The Severed Thread

by Dione C. Suto

  “But?” I prompted her. She was obviously dragging her feet about something.

  “I didn’t want to bring this up because it’s probably nothing.”

  “I doubt it’s nothing if you’re worried about it,” I said while rummaging through my desk looking for a pen. “And I can tell you are worried about it. You have those little ridges going between your eyebrows.” She always got those when she was upset about something.

  “There were some inconsistencies in the employee retirement fund report I received yesterday for Lassiter Shipping.”

  “What type of inconsistencies?” I said looking up from my foray into the bowels of my desk.

  “Well, it might have been a typo but the balances for the line items didn’t add up to the total overall balance.”

  “Is it a new statement form? If they changed the statement, the programmer might have messed up the coding that calculates everything.”

  “It’s possible.” She sounded doubtful, not a good sign. “But, the statement looks the same as it always did. What worried me was that the totals seem consistent with what should be in the accounts. But,” she hesitated, “if the line items are correct, it would indicate that there is a significant shortage.” I was sure I was not going to like the answer to my next question.

  “What type of shortage are we talking about?”

  “I was working on figuring that out when you called.”

  “What’s your best estimate?”

  “Just a little under three million dollars.” Yeah, I was right, didn’t like the answer.

  “Why did I get out of bed today?” I muttered, after putting my head down on my desk in frustration. “Can you dig a little deeper and let me know what you find?” I asked, my voice muffled by my desk blotter. I straightened in my chair and gave her a wan smile. Hopefully it was just a computer glitch. I really needed something to just be a mistake. You know, something a little software upgrade could sort out. Yeah right.

  “You got it.”

  Chapter 15

  The morning of Jason’s funeral dawned with a cheerless misty haze blanketing the area. Everything was muted, the sounds, the light, the vitality of the day. It seemed appropriate somehow that everything felt damp and dreary. It fit my mood perfectly. I had risen early, unable to sleep, plagued with thoughts of the hectic day ahead of me. I was trying to meditate on the back patio when the sound of movement in the bushes at the perimeter of the yard caught my attention. On alert, I strained to see in the dim light.

  A large silver wolf crept silently from the shadowy border, all gangly legs and wiry sinew. It stopped a few feet into the yard, tongue lolling and raised its snout into the damp air, dragging the myriad of scents through his nose. I froze as it turned its golden gaze on me. I knew a man was also behind those citrine irises but I still didn’t want to do anything to appear threatening. The wolf was at the fore and a creature of the wild, not always understanding the subtleties of human interactions. It knew pack and mate, pups and prey, survival and dominance. Approaching slowly, it sniffed and snuffled quietly before finally stopping to regard me from the grass just beyond the edge of the flagstones.

  “Good morning Corbin. I was not expecting to see you till this afternoon.” Corbin’s wolf looked at me another moment before sitting, tongue again lolling, tail giving a few lazy wags. He was such a beautiful creature and his coat gleamed as the first rays of sunlight won their battle with the oppressive fog.

  “If you want breakfast, I would be happy to get you something.” I smiled as he closed the distance between us rubbing his head against my arm and knees as he stretched along the side of my chair. He was marking his territory. The scent would be gone after my shower but it still pleased me that Corbin’s wolf was comfortable enough to be this relaxed with me. I reached out and gently ran my fingers through his silken fur. “How about you shift while I go find you some clothes to wear?” The slobbery lick my hand received was all the confirmation I needed.

  “Alright, my friend,” I laughed while stroking the fur on his head. “I’ll be right back.” I had to have something that would fit his six foot frame. I found an old pair of Jason’s sweat pants in the guest bedroom along with an oversized t-shirt that I sometimes wore to bed. When I got back outside, Corbin the man was casually lounging naked in one of my patio chairs.

  “Here you go,” I said, handing over the clothes. Corbin flashed me a smile of thanks as he rose and slipped unselfconsciously into the clothes. I was glad that going commando did not appear to be an issue because I definitely did not have any men’s underwear lying around. I was envious of how comfortable he was with his body. I guess being a fitness nut made it easier - no unsightly muffin top to be self-conscious about.

  “So, gorgeous man, to what do I owe this early and very revealing visit?” I teased.

  “I didn’t get your message until late last night. Yesterday was a hectic day.” He smiled at me before running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his chair, face tilted towards the sky. “I needed to take a run to slough off some of yesterday’s ugliness and decided to head your way. I thought we should talk now since it’s probably going to be difficult later.” He was right, later was going to be difficult. And not just to talk.

  “I’m glad you came.” I said as I reached out to touch his arm. “Now, how about you come in and keep me company while I make you some food. Eggs sound good?”

  “Always.”

  Ten minutes later I had a six egg goat cheese and green onion omelet sitting in front of my ravenous friend along with four pieces of whole grain toast and a large glass of orange juice. Shifting and running expended a lot of calories. “You want some caffeine with that?”

  “No thanks,” he said after swallowing a mouthful of food. “Umm,” he moaned around his next bite. “This is really good.”

  “I aim to please.” Breakfast was my specialty. Other meals were fine but there was something about eggs that I really enjoyed. You could do so many things with them and they were all different. Quiche, frittatas, huevos rancheros, breakfast burritos, French toast, omelets and strata. This list went on and on and I loved making them all.

  “So, what did you need my help with?” Corbin asked between mouthfuls.

  “There is the possibility that I’m going to need legal counsel before the investigation into Jason’s murder is over. I don’t want to rely on Joshua. I’m not confident that he will unequivocally have my best interests in mind.”

  “You want me to represent you?”

  “Would you?”

  “Of course,” he said waving a hand in the air like it was no big deal. “I have a feeling that Joshua is going to be a bit put out though.”

  “Don’t worry about him, he’ll get over it.”

  “Anything that I should know about that has you concerned? Besides what I already know about Liam McCallister and the mysterious missing merchandise?”

  “Not really,” I hedged. I didn’t like being evasive with Corbin. At some point I might have to come clean but not yet. “The Interspecies Bureau doesn’t seem to have any leads. I’m just being cautious.”

  “I have a feeling that whatever is going on with McCallister is directly related to Jason’s death. If the Interspecies Bureau finds out that you withheld information that could help them with the case, you could find yourself facing obstruction charges.” I grimaced without commenting.

  “Hey, you asked me to represent you,” he said, taking in my concerned expression. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I did not point that out.”

  “I know that,” I admit grudgingly.

  “I hope you also know you can count on me to watch your back.” Not a question, just a statement of fact.

  “I do.” I smiled, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I really do.”

  Corbin left shortly after devouring another four slices of toast and two more glasses of juice. He stripped out of the borrowed clothes and with a wink at me over his shoulder, shifted back to his wolf
form, sliding silently into the damp undergrowth.

  I showered and dressed slowly after Corbin left, not looking forward to the long day ahead. The funeral itself was not scheduled until late afternoon with the reception at my parents’ home taking place just after dusk.

  We had my father to thank for the extended day. He had explained that he felt it was important to allow all his constituents the opportunity to pay their respects, even those that could not come out until the sun went down. Thankfully my mother put her foot down about being at the cemetery after dark. As a result, there would only be a chosen few vampires attending the private reception back at the house. I’m sure this was really what my father preferred anyway. He was never one to relish mixing with the average man on the street. He considered it a waste of his time talking to those without influence and power. I was more than a little grateful that my mother had stood up to him on this point. It would have pissed me off more than was probably healthy to be standing graveside after dark just so that Liam McCallister could be present.

  I dressed in black slacks, blue-grey blouse and a black blazer. I picked wedge heeled patent leather shoes for the first half of the day. It would really suck to be sinking in a quagmire at the cemetery in high heels. As it was, I hoped I did not run into a problem with the wedges. I had also packed a small bag with more substantial heels and a dress for later. It was going to be a long day, over several venues and I knew I would want to change once we got back for dinner. I packed a few other essentials in the bag, grabbed my travel mug and headed out to face the day.

  Thankfully, the drive to Gladwyne was uneventful. I passed through the front gates of my parent’s home with a cursory wave to Thomas. This time, instead of parking out front, I pulled around the garages to park near the entrance to the kitchen. This would ensure that my car would be out of the way later when the guests arrived. I didn’t really want to get out of the car knowing I had several hours of polite interactions with my father ahead of me. Not to mention all of the sympathetic platitudes that I could expect from friends, acquaintances and business associates. It was going to be a grueling and unfortunately I hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to quiet my mind. I really regretted not being able to squeeze in an early morning yoga class today. I had opted for the extra hour and a half of sleep instead. Both were important but I wasn’t sure I had made the best choice.

  The kitchen was silent when I entered but I knew that later, when the catering staff arrived, it would be a hive of activity. Leaving the kitchen I made my way to the solarium to meet my mother and Aunt Gracie for breakfast. Even though I had cooked earlier for Corbin, I had not eaten and I was still not very hungry.

  The solarium was quiet when I entered. Oddly, I appeared to be the first one to arrive. I was thankful that someone had thoughtfully placed a pot of tea on the table. There was also a carafe of what I assumed was coffee. I helped myself to a cup of the tea while I waited for my mother and aunt.

  I stood at the windows looking out over the still damp grounds making a mental list of all the things I needed to deal with in the next week. The first thing was the logistics of McCallister’s replacement shipment. I feared I was going to have to get Sal involved in order to get the Sapphire successfully through the customs scans. There was also the issue with the financials that Samantha had pointed out to me yesterday. I was trying to decide if I should approach my father about it today to see if he knew anything about it. I knew it was likely best to hold off on mentioning it until after the funeral. It was hard though, not to point out a mistake that fell under the portion of the business that he still managed. Regardless, Jason’s funeral was probably not the best time to be bringing it up.

  “Abigail!” I turned to find Winston rushing toward me from the doorway, arms spread wide. He was the quintessential college professor, tweed coat, patched elbows, worsted wool pants, and the slightly disheveled look of someone concerned more about knowledge than outward appearances. It’s funny how two sisters could choose men as their mates that were such polar opposites. I was wrapped into a smothering hug.

  “Oh Winston, it’s always so nice to be hugged by you,” my words were muffled by the press of his jacket against my face.

  “How are you dear?” he asked, putting his hands on my upper arms and holding me at arm’s length. He peered at me closely, owlish eyes blinking in concern.

  “I’m hanging in there,” I assured him. “Have you seen my mother?”

  “Katharine and Gracie should be here in a second. They were just behind me in the hall.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Your mother is not herself this morning,” he confided just before they entered.

  When I saw my mother, my mouth fell open in shock. I wasn’t sure what to say really. She is always, and I mean always, put together and impeccably dressed. Today her normal sleekly styled hair was wispy and ragged and her outfit was completely inappropriate. She was wearing a red shawl-collar jacket with a matching skirt and scarlet pumps. What the hell happened to her? She had appeared to be holding up rather well these last couple of days. Something had drastically changed this morning.

  “Hello mom,” I greeted her cautiously as I made my way across the room towards her. “How are you holding up?” She appeared listless and unfocused when I hugged her. I was not sure she even heard me.

  “So, is that what you are wearing to the funeral?” I asked. No reply. She wasn’t responding to my overtures and it was starting to scare me.

  “Tell Abigail what you told me dear,” Aunt Gracie suggested, giving me a loaded look. “Wait until you hear this,” she sent to me. When my mother didn’t immediately respond, she prompted her again. “You know, about Jason.”

  She was staring at her hands when she said, “Jason always liked me in red. Said it was cheerful and went well with my coloring.” Well, that didn’t seem too unreasonable but still, something was seriously wrong.

  “I agree but you must know that today is not a cheerful occasion.”

  “Yes, I know,” she said in a flat dead voice. “Red is the color of blood though and Jason lost so much of his. You were covered in it.” She looked directly at me, a tiny flicker of red dancing in her eyes. “I’m sure you remember.” Now that wasn’t disturbing or anything.

  Her expression, coupled with her words sent a current of fear racing down my spine. Through her eyes I could see her berserker lying just inside its tattered containment boundary waiting for its chance to break free. I was sure it was furious that someone so callously killed Jason. In a way, he was its son too. My mother must have been grappling with this for the last few days and from the looks of things, she was losing the battle. If my mother’s mind was not able to contain the beast, she would be committed to a lifetime of padded cells, considered untrustworthy to mingle with society in the future.

  “Ah, I don’t know about you,” I addressed my aunt and Winston, “but I think that we might have a major situation on our hands if we can’t get her to snap out of it.”

  “So you see it too?”

  “Ah, yeah.” You would have to be a blind man not to see it! “Why the hell didn’t you call me to come over earlier? She looks like she is one crack away from a total breach,” I hissed trying not to be too loud and startle my mother. Just what we needed to not happen was my mother to go on a rampage at the funeral and kill everyone.

  “Mom, why don’t we go to the library for a minute?” It was darker there and I might be able to get her to meditate with me. I needed to get my mother to focus on something that was calming, allowing her to pull herself together.

  “Why?” She was suddenly agitated. I saw the beast pacing, back and forth, back and forth obviously suspicious of my request. It didn’t want the cracks sealed. It wanted out.

  “I need something from in there to read at the funeral. I was hoping you could help me.”

  “What a fine idea. I will help too,” chirped Aunt Gracie.

  I approached my mother cautiously and slipped my arm through hers. “I love
you mom, don’t leave me,” I whispered as I guided her towards the door.

  Thankfully, we made it to the library without incident. I sat her and Aunt Gracie at the round table near the fireplace. Closing all the drapes, I pulled a fat candle off one of the candlesticks on the mantle. I imagine it was intended to be a purely ornamental item, the decorator never expecting it to be lit. Well today, it was being sacrificed to a good cause. I had just plopped it down onto an ornate plate that I snatched from one of the shelves when I realized I did not have matches or a lighter. Shit! I really need for something to go right today!

  A metallic rasp and a flame jumped from the lighter in Aunt Gracie’s hand. In seconds the room was bathed in the glow of a single candle. I cast a questioning glance her way.

  “Winston slipped it to me before we came in,” she softly answered my unspoken question. “We figured you were going for meditation.”

  “Meditation?” my mother groused, the sound gravely and hoarse. Her eyes were wildly dancing around the room and I expected her to bolt at any moment. She was slipping fast. “I thought you needed a book?”

  “Watch the candle mother,” I intoned softly. “Look to the spot where the wick meets the flame, the place of rest, of connection.” I watched her carefully and saw with relief that she was watching the flame. I glanced at my aunt, who nodded encouragingly – time to forge ahead.

  “See the light as it wavers and dances upon the wick? It dances to your call, to your very breath. Breathe in the flame,” I crooned. “Now breathe it out. Breathe and become one with the dance.” I could see her settle into the gentle rhythm of her breath. She was looking at the flame. Good. Just when I thought we might make it over this hurdle, I heard the ominous sound of footfalls coming from the hall.

  “Katharine!” The frustrated sound of my father’s voice carried to us through the closed door. He couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to come looking for my mother. The door burst open and in walked my father, impeccably dressed as always. He was the dark to my mother’s light. Where she was petite and blonde, he was tall and dark. Today his somber suite did even more to pronounce the contrast, giving him a monochromatic look that he was somehow still able to make look elegant.