Heart of Cole

by Micheal Maxwell

  Cole felt a sense of disappointment as the girl grudgingly opened her biology book.

  “I gotta do these questions.”

  “Do you need me to help?” Cole asked softly.

  “Nah. They’re easy.”

  “How about History?”

  “It is just reading the chapter. You can go back to work.” Lindsey’s inflection betrayed her resentment at being subjected to Cole’s tough love.

  “Alright. Come up to my office about five to five. I’m sure Hanna will be ready to go.” Cole chuckled and gave her a grin. “I’ll be long gone. See you tomorrow. Let’s get your work done early so we can talk writing.”

  “Yeah, that would be good.” Lindsey didn’t look up.

  As Cole left the breakroom he breathed a prayer, “God, help me. I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

  Cole needed to think. He took the stairs instead of the elevator. He didn’t want to deal with people. He sat down on the landing between floors. The step was cold and the updraft of cool air felt good on his flushed cheeks. With elbows resting on his knees, and his face planted in his palms, Cole sighed deeply. This whole mess is my fault, he thought.

  If he hadn’t been so blown away by Lindsey’s writing, he may have taken a few extra minutes to assess her personality. The chit-chat over lunch, and that crazy encounter with her mother and Stevie didn’t exactly make for getting acquainted.

  He closed his eyes and tried to relax a bit before going back to face Hanna. A few minutes later, above him, he heard the metallic click of a door opening. Moments later it clacked shut and the sound of approaching footsteps ruined his solitude. Before he could stand, a man plopped down on the step next to Cole.

  “What are you doin’ here?”

  “Trying to get a little privacy,” Cole said coldly.

  “Sage, right?” The man fished a package of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket. “O’Malley, Circulation.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Cole offered his hand.

  O’Malley shook hands with a firm enthusiastic grip. “No, it’s not. I interrupted your peace and quiet. Mind if I smoke?”

  “Kill yourself,” Cole quipped.

  “Ha! That’s good.” The man lit the cigarette and blew smoke upward. “Natural ventilation in the stair case.”

  “I noticed,” Cole replied. “You know…this is a no-smoking building.”

  “I sneak in here a couple, three times a day. Used to be, we could smoke at our desks. That seems like ancient history,” O’Malley mused, ignoring Cole’s admonition.

  “Been here a long time?” Cole liked the man’s energy, and realized talking to a stranger was a pleasant distraction.

  “Started as a paperboy when I was twelve. Market and Battery was my domain.” O’Malley chuckled. “I fought off bigger kids and news guys for three years. I got noticed by the distribution manager and got a job indoors. Stacker-bundler—I did that all the way through high school, every morning before school. After I got home from ‘Nam, I got a spot in classified. Stayed there until last month. ‘Circulation or retire’ they said. Can’t do that quite yet, so I’m back where I started. Ironic, huh?”

  “Certainly is.”

  “We are the last of a dying breed. Real newspaper people. I expect a pink slip any day. Everything’s online. No customer service anymore.” O’Malley took a long drag on his smoke. His energy seemed to drain away as he thought of the future.

  “You know, O’Malley…”

  “Please…call me Tim.”

  “I was sitting here wondering what I am still doing here. You’re right. We are two of a kind. I don’t really know anything else,” Cole agreed, more to himself than his new friend.

  “You met Waddell’s replacement?”

  “Yep. Now, there is a guy who wouldn’t know a scoop if it ran up and bit him on the butt.”

  Both men laughed then sat in silence, enjoying the peace of the staircase as O’Malley finished his cigarette.”

  Finally, O’Malley said, “I better get back before they figure out nobody pees for ten minutes. Little snitches will squeal, sure as hell.”

  “Here.” Cole handed him a stick of gum. “Don’t give them any ammo!”

  “Nice to meet you, Sage. Want to bet on which of us leaves first?” O’Malley said with a wry grin.

  “Sucker bet,” Cole smiled.

  O’Malley stood and ran up the stairs. Cole stood and made his way to his office.

  “Where have you been? Randy has called three or four times,” Hanna asked as Cole approached her desk.

  “Went to check on your little darling.”

  “And?”

  “You’re going to have your hands full with that one.” Cole took a deep breath. “I feel like I owe you an apology for dragging you into this. If I hadn’t…”

  “I’m a big girl, Cole. It was my decision. If you recall, it was you who told me not to jump into anything.” Hanna smiled but it was weak and not at all convincing.

  “Just the same, I feel partially responsible.”

  “OK, I’ll let you be a little miserable.” Hanna smiled, this time it was real. “I appreciate you trying to take the blame. I need to work through this one myself. Maybe it is just the new environment, all the changes for her, you know, structure. Can you imagine going from the mess she was in to where two real grown-ups are willing to look after you? I was thinking this morning: she now has breakfast, lunch and dinner, a bed, a shower, and thank God, shampoo and deodorant!” Hanna laughed. “Now, I just need to get someone to do something with that hair of hers and she might look a little more domesticated.”

  “Good idea. It looks like it was cut with a lawnmower.”

  “How do they always know when you’re back? Except for Randy, the phone hasn’t rung once.” Hanna answered the phone. “It’s Randy.”

  Cole sat at his desk and counted to three and answered the phone. “Hey.”

  “OK, here’s what I got. Nothing. The picture came from a burner phone, pay as you go, disposable kind of thing. I’ve been able to obtain a list of numbers from the phone. We are in deep, black, water here, Cole. I can do a back-trace and find out who the person called, but here is the thing: We are crossing the line between the abusive sender, to the privacy of the people whose numbers are on the phone. Doesn’t sound like much, but to the Feds it is a big deal legally.”

  “So what are you saying?” Cole asked.

  “I’m saying the only way to find your photographer is to find the friends and acquaintances whose numbers I have. FYI, Kelly’s number is on here, but only the one call was made.”

  “Then what you’re saying is, we can find out who else the person called, then we can try and identify…”

  “We have to call them…” Randy said.

  “…and ask if they know this number.”

  “That’s about it. How to do that is way out of my wheelhouse.”

  “How many are there?” This was a natural for Cole’s bag of tricks.

  “Six.”

  “E-mail the numbers to me.”

  “No dice. I write them down and bring them to you. No trail, Cole, this can’t come back to us. I’ll be right up.” Then there was just dial tone.

  “Can you come here a second?” Cole called to Hanna.

  A moment later Hanna appeared in the door way, notepad in hand.

  “How would you like to do some of that undercover work you love so much?”

  “Yes! Please!” Hanna replied. “I’m all caught up and have absolutely nothing to do.”

  “Alright, here is the deal. I need you to make six calls. Use any guise you want. I suggest a legal secretary from Oui, Cheatam and Howe.”

  Hanna laughed. “Not sure about that one, maybe Howard, Fine, and Howard?”

  “Love it. Anyway, we need to find out if these people recognize a phone number that I’ll give you. If so, who is it? On and off as quickly as possible, no gabbing, all business.”

  “Sounds easy enough. Why do we need
to find this person?”

  “Can’t tell you,” Cole said dryly.

  “Can’t or won’t?” Hanna pushed.

  “Your choice.”

  Randy Callen appeared at the door and his presence stopped Hanna from responding.

  “It’s OK. Cole looked at Hanna and waited for an answer. She’s part of the plan. Doesn’t know why or what, but she’s in. Right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Here is the list. And this is a little present.” Randy handed Cole an old flip phone. “I don’t know where it came from. I’ve never seen it before, and I never want to see it again. When you’re finished doing whatever it is you’re going to do, break it in two, throw the battery in one place, fold the sim card and burn it, and throw the phone parts in two different places.”

  “A little paranoid, are we?” Hanna said sarcastically.

  “I like to think of myself as cautious,” Randy responded.

  “You’re serious then,” Cole said, sitting a little straighter.

  “Serious as a pink slip on your time card.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Do I ever get to know what this is about?” Hanna’s voice was showing serious concern.

  “Maybe, but it isn’t up to me,” Cole answered.

  “Don’t look at me.” Randy’s eyes met Hanna’s inquisitive stare. “If there isn’t nothin’ else…”

  “No, thank you. I’ll let you know what we find out.”

  Randy left the office. Hanna didn’t move. Cole looked down at the list.

  “There’s something we need to talk about,” Cole said. “It’s kind of a five-hundred-pound cannoli in the room.”

  “A cannoli?” Kelly sounded confused.

  “I didn’t want to say elephant or gorilla. I’m kind of hungry, and that’s what popped into my head.” Cole shrugged. “Silly, huh?”

  “Just a bit.” Kelly cocked her head slightly and gave Cole a long, thoughtful look. “So what’s going on?”

  “When we get married, I mean, well, we’ve never talked about money, budgets, you know, a couple’s finance stuff.” Cole cleared his throat. “I have spent very little in my life. I mean, I eat well. I have a nice place to live, but I don’t spend a lot of money. I’ve traveled the world, but it was always paid for. My folks left me some money, and I bought a new TV, but other than that I’ve never touched it. I have a bit of a pension from the Sentinel, not much, Social Security, and a 401K. When I retire I think we can live comfortably—not extravagantly, but we won’t starve or have to move in with the kids.”

  Kelly gave Cole a wide smile. “What is this all about?”

  “I want to leave the paper.”

  “OK.”

  “I’ve been offered a teaching job at Stanford.”

  “That’s wonderful, Cole!”

  “I haven’t told anybody. Just you.”

  “Go on, go on!” Kelly scooted to the edge of the sofa.

  “I’m worried. It is an amazing compliment that they think I could teach journalism. But, getting married is a huge step for us. I know we love each other, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to take care of you. I mean, if it doesn’t work out. I want to be a good husband, a good provider. If I fail we could be in trouble. The thing too is, I want to give you all of my attention, you know. What if the job requires too much time? I wouldn’t do anything that might come between us.” Cole looked deep into Kelly’s eyes, he wanted her to know how sincere he was.

  “I am so proud that your brilliant mind and wonderful writing is being recognized. You will be an amazing instructor, professor…whatever it is. Cole, I have a lot of money. Some might say I’m rich, I don’t, but I’m certainly well off. We have nothing to worry about.”

  “I know it’s old fashioned, but I’ve always believed it’s the man’s job to support his wife.”

  “Really? Did you park a buggy outside? I think we’re way beyond traditional spousal roles, don’t you?” Kelly frowned. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  “I want to feel like I’m making a decision that’s sound, one that doesn’t put undo strain on our relationship, or make me look like a kept man if I flop.”

  “Cole Sage, have you no respect for me? I am an independent woman of means. I have nowhere to live, therefore, I have nothing. I will let you carry me across the threshold of your beautiful home when the time comes. That tradition I love. I’ll admit I will want to buy a few things. Your taste does tend to run a bit on the leather and wood side. Things could use a bit of brightening up. But, I am about loving you.

  “The reason we have never had this talk before is because it doesn’t matter,” Cole continued. “I can live here in the city or move to that awful Central Valley. I don’t care as long as I can call you mine. I am so proud of you for loving me enough to worry about supporting us, but if you retired tomorrow, we wouldn’t feel it.”

  “Stanford University won’t know what hit them! You will be amazing. I am completely dumbfounded that you doubt yourself!”

  “I just want to make sure,” Cole said. “I have only ever had to look out for myself. I’ve always been a newspaperman. I never imagined doing anything else. I never dreamed I wouldn’t be the bread winner.”

  “You aren’t supposed to eat a lot of carbs anyway!” Kelly stood and moved toward Cole. “I think this news needs a celebration kiss.”

  Cole stood and embraced Kelly. He held her tight, her head lying against his shoulder. They swayed gently. After a long moment she raised her head and looked him in the eyes.

  “I love you broke, unemployed, or as an old grey professor.” Kelly closed her eyes and Cole kissed her.

  Chapter Eight

  The lobby of a large city newspaper isn’t anyone’s idea of a beehive of activity. But as they say, to every rule there is an exception.

  Thirty high school journalism students can make quite a racket even when they whisper. When left alone, while their teacher is chatting with their tour guide, things can get cheerfully exuberant.

  Laughing, talking, and excitedly waiting for the tour of the biggest newspaper in the city, none of the students noticed a wiry, thin man, with the greasy ponytail, enter the lobby.

  Security guard, Craig Simmons, watched the kids from the vantage point of the security entrance of the first floor office area. As they teased, poked, and good-naturedly flirted, Craig thought of his own kids at that age. He smiled as one smaller than the rest, a redheaded boy, approached a pretty Asian girl and attempted to strike up a conversation. Oh, to be that age again, the guard thought.

  “What have we got here?” Hanna said, as she approached the security guard.

  “High school field trip. Great bunch of kids. Where are you off to?”

  “I have to drop off some papers at Lindsey’s school.”

  “What a weird turn of events that is! I pick up the stray, and you take her home!” Craig laughed merrily.

  The redheaded boy seemed to have said something right because the pretty focus of his attention pushed her long raven hair behind her ear and smiled. The bellowing of a big kid in a letterman jacket drew Craig’s attention. No one saw Stevie Quint and his greasy ponytail, ragged jeans, and flip-flops move to the center of the lobby.

  Stevie repeatedly licked his lips and tightened the thin elastic band on his ponytail. The receptionist shoved her finger in her ear, in an ineffective attempt to block out some of the noise in the lobby.

  As he approached the reception counter for the first time, he spotted the security guard by the door. Stevie tapped the counter with the fingertips of his right hand.

  The manic action caught the attention of the receptionist. “How can I help you?”

  “I want to see that Sage guy. The writer. Or, or, or…his woman, the one who works for him. I don’t know her name.” Stevie was agitated and showed signs of being under the influence of methamphetamines.

  The receptionist looked toward the security guard. Craig was enjoying chattin
g with Hanna and watching the kids, and didn’t see her panicked look.

  “Call ‘em. What are you waiting for?” Stevie demanded.

  “I’m not sure if Mr. Sage is in today.”

  “Call the woman then!” Stevie was trying to hold it together but his voice began rising.

  “How can I call someone when you don’t know their name?”

  “Does he have a secretary? All big shots have a secretary. He’s a big shot around here, right? Mr. Im-por-tant Wri-ter, right? That’s him, right? Call his secretary then.”

  “Please sir, lower your voice or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” The receptionist sat a little taller in her chair. Her new found bravado was lost on Stevie.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I talk to one of them. They stole my kid and I want her back!” Stevie was now screaming at the woman behind the counter.

  For the slightest moment, the lobby grew quiet. The eyes and ears of more than the thirty students were all directed at the screaming tweaker standing at the counter. Craig Simmons’ attention was taken from Hanna, and went on high alert as his eyes met those of the receptionist.

  “Craig, that’s the boyfriend of Lindsey’s mom,” Hanna whispered.

  Never one to rush into a situation, Simmons took in the sight of the man at the counter. Though standing still, Stevie seemed to be running in place. His muscles twitched and pulsed from head to foot. As Simmons approached the counter, Stevie turned to face him. It was then Stevie spotted Hanna.

  “What do you want? I’m not doing anything that concerns you. Go mind your own business.”

  “The lobby does concern me. You see, it’s my little peaceful part of the world. I noticed you are a bit upset. Your volume seems to be giving my friend Keri a bit of concern. Now, why don’t you and I step over here and see if we can work out whatever it is that’s upsetting you?” The security guard spoke softly, firmly, yet with a friendly tone.