Thorns of the Past

by Gun Brooke

  “Don’t be so modest.” Meghan crinkled her freckled nose. “Yes, that’s part of it, but now we can take on a lot more cases because you’re so efficient. If we didn’t have you, we’d have to turn some customers away.”

  “Wow. Okay. I’m glad my coming to work for you has paid off despite everything.” Grabbing her leather tote, where she kept a thermos of coffee, some magazines and books, and a container of diced fruit, Darcy was ready to head out. “Speaking of working a lot, don’t stay here too late again. You know how that kid of yours goes nuts when you’re late too many nights in a row. He thinks you’re dead.” Meghan’s son Dominic was sixteen and what Darcy referred to as an old soul. “He still has some sort of vision of you dodging bullets and going toe-to-toe with ninjas.”

  “Tell me about it.” Meghan glanced at her phone and then wiggled it. “I’ll set the timer for another thirty minutes, and then I’m out of here. Stay safe tonight, Darcy.”

  “Sure thing. Hug the kid for me.” Darcy did a one-finger salute and walked outside. The sun was already setting, painting the sky purple, orange, and pink. This time of year, she enjoyed the last warm days as they headed toward October. Eventually, East Quay would become rainy, gray, and cold. Then the snow would hit, and if the last few years were anything to go by, she would have to invest in a new snowblower in early November at the latest. But right now, it was still summer, even if the nights were colder.

  Driving her beloved red Silverado, she pulled into the almost-nonexistent traffic. The summer guests had vacated this part of New England a few weeks back. That was both a blessing and a curse, Darcy surmised. Traffic was lighter, stores were not as congested, so less queuing. But tourists brought money to the region, and the merchants and hotel owners counted on the coast of Rhode Island to stay as popular as it was.

  Humming to Noelle Laurent’s latest hit song playing on the radio, Darcy pulled into the ever-growing financial area of East Quay. She drove past her list of smaller buildings, which she knew by heart, externally scanning them on her way back to the main road farther down. There, a large office complex loomed, with its six floors and ultramodern glass paneling. How the builder had managed to twist the local politicians’ arms to get permission to erect such a monstrosity, she had no clue. Connections and money exchanging hands? Promising tons of new jobs? Yeah, that’d get it done.

  Turning into the parking lot, Darcy saw only one more vehicle besides her truck, a gray, metallic Ford Focus hatchback. She knew it well and realized she was working late. Again. Darcy parked right next to it, which had become a habit, and cautiously exited her Silverado.

  The she in question was the president of the small but reputable accounting firm on the fourth floor, Sabrina Hawk. As far as Darcy knew, Hawk’s Accounting consisted of Sabrina and four employees. Usually the employees were gone when Darcy started her shift, but Sabrina often worked late. Tall, with strawberry-blond hair of undeterminable length, as it was always up in a low bun or a severe twist, Sabrina Hawk tended to dress in black or gray skirt suits. Darcy had yet to see the woman ever wear slacks or anything bright, but she wasn’t complaining, as Sabrina had the most gorgeous set of legs she had ever seen. Wearing minimal makeup, the hardworking accountant usually sported black-rimmed glasses and two-inch pumps.

  Apart from a mere nod in passing, or an occasional “Have a good evening, Ms. Hawk” from Darcy, which usually rendered her a short “thank you” in return, Darcy had never really spoken to Sabrina. That didn’t mean she didn’t keep extra tabs on the stunning woman when Sabrina worked late and had to cross over to her car after dark. Nothing would happen to Sabrina Hawk on Darcy’s watch.

  Pulling her tote out and slinging it over her shoulder, Darcy locked her truck and scanned the area around the business complex. Several offices kept expensive equipment and sensitive documents on the premises. The area was usually calm, but East Quay had its fair share of criminality.

  Entering the building using her master keycard, she headed over to the desk where she spent most of her night when not doing her rounds. A short, stocky Asian-American man stood and greeted her with a friendly grin.

  “You’re early, Darcy. No crooks to catch in the PI business?”

  “Ha! Funny that, Ken. Very humorous. I’ll be glad when the day comes that I don’t have to keep tabs on cheating spouses from here to Providence. A real case wouldn’t be bad.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Ken said, putting his thermos into a much-loved backpack with a Red Sox logo on the front. Darcy stealthily peered down at Ken’s feet and thought she glimpsed actual red socks peeking through just above his shiny black shoes. He was such a baseball aficionado.

  “True enough. Actually, I enjoy working with Meghan. It gives me a lot of freedom to add more hours to this gig.” Darcy let Ken pass and then rounded the desk. Six monitors, on which she could bring up live surveillance from everywhere in the building, filled the entire left side of it. On the other side, she had a small switchboard phone where she could alert the police or fire department if need be. The building had an automatic alarm system for most eventualities, but she was glad she could manually reach the authorities on speed dial if need be. “Anything to report before you head home to that gorgeous wife of yours?” Darcy looked down at Ken’s immaculately typed log on the computer. As far as she could see, his rounds had been uneventful.

  “A couple of teenagers thought it would be funny to stop by and press their faces against the glass doors. I stood just inside and and patted Lulu once, and they ran like the wind.” Ken demonstrated how he’d patted his side arm. “Like this and swoosh!”

  Darcy laughed. “You macho dog, you.”

  “Don’t you forget it.” Ken grinned and pulled on his jacket. “Stay safe tonight, kid. It’s going to rain later.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Darcy knew she looked younger than her actual twenty-eight years and didn’t mind Ken calling her “kid” every now and then. He knew of her background on the police force and what she’d gone through three years ago. She was ready to cut him a lot of slack for never judging her.

  She placed her fruit in the mini-fridge under the desk and the thermos of coffee on the shelf next to it. Making sure once more that the clip in her Glock was loaded and the safety on, she holstered it next to the baton. Her comm radio and cell phone were both freshly charged and tucked into their respective holders on her belt as well. Grabbing her large Maglite, she prepared to do her first round after checking the front door to make sure it was locked behind Ken. She could see him in the distance on the street, where he bicycled toward the harbor where he lived with his wife and two teenage daughters in an old, light-blue house on stilts.

  Darcy’s steps echoed through the corridors, the marble floor barely dampening her footfalls. She let her Maglite shine into the offices that had glass doors and felt the handles on the rest of them to make sure the locks had clicked into place. She was aware of the high-tech locks in the buildings, but as far as she was concerned, technology malfunctioned on a regular basis.

  She took the stairs from floor to floor and listened intently for unfamiliar sounds before she opened the doors to their respective corridors. Stepping onto the fourth floor, she immediately saw the light coming from the glass doors leading into Hawk’s Accounting. Carrying out her routine, she kept flicking her flashlight on and off into the other offices, and when she reached the corner offices, she glanced inside as she saw a light on farther in, past the reception area. She wasn’t expecting to see anything, as Sabrina Hawk’s office was in the far corner, out of her field of vision. At first, she didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, but then a slight movement to the right in the semi-dark area made her frown and direct her Maglite in that direction.

  Sabrina Hawk just stood there, seemingly lost in thought, staring out the window. She held onto a white mug, twisting it between her hands, something so desolate about her rigid form that Darcy kept the beam from her flashlight down and remained where she was. Sl
ightly older than her, perhaps thirty-five to Darcy’s twenty-eight, the classy, stunning woman had a quality about her that made Darcy feel strangely protective.

  Sabrina jerked and slapped the window hard with the palm of her hand, bowing her head as if in defeat. From where Darcy stood, it looked as if the woman by the window was shaking. Concerned now, Darcy rapped her blunt nails against the glass door and redirected the Maglite toward the glass, careful not to blind Sabrina, who flinched and turned, her eyes wide and her body appearing tense enough to crackle. Darcy felt like an idiot for frightening the woman and smiled reassuringly, even if she wasn’t sure Sabrina could see her facial expression from all the way over there. Not entirely certain what prompted her next action, she slid her master keycard through the lock and pushed the door half open.

  “Sorry there, Ms. Hawk.” Darcy raised her voice, trying to sound casual. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to make sure you were all right.” Darcy utilized every ounce of the confidence she’d once had as a police officer, making her voice low and assertive, when in reality, her knees felt somewhat unstable.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Sabrina said coolly. Darcy didn’t point out the fact that Sabrina was trembling visibly.

  “Good. Just let me know if you need assistance. I’m here until seven in the morning.” Her cheeks warming, Darcy was about to duck out when Sabrina spoke again.

  “I’m leaving soon. Will you be in the lobby?”

  That had to be a record amount of words from Sabrina. Some of the business people liked to chat when they ran into Darcy, but not this one, normally. Darcy tried to wrap her mind around that fact and forgot that Sabrina had asked her a question. Only when Sabrina tilted her head and walked toward her did she snap out of it.

  “Lobby? Yes. I’ll be done with my rounds in ten or fifteen minutes.” Darcy knew she probably sounded like an idiot, but she was busy wondering why Sabrina wanted to know in the first place.

  “Very well.” Sabrina walked to the counter by the front desk. Clearly the audience was over. But then she looked over her shoulder, and Darcy thought she could detect a haunted expression on Sabrina’s finely chiseled features. “Thank you.”

  “No problem, Ms. Hawk.” Darcy wanted to swat herself on the head. Since when did she sound breathless like this? And since when did she feel like a teenager in front of a hot teacher, though she couldn’t remember any of her teachers ever looking this amazing in an expensive, off-white skirt suit. Sabrina wore a plum blouse underneath, and at the shallow indentation at the base of her neck, a small emerald gave off an understated glow against her pale skin.

  Utterly self-conscious, Darcy walked toward the door to carry out the last of her rounds. Her legs remarkably wobbly, she willed them to take her out into the corridor without stumbling into furniture or doorposts. Turning her head as she closed the door behind her and making sure the lock engaged, Darcy saw Sabrina walking toward her office, her gait efficient and self-assured. Huh. So, the tormented woman she had just seen a glimpse of had been pushed back beneath the surface again.

  Filing the sight away for future reference, Darcy carried out her duties on the last two floors in a rush and then took the elevator down to the ground level. Stepping out of it, she spotted Sabrina Hawk already standing very close to the large windows overlooking the parking lot. She kept glancing from side to side, one hand resting against the glass and the other holding her briefcase so tight, the skin on her knuckles was colorless.

  “Hello again,” Darcy said in a muted voice, hoping not to startle Sabrina yet again. The woman still jumped and turned so fast, she momentarily had to support herself against the window.

  Darcy hurried forward, but Sabrina regained her balance and straightened to her full length, probably around five foot ten. At a mere five foot four, Darcy squared her shoulders and casually walked toward Sabrina. “So, I’m here. What can I help you with, Ms. Hawk?”

  “I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic, but would you please watch while I walk to my car?” Jutting her chin out, Sabrina looked as if she expected Darcy to question her request, or even be a smart-ass about it.

  “No problem. I usually do anyway.” The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she’d meant to say. Darcy closed her eyes briefly after watching Sabrina’s eyebrows go up.

  “You do?” It was barely a question, more like a “please tell me you’re kidding and not a stalker.”

  “A woman going through a semi-dark parking lot alone late in the evening and sometimes even during the night—what kind of guard would I be if I didn’t pay attention,” Darcy said, trying to explain.

  “I see. Well then.” She pulled out her keycard and slid it through the door opener. “Good night.”

  “Good night.” Darcy walked over to the window, not taking her eyes off Sabrina as she hurried to the Focus. She noted how Sabrina circled the car and peered in through all the windows. This was new. Usually, she tossed her briefcase in and quickly stepped into the driver’s seat. Now Sabrina acted as if she expected something to be amiss—or even some unwanted presence. Darcy almost thought the woman would check under the car with a makeup mirror. Finally, Sabrina opened the door and glanced around toward the lobby, nodding briefly toward Darcy, who in turn gave a short wave.

  As Sabrina drove away, Darcy found herself standing inside the doors, her mind whirling with possibilities as to why Sabrina suddenly was so skittish and concerned. Something was seriously wrong—she just knew it.

  * * *

  Sabrina stopped outside the building where she owned a large, luxurious condominium. The bottom floor consisted of eight double garages, from where you reached the stairs leading up to the two-story condo. There was also an entrance to each condo on the back, reached via a path through a small garden. Sabrina drove into the garage and kept her eyes unwaveringly in the mirror as she closed the door behind her remotely. As it locked into place, she drew a deep breath and finally relaxed. Her entire body ached from the stress of the last few weeks, which had increased tenfold today.

  Her cell phone beeped and she jumped, immediately on edge again. When it turned out to be a text message from her brother, Daniel, she moaned from sheer relief.

  R U working? How about this weekend? Lorna suggests bar-b-q on the new deck.

  Her stomach clenching, Sabrina knew she couldn’t turn her brother and sister-in-law down again. They had asked her four times during the last two months to come and visit with them and their twin boys. Sabrina adored Ethan and Kevin, but considering the last few weeks’ events, all Sabrina wanted to do was hibernate in her condo.

  She got out of the car and headed for the door leading into the stairwell. As she walked up the stairs, her feet felt as heavy as if she were wearing rubber boots rather than Jimmy Choo pumps. The door at the landing had its own set of locks and alarm. With the keys ready, she opened it and slipped inside, locking all three locks, including the massive new deadbolt. Resetting the alarm, she felt entirely safe—for the time being.

  As Sabrina walked toward the kitchen, she took out her cell phone again and texted Dan, affirming that she’d join them over the weekend. The big-grin emoji and four hearts he returned made her smile and shake her head. Dan was three years younger than her, and he always claimed he was the black sheep of the family as he didn’t work with numbers. Instead, he owned a successful construction company and was often hired by East Quay and surrounding towns.

  Sabrina had followed in their parents’ footstep in the sense that she did crunch numbers, but not at their level. She wasn’t into day-trading either, like Glenda and Ian Hawk, who were considered royalty in the Boston financial district. The famous Forbes magazine had coined a quote that her father loved. “Everything they touch turns to Californium.” Sabrina couldn’t agree more, since Californium, not indigenous to Earth, was as toxic as it was rare, due to its radioactivity, much like her parents. They owned properties in Boston, Providence, and East Quay, and their stock-market firm w
as one of Boston’s most successful enterprises. Sabrina couldn’t count how many times she had declined to work for Glenda and Ian.

  Instead she had started her own company, initially as its sole employee, but now she had four other fulltime accountants working for her. If things progressed the way they had until now, she would soon need to double that number. She maintained she was the black sheep of the family, not because she stood up to her parents regarding her career, which was Dan’s impression. The reason was much darker than that.

  She shook off the looming thoughts, something she truly didn’t need after working her ass off all day and then receiving yet another anonymous email. She was going to have to get her IT contact to make sure her computers weren’t hacked. Drawing a trembling breath, Sabrina entered the kitchen area, normally her favorite place in her condo.

  The refrigerator didn’t hold anything tempting, but she forced herself to pull out some blueberry yogurt. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and if she went to bed on an empty stomach, experience told her she would suffer badly around four or five a.m.

  Sabrina walked into her bedroom while she ate the yogurt. Pulling off her clothes between each spoonful, she shivered when the air-conditioned air reached her naked skin. She quickly donned her silk pajamas and finished off the yogurt. While brushing her teeth, she avoided her reflection in the mirror, knowing full well what her haunted expression looked like.

  After she crawled into bed, she closed her eyes, and the words from the first email she had received three weeks ago appeared as if blazed against the inside of her eyelids.

  The time has come for you to do as you’re told. Be prepared. Don’t do anything stupid, such as involving the cops. We will be in touch.