking intensely into my eyes.
“Oh no you don’t…” I objected. “Sinéad already replayed the Oyster Bar’s menu; I already know what I’m ordering.”
He was stunned. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who loves food as much as you do,” Paul said, dripping with irritation.
“You can’t tease me with food from a restaurant I’ve never been to and then tell me you’d rather do something else,” I said, winking at him.
At that he stood, adjusted himself, and turned for the foyer. “Are you coming?” he said, calling out to me over his shoulder.
I laughed, grabbing my bag.
“Stay, Lulu,” I said, giving her the hand gesture. She lay down in her bed.
“I still want you to think about who could have known about Portland,” I said just before Paul opened the front door.
“Okay, I’ll think about it some more,” he agreed.
He held the car door open for me.
“Ooh, I finally get to ride in your car,” I said, acting impressed.
“Now I know you well enough to guess that you’re not a BMW
-girl, so just admit it,” Paul said as he slid into the black leather driver’s seat.
“Okay, I admit it,” I passively agreed.
He looked at me. “Yes, it’s 100% gasoline,” he said, answering a question I never bothered to ask in the first place. He smiled as he pushed the start button, the sports car roaring to life.
“Boys and their toys,” I grinned, looking forward.
“You’d better believe it,” he said proudly, pulling away from the curb.
“Testosterone junkie,” I said, mocking.
“Girl!” he said, trying to cut me.
I laughed wholeheartedly. “That’s woman to you.”
“Yes, you’re right about that…one hundred percent woman,” he said, reaching for my thigh.
Brains, humor, chivalry, all wrapped up in a nice package, I thought, looking at him.
“So…Vicki or Brock?” I asked, getting my mind onto something else.
Paul looked over at me with a look I couldn’t make out. “My guess would be Vicki.”
“Why? How would she know where I was going?”
“She has a sister who works for Alaska Air. Maybe she just called her sister and asked her to run a check.”
“Did you get your doctor’s prescription to smoke a little somethin’?” I said sarcastically. “First of all, how would she have any idea that I was flying somewhere, or what airline I was flying?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said reluctantly.
I looked at him with my forehead crinkled. “You might be losing your edge, Paul,” I said to him. “I thought geeks were on all the time,” I said, surprised that he wasn’t thinking clearly.
His rebuttal was quick. “Maybe it’s that kiss in your house that’s steering me off course,” he said with a grin.
I laughed again. “We can talk about that later.”
He smiled. “How was your flight?” he asked.
“Oh man, I forgot to tell you about this crazy flight!” I said, wide-eyed.
“What about it?”
I told Paul the story as he drove Chuckanut Drive like he was racing in the Monte Carlo Rally. I finished just as we pulled into the restaurant’s cliff-side parking.
“You’re a good driver,” I said, exhilarated. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him, especially his driving style, which matched mine.
Dinner was superb, and the conversation was easy between us.
Afterward, I said goodnight to Paul at my front door at his insistence; he said he had an early morning meeting. That surprised me. The front door closed automatically, and then I let Lulu into the backyard.
“Sinéad, play a Michael Gettel mix.”
“Okay, Ann.”
Music filled the living room.
That’s when I saw an envelope on my computer table.
Walking over, I picked up the envelope and quickly saw that there was nothing written on the front.
It’s from GOG.
I picked up the envelope with anticipation and opened it.
Local meeting soon.
Further correspondence to follow.
It was a new meeting with GOG. I was grateful that I’d finally be able to talk to them about my growing paranormal skills. I’d been practicing, and what I was learning surprised even me. I was improving the ability to control my subconscious.
Chapter 5
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
“Ann Torgeson,” I answered my work phone.
“Hi, Ann. It’s Raymond.”
“Hey, Raymond. What’re you up to today?”
“Lunch—with you, I hope.”
“Yeah, I’ve got it on my calendar.”
“Great—Mi Mexico again?”
“That sounds perfect; I’m wild about their seafood enchiladas in green sauce. I’ve got to run an errand before then, so how about I meet you there at twelve thirty?”
“Sounds great.”
When I arrived at the restaurant, Raymond was waiting for me in the Caribbean-themed reception area.
“Raymond,” I called out warmly, smiling, and gave him a hug.
As I pulled back, I asked quietly, “You okay?” sensing something wasn’t quite right.
“Yeah. Let’s eat,” he said with a forced smile, unusual for him.
I could feel something was off, but I knew Raymond well enough to know he’d tell me when he was ready. We approached the host platform in the foyer.
“Hola, Ann.”
“Hola, Javier. How are things going today?” I asked our host.
“Business is good. Shall we find a seat for you and your friend?”
“Yes. Raymond, this is Javier Lopez. He owns Mi Mexico. Javier, this is Raymond Brown; we work together at AlterHydro,” I said introducing them.
They smiled, shook hands, and exchanged pleasantries. As Javier led us to our seats, I looked around the restaurant, drawn into the vivid colors of Mexico, which included hand-carved chairs with inlaid suns painted in bright green, pink, and orange. The restaurant was cheerful with all its color and natural light coming through the windows, and the staff was always pleasant.
“Thank you, Javier,” I said with a smile as he delivered us to our table.
“You’re welcome, Ann…Señor,” he said, nodding to Raymond and then leaving.
Immediately the waitress brought us a menu.
“Well Raymond, I’m having the same thing I always have: enchiladas mariscos con walsa verde.”
“What’s that?”
“Seafood enchiladas in green sauce; it’s incredible.”
“That sounds good, but no shellfish for me.”
“What’re you gonna have?”
“I’m thinking about the beef fajitas.”
“Mmm.”
“I’ve never met a woman who loves food more than you,” Raymond said, his generous smile returning for a moment.
“That’s one of the reasons I’m a runner—I can eat whatever I want,” I said, matter-of-fact.
“Well it’s working, Ann.”
“Thank you,” I replied, beaming.
Our waitress returned and took our order, leaving with a smile.
“So tell me how you are,” I probed him.
“I’m fine.”
“Raymond, we’ve known each other long enough that I can sense when something is a little…off.”
After pausing for a bit and investigating the colors of the table, he finally said, “My mom died.”
“Oh no…when?” I asked, reaching across the table to clasp his hand.
“I got the call last night. She’s been sick since we saw her.”
“I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible for you.”
He studied the table again.
“Are you going to go back for the funeral?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know.”
“What?” I said, surprised. Raymond had always been very close to his mom.
“Remember what I told you last time we had lunch—about how I had to go back to court?”
“Yeah. You said that you were trying to decrease the child-support payments to your ex-wife. I think you wanted them to be calculated based upon your current income, right?”
“Yeah. Well the court decision was yesterday, and I was denied.”
“So no change in the amount you pay?”
“Nope.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Here’s the part that’s making me crazy. I make sixty-one thousand a year, gross. Of that, I take home about seventy percent after taxes. Of course, AlterHydro also deducts $365 per month for my family’s portion of health insurance and benefits. So after that and taxes, I take home about thirty-five hundred dollars per month. That seems like enough for me, my wife, and my two boys to live off of, right?”
The raw energy coming off Raymond was palpable, his dark eyes intense.
“It seems like enough.”
“Well that’s not the whole story. O
f that, I have to pay twelve hundred dollars in child support to my ex-wife for child support of my daughter. So after that, I only have two thousand three hundred dollars for the four of us to live on. With our eleven-hundred-dollar mortgage, that means we have exactly one thousand two hundred dollars left per month. With careful budgeting and frugal living, we’ve been able to make that money stretch to pay for utilities, phones, insurance, gas, food, car repairs, clothes, medical co-pays, medicine, and all the other stuff that comes up.”
“Raymond, that’s living very tight,” I said with concern. “I don’t know how you’re even doing it…”
“You’re telling me! It’s harder than you realize…”
The waitress brought our food. She sensed our intense conversation, delivered the entrées, then left. My mind was already trying to figure out how I could help my friend. As soon as the waitress departed, Raymond continued, clearly agitated.
“Three months ago, I got a letter from the IRS, saying that I owe thirty-two thousand dollars in back taxes and fees, because my ex-wife has been claiming my daughter on her taxes—illegally. Plus, I found out that she sold the house and said I was supposed to pay the taxes on the sale of it. I called the IRS and explained that in our divorce, I had the right to claim our daughter on my taxes and that my ex kept the proceeds from the sale of the house and was responsible for the taxes on it, even though the house was in my name.”
“What did they tell you?”
“That I had to make payments while I appealed my case. When I asked them how long an appeal took, they said it could be up to a year…”
“Oh no,” I said, quietly.
“Oh no is right. The payment they’re demanding is nine hundred dollars per month. If I pay them, my family and I have only three hundred dollars a month to live on.”
“Raymond,” I reached over and put my hand over his again.
“I haven’t paid them a cent.”
“Raymond, do you know that if you don’t pay them, they’ll garnish your wages?”
“Yeah, no kidding. They did. Two weeks ago…”
“Oh this is bad…”
“Yeah, you’re starting to get the picture,” he said, defeated, looking down at the table again.
Suddenly I wasn’t hungry anymore. I couldn’t think of anything to say, but I kept my hand over his. He looked up with moist eyes, fighting back emotion, and when he had won that battle, he continued talking.