by Jon Mills
“The story I’m working on.”
He squinted then noticed and smiled. “The Zodiac wannabe is old news. You’re fourteen months too late. He won’t go for that.”
“That’s not what I’m looking into.”
“No? Then what is it?”
She leaned in and switched off her computer. “Like I’m going to tell you. You said yourself it’s a cutthroat business.”
He wagged his finger in front of her face. “Ah grasshopper, now you’re getting it. Well played. But it’s not me you have to worry about.” He surveyed the other reporters. “It’s them. Those piranhas, they will eat you alive. I couldn’t care less what are you looking into. My paycheck will still be there even if this place goes under.”
He scratched the back of his neck slowly like a relaxed cat on a warm summer’s day.
Kelly put a hand on her hip. “Yeah, how so?”
“My aunt. The same one that Johnson is banging. She has strong ties in the city. Why do you think he’s interested in her? Believe me, it’s not for her looks. Though don’t go telling her that.” He winked. “Anyway, she promised me a job if things go belly-up here so come on, let’s hear your story. Maybe I can refine your pitch for Johnson. You know how he is. You don’t get more than ten seconds to make it sound exciting. If you bore him he will kick you out of that office so fast your head will still be spinning when you land.”
Kelly was reluctant but Zach did have a way with words and it was rare to see him get one of his stories shot down by Johnson. Maybe his aunt played a role in it, or perhaps he just had the gift of gab. Either way she couldn’t afford to screw it up. She bit down on her bottom lip then turned her computer back on and stabbed her finger against the screen. Zach peered over. “The mystery man? That’s your story?”
“You heard what Johnson said. Readers want someone they can get behind. There were a whole lot of people singing this guy’s praises when the incident at the island went down. And there isn’t one photo of him. Just a few grainy surveillance streams.”
“Ah, Armstrong I thought you had a better idea than that.”
Kelly screwed up her face. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Well you know it’s flawed from the get-go.”
She turned in her seat to face him, resting an elbow on the table and raking her fingers through her wavy dark hair. “How so?”
He sniffed hard and picked again at his gnarly looking teeth. “Well there is no information on him. Reports from sources are unreliable at best.”
“And you would know?”
“C’mon, give me some credit. You think you’re the only one who saw a diamond in the rough? I worked the story when it broke. I spoke with all of the witnesses. Many of the reports contradict themselves. We have him with blond hair, dark hair, five foot nine, six foot two, green eyes, blue eyes, wielding a sword, carrying a machine gun and even having superhuman speed.” He started laughing. “My honest opinion, it’s a case of mass hysteria. Nothing more than people suffering from trauma. They concocted some story of a guy who rescued them the same way folks in ancient Greece spoke of the gods coming to their aid. You’re wasting your time, Armstrong.” He looked down at the screen again. “So is that all you’ve got?”
“No, actually I found out more.”
“You did?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
He scoffed. “I’m not. Just curious.”
“Why, if I’m wasting my time?”
He hopped off the desk. “As strange as it might sound, I see myself in you. We’re a lot alike.”
“Zach, I don’t want to hear about your extracurricular cross-dressing.”
He laughed. “No, look, I remember what it was like being wet behind the ears and willing to do whatever it took to land my first break. Heck, I would have slept my way to the top. But I wouldn’t advise doing that, unless of course it’s with me.” He winked again and Kelly groaned. “Anyway, I should get back to it. But hey, if you ever want to chat about what you’ve found. I’m sure we can discuss it over drinks… what do you say?”
“I say, don’t hold your breath.”
She turned away and began organizing her desk. Zach laughed and she watched him out of the corner of her eye traipse away only to stop at the desk of another young female. Kelly turned her screen back on and brought up the article. She’d already sat down with several of the named witnesses. Even after all these months they didn’t deviate from their account of that night and by the expressions on their faces Kelly knew they weren’t lying. They had no reason to. These were reputable people holding down respectable jobs. What she hadn’t told Zach was that she’d had a local video company enhance the grainy footage that was released online in an attempt to get a clearer look at the mystery man’s face. She pulled up the email from them again and viewed the photo attachment. Even though it was clearer it still didn’t reveal his face. That’s why she never told him. He would have mocked her for it. Kelly sat there tapping her lips with one finger before bringing the article back up again. Even though Zach said he’d worked the story, it wasn’t his name that was on the article, it was a female by the name of Dana Grant. “Dana?” she mumbled.
She’d thought that chatting with her might give her some inroad. It was common for reporters to gather a lot of information but only cherry-pick the best quotes from witnesses. Was it possible that she had gathered key information that might reveal the identity of the mystery man?
Kelly had already been in contact with human resources to find out if they had an address on file for her but the only one listed was for a home that no longer belonged to her. She tapped print on the article and headed over to the printer to grab a copy. It was time to take the bull by the horns. As soon as the sheet slid out she scooped it up and marched towards Johnson’s office. She knocked several times on the opaque glass before he told her to enter.
When she opened the door, lo and behold Zach was seated in front of him.
“Oh, Armstrong, just the person. Come on in.”
Zach narrowed his eyes as she closed the door behind her.
“Sir, I was hoping to have a word in private.”
“Regarding the story idea?” he replied.
She glanced at Zach and he shifted in his seat looking uncomfortable. “Yes, Zach here was just telling me about how you offered to write up Zach’s story. I think it’s a fantastic idea.”
“I did? You do?” Kelly asked feeling perplexed.
“Sit. Come on,” he said motioning to the chair beside Zach. She raised an eyebrow and took a seat.
Johnson got all theatrical, rising from his seat and spreading his hands out as if they were quote signs. “I see it now, ‘Identity of San Francisco’s Mystery Man Revealed.’ I like it.”
Kelly turned her head slowly and pursed her lips. Zach picked at his teeth then pulled his gum and snapped it back before blowing a bubble. That conniving little twerp had tried to swipe the story out from underneath her and claim it was his idea. “But—” she began to say.
Zach jabbed out a finger cutting her off. “Fantastic idea, sir. I couldn’t have come up with a better headline myself,” Zach said. Johnson continued to pace while Zach winked at Kelly. Oh no, you didn’t, she thought. He wasn’t getting off that easy.
“I think there’s been a mistake here. That story was my idea.”
“Does it matter, Armstrong?” Johnson asked.
“Yeah, does it matter?” Zach echoed.
“But—” Her mouth went agape.
Johnson came around the table and perched on it in front of them. “Here’s what I want you to do. Work on it together.”
Zach bolted upright in his chair and started coughing. “Excuse me, sir? I don’t think I heard you. Did you say you want me to work with her?”
“With him?” she added.
“That’s right. Is there a problem?”
“Well…” Zach began to say while scratching the back of his head as if he had fleas. “You
see, sir, the thing is—”
“Good!” Johnson slapped his hands together. “I want something on my desk by next week.”
Both of them sat there, slack-jawed and staring back at him.
“Well chop-chop. Time is money, folks. Let’s go.”
Kelly was the first out the door, she charged off towards her desk, furious. Zach wasn’t that far behind. “So. Partner.”
She spun around and stabbed a finger into his chest.
“Let’s get something real clear. We are not partners. We are not friends. And I resent the fact that you went behind my back and tried to act as if it was your story.”
He put out a hand and she wanted to slap it away. “Armstrong, calm down. It was my story. Like I told you, I worked the story back when it broke. I didn’t go to see him about that. I had a way better idea but I thought I would do you a favor and toss yours his way and see what he thought. Hell, you should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?”
He nodded. “Yeah, in fact, how about we get those drinks?”
She gritted her teeth and trudged off towards the washrooms, anywhere she could escape that leech. “I’ll take that as a yes?” she heard him say as she slammed the door.
Chapter 3
Jack managed to catch some shut-eye on the flight home from Los Angeles to Telluride Regional Airport. Five hours passed in the blink of an eye and before he knew it he was collecting baggage and cramming it into the back of a cab. As the driver veered into the tourist-clogged road, Jack clicked open a small velvet box and smiled as gold glinted back. He closed it and glanced out. He’d been eager to return since buying Dana the gift in L.A. Although it wasn’t her birthday for a few days, he planned on giving her the gold chain as an early surprise.
The 10,000-square-foot home located ten minutes north of the airport was nestled into the mountains surrounded by rolling hills and forest trails. Tall aspen trees were like walls on either side of the winding road that led up to his remote property. The familiar sight instantly calmed him. As the driver talked about how lucky he was to have property out there, Jack leaned his head against the pane of glass and closed his eyes on the final stretch, his mind drifting into peace.
It wasn’t long before it all changed.
“Sir, are you sure this is the right address?” the cabdriver asked, causing Jack to open his eyes.
“What?”
He straightened up and peered between the seats. It was then his jaw widened as his mind tried to comprehend his field of vision. It was gone. All of it. The A-shaped structure made from stone and cedar had been reduced to rubble, nothing more than charred stone and black ash. There was no smoke, no flames just the fragments of what remained. His heart began to hammer in his chest. His breathing became labored and fast. The cabbie eased off the gas as they came around the driveway’s center island, gravel crunching beneath the tires. In shock, Jack pushed out before the cab had even fully stopped. He walked up to where the front entrance should have been and surveyed the aftermath.
His heart sank.
The area was cordoned off by yellow police tape tied to trees nearby. He snapped it and walked into the midst of the rubble and charred wood as the taxi driver got out and asked him again if this was his home. Dazed and confused he didn’t answer.
It was home but not the one he’d left behind.
Frozen for a few seconds in the middle of the house, he turned 360 degrees, soaking in the horror. “Dana,” he muttered under his breath before repeating it again, gradually getting louder. “Dana!”
The cabdriver followed him into the carnage glancing around. “Mister. What happened?”
Jack charged past him, his face full of fierce determination. “Take me into town.”
The driver looked back for a second before returning to the vehicle. “Yeah, yeah, sure thing.”
It was a good twenty-minute drive into Telluride, and another five to get through heavy traffic. The Telluride Marshal’s Department sat directly across from a lodge. It was a stone building crouched at the corner of Spruce and Pacific Avenue. In all the time he’d lived in the town he’d given it a wide berth, concerned that his mug shot from his time in San Francisco might have surfaced. He was convinced that CCTV cameras had caught him and equally surprised that no one had tracked him down. After paying the taxi driver he headed in, desperation masking his face. On the journey into town he kept telling himself that everything was okay. It was probably the result of leaving the stove on, or a gas leak or human error. He’d inform the cops who he was, and they’d connect the dots and within the hour he’d be talking with Dana.
It’s OK, he told himself.
Inside the station it was quiet. He approached the front counter and spoke to a female officer behind thick Plexiglas. The officer was on the phone at the time and upon noticing him, raised a finger.
He paced for a second or two until he rapped the window again. A look of frustration spread across her face as she hung up. “Can I help you?”
“The name’s Jack Winchester, I own the house that burned down over on Francisco Way. I’ve just returned from a trip to California. What can you tell me? Where is Dana?”
The young woman stared back, frustration leaving her face before she got on the phone, and told him to hold for a second. Jack ran a hand over his face and rolled his shoulder to work out the tension from the long journey. When the officer concluded her call she told him the chief would be with him in a minute and to take a seat.
“Take a seat? I need to know what happened.”
“And you will, sir. He’ll just be a minute.”
Not wanting to cause a scene he took a seat and waited. He sat there tapping his foot and thinking the worst. Fortunately he didn’t wait long. A door buzzed open and a man similar in stature and size to him came out. His face was clean, his jaw rugged and he had silver flecks at his temple.
“Mr. Winchester?”
He nodded, and rose to greet him.
“I’m Chief Wilkerson.” He jerked his head. “Come this way.”
The cop led him through a series of corridors into a cramped office. It was tidy, and there was the faint smell of lemon in the air. Before him was a small desk. On it sat several photos of family, a notebook, and a pile of paperwork. A shelf of books and two tall steel cabinets were either side of that. Jack glanced at a golden nameplate on the front of his desk. Wilkerson closed the door behind him then waved him to one of two chairs. “Please, take a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”
Jack remained standing and the chief sized him up.
“The officer said you’ve been away?”
“Los Angeles. Visiting a friend.”
“When did you leave?”
He fished into his pocket and pulled out his boarding pass. Jack was all too familiar with police procedure. They would want specifics. No generalities. Proof was better. Although his property was in his name, until they had his details and a clear alibi, there was always a chance they might think he had started the fire himself to claim on insurance.
“Look, my girlfriend Dana Grant. She was staying there when I left. But… I couldn’t find her. Did—”
The chief glanced at his boarding pass and slipped it back across the desk. He clasped his hands together, resting them on the desk, and his chin dropped as he cut him off. “There was no body found among the rubble,” Wilkerson replied.
Jack rocked his head back and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. For a second there I thought you were going to say she died in the fire.”
The chief stared back, his brow furrowed. “Mr. Winchester, a neighbor of yours came forward to report the fire. No one else has been in. While we were able to establish you were the owner, without an idea of where you were, we were unable to contact you.”
He shook his head, perplexed by it all. “How long ago did it happen?” he asked.
“Six days ago.”
A day after he’d left? It would explain why she hadn’t called but�
� “Well if she wasn’t there, where is she?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Just out of curiosity, is this a new relationship?”
“No, why?” Jack asked.
“Did you argue much?”
“We had our disagreements like anyone else. What’s that got to do with it?”
The chief tipped his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Jack knew what he was getting at. “No. She didn’t start this.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been called out to a blaze to discover an angry partner was behind it.”
Jack shook his head and placed a hand on his hip while he ran the other through his hair. “I can reassure you, that is not the case here.” He stared back. “Look, what caused it?”
“The fire marshal said it was an electrical malfunction.”
“An electrical malfunction?”
“A programmable timer set to turn on lights while you were away.”
“That’s impossible. Why would it be set to turn on when Dana was at home?”
“Mr. Winchester, you know her better than I do. Perhaps she took a vacation. You know, to spend a little time with…”
“Are you suggesting she was cheating on me?”
He lifted his hands. “Relax. I’m just exploring possibilities.”
“Well you can rule that out.”
Wilkerson sighed and pursed his lips together. “Look, does Dana have any friends in town? Anyone she might have gone to stay with?”
In that moment he couldn’t think straight. “Not that I know of.”
“Family? Co-worker?” Wilkerson probed.
“Her family’s gone. She’s a freelance writer. Most of the time she worked from home.”
“Most of the time?”
He lifted a hand and look absently around the room. “Occasionally she traveled.”
“OK. Anywhere in particular? What did she write about?”
“Travel, I guess.”
An eyebrow shot up. “You guess? You don’t know?”
“Look, she told me it was related to travel.”
Wilkerson nodded and studied him. “And what do you do, Mr. Winchester?”
