by C. D. Gill
“Fast forward a bit,” Andy said. “There.”
The camera stopped as the figure ran his fingers along the wall casually until they stopped at the doorway of Joey’s office. He easily picked the lock and stood back as the door opened in front of him. Then, with a stretch and a large step, into Joey’s office he went.
“He’s putting on a show,” Andy murmured. “This is a game to him.”
“Sick,” the guy at the monitor added.
“So far the detective team hasn’t noticed any patterns or personal items taken in the destruction. You can see the person has on gloves and shoe coverlets. There wasn’t any attempt at hiding what was happening. The badge scanned to get in was Brady Caveneau’s, but when we contacted him, he had no idea it had gone missing. Last time, he had it was at work after the rodent incident. He kept it in his wallet, so someone could have lifted it any time over the weekend.” Andy raked a hand over his head.
“No one unusual came in the doors?” Gia asked.
“Everyone that came in through the door from the garage had a badge. None of them Brady,” the guy manning the monitor said. “Everyone who came in the front doors landed on a floor different to the offices. So someone came in, went to a different floor, and then made the move to go down and destroy the offices.”
When the person had downed a particularly troublesome set of cubicle walls, he stood back and did another dance move. One she’d seen before. Gia froze.
“Go back to the dance,” her voice trembled.
They watched as the figure pulled a silly butt-out, lasso-twirl move.
“Antia did that a couple of times to make us laugh when we were dancing at the jazz club the other night. It’s her way of mocking cowboy Americans who don’t know how to dance. Whoever this is had to have been there and seen her do it.” Gia covered her mouth with her hand. She felt sick, stunned.
“Good eye, Gia. That’s just the kind of break we needed. The jazz club has an eye on everyone all the time. This fool hopefully just made his last mistake.” Andy pulled out his phone and stepped away to make a call.
Chapter 18
The glass case Xander stood over beamed like the surface of the sun. Every single item inside glowed and shone in response to the lights on them. They were all nice, fancy in their own right, worthy of a queen.
But they weren’t Gia.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, he walked out of the fifth jewelry store in the mall. That was everything this mall had to offer by way of engagement rings and the selection was disappointing.
None of them jumped out at him.
Her admitting to her doubts and using “if” about their future really set him back. He felt like he was losing her. Maybe to distance. Maybe to reality. Maybe to Andy, the newest knight in the duel for her affection.
Buying an engagement ring could be a huge gamble with the way they’d left things at their last conversation.
He hadn’t been inside a mall in seven, maybe eight, years that he could remember. His meeting today with a specialty toy maker, David Thalton, ended that streak for him. Xander wanted to get his products placed in David’s store of non-plastic, earth friendly, sensory-sensitive toys. The guy had his work cut out for him in a world where lights and buttons and automation reigned.
David was a sixty-something retired Air Force officer that began making toys for his granddaughter who was on the autism spectrum and only wanted toys she could dismantle and each one needed a textured surface to help her identify parts. His work was absolutely incredible and offered a tailor-made option in a huge market void, but where David thrived in the custom-made, he lacked in the ability to move products online.
Email was the extent of his capabilities. His son-in-law insisted on building a one-page website so David could be found, but orders had to be made via phone or email.
He and Xander mutually agreed to help each other.
As he left the mall, Xander dialed his website designer, Cade.
“Hey, Xander. How can I change your world today?” Cade’s deep voice gave him the image that he sat at his computer with a fifty-pound dumbbell in his non-dominant hand, flexing.
Xander laughed. “I have a fairly complex problem I’m hoping you can solve.”
“Magic is my specialty. Tell me more.”
He sat on a bench outside the mall to focus. “I want to post products on my site that will send the product sale information and invoice to a completely different person but keep a small percentage of the commission for hosting them. Is that possible?” The thought had crossed his mind that he could just forward things to David, but then he’d have to constantly be the middle man and monitor his email.
Cade was quiet. “So a store within your store?”
“Yes, essentially. But each store can have its unique identity so that people know they aren’t buying the products directly from me.”
“There is a popular site out there that does this already. It’s got a cutesy name. I forgot what it is. Anyway, people can create a store on their website and sell homemade stuff. Is that what you’re going for?”
“Yes, except upcycled and specialty market. At least, we know there is a market for this type of thing.”
“It might be hard to compete against, but you can certainly try. Send me the information for the first sub-store you want entered. It will take me a couple of hours, but it shouldn’t be hard to configure.”
Elation flooded his chest. The world needed David’s work out there, especially for those whose children liked toys a particular way but mainstream market didn’t suit them.
Maybe he shouldn’t go back into coaching.
This kind of thing energized him—seeing the good in the world and people’s genius in meeting a need for those who otherwise would be without being pushed to the forefront. He typed out the email on his phone and sent it to Cade.
At the top of the parking aisle, he could see a car stopped behind the parked cars. Wait, that was his car that it was blocking. He jogged closer. Someone stood next to his driver’s side door, hood up over his head, but obviously a white male, younger. It almost looked as if it were a child. Was it someone putting advertising fliers on all the cars? Was he a gang member? The guy turned and jogged back to his car without a glance in either direction.
Not a flier guy.
Xander didn’t get a clear look at his face since he hid behind an SUV two cars away. He typed the license plate number and an exact description of as much as he saw of the guy into his phone notes as the car pulled away. Not until the car got to the end of the aisle did Xander step around the front of the cars to his.
No physical damage to the car, but an envelope tucked in the windshield.
Annoyed, he snatched it from the window, opening it as he ducked inside the car. Some kid was running point on this madness that was putting his life in danger? What did this have to do with him? He hadn’t had anything to do with kids besides Reggie for years.
His parents were teachers, but that was an unlikely source since the police said it was gangs that thought he knew something. He almost wished he knew so these fools would leave him alone to live his life without watching his back.
The note was completely blank.
Tossing the paper to the side, he slapped the wheel. He was so sick of this mess, these games. He didn’t care anymore. He had a life to live and the confusion and stress wreaked havoc on his nerves.
None of this made sense.
He started the car and reversed, his earlier delight gone in a blink. A simple piece of paper could not ruin his day like this. How had he been so sure that if he caught the messenger that he would know the message sender? On his way back to the office, he glanced at the paper at each stoplight.
A blank page.
It made him furious.
He grabbed the paper, ready to tear it to shreds. But something caught his eye. Words? He righted the page and held it up to his windshield where the sun caught it full length.
X
ander,
They’ve been watching you and hunting for me. They are getting closer to finding me than I ever imagined. I can’t risk them finding me before the information is released. You hold my insurance policy. Take this note with you and go to Benny’s Veterinarian Hospital in Kittredge. He’ll know what to do. Then, you can be free from all this. I’m very sorry you were involved in the first place. I will make it up to you.
Not signed.
Xander pulled his car into a parking lot and searched for Benny’s. It was a forty-eight-minute drive from his current location, but today seemed like the perfect day to call the head hunters off and get his life back.
Unless the note writer had conveniently left out a step between knowing what to do and being free.
A small vengeful piece of Xander wanted to wait a day to make the note writer sweat, as he had many nights with no information or clues as to what was actually happening. If he was the key to this person’s wellbeing, then shouldn’t he have been warned that he held a life in his hands?
His finger pressed the “Start Navigation” button. His notifications chimed with an email from Gia saying “Just sent these in! You’re the first to know!” There in breathtaking form and color was the mockup of the project she’d slaved over.
This was what he had lost his girlfriend to on those days with no extra time and those nights of exhaustion recovering from going full throttle.
He typed back, “Wow! That is stunning. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. What an incredible accomplishment. I love you, Xander.”
If he’d been the first to see the final mockup, did that mean she wasn’t still mad at him and ready to give up on them? His teeth snagged his lip. It was worth the hope.
When he finally pulled into Benny’s, it was ten after eleven A.M. He folded the paper into his pocket and walked to the front door feeling every bit as nervous and relieved. There were a lot of things that he anticipated when he pulled at the front door, but it being locked was not one of them. A sign hung in the window stating that the hospital closed at eleven am on Tuesdays.
He muttered an expletive as he kicked the railing nearby. The lights were off inside. No cars besides his were in the parking lot which he had failed to notice in his anticipation. Truthfully, he had expected Benny to be waiting for him at the front door to free him from his tyranny.
Foolish.
His shoes crunched in the gravel as he made his way around the building to back. A motorcycle sat propped up on an oddly placed concrete pad. Otherwise, no other sign of life. Xander tried the back door.
Locked.
He knocked at first, then banged on the window with his fist. Now that he’d made up his mind to get this over with, he had no patience left to wait. He banged again. “Come on, Benny. Answer the door. Someone’s life is in danger and they are depending on you and me, apparently.”
His shouts went nowhere. To one side of the building was a deserted gas station. To the other was a small ammo shop with its own gravel parking lot surrounding it.
As he was about to head back to his car, the back door creaked open. A wide-eyed girl’s head poked out. Xander would guess early to mid-twenties. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’m looking for Benny.”
“Sorry. The hospital is closed for office hours. We’ll be open half-day tomorrow since it’s Christmas Eve Day,” the girl’s floating head said, already retreating.
“Please. This is crucial. Can you call Benny and let him know that I’m here on behalf of a friend of his who is in danger?” Where was this urgency coming from?
The girl looked around. Xander had no pet with him. And with no appointment, there was no real reason for him to not be dismissed without a second glance. She really shouldn’t entertain the thought. “Fine. Come on in. I’ll call the doc.”
Xander didn’t wait around for her to change her mind. “That your bike?”
“Yes.” Her answer was very short.
“Nice ride.”
Once the door closed behind him, the girl locked it. “You can hang out in the waiting room for now. I’ll call Benny.”
With a nod of thanks, Xander walked through the hallway to the sound of dogs barking chaotically. How could anyone stand that noise all day every day? And that smell.
The girl popped her head into the waiting room as if she were always a floating head unattached to a body. Her eyes seemed to assess Xander suspiciously. “What’s your name?”
“Xander Reinerman.”
“Hm. Benny said you’d say that. He’ll be in shortly.” Then the head vanished behind the swinging door back to the cacophony of animal noises.
So Benny knew who he was. In his smart phone, he googled Benny’s name. Nothing besides veterinarian services and degrees came up on the first two pages. By page three there were obituaries and other seemingly unrelated mentions of people with the same name.
Twenty minutes later, a small, gray-haired man walked through the door to the waiting room. “Hi Xander, I’m Benny.” His voice was soft-spoken, every word a sort of sigh, and he didn’t look at Xander in the eye, but right below on his cheek or nose. “I had just uncorked a ‘94 merlot to enjoy with my wife, so let’s get this over with by the time it is done breathing.”
Xander stood and handed him the paper. Benny stared at it. “I know who you are, Xander. If you’ll follow me, we can take care of your problem.”
Take care of his problem?
“What problem are you referring to, exactly?” Xander said as they exited the hallway into an open room with a surgical table in the middle and cages surrounding it. Thankfully, the cages were empty, the room quiet.
Benny didn’t respond but continued to work at the side table, his back turned to Xander. No, he didn’t come here to get ignored. He came for answers.
Xander huffed. “Can you please explain to me what is going on or I can leave and we can both go back to our happy lives?”
“Was yours happy?” Benny asked as he turned around with a tray full of metal tools and a… needle?
The panic rose unbidden in his chest.
Sharp tools.
His breaths shortened.
Knives.
His vision darkened. Dizzy.
When he came out of it, Benny stood over him, nonplussed, chattering out loud. “The person who sent you here will explain everything in due time, I can assure you. You’ll feel a slight pinch here. I’m not at liberty to discuss anything, you understand.”
Xander jerked upward as a sharp pain pierced him right under his armpit. “What are you doing?”
His roar echoed in the room as he attempted to sit up.
“Please don’t try to move, Xander. You’re restrained. Let’s just get this over with,” Benny said.
His arms were strapped down straight out from his shoulders making a T. His legs didn’t budge in their ties. A weight pressed against his shoulders. Xander checked from side to side. “How did I get on this table?” There was no way that mousy man could have lifted his dead weight in the seconds he’d blacked out.
Benny messed with his tray. “Oh, I was warned about your panic attacks. I used your falling momentum to get the table under you. Then it was a matter of lifting your feet. Physics and Tai Chi would do wonders for your understanding of the world.”
Who knew about his panic attacks enough to warn the doctor? A numbness crept down Xander’s side and across his back. “What did you give me? What are you doing?”
Benny smiled. “We’ll be done in a jiffy.” He palmed a scalpel and leaned over Xander’s left side. Benny chuckled. “I’m not used to my patients being able to talk to me on the table.”
Was this it? Had he walked into a trap and was going to die on a vet’s table? “Just tell me why you are cutting me open.”
Benny hummed. “Well, according to my sources and my scanner,” another chuckle, “there’s a chip buried inside your scar, an inch from the top.”
A chip.
His laugh was a weird
, high-pitched squeak. Of course, there would be a chip inside his body. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me when this chip was inserted.”
“Oh, I could venture an answer for you. Not sure if it’s correct. Judging by your skin, I’d say the chip was inserted while your wound was still open. There’s no secondary puncture wound which would be obvious on human skin for a chip this size.” Benny straightened, holding a plastic-covered chip in the grip of a very long set of tweezers.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Xander dropped his head back against the table. His mind was blank where the questions should have been. Someone in the prison infirmary had put a chip in him after he’d been flayed like a fish in the yard. He’d had a chip inside his body for years without his knowledge.
Waiting for this exact moment.
Whatever sedative and pain blocker Benny had him on was really good because he almost didn’t care. Why wouldn’t his life on this side of prison be as equally as unpredictable as it was prior?
“A touch of superglue is all you need, then on to your happy life, Xander Reinerman. Won’t even have a secondary scar.” Benny straightened from his side. “Okay, we’ll let that settle for a second. Should have been a plastic surgeon.” Benny opened his computer, inserted the chip into an adapter, and, after a few taps, returned to the table beaming. “Your freedom has been secured. Your life no longer in danger. If someone comes after you, you can show them that the information is not in your possession and is in the hands of people they should fear.”
In seconds, Benny untied the restraints on his limbs, leaving Xander to lay with his button-down shirt pooling around him. He stared into the bright light hovering overhead.
For the love of Pele, what just happened?
Chapter 19
“The police have someone in custody,” Andy said into her ear.
He’d pulled her aside from the dinner preparations that she got to be a part for the first time in weeks. Avó was making a traditional Brazilian dish for them tonight. Then Christmas Eve Day and Christmas Day would be two days of feasting on both American and Brazilian traditional foods.