Depart the Darkness

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “It’s there. You’ll get to it,” Miles said encouragingly.

  “As much as it hurts, we’re just going to have to be satisfied with that,” Xander said, as the elevator stopped at his and John’s floor.

  “And thankful,” John added, giving me a fleeting smile. “Don’t forget that part.”

  “Alright. Thanks,” I said.

  “Thanks, John. You too, Xander,” Miles said. “We’ll see you at dinner in a few minutes.”

  “See you,” Xander said. The guys turned and walked toward their respective rooms, and the door swished shut.

  “How dark was this truth?” Miles asked, as he hugged me.

  “Dark, but not all the same kind,” I answered.

  “He hasn’t killed anyone, or you’d see it,” Miles thought out loud.

  “Right. He just kills people’s joy is all,” I said grumpily.

  “We’ll find a way to put a stop to that,” Miles said. “Somehow, we will.”

  “You’re telling the truth,” I smiled.

  “Of course,” he replied, then kissed me until the elevator reached our floor.

  We changed out of our intimidating interview attire, then relaxed until time for dinner. Jenny and Annette were anxious to hear how our afternoon went, and we had fun reenacting it for them.

  After dinner we played with the puppies, then it was time for couples’ basketball. We all loaded in Xander’s Yukon, and met Pete and Delia there.

  Our teams were pretty evenly matched. Meaning each team had a weak link, consisting of me and Annette! We stayed out of the way as much as possible, but our husbands were good at setting up plays to make us feel useful. Our teammates were kind, and never complained when we shrieked and covered our heads when the ball came our way…

  No, we weren’t that bad! We weren’t that bad at all, really, and we were getting better. Maybe we’d never be as good as Jenny and Delia…

  We’d never be as good as Jenny and Delia. But, we held our own. And we played amongst friends, so we had fun.

  We had the most fun afterward, when we went out for ice cream. It was a tradition we kept up even in the dead of winter, because no matter how cold it was outside, after a game the thought of hot coffee or a latte was enough to make us all spontaneously combust.

  We girls sat in the large corner booth, while the guys waited for our orders. Jenny and Delia were both planning summer weddings, so we hurried to get as much of that talk out of our systems as we could before the guys got back.

  “I can’t believe how expensive everything is,” Delia said, shaking her head. She looked disturbed.

  “It adds up fast,” Jenny agreed. “Especially if you have a big family or a lot of guests.”

  “We do,” Delia replied. “How about you?”

  “Xander does,” Jenny answered. “He insisted that my Mom and I allow him to help with the expense, though.”

  “He can afford to,” Annette said. “You are letting him… right?”

  “Yes, we’re doing this together,” Jenny said, and we both smiled.

  “So are we,” Delia said. “Pete’s grandparents own a catering business, so they’re taking care of dinner. My brother has a band, and he offered to be in charge of music.”

  “How about the cake?” I asked. “Is Pete’s aunt doing that?”

  “Yes, and it’s going to be gorgeous,” Delia said, her eyes lighting up at the thought.

  “Pete’s aunt and uncle own a coffee shop and bakery,” I explained to Jenny and Annette.

  “Thanks to you and Miles,” Delia said. “Did you know United Innovation came back and made another offer?”

  “No,” I replied. “That must’ve been recent.”

  “It was,” Pete said, as the guys joined us.

  Miles placed our ice cream on the table, then slid into the booth beside me.

  “Did they make a more reasonable offer this time?” he wanted to know.

  “Yeah,” Pete replied. “You could say that. And then some.”

  I squelched the urge to point out that he was telling the truth, by taking a bite of ice cream.

  “Really,” Miles said with interest. “So Ames wants it that bad.”

  “Who’s Ames?” Xander asked.

  “He’s the CEO of United Innovation,” Miles explained. “It’s a holdings company. He’s made offers on a number of our businesses here in Glen Haven over the past couple of months.”

  “He owns a lot of Castle Pines,” I added. “He seems determined to expand.”

  “The guy’s a butcher,” Pete said shortly. “A mercenary, and an opportunist. My aunt and uncle made sure he knew what he could do with his offer.”

  “I’ll be very surprised if he makes another,” Delia added with satisfaction.

  “Then we’ll send him to your aunt and uncle, the next time he makes an offer on one of ours,” I said, which made them laugh.

  We hung out as long as we could stand, considering I had truth to unlock and Xander, Jenny, John, and Annette, all knew that. None of us wanted to seem in a rush to get away from Pete and Delia, though. Because we weren’t. And, that would be rude. So we waited, and chatted, and hung out for a while. It was fun, but it was also a relief when the time came that it was polite to call it a night, and we loaded back into Xander’s Yukon, and headed home.

  After arriving at the Lodge, Miles and I promptly said goodnight to our friends and went straight to our suite. They went to hang out together and wonder what truths I was uncovering.

  I didn’t like being in darkness, but still… I didn’t have to wait for that information nearly as long as everyone else did. Lucky for me, because curiosity might just kill me otherwise.

  “Decide how much time you’ll spend there tonight, and stick with it,” Miles cautioned me, as he changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, and I took off my makeup. “Otherwise, you’ll keep pushing yourself for one more truth until you have them all.”

  “You’re telling the truth,” I said.

  “You’ll come back and sleep for several days, or worse,” Miles added. “You’ll have me worried to death. Our friends, too.”

  “Alright, I’ll try for six hours, and stick with it,” I said. I finished applying moisturizer, then turned and hugged him.

  “Make it four,” Miles said, wrapping his arms around me. “If you’re doing fine after that, you can always go back.”

  “It’s going to take me days and days to get it all if I only do four hours at a time,” I pointed out.

  “If our roles were reversed, how long would you want me in there?” Miles asked.

  “I wouldn’t,” I said, giving that some thought as we climbed into bed, and Miles put his arms around me again. “I’d be afraid you wouldn’t come back.”

  Miles didn’t reply, and I wondered why. I pulled back a little so I could see his face. He looked concerned.

  “I’ll always come back,” I hurried to say. “If it was you though, I wouldn’t feel as sure of that. Because I’d have no control. So four hours, like you said. No more.”

  “I’ve worried more in the last two and a half years than I did the entire rest of my existence,” Miles informed me.

  “I know,” I said. “But I don’t take chances anymore. I’ll be back in four hours.”

  “If you’re not, I’ll come looking for you,” he said, and I smiled.

  “You’re telling the truth. I don’t know how you’d manage it, but I know you would.”

  “Hurry back,” he said softly.

  He kissed me as I closed my eyes, and everything faded away.

  Chapter 20

  Dillon Graves sat and watched the game on one of the many big screen TVs which filled the sports bar. He watched, but didn’t see. Unlike the other patrons, he was lost in thoughts that filled him with apprehension. He was unaware of the laughter, sharp voices, clatter of dishes, and excited chatter around him.

  A waitress hurried by with a steaming tray of fajitas. Even the scent of steak, bell pepper
s, and onions sizzling in their cast iron pan, did nothing to draw him back to the present.

  He glanced at the clock and paled. His thoughts were now on the future, and his eyes on the door.

  Feelings chased each other in waves across his face as he waited. Fear, anxiety, anger, defensiveness, and desperation, swirled around and around, like the ice in the glass he held in his hand.

  The door opened, and a middle-aged man walked in.

  All Dillon felt now was desperation. Sweat beaded his forehead as he searched his mind one last time for a solution preferable to the one he was about to be offered.

  He watched the man approach. He watched him slide into the booth across from him. He watched the amusement in the man’s eyes. Anger and resentment tried to resurrect, but they were powerless, and fled once more.

  “You’re in luck,” the man smiled, but his eyes held no warmth. “Your debt’s been paid.”

  Dillon sat, stupefied, staring at the man as if those words made no sense at all when used in that order.

  The man shrugged.

  “Let me correct myself. Your debt’s been bought off. Expect to hear from your refinancer soon. Let me suggest that you do not try and negotiate the repayment agreement.”

  The man was amused by Dillon’s struggle to string together a sentence, but only briefly.

  Before he could succeed, the man was gone.

  Dillon sat on the couch in his apartment, anxiety furrowing his forehead.

  If I can’t find anything else, then fine, I’ll come back and witness the truth that he was worried. But I only have three hours left! It took an entire sixty minutes waiting for that guy to arrive. I knew that, thanks to the clock on the wall.

  I’d have to start fast forwarding. I’d just have to, and then… if there wasn’t something we could use, I’d come back and suffer through every last second of the truth.

  Dillon walked out of the elevator and into the parking garage, along with several other Intersect employees. They dispersed in search of their individual vehicles. Dillon found his, and with a chirp of his key fob, the door unlocked. He climbed inside.

  He closed and locked the door, then started the car and took a moment to search for a radio station.

  A ringtone sounded.

  His eyes dilated. He whirled and gave the backseat and floor of the car a hard look.

  There was no one there.

  He breathed a cautious sigh of relief, then listened as the phone rang again. His forehead furrowed as he looked in the backseat once more. The sound was behind him, nearby, but somewhat muffled. His eyes focused on the back of the car and he lost some of his color.

  Dillon put his hand on the door, then stopped and thought, as the phone continued to ring.

  He was conflicted, but in the end he climbed between the two front seats and into the back of the car. Cautiously, he unlatched the seat back.

  He cringed and jumped to the side, heart racing, as it folded forward to reveal the trunk. A light glowed dimly from inside, and the sound of the phone was sharp and distinct.

  Dillon gingerly unfastened the other seat, and peered over it.

  Just the phone. Nothing else.

  He breathed a sigh of relief, then leaned over and picked it up. He gave it a good look as he refastened the seats in place.

  A cheap phone, and an unknown caller.

  He cautiously tapped the answer button on the keypad.

  “Mr. Graves,” a voice greeted him. “I have a job for you.”

  Dillon hesitated, but only briefly.

  “Who is this?” he wanted to know.

  “Your loan officer. Your first payment is due.”

  Beads of sweat broke out on the side of Dillon’s face. He waited, but the man on the other end said nothing more.

  “What do you want?” Dillon finally asked.

  “Tomorrow at two o’ clock in the afternoon, you are to execute this command…”

  The man proceeded to give detailed instructions. Dillon sat in silence, listening, increasingly disturbed at what he was expected to do.

  “I can’t do that, I don’t have the right permissions,” Dillon said. “I don’t work on that program.”

  “That is your problem to solve,” the man said. “You have two choices. You are either in… or you are not. At all.”

  The soft tone indicated the call was ended.

  Dillon looked at the phone in his hand, as his thoughts collided. He began to panic, as he…

  I skipped ahead again. He would have a long night struggling to come up with a plan to satisfy the guy on the phone, and keep security off his back in the event they discovered someone exposed classified files.

  I knew what his plan was, and I knew what the end result was. Aaron Fellows was fired.

  I didn’t need that, and I didn’t want to waste time. So onward.

  “I wondered, you know?” Elliott Reams said conversationally, then took a bite of the sandwich in his hand.

  He and Dillon sat at a picnic table in the park outside the Intersect building.

  “What?” Dillon prompted amiably. “If you expect me to guess, forget it.”

  “No way, man,” Elliott laughed, waving away that possibility. “I wondered, though. And I figured it out. It took me a while, but… I get it now.”

  He looked triumphant and satisfied. But there was also a gleam in his eyes that made Dillon uncomfortable.

  “Spit it out then,” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “Alright, fine,” Elliott replied, minimizing Dillon’s annoyance with a smile. Then, he pointed at him sternly. “Don’t think I’m not deeply wounded you set me up. Dude! I could not believe it when you said execute that command. It’s exactly what happened to that other guy.”

  Elliott paused and gave him time to think about that.

  Dillon picked up a potato chip and studied it before taking a bite.

  “Get to the point,” he finally said. He looked bored, but his nerves were stretched tight.

  “So I’m thinking, wow. I better cover my backside before I go any further. But alas. It didn’t do me any good. Want to know why?”

  Elliott was enjoying this, but Dillon’s tension was beginning to show.

  “Why don’t you tell me instead, since you know it all,” he said shortly.

  “I do. Yes my friend, I do. I know it all. Maybe more than you.”

  Dillon gave his friend a hard look, and Elliott smiled.

  “I know who you’re working for.”

  Dillon slowly gathered what remained of his lunch. He threw it away, then sat back down and looked at Elliott.

  “I work for Intersect.”

  “Convenient, isn’t it?” Elliott said. “Your dad’s company, free reign, valuable classified research, and a guy who’s willing to pay for it. What I don’t know is how you got hooked up. What matters, is I know you did.”

  “You watch way too many movies,” Dillon said, crossing his arms as he shook his head and looked disinterested.

  “Yeah. Maybe. I also watch you day trading. Every now and then you lose out, but… interesting that every time, either way, it coincides with the audit logs showing that my userid executed commands to expose classified files.”

  “Whatever,” Dillon said, rolling his eyes. “You’re so full of it. If you’ve been exposing files, you better not go spreading it around. If security finds out…”

  “They’ll be all over me. Yeah, I know. Aaron Fellows has been there, done that. Probably still dealing with the fallout. I’m not trying to rat you out, man.”

  “Then what do you want?” Dillon said, his expression grim. “You’re accusing me of something extremely serious. You better have proof to back it up.”

  “I don’t,” Elliott said, but he wasn’t upset. “I gotta hand it to you, Dillon. You’ve mastered the perfect crime. Even the insider trading. You don’t always win. You never lose much, though. Still, how could anyone pin you for it? It’s not like you know any CEOs that’ll tip you off
. The companies are owned and operated by different corporations, too. How could you possibly have connections to any of them, much less all of them?”

  Elliott was much too cheerful, and Dillon was quickly losing what patience he had.

  “What do you want, Elliott?” he snapped. “What is this all about?”

  “I don’t want anything,” Elliott said, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “From you, anyway. I do want in, though, and I expect more than what you’re netting. After all, it’s my neck on the block.”

  “What do you expect me to do?” Dillon said scornfully.

  “Nothing,” Elliott said innocently. “Your employer though… your real employer, is going to make it worth my while to keep this up, or I go spill all to security. All of it. Whether security believes me or not, your boss is going to find his window into the program permanently boarded. I don’t think he wants that.”

  “You’re an idiot, Elliott,” Dillon said with irritation.

  “Maybe,” Elliott shrugged. “I’m also generous, and wondering if you want in. This guy’s got plenty to go around. You’re getting peanuts, and none of it’s coming out of his pocket.”

  “No way,” Dillon said, rising from the table. “Everything you’ve said is ridiculous. Whatever you’ve been drinking, or smoking, lay off. It’s sapping your intelligence.”

  “I don’t think so,” Elliott replied, as cheerful as ever. “I’ve got a meeting set up after work.”

  Dillon closed his eyes and pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead as he struggled not to raise his voice. He and Elliott weren’t the only Intersect employees having lunch at the park today. If any of them grasped the topic of discussion, it would not bode well.

  “You know, Elliott… you do what you want,” Dillon said, in the voice of one washing his hands of a lost cause. “Whatever happens, don’t blame me.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Elliott said flatly, and utterly devoid of humor. “Whatever happens, you better believe I’ll blame you.”

  Dillon paled, but then Elliott smiled again.

  “But, by this time tomorrow, I expect to hold you responsible for setting me up for life. I’ll keep you posted, however it turns out.”