by Matt Shaner
Our plan was different then the conclusion from dinner. We broke into small talk for a while and discussed the various issues of family, money, health, etc. Drew never changed his emotional stride. The women seemed happy to be together. We decided, to the frustration of some, to keep things a secret for now. A united front was needed to face the pressure from the law. We also decided that a response was needed, something to get room to move. All we wanted was the surveillance to end and to get our lives back. Shawn and I had the answer, and the next morning I contacted Julia to set up a meeting.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
At the Office
I knew, from the yearly security meetings, that they saved every email we sent out. Some areas had their email deleted after two weeks; mine, from the luck of the draw, saved theirs forever. The easy way around it, the way that most of us took to forward interesting or insulting emails, was to log into our own personal accounts and send them from there. I hoped that the authorities weren’t monitoring my email, but I also knew that the company kept their things under lock and key, and because of important information, it would take a serious amount of legal action for them to obtain my work computer.
I typed an email to Julia. She gave me an email, that from her word, was routed through two outside servers. I told her we had a problem. I told her we went out to dinner and someone was planning on ruining our whole project. I also made up some stuff about searching the house remains and finding some clues as to where he went. The problem was the person waiting to screw everything up, and from what he said, he was going to admit to suspicious activity. I told her this activity would hinder our efforts, and if she was willing to do something to handle it, I would appreciate it.
Two hours after the email, I returned from a meeting to this response: 4th and Chestnut. 1 a.m. The sender line in the email was blank again. I hated her choice at the meeting time, but I guess, since things were getting a little hotter, the odd time made some sense. It would require another lie and sneak out session, and thinking about it now, it’s surprising that Val never suspected anything. Communication altogether had become a bother, and I sent Shawn a text message from my phone with the meeting information. I told him, that even though he knew my secret, I would be the only one dealing with Julia. More people meant more risk in any situation.
Fourth and Chestnut was a suspicious location, and it took a map quest search to find out where it was. I drove by on the way home from work. The street crossed at the end of an industrial park outside of the city. The only buildings in the area were the industrial park residents that consisted of a stream of faceless brown structures. A central street ran down the park flanked by the buildings. I didn’t like the openness of everything.
The normal night routine progressed, and I met Shawn outside before we went to bed. Our shadows, like the nights of action before, were the most dominant things on the street.
“Are they still up the street?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said as he pointed over his shoulder. The moon cast a light glare over the body of a vehicle parked at the crest of the hill. My patience was ending with the whole surveillance thing. We decided earlier, that even though they had microphones on us from the car or somewhere else, when we were outside, we would address them full force. It gave us an ounce of satisfaction that they knew we knew, if that makes any sense.
“How’s the kid?” I asked.
“Wonderful, sleeping all night now.”
I handed him a piece of paper with the message I intended to pass on.
He opened it, looked it over in the streetlight, and placed it into his pocket.
“Well man, I think it’s time for me to call it a night,” I said. We turned and went our separate ways.
I went back into the house, shut the door, and before I had a chance to pour myself a cup of coffee, heard a knock. I thought that Shawn was back for something and went to let him in. Detective Williams stood in the doorway, and his plain white Crown Victoria sat in my drive.
“Mind if I come in?” he asked. This was not random timing.
“Sure, detective, want some coffee? I’m about to have some.”
“That sounds great, two sugars, and no cream.” He sat at our kitchen island.
“How’s the investigation going?”
“Let me ask you. I have two missing men, a house in flames, a missing wife and leads that are starting to vanish.” He sipped his coffee.
“A missing wife?” This didn’t sound good.
“Yeah, as of this morning, Julia Dean was reported missing by her roommate. She hadn’t come home in three days. Her clothes are still at the apartment. Her car is gone.”
“Does anyone know?”
“In respect to the parties involved, this is being kept from the press for now.” I was willing to bet I could identify the parties involved. Suddenly, my interest in this meeting later peaked. The thought of getting killed in some meeting organized by her kidnapper wasn’t appealing, and I needed some way of security.
“So why are you here?” I asked after he paused to let things sink in.
“I came to you first when things broke, and we are out on a limb. Has anything out of the ordinary happened since we last talked?” Plenty, I thought.
“No sir. Nothing I can think of.” What the heck, murder, covering up a crime scene and now lying to the police. My track record was adding up nicely.
“We need your help here. Have you talked to your neighbors recently? A few seem, upset. How are you taking everything? How is your wife?” He was reaching, and I could tell. His eyes read a look of desperation either practiced or honest.
“She’s fine. In fact, we all went out to dinner last night.”
“I know,” he said. He stopped and this floated in the kitchen air for a while. “Look, consider this an offer.”
“Whatever you’re going to say, I’m not interested”
“Help me. No one wants to come forward with anything. This is a criminal investigation. The parties heading the investigation want us to crackdown on their suspects.”
“You have suspects?” The temperature in the room raised a few degrees.
“Some. All I’m asking is for you to be smart here.” He slid me another card across the countertop. “If you can think of anything, let me know.” He stood up and walked out.
I looked at the clock; two hours left until the meeting with someone. I didn’t know who or what awaited me. I wanted Bryan’s gun, or Travis’s gun or just a weapon. Everyone else had protection. Scenarios cycled over and over. The funeral ran in my head. Then the channel flipped, and I saw a nice home in a tropical, warm town, on our own, starting new and fresh before all of this. I walked upstairs, knowing sleep wouldn’t happen before the meeting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Meeting
I didn’t bother waking up Val, leaving a note stating I had an early morning meeting and would be gone. The car started in the garage, and the engine sounded like thunder in the still night. I cringed at the noise. I opened the garage door and cringed again. Everything seemed amplified. The hum from the streetlights buzzed through my head in stereo.
The path to the park would not take long, especially this late at night. I passed one car, a Honda that went by me doing about 150 mph. The industrial park was lonely, bathed in the dull orange of the parking lot lights. A few of the buildings had lights on inside from janitors doing their nightly rounds. The thought of some witnesses comforted me for a second, but then I realized Julia, or whoever showed up, wouldn’t care. A dark Cadillac sat in the middle of the forest of empty spaces. The windows were tinted. A puff of exhaust rose from the two tail pipes. I pulled in slowly, lighting up the car in my headlights, and stopped next to it.
After checking my corners and mirrors, frequenting of crime movies reminded me to see the angles, I stepped out of
my car. The thought that this may be my last night of life flashed into my mind and made me hesitate. I pictured a sniper on the rooftops. I pictured cops ready to swarm in and arrest us. I pictured Val and our life together. I was at the back of the car when the pictures ran out.
The side door of the Cadillac opened.
“Get in.”
I hesitated. A window in the closest building was lit, and I noticed a janitor vacuuming. Inside, I hoped he took some kind of mental note of the situation in the parking lot.
Julia was in the driver’s seat.
“I thought you were missing,” I said. She wore a trench coat. Her hair was messy, but she looked ready for anything. She kept scanning the mirrors and area around us.
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Tell me what you have for me, and then we’ll talk.” She kept avoiding my eyes. I remembered the story we decided on in the men’s room that night.
“The investigation is coming down hard, and well, we have a problem.”
She finally looked at me. “I don’t like problems. Carefully pick your next sentence,” she said.
“Our one neighbor, he said . . .”
“I know already.” She lowered her head.
“You know?” The car felt too small, and the night started shrinking in on me.
“You think I don’t keep up on things? Oh my husband is gone, oh woe is me, tell me what leads do you have?” She asked all these and put on a mock sad face. I couldn’t think of anything to say. “If he comes out with whatever it is he thinks he has, it would damage our efforts. I want Bryan dead, not found.”
“So what do you have in mind?”
“He will be taken care of tomorrow. If he wants to be involved, we’ll let him. I’ll contact you in a few days. Do not contact me again. It’s too risky.”
“Where will you be?” I was sure she would lie.
“As far as you know, I’m missing. I’ll tell you when I need to talk. Now get out. We’ve been here too long.” I stepped out of the car and watched her drive away. The clock in my car read 2 a.m.
Driving home, all I wondered was what she had planned. Drew knew nothing and everything. His telling Sarah and the others was a risk, and now he would pay. I would have felt worse, if I made the call. This was on Julia, not me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Next Day
Sleep didn’t come as much as desired that night. I watched the dark fade and the morning shadows creep over the bedroom ceiling. Val tossed and turned but never noticed anything. The alarm sounded at 6:30.
I sat up, looked at Val, noticed how she slept so peacefully, and went to take my shower. Over the shower water, I heard what sounded like sirens. I shut off the water, and my suspicion was confirmed. Our bathroom faced the street, and I moved over the curtain. A stream of police cars made their way down the road and turned into the drive at Drew’s house. I ran downstairs.
Shawn was already outside and watching from his doorway. The cars parked in the drive and lined on the curb. I counted six. Detective Williams arrived in his white sedan. He was too busy to notice us, or maybe not. Cops exited their cars, and per every movie with a standoff ever filmed, pulled their guns and aimed at the house. One officer, standing with the detective, was on a cell phone. The door to the house opened, and they all snapped to attention. Sarah came running out crying into the arms of an officer.
The police barricaded the way out, and I called work to tell them this would be a late morning. Twenty minutes later, the news vans arrived, and Val and I were ushered back into our kitchen. We opened the windows and watched. I could see a figure walking around in the house talking on the phone and looking very agitated. My cell phone, usually off, remained on from the call to work, and it vibrated against my hip. I stepped back away from the window, thinking it was someone from the office calling to check in on a project or an account. Without checking the caller ID, I slid open the phone and put it to my ear.
“You don’t understand. I was, I was contacted.” I recognized Drew’s voice, and before I could respond, a response came through.
“Just slow down here. Start from the beginning.”
I walked back to the window. Someone was playing the conversation over the line.
“I know what happened. All of this, all of this investigation, it’s all a set up.” His voice cracked. The give and take of the conversation faded, and Julia’s voice came through.
“Just so you know I’m serious.”
“I know what you mean,” I said. Val looked at me, and I tried to act casual.
“In two minutes, the sniper on the far hill is going to take him out and say he pulled a weapon. A news conference will happen one hour later saying that the prime suspect in the disappearances of both men has been killed in a police standoff. By this afternoon, we will be clear. You owe me something in three days.” The line died.
I’ve counted two minutes many times in my life. It has been the end of a class, the end of a workday, the end of a new year and the end of a wedding. Drew’s shadow in the window looked more agitated. I wondered who was in on it; looking out at the crowd, it could be anyone. Shadows moved across our front yard, and different cops posted up next to our siding. I looked over the front yard and saw two snipers across the street.
Mentally, I was about at a minute and ten seconds when the shadow of Drew dropped the phone and moved a curtain aside. He walked over to the front door, it opened, and two shots sounded through the morning air. The shots started a flurry of activity. An ambulance, stationed on the street and ready for an emergency, rushed over to the yard and stopped, blocking off the scene. Sarah broke into tears. The news cameras all turned, and some photographers started taking pictures. The one sniper patted the other guy on the back.
Sarah came to our house to escape. She sat on our couch, crying, while Val held her. I stood in the kitchen and watched. Certain times, silence can say more than any speech, and the room was heavy with the events of the morning. I watched her cry but didn’t feel guilty. Drew wrote his own ticket out. He was too weak to carry out the plan. The rules of the game were starting to become clear. Those who couldn’t take the pressure would be eliminated. Julia’s role and presence was way more then I really knew. I had three days to come up with something. With these thoughts running through my head, I left and drove to work.
Chapter Thirty
Work
I stared into the men’s room mirror at my reflection. My eyes were bloodshot. My suit shirt was half out of my pants. I hadn’t shaved in a week. My watch told me a meeting with two of my eight bosses was happening in four minutes. I held a file in my hand of meaningless information. Someone was shot next door this morning, and now I had to explain the current quality control efforts of our group to minimize loss and error creation.
As I walked to the meeting room, the usual ignorance of the morning permeated the air while all the processors listened to headphones and watched their computers. Some looked at me. The walk to a meeting came with the looks and wonder of those thinking about the chance of a firing or at least a discipline talk. My role required me to make these useless presentations every now and then, and I was sure that those people watching me wouldn’t think anything different. When I finally arrived at the room, the other bosses were waiting, holding coffee cups and making the usual small talk.
Our meeting rooms were glassed out corners stuck in random parts of the buildings throughout the complex. This particular room had a view of the parking lot. Often, throughout the meetings, I would space off and concentrate on the forests that bordered the lot. Five minutes into the presentation, something else caught my attention. I rubbed my eyes in mid-sentence, paused, and looked outside again.
The branches of the trees on the edge of the lot pushed open, and a figure walked to the edge of the gravel. It was Bryan, d
ressed in the same outfit we burned up that night. He stared into the window. A pair of guys walking in late stepped right by him and didn’t react. I wondered how the sight of a dead guy could be ignored, but then I realized I was the only one to see him. It’s said that in Biblical times, to punish a murderer, they strapped the dead body to his and forced him to stare into the face of the corpse until it finally decomposed. Maybe this was my punishment. The words flowed from my mouth with no feeling. I looked down at the paper to make it go away.
“What about the results of the project from last month?” Simmons, the mid-level manager in the meeting, broke my concentration. I think I actually flinched when he spoke. After hearing your own voice drone on, any interruption was like a gunshot in the dark. I looked up and past him.
Now two figures were standing in the clearing. The man, the real victim of the whole thing, was next to Bryan. They both looked at me. In a small way, I felt like Scrooge in my own Christmas Carol. A rustle of noise jolted me back to reality. Person one was saying something about needing to get to another meeting. Person two was shaking his head in agreement. Person three was already out the door.
Chapter Thirty-One
Day Two
“You’re kidding.”
Shawn was giving me a look. I explained the phone call. He watched the violence unfold the day before. We were now sitting in the parking garage on our lunches. We kept our radios on just in case anyone was trying to listen.
This garage was by my office. It stood an imposing structure in the afternoon heat. People whom I did not recognize walked around us to their cars every few minutes. We all wore the look of the working class drones. Two guys walked by discussing their fantasy football picks; certainly not as exciting as murder.