At First Light

by Mari Madison

  “This is all the stuff we’d put together for our Water World protest,” he explained. “I thought you might be able to do something with it. If you were still interested, I mean.”

  I stared at the stack, then at Ryan. “You’re giving it to me? But why?”

  He shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? You still have a chance to do something with it. To shut those bastards down for good. No one’s going to listen to what I say anymore—I’m a convicted felon. I lost all credibility for what I did.” He paused, staring down at the papers, his face filled with a regret that surprised me. “But those animals—they don’t need to pay for my mistakes.”

  I drew in a slow breath. “Why did you do it, Ryan?” I asked quietly. It was a question I’d wanted answered for five years now. But had never had a chance to ask. Despite what Sarah thought about Ryan, I knew for a fact he actually cared about saving the world—or at least had cared back then. So why had he risked everything he’d worked so hard for his entire life—over something as petty as a cash grab?

  He looked up at me, looking so much older than his thirty years. “I was desperate,” he said after a pause. “My mother had been diagnosed with cancer. And her insurance wasn’t properly covering her treatments.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And then I saw this guy—this guy who was so rich, he’d never even miss the money. Money that would save my mother’s life. And even if he did, well, his insurance would have compensated him, I’m sure.” He sighed. “And so I went for it. I would have done anything to save my mother.”

  My heart gave an unexpected tug as I caught the look on his face. I wanted to ask if his mother was still around, but I had a feeling I knew the answer already. All this time I’d been so angry at him for tricking me. For playing me like a fool. But now—well, now I felt more foolish than ever. Because I had never once bothered to ask why he had done what he’d done. I’d never given him a chance to explain.

  “Thanks for bringing these over,” I said instead, gathering up the documents and paging through them. My voice sounded a little rough, but I pushed on anyway. “And you’ll be pleased to know Sarah’s actually reopened the investigation. She’s even doing an undercover shoot with this whistleblower we found who works there.”

  Ryan nodded slowly. “That’s great,” he said. Then he rose to his feet. “Well, hopefully some of this will be of use to her then. All the transcripts from our interviews are in there. All our e-mails back and forth. I had hidden everything in a storage locker after it all went south; I didn’t want it confiscated as evidence.” He shrugged. “Some of it’s old and outdated, of course. But there’s probably still some useful stuff. At the very least, it’s an opportunity prove just how long these abuses have been going on.”

  “Right.” I stood up, putting out my hand. “Thank you for bringing it over. I’ll start combing through it tonight and send everything relevant over to Sarah.”

  “Great. And . . . when you do?” Ryan gave me a hesitant look. “Tell her I’m sorry about everything, will you? That I regret everything that went down back then.” He sighed. “Trust me, I don’t expect her to forgive me or give me a second chance. But I would like her to know that I’m sorry all the same.”

  I gave him a rueful smile. “I will tell her,” I promised. “And I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.”

  Ryan’s face shone with relief. “Okay,” he said. “Well, then, I guess I’ll see you around. And I’ll be watching for that report. It’ll really be great to see that place shut down for good. Justice served at last.”

  And with that, he headed out the door, closing it behind him. I watched from the window as he got into his car and started the engine, feeling contemplative, relieved, and, at the same time, a little sad. Once Ryan had been a great guy. He had really wanted to change the world. Hopefully, somehow, someday he would get another chance to do that. A chance to make that difference he’d always wanted to make.

  It wasn’t until he had pulled away, driving out of the apartment complex and into the night. that another question suddenly struck me.

  If Ryan wasn’t Sarah’s stalker . . . then who was? And if he hadn’t done those things . . . who had?

  And most importantly, what would he do next?

  forty-three

  SARAH

  The place was dark when I pulled into the parking lot—Donny, my whistleblower, had explained that the park closed at six PM on Sundays and therefore most of the custodial staff finished by nine. They usually turned off most of the lights, too, he added, to save on electricity. In fact, even the heaters were turned down at night—way too low for some of the poor animals. Just another abuse, seen as cost savings. To keep this atrocity performing like a cash sea cow.

  I parked in the back, as he had instructed. Then got out of my car. It felt a little creepy here in the dark. Creepier than I had imagined it would be. Originally, of course, I had planned to have Troy by my side, acting as partner in crime. Which would have made me feel a whole lot better about the whole thing.

  But Troy had not called me. And he’d not returned my calls.

  I’d tried to recruit Ben as well. But his grandmother got sick again and he couldn’t leave her bedside. I’d tried Asher, too, but he was off on his honeymoon with Piper. After that I’d gone through almost my entire Rolodex looking for backup, but everyone was either too busy or didn’t bother to text back. Clearly I was on my own with this. I had considered trying to reschedule, but Donny had worked so hard getting everything in place for tonight. We might never have this perfect opportunity again.

  The wind whipped through my hair and I gave an involuntary shiver. It was cold tonight and slightly foggy, adding to the creep factor. Reminding me, oddly, of that first film Troy and I had reviewed for our He Said, She Said segment. The one with the girl wandering around the abandoned house, looking for her friends, while the axe-wielding serial killer closed in on her.

  Don’t go into the basement, girl, Troy had quipped. It no longer seemed like bad advice.

  I snorted, squaring my shoulders. “Please,” I muttered under my breath. “This princess saves herself, bitches.”

  But the adage was not as comforting as it should have been.

  My phone rang, the sound causing me to almost jump out of my skin. I looked down at the caller ID. Dad.

  “Hello?” I said into the receiver.

  “Sarah!” he boomed from the other end of the line. “Great news!”

  “What is it?”

  “I just got a call from the police. They’ve picked up Ryan. He was spotted leaving Troy’s house earlier this evening.”

  “Troy’s house?” I repeated, a little alarmed. “What was he doing there?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care, either. Point is, they got him. They’re going to charge him with the break-in at your place. Stalking. Whatever they can throw at him.” I could hear my father’s smile in his voice. “We got him, sweetheart. You’re safe again.”

  I let out a breath of relief. “Thank you, Dad,” I said. “That’s great news. I really appreciate you letting me know.”

  “No problem, baby. I told you I’d keep you safe.”

  We said our good-byes and I slipped the phone back in my pocket, all my earlier fears fading into oblivion. Ryan was back where he belonged, behind bars. Hopefully this time he’d stay there for a long time.

  With a new spring to my step, I headed over to the back gate. When I got there, I texted Donny, letting him know I had arrived. Thankfully, he texted back immediately, informing me he would be there in a minute, and I contented myself by checking my Facebook wall while I waited, trying to concentrate on the shiny happy pictures of puppies and kittens and babies posted by my friends and acquaintances.

  Finally, the gate creaked open. I stepped inside, squinting to make out the silhouette that stood tall and silent in front of a large spotlight.

  “Donny
?” I asked, squinting into the light. “Is that you?”

  “Hey, Sarah Martin,” he replied, stepping forward. “It’s great to finally meet you in person at last.”

  “Same here!” I greeted, taking a step forward. I put out my hand. I couldn’t see him too well in the dark, but it didn’t matter much. Once I flipped my camera to night vision it should be fine for interviews. Troy had already interviewed him once anyway, just as a preliminary background type thing. So we did have him on tape already, if we needed it.

  “Thanks for coming and getting me,” I added. “I was beginning to feel kind of creeped out out there.”

  He laughed, taking my hand and shaking it with a firm grip. “Come on,” he said when he had finished. “We all know the real monsters are the ones who own this place. And, trust me, they’re all safe and snug in their beds, as rich people always are at times like these.”

  I gave a half laugh, feeling a little unnerved by that statement, though I wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe because my dad had originally been one of those rich people. Thankfully Donny wouldn’t know that. He’d just started working at Water World recently. And most people had no idea that my dad was ever involved in the first place.

  I stepped in line beside him, following him deeper into the park. But the farther we went in, the more my nerves prickled. It was weird being here at night. With everything so quiet and dark. The little concession stands were boarded up and the rides were silent and still.

  Come on, Sarah. Get a grip, I scolded myself. It’s just a closed amusement park. There’s nothing that can hurt you here.

  “So,” I said, looking around, trying to get my bearings, “where do we begin?”

  Donny stopped walking. He turned to look at me. Stared at me for a moment. Then, to my surprise, he started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded, my pulse kicking up in alarm. There was something so strange about his laugh. As if he were laughing at some private joke. A joke that was totally on me.

  “Oh,” he said, his shoulders shrugging. “It’s just . . . this isn’t a beginning.”

  “What?” I stared at him, my heart now thudding madly in my chest. I involuntarily glanced behind me toward the back gate I’d originally walked through, realizing it had already slid shut at some point. And that the top was rimmed by electric wire. My nerves skittered. “What are you talking about?”

  A weird smile stretched across his face. “This isn’t a beginning,” he repeated, stressing the word. “This is the end, Sarah Martin.” He paused, then added. “Your end.”

  forty-four

  TROY

  After Ryan left, I finished dinner and then debated whether or not to watch some TV before going to bed. But as I walked into the living room, my eyes caught the documents still on the coffee table, and I knew what I had to do. If Sarah completed her undercover shoot tonight and got the video she needed, she was going to want to start putting the piece together as soon as possible. If I could find her some relevant information from the old files, it might help.

  And I really wanted to help. In some small way, anyway. Maybe it could make up, in some way, for how much I’d messed everything up the first time around.

  I slipped the DVD into the player and watched our undercover video from five years before. I had to admit, it was good stuff, and it would be great to use in comparison to whatever she shot tonight, to show how long these poor conditions had gone on. This way Water World couldn’t blame the dirty water or the animals’ skin conditions on something temporary. We could establish a pattern to convict them.

  After writing down the time codes of the best video and recording them on my laptop, I then turned to the huge stack of paper on the coffee table. Ryan had always been a bit OCD about things—and had kept meticulous records on everything—even what we’d eaten for lunch the day we discussed the hack. Most of the e-mails were useless now. Back and forth arguing about how we’d put together the story and whom we would send it to when it was done. Ryan wanted to post it on YouTube, I’d wanted to send it to a network news station. Sarah had just wanted to play it on the jumbotron at Qualcomm Stadium for everyone to see.

  I kept flipping until I came to a grainy photo that had been printed out off the Internet in black and white. A photo of a man with long hair dressed in a white button-down shirt and wearing a bow tie.

  I stared down at it for a moment, frowning as a weird shiver of recognition seemed to trip down my spine.

  Wait a second. Was that . . . Donny? Our whistleblower? The one Sarah was out with at Water World tonight? But what would he be doing in these files?

  Confused, I grabbed my laptop, logged into the News 9 shared server, and opened up the video clips of my recent interview with Donny. The one I’d done for background information on what we would likely see during the undercover shoot. My heart beat uncomfortably in my chest as the video popped up on the screen and I clicked play. I watched for a moment, then grabbed the photo from Ryan’s files, looking from one to another.

  He looked different. His hair had been long back then. And he’d had a mustache, too. He was also about fifty pounds lighter. But it was definitely the same guy.

  But why on earth would Donny be in Ryan’s old files? Donny had told us he’d only worked at Water World for a few months now; he wouldn’t have been around five years ago when we originally started this campaign. In fact, he’d told me he’d only moved to San Diego recently. This didn’t make any sense.

  Anxiety rose inside of me as I abandoned the computer, turning back to the stack of files, flipping through them more quickly now, trying to figure out how Donny fit into this puzzle. Why he’d be part of this research. But as I scanned each document I saw nothing about anyone named Donny. No explanation as to why that photo had ended up in this pile.

  Something was very weird here.

  I reached the last sheet of paper. A printout of an e-mail from Sarah, addressed to both Ryan and me. I scanned it, biting my lower lip.

  Hey all!

  Good news! Your plan totally worked. I went in and sweet-talked dear old Johnny Westwood into giving me the master passwords to my dad’s account! What an idiot, right? In any case, we are SO IN like Flynn! Okay, just let me know how you want to proceed. I’m ready to go when you guys are!!

  Love and kisses and saving the whales, Sarah

  I stared at the e-mail, my mind whirring madly. Something felt as if it were pricking at the back of my brain—some kind of memory, just out of reach.

  Johnny . . .

  Donny . . .

  My jaw dropped. I turned back to the computer again. With shaking fingers I typed John Westwood into the search engine. A moment later a LinkedIn entry appeared on the screen. I clicked on it, holding my breath, my nerves taut as piano wire. Really, really not wanting to be right about this.

  But, of course, I was.

  A moment later the profile popped up onto the monitor. A profile containing a picture of the very same man in both the photo and the video. John Westwood. Age forty-one. Former Internet security officer at Martin Enterprises. Left his job five years ago. And unless he just didn’t update his profile, he hadn’t had a job since.

  I sank back into my chair, my stomach churning with nausea. John Westwood. Johnny Westwood. The IT guy Sarah had tricked to put this whole thing into motion. Who got fired from his job after everything went south.

  Who had probably been stalking Sarah from the start.

  Who was at Water World with her . . . alone . . . now.

  forty-five

  SARAH

  This is the end, Sarah Martin. Your end.

  I stared at him, his odd words buzzing through my ears. Panic rioting through my brain. For a moment, I was frozen, trying to figure out what he meant. Then, instincts took over and I tried to turn—I tried to flee. But he was too quick, grabbing me before I could get away. Hands clamp
ing down on my arms, nails digging into my flesh—so hard I was sure he’d leave a bruise. I struggled to get free but to no avail.

  “Let me go!” I cried. “You’re hurting me!”

  But he only tightened his grip. My mind raced with panic, my heart banging so hard against my ribs I was half-sure it would burst from my chest altogether. I turned my head, trying to face him. To figure out why he was doing this. What he could possibly want from me.

  “Please. Let me go,” I begged, wondering what I could say at this point to get him to set me free. To let me walk away unharmed. “Whatever it is you want, I can make it happen. We can make this all go away. My father has money and—”

  “Oh. I know all about your father, princess,” he growled, his eyes flashing angry fire. “You and your precious father—you ruined my life.”

  “What?” I shook my head, completely confused. “What are you talking about?” Was this man the victim of some law my father had introduced? Like the guy Troy had done the story on who lost his job and robbed a store? My father had a lot of enemies, of course. But this guy had specifically mentioned me.

  Had this whole thing been a trap? Had Ryan not been my stalker after all? Was this guy the one who had been tormenting me all along? My pulse kicked up, alarm rioting through me. But why? What had set him off?

  And now that he had me—whoever he was—what did he plan to do to me? All alone, in this park, with no one to help me get away.

  He shoved me up against the wall and I winced as my back slammed against concrete. He glared at me with such hatred in his eyes it succeeded in chilling me to the bone.

  “Why are you doing this?” I whispered, tears springing to my eyes. “What do you want from me?”

  His lip curled into a sneer. “You don’t even remember me, do you? You used me. You tore my entire life apart. And yet you don’t even have the decency to fucking remember my face?”