by K J Kalis
The first five sites were ones he considered test sites. Three of them he had set off the night before, watching carefully for signs that the fires were successful or needed adjusting. California newscasters were always helpful with that, with their near-constant paranoia about the fires. While he knew the winds and drought were in his favor, there was no telling whether a fire would burn and if so, how much. Connor wrinkled his nose. Two of the three fires from last night had ignited, but Cal Fire had gotten into them too quickly. They didn’t have a chance to pick up steam the way he would have liked. His plan needed adjusting.
Connor leaned back in his chair and pulled the leather notebook onto his lap, feeling the cracked, rough cover in between his fingers. He wondered where Bart was now. Was he watching the same screen that Connor was? Did he know that Theresa was missing? Connor stared at his monitor again, checking for changes in the power management system. There weren’t any. The blue dots that appeared last night had disappeared. That was the way he coded it. They would stay long enough to let Bart know he was in the system and then disappear, leaving Bart to wonder if there were more coming. He couldn’t be allowed to feel too in control. Why should Bart have that luxury?
In the lower right-hand corner of the screen was the logo for Palm Coast Electric & Power, plus one for Power Management Solutions, the company that provided the software. The company where Bart Walsh was Chairman of the Board. Just the name made him furious. He gripped the sides of the notebook so hard he heard the cover wrinkle. He’d had decades to build his anger.
* * *
Connor and Bart’s friendship had taken off quickly once they’d both joined the same fraternity. Long nights learning the ins and outs of drinking games and hanging out with the girls from the sorority house next door gave them a lot to laugh about. By their second semester, they were inseparable. During their sophomore year, they both moved into the Theta Sigma Delta house and became officers of the fraternity. Connor was the President and Bart was in charge of education.
One night, over a couple of beers, Connor started talking about a physics class he was taking for his engineering major. The professor had posed an interesting problem: What if an electrical current could be optimized to anticipate the needs of a community? Instead of just having an on-off switch, what if you could turn it up or turn it down depending on demand?
It hadn’t been a question for the class to pursue, but it had stuck in Connor’s mind. Over beers that night, he asked Bart what he thought. He’d never forget that Bart crossed his legs, took another swig of his beer and smiled. “The person that could do that would own the utilities in the United States, maybe everywhere.”
While the conversation didn’t go anywhere else that night, Connor started working through the problem, bringing his questions to Bart. Bart was someone that he trusted. Preventing power surges and regulating current was about more than just optimizing it. With controllable current, equipment wouldn’t be damaged, excess current wouldn’t be used or created, saving natural resources and the result would be that people would have just the amount of current they needed without the risk of damage to their home or technology.
By the end of their sophomore year, Connor and Bart had a working theory on how it could be done. By Christmas of their junior year, still living in the fraternity house, they had written a paper, presented it to their professor and gotten the attention of the local media. The reporter had even come to their room to take a picture of them toasting each other with a beer in their hands. Their families weren’t pleased about the picture, though they were pleased about the story. Connor’s family was sure it would get him into graduate school on a scholarship.
Though Bart had seemed interested in the plan they had put together, after that, he drifted away. Connor chalked it up to differences in their schedules. While Connor was strictly an engineering major, Bart had decided to double major in engineering and business. During their senior year, Bart wasn’t around much. He was busy networking with people to land the right job after graduation.
Connor forgot all about Bart and their project for a time. Years in fact. Connor had gone to graduate school and Bart had gone into the working world. Connor got his master’s degree in Engineering and got a job working for a consulting company that promised him a big payout that never happened. Just as he was losing that job, he met Janet at a party. He knew right away that she was the girl for him. Thick hair and a sassy tongue got his attention. At that party, she asked him what he did for a living. “I’m just about to be unemployed.”
She smiled. “Really? Sounds like an opportunity!”
He was intrigued by her optimism. “How’s that?”
“Well, now you can do whatever you’d like to do, right?”
He nodded and took her hand. The next week, he started his own company, offering his expertise to big construction companies who needed to have their plans reviewed in order to get permits to build. Hospitals. Universities. For a while, the work seemed endless. It was a lot of hours pouring over plans and writing reports, but when he got to go to the site to see his work come to fruition, pride welled up in his chest.
About a year after that, he and Janet got engaged. They got married in a small ceremony in her parent’s backyard three months later. Grace, their daughter, came along a year and a half later. The project that he was on at the time, the construction of a brand-new hotel, kept him away from home weeks in a row. Janet was good about it, even with a new baby, knowing that the pay would allow them to put a chunk of change in the bank. The project was nearly three-quarters of the way through, the opening of the hotel only ninety days away. Connor was at the site, talking to the construction manager, a set of plans rolled out in front of them, wearing a hard hat and a safety vest the way they were required to. He heard a creaking and a loud crack, something louder than he’d ever heard before. Startled, he looked up at where he thought the noise was coming from, in time to see floors seven and eight of the fifteen-story building collapse on each other. The concussion from the two stories was enough to bring the top stories down on the other levels, leaving a pile of rubble, screams of workers echoing from inside the building. Connor spent two days straight helping the rescue crews dig people out, whether they were alive or dead.
The day he went home, he set his bag down by the door and went in to take a shower. He met Janet out on the porch and held his baby girl. Janet looked at him, “Are you okay?”
He sighed. “I am now.”
What Connor didn’t know was that the lawyers were lining up from the moment that the structure came down. Everyone who worked on the hotel was served with legal notices saying they were going to be sued within a week. Within two months, Connor had to hire a fancy law firm to protect his company. Although he and his company were found to have nothing to do with the collapse, fourteen months later, he had to close. His reputation and the bills from paying the lawyers took all they had.
Connor and Janet took Grace and moved in with her parents for six months, while Connor found a job working for a small engineering firm. He didn’t want to be the boss anymore. He just wanted to collect a paycheck and go home to his family. That job lasted for five years until the company was bought. He and Janet bought a small house, the fear that something could happen to them again always lingering. Connor stayed with the new company for another eight years working on his own, supervising the design of electrical systems. It was boring, dry work. But Connor did it because every time he thought of doing something more brought the building collapse back to his mind.
One night after a particularly dry day at work, Connor sat in their living room after dinner, sipping a beer. He drank the same brand he had since college. An engineering trade magazine had come for him that day in the mail. It was on the coffee table. He flipped through, the magazine sprawled on his lap, a football game on the television. There were pages of advertisements for technology that would design systems, new ways to manage outputs and even ads for the newest industria
l cabling systems. He flipped to the middle of the magazine and stopped. In the centerfold, there was a man pictured, a big smile on his face. It was Bart Walsh in a designer suit. The headline read, “Software Company Revolutionizes Power Management and Control.”
Bart set his beer down and spent the next few minutes reading the article. Bart had started a company that had grown to over one hundred employees in just over two years. Power Management Solutions had created a software program that helped utility companies to ensure that they had full control over their electrical flow. Instead of the idea in the past that electricity was either on or off, Bart’s company could make sure the flow was customized, decreasing costs, saving stress on equipment and ensuring that the raw materials to make electricity, whether that was coal or hydropower, weren’t overused. According to the article, Bart had come up with the idea over lunch with a colleague a few years before when they couldn’t believe how much a client of theirs was spending on electrical production each month. Bart knew there had to be a better way…
Connor closed the magazine as his stomach clenched into a small, tight fist. That idea had been his. He had come up with it. He had been nice enough to share the limelight with Bart in college. What did he have now? A small house with hundreds of thousands of dollars of legal bills still hanging over his head and a dead-end job that barely covered what they needed to live on each month.
Connor opened the magazine again, reading the rest of it. According to the writer, Bart lived in the highland area of California, in a beautiful home overlooking the ocean. On the next page, there was a picture of him with his wife, Theresa. They had a small child, too, a boy named Michael. Connor didn’t say anything to Janet. He simply got up, took the magazine and put it in a drawer in his office. He wanted to be alone with the rage that was building.
A few years passed, and Connor stopped thinking about Bart until he happened to see a press release that Bart had been named CEO of Palm Coast Electric & Power. Connor typed in the web address for Power Management Solutions, seeing Bart’s picture still on the website. He looked at the site for Palm Coast Electric & Power and saw the same beaming shot of Bart in an expensive suit. Bart had it all, using Connor’s idea. The door to Connor’s rage opened again.
* * *
Connor got up from his desk, suddenly hungry. He knew he hadn’t been eating enough. He could hear Janet’s voice in his head, “Connor, you can’t work all the time. You need to eat! You’re skin and bones.” There was little food in the house. He found a protein bar in the cabinet and ate that, plus a handful of peanuts and a bottle of water. He wanted to go back to work.
On his way back to the office, he paused, looking toward the garage. He remembered that Theresa was still in the trunk of Janet’s car. He set the bottle of water down on the counter and opened the creaking door to the garage. He looked the car up and down for damage. Surprisingly, there was very little except for a healthy dent in the hood where he expected that the back of Theresa’s head had hit and the loose fender from the first accident in the intersection. He listened. There was no noise from the trunk. He pulled out the gun that he had still in the back of his pants and used the keys to open the trunk lid in case Theresa had woken up and was waiting for him. A dim light glowed, casting shadows over the figure crumpled on the trunk’s carpet. Connor tilted his head. There was no movement. He couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive. He looked closer. The blood that had been coming out of her mouth had trickled into the trunk. There wasn’t much, just a small stain. He’d have to get that cleaned up.
Theresa’s color was pallid. Not blue, but not healthy either. Connor used two fingers to check her pulse. It was barely there. Glancing down her body, he focused on her mangled leg. It was clearly broken. From the way it was bent, she wouldn’t be walking on that leg anytime soon.
Satisfied, Connor closed the trunk lid, plunging Theresa back into the darkness. He had other things to do.
20
The conversation between Kat, Van and Bart was interrupted by the nursing staff bringing Mike back and the doctor arriving to examine Bart. Kat and Van stepped aside as the curtain closed. Kat could hear murmuring from Bart and the doctor for a few minutes and then the curtain opened. The doctor tapped on his tablet and went straight over to Mike’s bed.
Kat glanced at Bart. He swung his legs down over the side of the bed and tightened the striped tie around his neck. She walked toward him and stopped at the foot of his bed. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, “Just stress, he thinks. That, and I was dehydrated. Have to follow up and get a stress test.”
Kat scratched the side of her head. She knew that stress could do a lot of things to a person’s body. She had that experience. Her PTSD, though it was pretty much under control for the moment, had given her panic attacks that were so severe at one time that she passed out. “That’s probably a good idea. Did he say anything about Mike?”
The doctor opened the curtain between the two beds. “It’s not often that we get a father-son passing out team in here,” he smiled. “Okay for me to talk in front of your friends?”
The laws on privacy had gotten to the point that doctors couldn’t talk about someone’s health in front of anyone else. Bart nodded. “You,” the doctor pointed to Bart. “Look like you are having a stress problem. You were dehydrated. That’s not good.” He typed a couple of items into his tablet. “I’m putting in an order for a stress test with your regular doctor. They will get that scheduled.” He turned to Mike. “You, sir, have a virus. You’ve got a slight fever and I’m guessing that’s what made you pass out. No school for you for the rest of the week. Lots of fluids and rest, okay?”
Mike nodded, his color definitely better than when the ambulance brought him to the hospital. The doctor looked at Bart, “The nurse will bring the paperwork and instructions for both of you in a few minutes.” He leaned closer to Bart, his face serious, “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you but take your condition seriously and make sure to get that stress test.”
Bart nodded, but Kat wasn’t sure if he’d actually do what the doctor asked.
Kat saw an opening to finish their conversation from before. “Can you finish telling us what is going on?”
The rosiness in Bart’s cheeks quickly drained to a pallid color. He put his hand on Kat’s elbow and led her back toward Van, whispering. “I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s a company thing.”
Van frowned, “You and your son are in the hospital, you can’t find your wife and you are telling us whatever is going on is nothing?”
The truth of the matter seemed to startle Bart back into his corporate personality. “Well, yeah, I don’t know where Theresa is. I’ll take care of it.”
“Maybe it’s time to call the police?” Van suggested.
“About Theresa? Maybe.”
“What about your company? Is there something going on?” Kat searched his face, trying to see if he was hiding something.
“Sal and I will take care of it. Don’t worry about it.” Paula, Mike’s nurse, came down the hallway at that moment. Bart buttoned his coat and walked over to his bed.
Jack came running over. “Mike’s sick. Am I going to get sick?”
Kat felt his forehead, playing with him, even though she was frustrated with Bart. “Ummm, well, hmmm… I don’t think so, but I don’t think you are well enough to go back to school. What do you think, Van?”
Van smiled and nodded. Kat could tell by the look on his face and the way that he was staring at Bart that he didn’t believe a word Bart had said. “I think that the best remedy would be if we headed home and then you took it easy. It’s been a busy morning.”
“No more school?” Jack asked, hopping up and down on one foot.
“Nah, take a day off, buddy,” Van said, a grin on his face.
While they were talking, Kat saw Bart and Mike walk away without so much as a goodbye. Mike glanced back, waved to Jack and Bart gave them a head nod, but they disappeared out
of the emergency room doors before Kat could say anything more. “I guess that’s our cue,” she said, ruffling Jack’s hair. “You were a good friend to Mike today. I’m proud of you.” There was a lot more that she’d like to say, but not to Jack. She wanted to chase after Bart and confront him. He clearly was lying. There was definitely more to the story. And where was Theresa? Was he suggesting there was foul play? And, what was he going to do with Mike? He couldn’t stay home alone, although Kat realized that people like Bart had nannies and housekeepers that could watch kids if needed. Kat’s mind raced as they walked out of the hospital, the dry air covering them.
Outside the emergency room doors, there was a sleek black Lincoln parked off to the side. She saw Bart and Mike disappear inside of it, Mike sliding into the backseat. She watched as it passed by, a mostly bald man wearing sunglasses driving the car. Bart raised his hand as they passed. It was one of the slimiest things she had ever seen. She shook off the feeling, wondering why her gut was telling her that there was so much more to the story.
Kat and Jack got into the Jeep. Van followed in his truck. By the time they got home, lunchtime had nearly passed. Though Jack had eaten at the hospital, he was hungry again. Over bags of burgers and fries spread out over their kitchen table, Kat listened to what Jack had to say about the morning, “It was so weird, Mom. One minute Mike is sitting at his desk, the next he was on the floor. The ambulance was cool, though.”
Kat smiled as he gave Woof and Tyrant his last two french fries and skipped off to play video games. Though he wasn’t usually allowed to play until after dinner, homework and chores and then only for an hour, today was a different day. Not to mention that what had started with Theresa’s call last night and had ended them up in the hospital today was weighing on her mind. “What do you think?” she asked Van, trying to talk with a french fry in her mouth.
