Conspiracy Unleashed

by L. Danvers

  “May have?”

  “They’re pretty sure, I think. Anyway, if they’re correct, his theory is that the energy in this particle could be harnessed and used for a weapon. A radiation bomb, or rad-bomb, I think he called it.”

  “Sue, I don’t have time for this. I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but you know how Katz is. She’s not going to run a story about a particle that may exist. Believe me, I know.”

  “Oh.” Sue’s face sunk.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I just don’t want you to get too worked up about a story that’s not going to run. At least, it won’t run until you have more information.”

  “That’s okay,” Sue insisted, smiling in attempt to hide that her eyes were welling up with tears. “I understand.”

  “I’m sure when it’s a definite thing Katz will consider it. Try to get some more details before you get too excited, okay?”

  Sue nodded and scurried away. Cal kept checking the clock as she typed. She was eager to get home. When it was 11:00, the end of her shift, she headed to her small apartment downtown. She could afford a nicer place, but she wanted to build up her savings. Her parents never had much money. They worked multiple jobs to make ends meet. Cal knew she would never become rich working as a reporter, so saving as much as she could was important to her. For now, the 800-square foot studio apartment would have to do.

  When she got home, she couldn’t stop thinking about Sue. She should make an effort to be nicer to her. The atomic particle, or whatever she was talking about, sounded kind of interesting. She shouldn’t have been so quick to tear her down. Cal had been feeling frustrated with her job for a long time, but she didn’t want to be the one to suck the spirit out of an optimistic student. The news business itself was sure to take care of that.

  To clear her head, Cal changed into her red sports bra and black sweatpants and began her exercise routine. She had a system of circuits she would run through—lifting weights, taking swings at her punching bag, running on the treadmill and doing floor work. She had always been athletic. She used to beg Flynn to play catch with her when they were younger, but sports weren’t his strong point. He was brilliant at math and science and could solve any problem, but give the kid a ball and he had no clue what to do with it. Cal made the softball team when she was in high school. She had an impressive swing. She’d played on an intramural league in college and did the occasional pick-up game after she graduated, but her current shift at work made playing impossible. So she worked out at home instead.

  Forty-five minutes and a whole lot of sweat later, Cal took a warm shower and went to bed.

  Saturday was Christmas Eve, one of Cal’s favorite days of the whole year growing up. Nothing could beat the excitement of Christmas morning, but there was something about the day before that was equally magical. The anticipation. The build-up. The unknown. The mystery.

  But she was older now, and she had bigger things to worry about than what would be under her parents’ tree the next morning.

  The day went as fast as it came. She lost track of time researching into Damon Cantrel’s past. She felt like a madwoman at times. One of those stereotypical characters from a movie with photographs and evidence hung on the wall, connected by red strings and scribbled on with red ink. She took solace in knowing she hadn’t gone that far. Yet.

  Nevertheless, the mystery consumed her.

  Cal paid little attention during Christmas Eve Mass at St. Joan’s Catholic Church. She kept replaying the conversation with Blair from a couple days ago in her head. What reason could anyone have to target Damon?

  This was the problem with many of the disappearances. Of course, not every disappearance was suspicious. Some were explained by gang activity or kidnapping for ransom. Others were explained by odd behavior by the individuals prior to going missing. But there were so many without any explanation at all. They just... vanished. Some were later found dead, but not all of them. Not most of them. It didn’t add up.

  Cal worried what Katz would say if she knew she was investigating this story. She’d been warned to drop it. But something deep inside her was telling her to keep digging. Her gut instincts had never led her astray—workwise, at least—thus far. And she suspected this was no exception. This story could be her big break. It could change everything.

  Chapter Four

  On Christmas morning, the sweet smell of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls wafted down the hall. It came from her parents’ kitchen that was tucked in the corner of their humble home.

  It was tradition for Cal and Quinn to go to the midnight Christmas Eve service with their mom and dad and spend the night in the bedroom they shared as kids. That way they could celebrate Christmas morning together as a family. The room hadn’t changed a bit since they lived there. Holographic posters of their favorite band, Left Turn Ahead, covered the walls along with Cal’s softball trophies and Quinn’s Science Olympiad awards. A pile of their schoolbooks from high school—their dad had insisted they use real books, much to their chagrin—sat atop their old wooden roll top desk. Cal’s favorite stuffed animal, Hugsie the bunny rabbit, had a permanent home on the shelf above her twin bed. He sat in the spot that had once belonged to Curly Shirley, the doll Quinn had destroyed. Cal longed for the Christmas morning that she wouldn’t wake up and think of that stupid doll.

  She wiped the sleep away from her eyes and stared up at Hugsie. His floppy ears had frayed a decade ago, and one of his beady black eyes had been replaced with a button from one of Janet’s old blouses. When the room came into focus, she pulled the worn plaid quilt her mother had sewn by hand away from her body. She straightened the legs of her red and green flannel pajamas. They had bunched up while she tossed and turned in her sleep. She had always been a light sleeper. Cal pulled her long hair into a high ponytail and walked across the room to wake up her sister, the wood beams creaking with each soft step. Quinn was in such a deep sleep she didn’t flinch. Cal knelt beside her and tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Time to wake up,” she whispered. Quinn grunted and swatted Cal’s hand away. “C’mon, get up. It’s Christmas morning.”

  This was a familiar routine. A flood of memories of their childhood swept through Cal’s mind. Cal had always been a morning person, and every day, without fail, she would have to poke and prod Quinn to get up in time for school. Running late meant missing the hoverbus, which meant one of their parents would have to take them and would be late to work, leading to a miserable evening for the girls as their parents guilt-tripped them by telling them about how much trouble they were in for not getting to work on time.

  Quinn stretched out her arms and groaned. She checked her wristband. “Cal,” she grumbled, “it’s six in the morning.”

  “Mom’s already made breakfast.”

  Quinn sighed, blinking her heavy eyes like the weight of her lids were too much to bear. Quinn had always been dramatic. “Alright, alright. Go on, I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Cal left Quinn in their old room and joined her dad on the leather couch in the living room, next to the kitchen. The couch was an eyesore, having survived two children and three small dogs over the years. Their beagle Trooper had suffered an unfortunate accident a couple years back, and Howard wasn’t ready to replace him. Cal understood wanting to save money for more important things than replacing a couch, but it was in such bad shape it pulled attention to itself the moment anyone entered the room. Janet had draped a crocheted blanket over the back, but it wasn’t big enough to hide the many open seams.

  Cal’s mom brought over a plate for her topped with two cinnamon rolls drizzled with warm icing, a handful of napkins and a mug of steaming hot coffee. As always, her dad had old-timey Christmas carols playing in the background. She hummed along to “Silver Bells” as she watched the ventless fireplace crackle in the corner of the room.

  Quinn joined the family as Cal took the last bite of her cinnamon roll. Cal wiped her hands, put her plate on the rickety coffee table and off
ered her seat to her sister.

  Cal positioned herself under the twinkling tree situated to the left of the couch. Over the years, Cal had spent countless hours helping her mom decorate that tree. There weren’t many things she and Janet bonded over, but this was one of them. The artificial tree with blinking lights of every color was the main attraction of the Christmas décor. Together, she and her mom popped and strung popcorn to drape around it. They sifted through the boxes and boxes of homemade ornaments she and Quinn put together as kids while trying to find the perfect places for them on the tree. Cal’s favorite ornament was the simplest one: ice pop sticks framing a photograph of her sister and her. Their cheeks were smashed against one another, the corners of their mouths touching. Although they were a few years apart, Cal and her big sister looked so much alike in that particular picture. There was a glimmer of a sisterly bond. Memories like the one captured in that snapshot were few and far between.

  Cal passed out presents while Quinn made herself comfortable. Howard and Janet opened Quinn’s gift first. It was a brand new FlexTab. Howard studied the device. Cal supposed he was worrying what his Order of the Luddites friends would say if they knew he now owned one. Janet, however, was thrilled and began playing with it at once. Aside from the house itself, it was now the most expensive thing she owned.

  Quinn gave Cal her present next. She unwrapped it, taking special care not to rip the paper. Janet liked reusing wrapping paper and had a fit anytime it was wasted on one gift. Cal had been scolded enough times for “ruining good paper” to know better than to rush. When she finished unwrapping it, she opened the box and found Quinn had purchased a FlexTab for her, too. Cal’s eyes widened at the sight of the malleable device, its sleek black casing and blue-tinted buttons.

  Was Quinn trying to make a show of her big, new salary? What Cal had spent months saving for, Quinn was able to afford overnight. But Cal tried not to read too much into her sister’s motivations and be grateful to receive such a luxury. Cal thanked Quinn over and over again, and she assured her it would come in handy for work.

  “I know it’s more expensive than our usual gifts,” Quinn said, tucking a wavy gold lock of hair behind her ear while staring at the floor. “But I was so excited about the new job and wanted to find a way to thank you for supporting my dream.”

  Warmth rushed to Cal’s cheeks at the thought of giving Quinn her gift. She thought she’d gotten her something nice this year. That she would be the one who had spoiled everyone, but she couldn’t top a FlexTab. It was silly to be so worried about who spent how much on what, especially at Christmas. Her parents had taught her better than that. However, a superficial part of her had hoped to impress everyone.

  Quinn’s eyes lit up when she unwrapped the brand new suit she’d picked out for her to wear at NASA. Quinn’s appreciation was sincere, which was a relief.

  Their parents gave each of the girls a crocheted red and white blanket and a bag full of sweets. Janet bought Howard an old record for his collection, and he got her an assortment of scented candles their neighbor made by hand. On occasion, when they opened the front door, Janet would get a whiff of scents like lavender and jasmine and lament about how her own home didn’t smell that good.

  When the presents under the tree had been opened, Quinn pulled one more gift out of her pajama pocket. She handed Cal a tiny box tied with a red ribbon.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it.”

  Cal lifted the lid of the black box, and inside she found a silver oval locket bearing a butterfly design. The wings were studded with diamonds. Quinn got up from the couch and sat next to her sister. She pressed the face of the locket with her finger, in the center of the butterfly, and a holographic image of the two of them together appeared. It was the same picture as the one on Cal’s favorite ornament. She squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes growing wet with tears. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her sleeve and wrapped her arms around Quinn. “It’s perfect.”

  She fastened the clasp around her neck and rubbed her thumb over the diamond studs that hung below her collarbone. “It’s too much, though. You shouldn’t have.” She chewed her lip, unsure if it was rude to ask what was on her mind. She decided to ask anyway. “Why did you get this for me?”

  “I want us to be close. Like we were in that picture.”

  “Me, too.”

  Cal promised she would never remove the locket.

  Chapter Five

  She dug her nails into her scalp, pretending to be in the middle of putting together a package for the 10:00, hoping her charade would convince Gregory Gilden to leave her alone. He didn’t take the hint. He went on and on about the onslaught of fan mail he’d received from women gushing over the beard he was growing. Cal tapped her toe, hidden underneath her desk, while he read her emails from his FlexTab. She’d had enough. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?”

  “Always in a bad mood, aren’t you?” he said, shaking his head. “You have to learn to relax.”

  Her outburst worked, however, because he sauntered across the room to Sue. By the way the intern’s cheeks flushed and dimpled, it was obvious she found his presence captivating.

  Cal made sure no one was looking before opening the folder on her computer. She clicked through each file, searching for clues, some connection she wasn’t seeing.

  But there wasn’t one. At least not as far as she could tell. There were no obvious similarities among the people who had disappeared. They were of every age. Every race. Every walk of life. Some were healthy, some were sick. Some were wealthy, some were poor. None was an obvious target. They were regular people.

  Cal ran her fingers through her thick hair, sighing in exasperation. None of it added up. She was so frustrated she could scream. But she was in a room full of her colleagues, so she refrained herself.

  She should be able to figure this out. There had to be something she was missing. The thought that these disappearances weren’t related crossed her mind, but she wasn’t about to give up now. She was in too deep.

  That same smug shuffle caught her ear, and she looked up to find Gregory reaching into his blue blazer and pulling out a silver flask. “I got you something,” he said with a wink. “I keep a stash in my desk drawer. Don’t tell Katz.”

  It was funny that he thought his stash was a secret.

  He sat on the edge of her desk, one elbow draped over his kneecap, like they were old buddies about to have a heart-to-heart conversation. “Listen, you’re young and have that fire in you. And I respect that. But you’ll learn over the years to desensitize yourself. The news business will drive you nuts if you let it. Look at you. Your eyes are bloodshot, you look like you haven’t slept in days. You’re a reporter, for God’s sake. You have to be on air, meaning you can’t be running around here like a hot mess. You have to keep up appearances. And let’s face it, you’ve looked better. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. Busy, but fine.”

  “Alright. Sure you don’t want a swig? It’s gin.” He dangled the flask in front of her. The pungent scent burned her nose.

  “I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” He gulped down a few sips, tucked his flask back in his jacket pocket and left once again.

  Cal checked the time. Getting to the bottom of this mystery would have to wait. Katz would kill her if she didn’t have the report on today’s press briefing ready in time.

  CAL HAD CROSSED THE line that separated insanely curious from just plain insane. She lined the walls of her apartments with photos of people who’d disappeared, along with brief summaries and scribbled theories about what could have happened to them. She thought putting a few up where she could see them side by side would help her piece everything together. However, that wasn’t the case.

  The faces stared at her. Taunted her. Haunted her.

  Her wristband flashed. There was a message from Flynn. “Pick you up in 30.” Crap. Time had g
otten away from her yet again. She rushed to her closet and pulled a long-sleeved black mini dress adorned with silver sequins from a hanger. She swept her hair into a messy up-do, slid on two chandelier earrings and reapplied her red lipstick. The blue light shone again as she slipped on her heels. Cal hurried out the door, sure to shut it behind her before Flynn had the opportunity to spot the evidence of her obsession. She placed her hand in Flynn’s grasp as he helped her climb into the backseat of the hovercab.

  “You look....” He paused. She thought he was going to say something like great, nice or beautiful, but instead he said, “tired.”

  She chuckled. “I am.”

  They sped away to Alexandria to set sail on the New Year’s Eve cruise. It had become tradition over the past four years. They and a couple of friends would ring in the New Year aboard a riverboat, enjoy champagne and hors d’oeuvres and dance the night away. Cal felt a little strange about not having a date this year. She’d been so caught up in work she hadn’t put much thought into it until now, but at least she had Flynn to keep her company.

  The celebration was well underway by the time they boarded. They each grabbed a glass of sparkling champagne and went up to the deck. Cal and Flynn darted out of the way of the flailing arms and kicking legs of the partying dancers and found a spot by the railing. Cal rested her elbows against the cold metal, sipping her drink as she looked out across the harbor, the effervescent bubbles tickling her lips. A silvery glow was cast across the water, and speckles of diamonds reflected from the sky above.

  “The stars are bright tonight,” Flynn said, his arms propped over the railing. He adjusted his glasses and raised his chin to take in the celestial view. Cal watched him standing there in the moonlight with his messy brown hair and stubbled chin. She didn’t know if it was the hair or the suit, but she hadn’t realized until now how grown up he looked. She wondered when that had happened—when her bookworm of a best friend, that boy who once struggled to throw a ball, turned into a man. But her thoughts were interrupted when he continued, “What was it your sister used to say about them?”