The Severed Thread

by Dione C. Suto

  “Abigail,” Samantha’s concerned voice broke through my musings. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said with a little head shake to clear out the anger.

  “If you are fine then why did your eyes just flash red?”

  “I need to meditate.” Talk about an understatement.

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Are you together enough to talk about one more thing?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Sure,” I said forcing a smile and promising myself that I would do some work on my containment shielding later.

  “Well,” she said slowly, obviously still freaked by my little display of temper. “The final thing we need to talk about is that strange financial statement we received from the retirement fund.”

  “Great. I was wondering if you had had time to look into that.”

  “I did. I called and spoke with our account manager at Ferris Investment Services.” They were the company that managed Lassiter Shipping’s employee retirement fund.

  “She told me that they only continue to manage the pension fund for Lassiter Enterprise Holdings corporate employees. All of the Lassiter Shipping employee pension money was moved to Jamison Financial.” Lassiter Enterprise Holdings was the parent company that owned Lassiter Shipping. The only people who had their pensions under that would be me, Jason, my father and a handful of office personnel. All of the crew, captain and support staff pensions were held under Lassiter Shipping.

  “He never mentioned that he was looking into a new management company let alone that he had actually hired one.” What the hell was he doing?

  “I was unaware as well. I’m hopeful that the statement was screwy because of the transfer. I can’t confirm that yet though.”

  “Alright, keep looking into it and let me know what you find out.”

  Chapter 19

  The next several hours were spent catching up on paperwork, answering emails and fielding a few lingering sympathy calls. The initial sensationalism surrounding Jason’ murder was settling down but Johanna was still receiving inquiries for statements and interviews, all of which were being declined. Thankfully there were no media emails in my inbox. Johanna had requested IT filter those and forward them directly to her.

  The family had issued a formal statement just after the funeral and that was all we planned on saying unless there were further developments in finding Jason’s killer. If I had my way, there would be no official developments. I planned on taking care of Jason’s killer personally. My angry friend started pacing along the perimeter of its cage at the thought of revenge and bloodshed. I reminded myself for what felt like the hundredth time that I needed to reign myself in. Nothing good would come of letting myself get angry again. But it was becoming more and more difficult to manage with my blood periodically pulsing with barely suppressed rage. I definitely needed to set aside some time to cool myself down. Two hours of yoga and meditation were on the agenda for after dinner. That should get me back in order.

  My phone beeped. “Yes?”

  “Miss Lassiter, Agent McCabe is on the phone for you.” Great, just when I thought I was going to sneak out the door.

  “Thanks Johanna. Put him through.”

  “Agent McCabe,” I said trying not to sound annoyed.

  “Hello Miss Lassiter, just calling to give you an update on the case.

  “I hope you are making progress.”

  “Some,” he replied. “I will say that it’s rare that I have to call the family with an update. They are usually breathing down my neck to get information.”

  “Well, I don’t want to get in your way. I trust that you will keep us informed of any developments.” What else could I say? I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t actually want him to find the killer because what I really wanted to do was let my berserker tear him or her to little bits. That seemed like a less than prudent observation to make out loud.

  “It’s still unusual. No one has called. Not you, not your mother, not your father. Makes a guy wonder.”

  “Well, my father hasn’t called because he’s a self-centered ass and he and Jason were never close. And I’m afraid my mother is a bit shell shocked. She is barely functioning.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Why haven’t you called Miss Lassiter?”

  Good question. What could I say to that? I must have been quiet too long because Agent McCabe started speaking again.

  “You know what I think?”

  “I cannot imagine,” I said dryly.

  “I think that you don’t really want me to find Jason’s killer.”

  “I can assure you that that is not the case,” I replied while trying my best to sound affronted. He was hitting a little too close to the mark. Well, maybe more like right on the mark. That was more than a little concerning.

  “Oh, I think you want to find him yourself.” I swallowed heavily hoping that his sensitive ears couldn’t pick up the sound over the phone. “Don’t do anything stupid Miss Lassiter,” he cautioned. “I strongly suggest that you let the authorities handle the situation.”

  “I appreciate the advice, Agent McCabe. Did you have an actual update on the case that you wanted to pass along?” I asked in as calm and flat a tone as possible.

  “We were not able to turn up anything in Jason’s personal life that indicated someone would want to kill him. We are focusing the investigation on his dealings at the port. There is always someone looking to ship illegal items under the radar. It’s possible Jason got himself mixed up with the wrong person.”

  “That doesn’t really sound like Jason but I guess anything is possible.” I was skimming right along the edge of the truth. “Did you uncover any leads though?”

  “Nothing yet. We have eliminated a lot of likely options. Don’t worry Miss Lassiter. We will find your brothers killer eventually.”

  “That is more reassuring than you can possibly imagine,” I assured him.

  “I bet it is.” He didn’t even try to hide the skepticism in his voice.

  *****

  I left work a few minutes early with a plan to do some serious mental house cleaning right after a quick stop at the grocery store.

  Once at the store I got my cart and headed straight for the breakfast foods; eggs, butter, orange juice, bread and cheese were all quickly packed into the cart. I would be prepared if Corbin showed up again anytime soon. And for a little self-indulgence I also made a quick stop for some chocolate dipped black raspberry popsicles and a container of vanilla ice cream. It was when I was swinging back towards the front to hit the produce isle that I noticed two Weres watching me with the oddest expressions on their faces.

  The older of the two was a man that looked to be about fifty in human years. I was guessing he was likely well over a hundred. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, a tidy cropped beard and ice blue eyes that followed me as I passed. The other one was barely more than a kid, eighteen as most, with blond hair that tickled his collar and a heavy handed sprinkle of freckles. He still had that rangy look young men have before manhood finally filled them out. He was studying me like you might an animal at the zoo. I had to wonder if they were getting pack or mate off me. I felt ridiculous just thinking about it. I flashed them an embarrassed smile before ducking past them to collect the remainder of my items.

  I paid the cashier, gathered up my bags and headed for the door. Glancing out the front store window I saw two men lurking across the street. They were staring at me through the glass. Where did I know them from? My stride faltered when I realized it was Harvey’s goon friends from the coffee shop. Coincidence? Not likely.

  I started walking in the direction of my car, continually checking to see if they had moved. The fact that they were openly stalking me was aggravating. They moved down the sidewalk on their side of the street, keeping pace with me. I turned to face them full-on as the light changed, traffic flooding the street, my anger rising. As soon as the light changed again, I marched across the street, groceries and all.


  “You wouldn’t be following me would you boys?” The question was belligerent and cocky. Not my usual mode of operation. My berserker was pushing me to places I would normally never venture.

  “Heard you were asking about a friend of ours. You should mind your own business,” the one with the hooked nose informed me. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt now would we?” Was this jerk serious?

  “Is that a threat?” I asked incredulously. “You know you are talking to an elf, right?”

  “We know,” the weasel faced fellow sneered. “You cannot let that crazy beast out though, can you? They’d lock you up in a padded room for the rest of your life.”

  “I might be locked up but first a CSI team would have to spend a few hours scraping up little pieces of you off this sidewalk.” I pointed down at the concrete while sending a feral grin their way – all teeth and deadly intent. I was spoiling for a fight and my beast was repeatedly throwing itself against the barrier. Thump, thump, thump. My eyes burned as they flashed red, more and more cracks forming. I had the uncanny thought that this was how the mountain containing a volcano felt just before an eruption. Surely there was steam venting from my ears and soon my berserker would burst free like hot magma and indiscriminately kill everyone in its path.

  Hook Nose cocked his head, assessing me. He seemed unimpressed by my glowing red eye trick. “I think we’ll risk it,” he said with amusement just before Weasel Face lunged for me.

  He seemed intent on grabbing me, so he could force me into the alley just behind him. I had no intention of letting that happen. In one motion I dropped my bags to the ground and darted to the right. I leapt over him, stepping on his left shoulder to get some additional leverage. As I pushed off, I twisted around and kicked Hook Nose in the back of the head. I couldn’t help laughing at the bemused expressions on their faces. My anger was still roiling but not escalating. This might be just what I needed, to let off a little steam by kicking some ass.

  “Come on, I know you can do better than that,” I mocked them, doing a come and get me motion with my hands

  Hook Nose looked angry as he rubbed the back of his head. He wasn’t as amused by my little stunt as I was.

  “You only thought I had my berserker to back me up, did you?” I laughed again.

  They both rushed me this time. I darted left, ran five light steps up the wall of the nearest building and flipped over their heads to land several yards behind them. Did I mention that elves are like gazelles?

  They looked at each other. You could see the frustration and uncertainty reflected in their eyes. Hook Nose pulled a wicked looking knife, the kind that you might use to skin a deer. Great… I just had to get cocky with a guy who liked to skin things.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that we were drawing the attention of the people across the street. A little crowd had formed and people were pointing. Additionally there appeared to be two men approaching us from my right. I was afraid to take my eyes off the two in front of me to get a better look at the men. I said a little prayer that they were not friends of the two goons in front of me. These two and a knife I might be able to handle. If it became four goons and a knife, this elf was going to be seriously out of luck.

  “I don’t think the lady wants to play Andrei,” a voice growled behind me. I turned my head slightly to see the two Weres from the store standing a few yards behind me.

  “Keep the fuck out of this wolf,” Hook Nose, also known as Andrei, spat.

  “I’m afraid we can’t do that,” the older wolf with the blue eyes replied, shaking his head in mock regret.

  “Why? What is the elf to you?” the weasely looking one asked.

  “Pack.” And here I was worried that the scent mark would cause problems with McCallister. It ended up working out, at least this time.

  “Pack?” he nearly spat. “She’s a fucking elf!” Weasel Face had quite the trash mouth on him.

  “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” I asked. I couldn’t help myself. I was amped up and he riled so easily.

  “What did you say about my mother?” he snarled, taking a step towards me.

  “I just asked…” I started to explain when the older wolf interrupted me.

  “Easy there killer,” he said as he put a restraining hand on my shoulder. “Everyone needs to simmer down. We’re drawing a crowd.” He flicked his head indicating a spot over his shoulder. I looked. He was right, there were more people than a few minutes ago. Some were pointing in our direction and a few had out their phones to take pictures. Outstanding.

  “She’s not pack,” the weasel face interjected stubbornly.

  “Yeah, well my wolf and my pack-master say she is, so you need to move on, or we are going to have a problem.”

  “We just wanted to talk. She is the one that got aggressive,” the weasel piped up again.

  “Do you always talk to people while waving a big knife at them?” he asked, his voice laced with derision. “Regardless,” he continued, obviously not expecting an answer, “she was kicking both your asses all by herself.” I saw Andrei bristle at the implication that little ‘ole me had been handing him his ass.

  “What do you think you’re going to do against the three of us?”

  Andrei was thinking about it. I could tell he didn’t like walking away after he had gained an edge over me with the knife. I saw the moment he decided to cut his losses along with the conviction in his eyes that he was by no means done with me.

  “We will discuss this another time,” he said pointing the knife at me. The guy was like a pit bull, he couldn’t let it go. My earlier cockiness clearly had him twisted. I just raised my eyebrows at him. I was starting to come down off my adrenaline high enough to realize that it was in my best interests not to get him more riled up. He gave me one more hard look before turning down the alley, the weasel on his heels.

  “He is one mean son of a bitch,” the older wolf told me. There was a not so subtle reprimand in his voice. “You should try to steer clear of him instead of instigating a fight.”

  “Yeah, I will remember that next time.” The fight had left me feeling a little surly. “I’m Abigail by the way.”

  “That’s what the pack-master told me. I called him after we caught your scent in the store.” The older man offered his hand, “I’m Sampson and this pup is my nephew Trevor.” He had a nice firm handshake.

  Trevor shook hands with me as well. He looked bemused. “We thought we were crazy but the pack-master assured us we weren’t. He said that Corbin’s wolf had marked you.”

  “I think you are the only non-wolf that I have ever heard of being marked as Pack without being a mate,” Sampson said as he scratched his head. He was looking at me expectantly, obviously hoping I had an explanation for such a strange occurrence.

  “To tell you the truth, I didn’t know it was even happening at the time,” I admitted sheepishly.

  “We were on the phone with the pack-master when we saw you storm across the street to confront Andrei and Luca.” So that was the weasel’s name. “He would like to talk to you.”

  “Sure,” I said agreeably pretending like I had time for this today. Thanks to my out of control temper, my groceries were in a heap at the curb. I could see melted ice cream and spoiled milk in my future. I was going to have to replace some of the perishable items. Then I needed get myself in my car and hurry home to meditate. I was currently compartmentalizing my aggressive outburst. I knew when I had time to examine it more closely; I was going to be truly frightened. “Give me his number and I will call him.”

  “I don’t think a phone call is quite what he had in mind,” Sampson said with a smirk. He looked over my shoulder and then back at me meaningfully. Shoulders sagging, I nearly groaned aloud. I turned to see Jonathan Wilder striding towards me, his expression grim.

  “Ah, Jonathan,” I said after squaring my shoulders and pasting an artificially happy smile on my face. I was hoping that it said I was not a complete emotional wreck and th
at I was happy to see him. I feared it was just a frazzled smile with too much teeth.

  “Ah, Abigail,” he mimicked me. The energy pulse that I felt when he approached kicked up a notch as he quickly took in my somewhat disheveled appearance and abandoned groceries. “Is been what,” he consulted his watch “four hours and ten minutes since I left your office and already you seem to have instigated trouble.”

  “What can I say,” I mused, “I seem to be a trouble magnet these days.”

  “From what I understand, you were the one to provoke this particular violence.” When did he decide he was my dad? I gave Sampson and Trevor a disgusted look worthy of the two tattle tales they were.

  “She said they were following her,” Trevor offered helpfully.

  “Why would Andrei and Luca be interested in following you?” Who the hell did he think he was? I did not need to explain myself to him.

  “Ah, I appreciate your, umm,” I struggled not to call them his subjects, “pack-members helping me out. But right now I need to get home and take care of some things. I’ll just be going.” I smiled at Sampson and Trevor before attempting to walk around Jonathan to retrieve my bags.

  “I’ll drive you,” he said with deceptive calmness while stepping into my path.

  “I have a car in the parking lot and some groceries to replace.” The ice cream was now leaking onto the sidewalk and I was sure I could see some broken eggs oozing out of the bag as well. “I will just pop back into the market, replace a few things then be on my way.” I was smiling too brightly and my hands were starting to shake. I needed to get home.

  Without taking his eyes off me, Jonathan began handing out orders. “Sampson, can you collect Ms. Lassiter’s bags and replace anything that appears damaged or spoiled.” Not a question but a directive.

  I tried to interrupt but he just held up a finger and continued to stare me down. “Then take the groceries and her car back to her home. Put anything perishable away and arrange for someone to watch the house. I’m sure she has not heard the last of Andrei and Luca.” He was taking this a little too far. “I will return her there later.”