by Kasi Blake
Chapter 22
We were in our own little world - tucked into a quiet booth at MargaritaGrill in Auburn. I loved the booths. There were three of them along the right side of the main dining area. Each featured high-backed wooden benches, the right side abutted the wood wall, and the left side had figured woodwork edges creating a private space. A hanging tin light provided a constellation of patterns and a red-glass candle on the table added to the ambiance.
I took the last bite of my beef burrito, dousing it fully in sour cream. It was as delicious as the first. “Someday I need to try one of their other dishes,” I admitted. “I just love this one so much – it’s hard to think of anything else when I come to order.”
He chuckled, offering me a toast with his Dos Equis beer. “If you find something you adore there’s no harm in sticking with it,” he reminded me. “So many people out there have to make do with things they’re not fond of. Treasure your satisfaction.”
I smiled. “So true.”
The opening notes of “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking” echoed softly from my purse and I reached down into its depths. “Nobody ever calls me,” I apologized to Jason. “I wonder who it could be?”
The contact name said Matthew and I brightened. “Hi, Matthew,” I spoke into the phone. “How are you doing?”
His voice was rich with delighted excitement. “I sent you an email, but you didn’t answer. The scanning program found the password!” He gave a merry laugh. “It was My1Love.”
I smiled. “It figures,” I answered. “Although if we had tried every combination of love and desire and adore it might have taken us years. It’s a good thing we found that program.”
“So what did you want to do now?” asked Matthew. “I think you wanted Jeff present when we opened it up?”
“Definitely.” I glanced at my watch. It was just about eight. “Is it all right if we come over now?”
“Absolutely,” he agreed with heart-felt warmth. “I want to know what’s in this file as much as you guys. How about I call Jeff and you two plan to get here at half-past? Does that give you enough time?”
“We’re just finishing up dinner now in Auburn,” I let him know. “That will be perfect; it gives us time to pay the bill and head over. Probably back roads will be the fastest. You’re sort of in the middle of nowhere out there.”
“Eight-thirty it is,” he confirmed, and then he clicked off.
Jason took my hand from across the table. “I heard most of that. So the password has been revealed?”
I nodded, waving to the waitress. She cleared off the plates and Jason handed her his credit card. She headed off into the back room with the lot.
I leant forward. “He hasn’t actually opened the file yet,” I explained. “He’s going to wait for us to get there with Jeff. That way we can all see it together.”
He tilted his head to one side. “You still think there might be a chance it’s Jeff?”
“I think it’s not Jeff but I figure there’s no harm in being sure,” I stated. “It’s hard to think that anybody could have shot an old man simply for writing his memoirs. But then again, I was born in 1969. To me that is long ago and not worth worrying about.” I took a sip of my sangria. “But what if it was something out of my high school years, something I was quite ashamed of? For example, what if I had been raped? Even though it was over twenty years ago I might still be quite upset at the idea of it being broadcast to everyone I knew. If I got wound up enough, I might get pushed to my limits.”
His eyes were steady on me. “You would never murder someone, though.”
I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Certainly, I know that I would not murder anyone. It’s not in my nature. But I’m also wise enough to know that we all have different natures, and we all have different triggers. It could very well be that, to another person, life holds less value.”
The waitress brought back the receipt to sign, placing it down before Jason with a warm “thank you.” Then she was off again.
Jason opened the folder to add the tip and his signature. “Maybe someone who chops the heads off of chickens every day, and who raises young cows in tiny sheds barely large enough for them to turn around, might consider culling an elderly man to be an act of mercy.”
“You’re thinking of Sam.” I took his offered hand and slid out of the bench. “The thought has come to me, too.”
“Then again, Richard and his lawyer business have undoubtedly destroyed many a man as completely as death could,” mused Jason as we walked through the bar area to head out of the restaurant. Sound blared from several TVs tucked over the bar. To the left was a counter which often held free food during sports nights.
“I suppose that’s true,” I agreed. “Richard has spent his life building a wall between him and his victims. He prizes the victory and probably doesn’t worry about the debris he leaves behind.”
In a moment we were climbing into the F-150 and turning left onto Route 20. I watched the headlights shine in the dark. “So, out of the two of them, which do you think it would be?”
He pursed his lips. “Maybe I’m a softie, but I just don’t think it could be Sam,” he admitted at last. “Sure, he has rough edges, but his life hasn’t been an easy one. He’s been there for his family and made the best he could of it. And yes, they kill animals, but most of us eat meat. Maybe he’s the more honest one in that he cares for and raises the meat he then eats. The rest of us only look at it sealed, trimmed, and without any thought as to the life that was taken away.”
I smiled at that. “So you think we should all raise our own cows and chickens?”
His eyes twinkled but his mouth remained serious. “It might not be such a bad thing,” he murmured. “People would have more thought as to what they were eating and how it was cared for. We probably wouldn’t have chicken factories with animals jammed into tiny cages where they can’t even move. Each chicken gets barely a foot of space. Their entire existence – from chick to death – is that one metal cage. They go blind from the ammonia levels of the excrement they stand in. The poor animals are even ‘de-beaked’ so they can’t hurt each other out of frustration.”
“It is awful,” I agreed. “We should all be far more aware of the things we buy. We support industries with our money. We should choose wisely.”
A leaf tumbled across the road and I gave a small jump. He smiled at me. “Worried about the leaf’s health?”
“I thought it was a frog,” I insisted. “It looked like it was leaping with its little legs.”
“In late November?” he pointed out. “All the frogs are safely tucked into their mud beds, dreaming their dreamy dreams until spring. I doubt any frogs are out roaming the night.”
“I know that logically,” I countered. “And yet, when I saw that motion, I was convinced it was a frog.”
“Our mind can delude us sometimes, trying to make sense of what it sees. Right now it’s a frog and the next time –”
A car came racing up behind us, its high beams on, and he sighed. “This time of year comes with its challenges,” he muttered. “Everyone seems in such a hurry. They miss the entire concept of the season.” He slowed and pulled further right to allow the car to pass.
I glanced off to the right. Ramshorn Pond glittered under the dark sky, soft ripples glistening with the light of the moon. We were on the northern, Millbury side of the pond; Matthew’s house would be down on the opposite end. I wondered, if I stared hard enough, if I could make out the distant shape far across the water.
The car pulled to the left, passing us. And then, with a sudden squeal, the car sliced sharply right, its large form cutting hard across our path. Jason spun the wheel hard right, driving his foot on the brakes. Our truck spun, the forequarter slammed into the car in front of us, and we lunged toward the inky blackness of the pond. A blaring squeal of tires pierced my ears. The car vaulted off into the distance while the world spun in dizzying chaos.
To my surprise, there was no splash, no rotating of my world
upside-down. We hung at a forty-five degree angle pointing down toward the pond but thankfully the truck had maintained its purchase on solid earth. Still, the water seemed dangerously close and my heart was pounding so loud I could hear nothing else.
“Are you all right?” came Jason’s voice in my ear. I realized he must have said it a time or two before it made it through to me. I nodded shakily, unable to draw my eyes from the surface of the water.
“Are we going in?” was all I could think to ask.
He shook his head. “Not if I can help it.” He hit the buttons on his arm console and both windows rolled down. “Just in case,” he added. “Have your hand on your seatbelt buckle.”
I did as he suggested and forced myself to breathe. It seemed as if holding my breath was a natural reaction.
He carefully shifted into reverse, turned the wheel a slight amount, then pressed with light pressure onto the gas. The truck rocked slightly, then the tires began to slip. He released immediately. He took in a breath, then carefully lowered his foot down. There was a soft whir, the tires began to move, the truck gave a shudder … and the traction held. We inched carefully back up along the rocky bank.
At last we regained our spot on the level pavement. The car came to a stop.
I disconnected my seatbelt and flung myself across his body. His arms came around me immediately, holding me close, soothing me. His voice was a soft murmur in my ear. “It’s all right. We’re all right,” he repeated. “We are fine.”
After a few minutes he put on the hazards and got out to walk around the truck. He gazed carefully along the front parts of the chassis, then examined the rest before regaining his seat.
“It’s beat up, but it’s still drivable,” he reported. “Did you want to go home?”
I glanced across the quiet lake; suddenly deep concern hit me. “Get us to Matthew’s house,” I insisted.
Understanding lit his eyes and in a moment we were racing down the road, taking the remaining curves in quick order. We pulled into Matthew’s driveway. Only his car was there – Jeff’s was nowhere in sight.
Jason turned to me, his gaze serious. “Stay in the truck. Lock the doors.”
I didn’t question it; the moment he got out I hit the lock button. I fumbled for my phone, drawing it into my hands as he moved down the path on the right side of Matthew’s house. The lake spread blackly out before him, stretching into the distance.
My phone rang in my hands, startling me. I hit the answer button and brought it to my ear, my eyes steadily on Jason’s form as he approached the door. “Yes?”
Jeff’s voice echoed in my ear. “There you are! Come on out already. We’re here waiting.”
I blinked. “What? Wait, who is waiting? Where are you?”
“Matthew and me,” he stated, and there was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “You emailed us and said we should get to your house quickly – that you had something to show us before we looked at that file. We’re here in your driveway but you’re not answering your door.”
Jason stepped to the left, through Matthew’s doorway, and vanished. My heart pounded against my chest.
What was happening?
“Jeff, we’re at Matthew’s house. Someone tried to run us off the road. Jason’s in there and –”
Jeff’s voice came sharply. “What? Are you all right?”
Jason came sprinting up the dark path toward the truck and I hit the unlock button. He pulled open the door. “The door was kicked in and the computer’s gone. The whole thing.”
An oath sounded in my ear; apparently Jeff could hear what Jason had said. “Someone broke into Matthew’s house?”
I could hear Matthew’s outraged cry from the background.
I called into the phone, “Get back here immediately. We’re fine. We’ll wait here for you.”
“Be there in fifteen,” agreed Jeff, and he clicked off.
I looked up at Jason. “Was the house in bad shape?”
He shook his head, looking in at me. “There was no sign of anything else out of place, at least from my cursory glance. The living room, dining area, kitchen – it all looked neat and untouched. Only the computer was missing from the table’s center. Even the monitor and keyboard were sitting there, their cables loose.”
He settled himself back into the driver’s seat; I turned up the heat to fight off the sharp winter’s chill.
I looked at him. “The door looked forced?”
He nodded in agreement. “The lock area was shattered. Someone kicked through it. That was the only thing I could see that showed any sign that someone had been there.”
It seemed no time at all before Jeff’s car pulled in beside ours and all four of us were walking down the narrow path toward Matthew’s front door. Matthew paused for a moment by the door, looking at the damage, then we walked inside. He strode around the room, looking at everything, then vanished into the back of the house for a few minutes. At last he returned, relief shining in his gaze.
“Nothing else was touched, thank God,” he informed us. “It was just the computer they wanted.”
Jeff looked at Matthew. “You didn’t look at the file to see what was in it?”
Matthew glanced at me for a moment before shaking his head. “We thought it best that we were all here to see what it said,” he stated. “I have no idea what was in there.”
I sighed. “Now we may never know.”
Jason put an arm around me. “Nobody was hurt,” he pointed out, “and now we know that someone cared immensely about us finding out the contents of that file.” He looked over at Matthew. “Maybe time to make a call to the police?”
Matthew lifted the phone off its cradle. “Absolutely.”
