Into the Night

by Herb Scribner

  I cross my leg over one of my other legs and shake it the way one does when they're nervous. I touch my nose, my face, the back of my neck. Fidgeting over the nerves.

  At least I decide to take a chill pill and relax. I walk over to my bed and lay down flat on my back. Staring at the ceiling, I count off all the dots above me. My eyes grow heavy and the lids begin to shut. And then they do shut, closing over my eyes and sending me off into a dream world. They open briefly -- my body's natural instinct to wake up. So I curl up on the bed and relax my head against the pillow. I slip off my clothes and dive under the covers. My body warms from the soft blankets. Now I can finally sleep. Tomorrow I can find Ben.

  Before I fall asleep, I start to put pieces together, or at least I try to do so. Why was he arrested? Why was he taken into custody? Did Ben really commit murder?

  When I wake up the following morning, sunlight sprays against the walls of the hotel room. It's way later than I want it to be. I roll out of bed and slip on jeans and a blouse and a hoodie. I then sit down at my desk and open my laptop. As it loads, I slide out my cell phone and scroll through my list of notifications.

  Something major has happened throughout the night. Lawmakers have agreed in principle to a new deal that would reopen the government. Details of the deal haven't been announced yet, but the lawmakers are all in agreement for what is to come next from the deal.

  I want to dive deep into it. I need to know why the government decided to reopen. What deals did they make? What decisions did they make? Why have they decided to reopen the government so suddenly? I go to open an article, but then a dinging sound escapes the speaker. A text message has rolled into my feed.

  It's Mack.

  "What did you say to her? Tiffany seemed really distraught when I talked to her last night. Call me when you have a second. I have some more details for you about Heath."

  I think about answering the text, but I put my phone away and stand up. It's time to get moving. I grab my jacket and wrap it around my back. It's time to leave this place.

  I head toward the door, open it, and step out into the hotel hallway. The smell of cigarette reeks the place. I hurry down the hallway toward the elevator. And as I reach the doors, I tap into the Uber app and call a driver to arrive before me. I ride the elevator down to the lobby floor and wait there in the lobby. A green Kia Soul arrives to the front of the hotel. I hurry outside and slide into the back seat.

  When I tell him where I'm going, the driver looks back at me with a raised eyebrow. I wonder what he thinks of me heading toward a court house in the middle of morning.

  We drive along the roads of D.C. None of the lights help us. All of them are red. There are few green ones to give us the path forward. So I am stuck in this car. I pull out my phone and take a chance at reading more about what's happening with the lawmakers. Turns out there aren't too many details inside the articles. It's a developing story, one that the lawmakers will begin to explain more in the coming days. I wish they had a little more information for us already.

  We arrive outside the county jail office about twenty minutes later. I hurry inside, risking the harsh cold weather hitting me. The dark chill is shark and painful. But I slip into the county jail office and immediate feel my body warm up. I hurry down the hallway toward the booth where a man sits with a steaming cup of coffee before him. He looks disgruntled and upset. Like he doesn't want to be there. He probably doesn't want to be there at all.

  "Hello."

  "How can I help you?"

  "My name is Annette Gardner, and I am with the Washington Scribe. I wanted to come and see Ben Casselwhite to ask him a few questions for a story I'm working on."

  "Not sure we can allow that, miss."

  "And why not?"

  "Federal investigation. The murder happened outside the national monument so the feds will be dealing with it. We're holding him here until further notice."

  "I swear, it won't mean much. I just have to ask him a few questions. I really won't be in there long."

  "Sorry, policy."

  "Please. I'm desperate. I'm not used to this whole reporting thing. Well, not on the ground reporting. I usually do podcasts about true crime. This is far and away different than what I'm used to."

  His eyes find me and something lights up on the other side of them. He smiles at the corner of his lips.

  "I knew you'd look familiar."

  "My name is Annette Garnder," I say. "And I've been on a number of stories over the years. You've probably heard my stuff."

  "I was a big fan of the New City stories. That murder stuff was insane."

  "It was."

  "What brings you here?"

  "A government story that I'm working on. And I think Ben could help me with some of the stuff."

  "He's a criminal."

  "Well, he might have something interesting to say."

  "Is this going to appear on a podcast?"

  "Not at all," I say.

  I don't know which way he's going to lean. He still has a lazy smirk on his face. He's deciding on what to do. So I do my best to offer him eyes of sympathy. Puppy dog eyes as people often call them. Maybe I can convince him to let me through and finally talk to my ex-boyfriend about what happened and why he was arrested.

  "You have an ID?"

  "Yeah."

  I slide my license. He stares at it and then back at me, reading me over. He slides a clipboard underneath the glass. I take it and sign my name, date, and reason for visiting on the page. He takes it back, nods, and then directs me where to go.

  I follow the hallways toward the visiting room on the far side of the office. And as I walk along the hall, I feel the nerves buzz within me.

  I reach the door and peer inside the square hole along the door's face. I see Ben inside sitting at the conference table. Handcuffs surround his wrists. His head is down against the table. I know that look. He's incredibly sad. He's devastated he's broken.

  I let out a deep breath. A police officer arrives beside me and grabs the knob. He opens the door and I step inside.

  Chapter 16: A Conversation With an Ex

  My heart breaks when I see him there. His face is covered in a dark gray fuzz. His eyes are encircled with black circles. Tiredness radiates off of him. He scowls at the table. When he picks his head and sees me, he lifts himself out of the chair and reaches his hands out. The handcuffs jingle as he reaches for me. I grab his hands and we hold each other for a moment there in the room. Just hands. Our bodies are separated by the table. It's enough for me to love him again. I know he didn't do this. I can tell just by the touch of his fingers.

  "When I heard what happened to you, I had to come and see you."

  "I'm glad you did."

  "I was going to come last night, but I figured it would be too busy and I wasn't sure if they'd let me in."

  "I totally understand," he says. "The fact that you came today and you're here to see me means more than anything."

  "I'm happy that's the case," I say. "Gosh, I can't believe what happened to you."

  "Neither can I."

  We drift away from each other and sit down in our respective chairs. Our eyes never leave each other. I'm stuck on his blue eyes, trapped by the loving soul that I know lives inside of him. He wouldn't commit such a heinous crime on someone. He wouldn't knowingly poison anyone. But I've thought that before about people, including my ex-boyfriend Jason. Little did I know that Jason had been a murderer.

  Was I falling for the same mistakes again?

  There's no way. There's no way I'm making the same mistakes again. I've grown to understand people more than I used to. I know Ben isn't a killer. I know he didn't do this. It's a feeling in the gut, and it's one I am not going to ignore. He's not the murderer here.

  The way Senator Simmons admitted what happened proved to me that Ben didn't do it.

  I want to tell him that Simmons is the one who killed Kayleigh, but that will open its own can of worms. He will ask questions and the
n anyone who's listening into the conversation will hear. Rumors will start. I'll get involved in the conversation and the investigation. And before you know it, the senator is coming after me.

  "I saw on the arrest report that they had evidence that linked you to Kayleigh's death."

  "Yeah, it looks like that. But how can that be? I thought she drowned in the pool? I definitely wasn't there."

  "So I did a little digging."

  "No, Annette. No. I know you're a journalist and you love investigating murder, I get it. But please stay as far away from this as you can."

  "Well, too late, I'm already digging into all of this. And it might be the reason you're saved."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "The reports say they linked you to the death of Kayleigh. But, what I learned, was that she died from something other than drowning. Apparently she was killed beforehand. She was poisoned."

  "Poisoned?"

  "Yeah, and that doesn't exactly make it better for you. But let's think about this. Can you remember anytime you even spoke to Kayleigh?"

  "Not that I know of. I told the police that I've never spoken to her and I believe it. I even told my lawyer that, too. I've never seen her before and I don't think I've ever interacted with her. But how would I know? So many people flood in and out of those offices. You've seen the Capitol. You pass by hundreds of people every day."

  "I remember," I say. "And yeah, once the government's open again, it's just going to be crazy again. But you have to stick with that story. You didn't see her. You never interacted with her to the best of your knowledge."

  "Annette, I didn't poison her."

  "I know, but you have to remember that they think you did. It's never about what happened. It's about what they think happened."

  "And what do you think happened? If you've really been digging into this you must have some idea already?"

  I can't tell him my real idea because that's just going to create more problems between us. And who knows who might be listening to us. I know officially they can't be listening into these conversations but, I mean, you can never trust anyone when it comes to this stuff.

  So I give him a sideways version of the truth -- a way for him to understand what I'm getting out without actually hearing what I'm trying to say.

  "I think someone killed Kayleigh to make sure that she didn't talk during the Senate hearing. It's just too coincidental to me that she was the last person on the list to testify and then she winds up dead, just as the government is shutdown. It's all too connected to be ... not related, you know?"

  "I know," he says.

  "And I think whoever drowned her made sure that she was poisoned beforehand so that they could leave another trail for the police. And clearly that's turning out right now. Someone killed Kayleigh at the pool. I saw it. But they made it possible for them to follow someone else, and in this case, that's you."

  "So what happens next?"

  "Well, I guess you have to talk about that stuff with your lawyer. I don't really want to get too involved from that side. But I am going to do some reporting on what's going on."

  "And you're okay with that?"

  "For once, the murderer isn't chasing me," I say. "I don't mind getting involved if someone isn't chasing me. If someone starts chasing me, then I am getting out of here quick."

  "Wow. I had no idea."

  I shrug. "Well, it's just my limitations. But right now, I'm fine looking into a few of these things. Plus, it helps my story too."

  "Yeah, yeah," he says, rubbing his hands through his head. "Tell me what's going on with you. What's going on with your story?"

  "Not a ton. I mean, I am trying to get ahold of this guy named Heath. Apparently he's the ex-boyfriend of this woman named Minny. She's apparently a former reporter for the Scribe who knows a lot about New Surge and all of their drama. So she can probably teach me a little bit about what's going on. She could probably help me connect some dots and draw a few lines, you know?"

  "Of course," he says. "I probably read her stuff throughout the years and never knew it. Is she important to this whole thing?"

  "She's like a ghost," I say. "Her name keeps popping up everywhere I go. Seriously. Every time I'm talking to someone they say I'm following in her footsteps. I'm always a step behind her. So apparently she knows stuff."

  "Well then you have to find her."

  "Yeah. But I have to focus on your stuff, too."

  "But what if those things are connected?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You're looking for this Minny girl so she can tell you stuff about New Surge. But what if she knows more about whoever killed Kayleigh? What if she has the information you need? It's totally possible, babe."

  He's not wrong. I hadn't considered the possibility that Minny might be able to connect all the dots, and that she might have the information that will help me frame Senator Simmons.

  I guess I really do have to find her. And that will start with Heath. He has to have some information on her whereabouts. And if I can find her, then I can finally get this story moving again.

  The door behind me screams as it opens up. A police officer and a man with a suit hanging off his body slides into the room. His hair is a chaotic mess that reminds me of wire mesh.

  "Sorry, we had an appointment," the man says.

  "Sorry, babe," Ben says to me, "this is my lawyer. Scottie J."

  "Scottie J, I'm here all day," he says to me.

  I shake his hand. "Annette Gardner."

  "Heard about you and your work. It's nice to finally meet you in person."

  "You too."

  "Mind if I steal your boyfriend?"

  "No problem at all."

  I stand up and offer my boyfriend one more high five before I leave the room. The door closes behind me. The police officer guides me down the hallway and back into the front of the office. He leaves me when I reach the clerk's desk.

  I'm a second away from leaving the building altogether, but I hold off and walk back over to the desk clerk. The man with the coffee has finished half of his cup. He looks up at me with lazy eyes.

  "Hi."

  "Ms. Gardner. Still here?"

  "I was wondering if you could help me with something."

  "Possibly. I already helped you earlier so I hope it's not anything outrageous."

  "I'm looking for someone and just wanted to see if there are any records of her."

  "Oh. Well, we can look that up. It's for your report?"

  "Yes, but I'm a freelancer and I'm not quite sure how to access records on my own."

  "I can help you," he says. He sits up a little straighter with his back against the chair. He types feverishly against the keyboard, clicks once or twice, and then turns up toward me. "Name?"

  "I only have a first name."

  "Okay. Well, is it unique at least?"

  "Minny?"

  "Minny, Minny," he says, and then he starts typing again on the board. He then clicks on the screen. And when he's done, he stares at the screen and reads off the list in his head. He shakes his head.

  "Not seeing a Minny."

  "What about," and I take a second to think it through. That wasn't her full name. She had a much different name that people had told me before. "Minerva?"

  He types away again and a smile arrives at the corner of his lips.

  "We've got a few options here. Let me see, let me see. Do you know her age?"

  "I know she's younger. Definitely not older."

  "Okay we've got a younger woman here. In her early thirties or so."

  "That has to be her."

  "I can't give out a lot of information."

  "A last name will be fine."

  "Promise you're not gonna do anything crazy?"

  "Just a last name will do a lot for me."

  "Swensen. Minerva Swensen."

  "Thank you. You've helped me a bunch."

  I take the information and stroll out of the office. It's a bit warmer out
here now but still winter. I cuddle my jacket closer to me so I can achieve maximum warmth. I stare at the overcast sky. Not sure where I am going to go next. I have Minny's full name. I just spoke with Ben. And I have an offer to receive more information about Heath.

  I pull out my phone and call a car to come and pick me up. As I wait there for an Uber, I do some quick scrolling through my news feed. When I get tired, I place a call to Mack. I don't even warn him with a text message.

  He picks up on the third wings.

  "Annette Gardner."

  "Mack, hey. I got your text a few hours ago but I was going into a meeting. You said you have Heath's contact information?"

  "I do."

  "Can you send it over?"

  "Yes I'll do that now. I was about to call you. Are you sitting down?"

  I'm not, but I suddenly wish I was sitting down. I back up against the nearby wall of the building and place my hand against it, steadying myself for whatever is about to come my way.

  "What's wrong?"

  "It's Tiffany. Kayleigh's sister. You met with her today. She called me and she was upset with your conversation."

  "And?"

  "I'm sorry, Annette, to tell you this. But she's gone."

  "Gone?"

  "I tried calling her but she wouldn't pick up. Then, I headed over to her place. She wasn't there. Car was gone. And she left a note."

  "A note? What did it say?"

  "She couldn't take it anymore, she was done with all of this mess, and she was heading away for awhile. And then she said she'd be back when the truth is uncovered. Do you have any idea what she means?"

  Of course I do. But I can't tell him that. I can't tell him about my real theories and what I really expect went down.

  But now I know that Tiffany is caught up in all of this too. Her happiness is at stake.

  "No, I don't."

  "Well, I hope we find her. Now people are beginning to worry that she killed her sister."

  "What?"

  "Yeah, people think she ran away because she killed her sister. I'm not sure what to think about all of this. But it's definitely cause for concern." He hangs up a minute later, saying he has to go. And so he does.