by James Dobson
Julia nodded, glad to move beyond self-pity. She loved nothing more than a brisk walk along Bear Creek Lake to help clear her head and regain perspective.
Neither said anything for thirty or forty paces. Then Maria asked, “Have you thought about adoption?”
The question raised a different cloud over Julia’s demeanor. Not personal grief, but the memory of a disturbing discovery. While researching dark zone trends Julia had learned there was a five-year waiting list for adoptable infants. Five years!
“There aren’t any babies available,” she said without explanation.
“You can’t be serious. There must be some babies in need of a good home.”
“Very few. It seems harvesting pays better than delivery.”
The comment appeared to startle Maria. She stopped walking and turned toward her sister. “What did you say?”
“Fetus harvesting. It’s become a fairly large industry supporting the embryotic supply chain.”
“The what?”
“You know: surgical repair material, cosmetics, health supplements. That sort of thing.”
It took a moment for Maria to connect the dots. “Wait. You mean that’s what they mean when they say ‘embryotics’?”
Julia nodded. “You can sell a two-month-old fetus for a few thousand dollars. So, unless you want to raise a child, what’s the motivation for women to invest nine months getting fat, visiting doctors, and buying prenatal vitamins? It’s illegal to sell a live baby due to human trafficking laws. But embryos can be sold without hassle or questions.”
Maria appeared every bit as troubled as Julia had been when confronted with the naked facts. But the process had never been a secret. It had just remained hidden in plain sight thanks to naïve indifference, or perhaps willful ignorance. In the back of Julia’s and Maria’s minds they must have known that someone, somewhere had been harvesting embryos. Like everyone else, they had chosen not to ask where the raw materials fueling the public’s enhanced appearance and extended years came from. The look on Maria’s face reminded Julia of her own earlier epiphany. They were like two children stumbling upon a suspicious dog kennel beside their daddy’s butcher shop.
Eager to move beyond the depressing and dark, Julia raised a lighter subject as they continued their walk. “So, tell me about your date. How was the reunion with the high school mystery suitor?”
Maria smiled, then frowned. “Well, despite your worst fears he didn’t turn out to be a mass murderer hoping to rape and strangle me.”
Julia laughed at the reminder of her overprotective warnings. “That’s good news. So, what’s his name?”
“Matthew.”
“And?”
“And we met for coffee.”
“A public place. Very good. You listened to me. Did you meet during daylight hours like I—”
Maria slapped her sister’s arm.
“Ouch! What was that for?”
“Love pat,” Maria said playfully. “Yes, Julia, we met in the daytime. Now will you quit with the hovercraft questions?”
“Sorry. Tell me about him.”
“I didn’t remember him at first. But he sure knew me. He could tell you what I was wearing the day we sat together in the cafeteria, what I said when I refused his invitation to the prom, and how many pictures I’ve posted online in the past year.”
“Sounds creepy to me.”
“It wasn’t like that. At least not at first. I thought it was kind of sweet. Flattering.”
“Maria,” Julia said severely. “That’s how it always starts with you. They look. They like. They flatter. They enjoy. And then they leave.”
“Not this time. I ended it before reaching the ‘enjoy’ phase.”
Julia was genuinely surprised. “Really? Just like that? What happened?”
“He didn’t pass the Jared test.”
“The what?”
“Jared made me promise I would introduce him to any guy I liked enough for a potentially serious relationship. So he came with me on my second date with Matthew. It didn’t go well.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing really. Jared just got bad vibes. He wants me to marry someone like your Troy. This guy didn’t come close.”
“Was he mean?”
“No. Quite nice actually.”
“Then what?”
Maria appeared to be searching for the right word. “Needy. No, weak. That’s the word. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would put me before himself. At least that’s how Jared read him.”
“I see. Disappointed?”
“A bit. He was cute. And it was my first real date in six months. But I’m learning not to trust my own first impressions.”
They walked another quarter mile before either spoke again.
“I’m proud of you, Sis,” Julia finally said. “I bet it made Jared feel good knowing you respected his opinion enough to end the relationship.”
“It did.” A sigh. “I’m OK with the decision. There was something odd about Matthew anyway. It kind of gnawed at me but I couldn’t put my finger on it. At least not until after Jared gave him the thumbs-down. Then I remembered feeling something was off-kilter when he first contacted me. He used a really weird online handle.”
“A lot of guys do that when using online connection services.”
“I know. But most use something fun like ‘Lover Boy’ or ‘Dream Man.’ Matt used something pretty strange. I can’t remember it exactly. A Manichu or A Mannequin. Something like that.”
Julia stopped in her tracks.
Maria took several steps before noticing, then turned back. “What?”
“Was it A Manichean?”
“That’s it!” Maria said with surprise. “How on earth did you know?”
* * *
Six minutes later both sisters were sitting in Julia’s car.
“That’s the same name I got from a Dr. Vincent I called last night,” Tyler Cain’s voice was saying through the stereo speakers. “He’s a professor on ancient religions in Boulder who said Matthew Adams recently moved from Boulder to Denver to take an elder-care job. Triple bingo!”
“An elder-care job?” Maria said. “He told me he was in town on business.”
“Did he mention an address?” Tyler asked.
“No. I assumed he was staying in a hotel.”
Tyler cursed. “Well, I already tried the address change information service. They list the Boulder address he left but nothing on this end.”
“No mail-forwarding mailing address?” Julia asked.
“One of those rental box places. I had planned to try tracking it down this morning.”
“But there must be a hundred of those places in the Denver area.”
“Three hundred and twenty-seven, actually. Smitty said the police have no record of credit card use since Matthew moved from Boulder. He seems to have gone underground. No address. Cash purchases. So I have to start with what I’ve got.”
“Who’s Smitty?” Maria asked.
“My former partner with the Denver police.”
“Did you check for an active bank account?” Julia suggested. “Surely that would have his new address.”
“I couldn’t get any information over the phone. My call routed to somebody named ‘Jeremy’ in one of those foreign call centers in North Korea or Vietnam. You know how they talk. Anyway, I plan to stop by the major bank branches when they open this morning, right after I get a compulsory cooperation document from Smitty.”
“Wait a minute,” Julia said while looking at her sister. “Maria was in touch with Matthew last week.”
“A few days ago, actually. But I told you. I sent him a Dear John message. It’s over between us.”
“I bet you said goodbye in a way that would keep the door open in case you ever changed your mind.”
“Julia!” Maria reacted with offense.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
A nod.
“I thought so.”
<
br /> “That’s perfect!” Tyler interjected. “Maria, I need you to send Matthew Adams another message.”
“Saying what?” she asked. “Matt’s not likely to respond if I tell him the police want to talk to him.”
“No,” Tyler agreed. “But I bet he’d respond if you told him you would like to see him again.”
“That you’d love to see him again,” Julia corrected as she shoved her tablet in front of Maria.
She reluctantly accepted the device. “I’m not so sure about this. What if he—”
“Please, Maria, just type whatever Mr. Cain suggests.”
She did, carefully following Tyler’s wording to request a rendezvous later that afternoon.
Just before Maria hit SEND, Julia placed her hand on her sister’s arm, then suggested one last action. She reached for the tablet and pointed. “Wink.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said wink at the camera. We’re attaching a snapshot.”
Maria glowered at her sister. Then dutifully obeyed.
Chapter Forty-Two
Nothing was going to keep Matthew from getting to Bear Creek Lake by six. Not even Reverend Grandpa’s ill-timed attempt at making amends. Feeling bad for what he had said about Matthew’s mother, the old man suggested the two might grab a burger together. “My treat!” he had said with a sheepish grin.
But even if Matthew had wanted to accept some lame apology, he wouldn’t have gone. Maria Davidson had made that impossible by retracting her rejection note. Why else would she suggest a picnic dinner and say she would love to see him again? Reverend Grandpa could fend for himself for a few hours, even if it meant Matthew abandoning his post. Or losing his job.
He triple-checked the destination to confirm the precise location suggested in Maria’s mischievous note.
I’ll be waiting near the trailhead wearing white shorts and a bright yellow sleeveless blouse. (Easy to spot from a distance and enjoy up close!)
Go to coordinates 39.653182,-105.148349.
I’ll wait exactly ten minutes. If you don’t arrive I’ll figure you aren’t coming.
But I really, really hope you do!
He looked urgently at the dashboard clock for the eighth time in as many minutes. Assuming a hundred-yard walk from the parking area he should make it with time to spare. He took a deep breath while turning left onto Kumpfmiller Drive. One turn later he saw Maria in the distance. She was, as promised, easy on the eyes. Her blond hair was pulled back, revealing a lovely neck that matched lightly tanned limbs. She looked even better than he had imagined, her upper legs partially concealed behind a small picnic basket dangling from her coupled hands. She appeared to brighten when she spotted Matthew’s approaching smile.
As he slammed the car door, Matthew waved in Maria’s direction. She lifted the basket slightly as if offering evidence of her intentions, then turned onto the trail and began walking into the trees. He laughed to himself, still stunned by his sudden good fortune, before starting toward her. Then he stopped and turned back toward the car to grab the love note he had planned to send. Now he could watch her read it and, he hoped, relish her reaction.
“Maria,” he called into the trees. “Wait up. I’ve got something for you.”
No answer.
He trotted to the trailhead, where he found a path beneath the shade of unwieldy tree branches.
“Maria,” he repeated, half hoping she would continue the game of hide-and-seek.
But this time she called back. “I’m over here by the lake.”
He turned left toward the voice.
“Just beyond the clump of trees.”
Matthew’s mind raced through the possibilities. Would he find her lounging on a blanket beside two freshly poured glasses of wine? Or perhaps in a bikini with her bare toes caressing the water’s edge? Or, dare he hope, taking a plunge wearing nothing but an invitation for him to join?
“Mr. Adams?”
The male voice startled Matthew. He looked left toward an approaching stranger who somehow knew his name.
“Have we met?” Matthew asked while instinctively extending a cautious hand.
The man matched the offer with a firm shake. “My name’s Tyler Cain. I’ve been trying to track you down.”
Track me down? Matthew thought while scanning the shore for signs of Maria. He noticed a trace of yellow and white moving quickly on the other side of a tree-lined path.
“Ms. Davidson won’t be able to join us,” Tyler explained.
“Us?” Matthew said with confusion. “What are you talking about? Maria and I arranged to meet here for…a…picnic. Who are you?”
“I’m a private investigator working with the Denver police. I’ve been investigating threats made against Judge Victor Santiago.”
Matthew cursed, once in alarm and again at Maria’s apparent betrayal. But how could she have known about the letters? Had he accidently mentioned them during their first date? No, he hadn’t.
“Threats? Against a judge?”
“That’s right.”
“What does that have to do with Maria? Or me?”
The detective reached into a backpack he had placed onto the path. Did he have a gun? Bounty hunter handcuffs? No. He pulled out a small stack of handwritten notes Matthew recognized immediately.
“What are those?”
“I was hoping you could help me figure that out,” Tyler said while offering the papers. “Like I said, I’ve been investigating a case involving the judge. But I need your help piecing together some of the clues.”
“My help?” Matthew felt himself start to panic. “Why me?”
“Two different people suggested I talk to you.”
“Who?” he demanded.
“Dr. Thomas Vincent from UC–Boulder, for one. He’s an expert on this word here.” Tyler pointed to the signature line at the bottom of the first note. “I’m not entirely sure how the professor pronounced it.”
“Manichean,” Matthew read without thinking. He quickly feigned ignorance. “Is that how you say it?”
“Sounds about right,” Tyler confirmed.
Matthew looked up. What to say? “Who else suggested talking to me?”
“Maria’s sister, Julia Davidson. She’s been helping me on the case and said you had signed notes to Maria using this same word.”
Of course! Sisters always share intimate love-life details. Maria must have shown Julia his messages. Matthew hated to imagine what Maria must think of him now.
But he had an even more troubling concern. What did the police believe? And what did this private investigator know?
“Listen, Mr. Cain—”
“Call me Tyler, please.”
“Tyler then. You’ve gotta believe me. I never meant any harm. I just wanted to communicate with the judge. I thought maybe—”
“No, Mr. Adams,” Tyler pounced. “You didn’t think. A thinking person doesn’t send death threats to a sitting judge. A thinking person doesn’t sign those threats with the same screwball name he uses to woo women.”
“Death threats? I never sent any death threats.”
Matthew quickly unfolded and reread the first note he had sent to the judge. Then he read two more. “I just asked the judge to correspond with me about the case. To consider the real-life impacts on people like me if he—”
Tyler took the stationery pages back from Matthew. Then he retrieved another from his pack. This one photocopied since, Matthew assumed, the original was sitting in a protective plastic bag at police headquarters. “This letter arrived yesterday, Mr. Adams,” Tyler said. He began reading aloud. “Bid your sweet wife farewell since you will die before issuing an opinion.” He stopped and looked into Matthew’s eyes. “Sounds a heck of a lot like a death threat to me.”
Matthew appeared startled as he quickly yanked the page from Tyler’s hand. He felt the color draining from his face as he read.
“I’ve never seen this letter before in my life,” he said in a voice that sounded e
very bit as guilty as the detective had assumed him to be.
“Yeah. And I’m the Easter bunny,” Tyler mocked.
“I’d never kill—” The image of his mom’s slumping corpse interrupted Matthew’s defense. “I’d never murder anyone! You’ve got to believe me.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Tyler glanced at the page, then back at the ball of anxiety standing before him. “Save it for the police, Mr. Adams,” he said. “My job is to follow the evidence trail wherever it leads and then hand everything over to the authorities. I’m just glad I tracked you down before you did something really stupid.”
“Wait!” Matthew grabbed Tyler’s wrist as if trying to keep him from leaving. “Listen to me. I didn’t write this letter. I admit I wrote those.” He pointed at Tyler’s pack. “But not this one. Look here, even the writing looks different.”
It did. A little.
“Please, Mr. Cain, I just wanted to get the judge to seriously consider the impact of his decision. I admit it was stupid. But I never intended to hurt the man. I swear I’m no assassin.”
Tyler reached into his pack to find and retrieve the letter Jennifer McKay had shown him only a few days earlier. He scanned the page until he found the damning line.
“Even if you hadn’t written this last letter,” he said, “you still threatened the judge.”
“No I didn’t!” Matthew protested.
“Then how am I supposed to interpret this line, ‘comply with my request to avoid more drastic measures’?”
A look of surrender came over Matthew’s face, as if he had forgotten about the earlier threat.
“I shouldn’t have said it like that,” he confessed.
“But you did say it like that.”
“I know,” Matthew said. “I was trying to go big.”
Tyler didn’t follow.
“Forget it.” Matthew’s head was hanging in defeat. “It doesn’t matter now anyway.”
Tyler noticed moisture forming in Matthew’s eyes. Liquid fear. As much as he wanted to believe the clear, indisputable evidence, something inside told him the guy was harmless. Dumb. Rash. Perhaps even conniving. Matthew Adams certainly fit the part of an uptight coward who would send anonymous, threatening letters. But he looked nothing like the sort who could walk into a federal courthouse and shoot to kill. With so many actual murderers walking free thanks to high-paid defense attorneys, and knowing what happens to weak men thrown in with hardened predators, Tyler would have hated to see Matthew spend a decade in a federal penitentiary.