Chasing Shadows

by Jamel Cato

  I believed that’s what he believed. “What if I told you that your technology is doing more harm than good?”

  “I’d say there is no way you could know that. Kit keeps our testing darker than a black hole. We ran a background check on the FedEx guy. And there is almost no way that could be true. We’ve tested for SAE’s from here to Sunday.”

  “If we sent you undeniable proof of harm, would you do the right thing?”

  Danny hesitated. “We’ve raised almost a billion dollars. We’re in Phase Three testing.”

  “That’s almost exactly what the Exxon suits said in depositions about the Valdes.”

  “I would do the right thing,” he said.

  After Danny returned to his office, I sat in my rental car searching the Internet. Ten minutes later I dialed a phone number.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m looking for Dina Clovin,” I said.

  “Speaking.”

  “Good Afternoon. My name is Lionel Atkins. I’m an investigator working for the law firm representing a person who is preparing to take legal action against EnviroTech over an unlawful dismissal. I was hoping you would answer a few questions.”

  There were a few seconds of silence before Dina asked, “Is this your cell phone?”

  “It is.”

  She hung up.

  Not a minute passed before I received a text message with GPS coordinates to a luxury apartment complex not far from EnviroTech’s campus.

  Dina Clovin was five-foot-nine with long reddish brown hair and well under thirty. She might have been called pretty during happier times, but the dark circles under her eyes and coffee stains on her ruddy loungewear made it clear she was not living what Oprah would call her best life.

  The young woman studied the false business card I carried for situations requiring discretion.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I said, assuming one of the non-threatening postures that black men in America learn to adopt when dealing with certain demographics under certain circumstances.

  “Are you representing Julia Minton?”

  “We’re aware of Ms. Minton’s situation, but she is not our client.”

  “You mean there’s someone else?”

  “Several.”

  “Who are they?”

  “They all signed Settlement Agreements like the one you did, so I’m not at liberty to say. I will protect their identities the same way I will protect yours.”

  This seemed to put her at ease. “What are your questions?”

  “Would you say that the time you spent employed at EnviroTech directly contributed to your mental health challenges?”

  “That’s protected health information,” she said defensively.

  “I’m an investigator, Miss Clovin. I can be out of your hair much faster if we’re honest with each other.”

  “Yes, my time there left me like this.”

  “You’re not alone.”

  “That’s not what the lawyers said.”

  “What was it exactly about EnviroTech that, uh, made things so difficult for you?”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “Which law firm did you say you were working for?”

  I gave her the name of Mitchell’s law firm. “I’m working for an attorney there named Mitchell Westerfield. Feel free to call them right now if you like.”

  To my surprise, she did. Luckily Mitchell’s secretary had standing orders on how to respond to such inquiries.

  Dina flopped down onto her sofa. “I’m not hallucinogenic. I don’t care what the shrinks say.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Say that ten minutes from now.”

  I leaned forward. “Our client and several of the others claim they encountered inhuman creatures in the EnviroTech offices. Tall humanoid beings with red skin. And canines that could talk to each other like people.”

  Dina sat up ramrod straight. “Yes! And giant caterpillars. Did they see the caterpillar things?”

  I had no idea, but I had personally witnessed at least a dozen Krykin wolves and Xantu warriors moving unseen around EnviroTech’s offices. My theory was that these uninvited visitors became visible to certain employees when the company was actively testing Danny Lin’s secret technology.

  For Dina’s benefit, I wrote the phrase giant caterpillar on a notepad. “I’ll have to check the files for a reference like that. But for the record, you’re confirming that you had similar encounters?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I had encounters with things exactly like the ones you described. One of the dog things even tried to talk to me once.”

  “When was this?”

  “Maybe eight months ago. Kit and I were in the office late getting him ready for his roadshow to New York to meet with Goldman Sachs.”

  “So the incidents happened in the evening, during off hours?”

  “Yeah, that’s always when they happened. The wave receivers only work at night so that’s when Danny’s team did all their testing.”

  “Wave receivers?”

  Dina paused. “I’m not supposed to talk about those. It’s in my settlement. Kit said he’d bankrupt me and my parents with legal expenses if I even so much as mention the phrase.”

  I stroked at my goatee.

  Dina and I talked for another half hour, but she didn’t tell me anything else I hadn’t already known.

  On my way out, I said, “There’s no record of anyone in California coming in contact with these creatures outside the EnviroTech campus. You should try to get some sleep. I’m sure you’re safe here.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Can you keep a secret, Dina?”

  “It depends.”

  “I know those creatures won’t be showing up here because your Uncle Brock is right over there watching over you. He said to tell you that if any of those things set foot in here he’ll do to them what he did to that rat bastard who touched you without your permission after the Alpha Rho keg rush.”

  Dina’s eyes went wide at the mention of her deceased uncle.

  When she turned to look for him, I made my exit.

  Chapter 14

  I walked into the Charlotte law offices of Hollenbeck & Beecher and approached the receptionist stand.

  “Have a seat and someone will be with you soon,” the thirty-two-year-old African American receptionist said without looking up from her computer screen.

  Vanessa Henderson had pecan skin, a tasteful bob cut and a body that was one good meal across the line between medium and thick.

  “I’m working with Patricia Hollenbeck on a personal matter,” I said. “Pat sent me here to speak with Bobby.”

  Vanessa tilted her head up.

  I smiled like a toothpaste model.

  “Have a seat and someone will be with you soon,” she repeated.

  Crestfallen, I took a seat in the waiting area along with the ten or so other guests, two of whom were wearing neck braces. Hollenbeck & Beecher was a personal injury practice, which I knew was on the opposite end of the prestige spectrum from a white shoe law firm like Mitchell’s. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a lucrative business. The background report I’d read on my flight indicated Bobby Hollenbeck had an annual income in the mid six figures, which explained how he could afford to pay the bills at Pat’s home and the new residence he was maintaining since he had moved out four months earlier.

  An elderly African American woman sat down in the seat next to mine. I turned and gave her a polite smile. Then I looked again.

  I walked back up to Vanessa’s kiosk and leaned my elbow on the laminate.

  She glared up at me. “Where are you from?”

  “What makes you think I’m not from here?”

  She twisted her lips at my complete lack of a Southern accent.

  “Philly,” I said.

  “Do they not speak English in Philadelphia?”

  “They do.”

  “Then why are you standing here like you just got called up to spin the wheel on Prices
Right when I asked you to have a seat? Do I need to say it in Spanish? Because I can.”

  “Etta Mae told me to tell you to stop treating me like this or she’s gonna get her switch.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your grandmother, Etta Mae.”

  “What about her?”

  “She said that you should stop treating me like you treated that boy Chester when he came over trying to get you to listen to his CDs whenever your Nana went to church. She said it’s the same way you treated Derrick from the mechanic shop over on Birch when he came around. Your Nana didn’t see what was wrong with him. Fixing cars is a good vocation. It’s what your granddaddy did before his arthritis got too bad. You need, and remember I’m quoting here, to stop treating every man who tries to court you like a mosquito bite you can’t reach or your mama Renee will never get any grandbabies.”

  Vanessa was stunned. “You...you knew my grandmother?”

  “She said I should tell you that story over dinner.”

  The receptionist was dubious. “Did she tell you anything else?”

  “She said you should get me in to see Bobby for a few minutes before I catch a slipped disk trying to get comfortable in one of those thirty-nine-dollar discount office chairs.”

  I was sitting across from Bobby Hollenbeck less than five minutes later.

  He had thinning black hair, a neatly trimmed beard and his initials monogrammed into the cufflinks of his shirt.

  He scowled at me. “What is this about?”

  “As I’ve already explained, I’m a paranormal investigator trying to help your family with the supernatural phenomena invading your home.”

  “Bullshit,” he said.

  “You haven’t seen the creatures?”

  “What creatures?”

  “The creatures who have been moving place settings at your dinner table and sticking cars to the roof of your garage.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I was pretty sure he did. “Why do you think I’m here, Mr. Hollenbeck?”

  “I don’t know yet, but if I had to guess, you’re some kind of PI working for Pat’s divorce lawyer. You’re probably trying to work an angle to get both of us to pay you to find out what the other one knows. Sometimes I hire people like you in my practice. I know your type.”

  I sensed he was not speaking about investigative specialties. “What kind of people are you referring to?”

  “You have five minutes to tell me why you’re really here before I call a friend in the Charlotte PD.”

  “Go ahead and call him,” I said, reclining back in my seat.

  The fact that he did not pick up the phone told me volumes. Like Pat, he was hiding something.

  “How much will it take for you to go away?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How much do I need to pay you to get you to tell Pat that there is no such thing as supernatural phenomena and she needs to see a shrink before Ronnie gets taken from her? I’ll cut you a check right now.”

  I stood and dropped my business card on Bobby’s desk. “I promised Vanessa that I would only take up a few minutes of your time. If you think of anything that can help me get those creatures out of your house, reach out to me at that number.”

  Vanessa yelled out to me on my way toward the door. “Mr. Tiptree, wait.”

  I paused. “I only held him up a few minutes, just like I said. I hope it doesn’t cause you any problems.”

  “It won’t, but that’s not why I stopped you.”

  “Yes, I really met your grandmother. Yes, she really told me those things.”

  “Including the part about asking me out to dinner?”

  Actually, that part had been my idea. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I always listen to my Nana. And I’m dying to hear the story of how the two of you became close enough for her to tell you all that.”

  “You free tomorrow night around seven?”

  “I am now.”

  “I’m not from around here, so you pick the restaurant.”

  “I pick my house. I’d rather cook.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “So I won’t have to deal with the disappointment of my date trying to go Dutch or mispronouncing the word Salmon.”

  “You always invite strangers over?”

  “If Nana trusts you, so do I. And I have security cameras connected to the Cloud.”

  “Text me your address.”

  “I will. What do you like to eat?”

  I grinned. “Anything with honey in it or on it.”

  I drove to the Mecklenburg County Department of Land Records to do a public search of any plans that had been filed for Hillside Country Club. After looking through hundreds of pages of blueprints and tax surveys, I came across a permit application for a localized solar power grid in the northeast quadrant of Hillside’s private golf course. The grid was designed to be a Phase III field test of a patented solar technology from a limited partnership called RLH Energy Partners. The application had been approved by a quorum of the Hillside Homeowner’s Association.

  The quorum was composed of Robert Hollenbeck, Patricia Hollenbeck and Christine Riles.

  Curious.

  The blueprint archives were located in the basement of the Records building, so I had been without a cell phone signal for a few hours. I returned to the surface to find I had two voicemails.

  The first message was from Pat, who wanted to know if I would come by. She said that the creatures had returned after a week long absence and the new versions were bigger and scarier.

  The next message was from Julia Minton, the ex-EnviroTech employee who Dina Clovin thought I had been representing. Julia said that she had gotten my phone number from Dina and was hoping she and I could speak because she had some information I would find helpful. She was willing to come to Philadelphia to speak with Mitchell and myself in person.

  Even curiouser.

  Chapter 15

  After a workout and a shower at my hotel, I made my way over to Hillside. Night had fallen.

  The guard at the front gate gave me the usual hard time, but I stayed as cool as a penguin at the North Pole. I could tell that my lack of response to his harassment was causing him a great deal of frustration. I found this more satisfying than any punishment he might have received from me reporting his behavior to Pat. Once, just to get back at him, I pretended I had run out of gas right at the gate, forcing him to help me push my rental car out of the way so the line of cars accumulating behind me could get by.

  That guard hated me.

  Instead of going to Pat’s house, I parked at the development’s palatial playground. I sat alone on the swing set, listening to crickets and the hum of central air units.

  It wasn’t long before the child ghost named Tammy came skipping over to me. “Hi Mr. X.”

  “Hey Tammy.”

  “Do you want me to push you?” she offered helpfully. “The swings are more fun when you get pushed.”

  “How high can you go if you get pushed?”

  “Really high.”

  “Like higher than the top of the sliding board?”

  Her expression told me the top of the sliding board was nothing. “Like so high I could see over the roof of Mrs. Riles house all the way to the golf course.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Your mommy lets you go that high?”

  “No, but Emala does. She said she wanted me to go high enough to grab a star from the sky.”

  “You grabbed a star?”

  “No. I couldn’t reach one no matter how hard she pushed me, but it was still really fun.”

  “You think Emala could come push me?”

  “No,” she said mournfully. “She doesn’t come to the playground anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “She got sad when the bad man took me away.”

  “Who is the bad man?”

  Instead of answering, Tammy whipped her head to the left and then puffed out o
f existence.

  A Krykin wolf warily stepped out from the shrubs around the playground. It was twice as big as any I had previously seen. It stopped ten feet away and snarled at me.

  A shadow loomed over my swing from behind. I twisted around to find a massive Xantu warrior pointing a razor sharp spear at my throat.

  I opened my mouth to beg for mercy, but the warrior deftly twirled his spear so its blunted end pushed my face back toward the wolf.

  Naaru was in front of me, gently cradled in the arms of another gigantic Xantu. The creature holding him was at least eight feet tall, with muscles that could have been chiseled from their world’s version of granite. Its face and torso were pockmarked with what I presume were battle scars.

  One of the giant caterpillar creatures rested between the warrior’s feet, waving its antennae this way and that.

  “Greetings, human seer,” Naaru telepathically said inside my head.

  I immediately noticed that his English was better than before. I also noticed that I was still alive, so that could only mean he wanted or needed something from me.

  “Why have you invaded our world?” I asked, cutting right to the chase.

  “To return the Sun.”

  I was sure something had been lost in translation. “I do not understand.”

  “Jaaru requires neither your understanding nor your permission.”

  “Is Jaaru your leader?”

  “Jaaru the Devourer rules all.”

  “May I speak with Jaaru?”

  “Such a communication would entail having your will and consciousness forever subsumed into the vastness of his mind.”

  “Can we just text each other instead?”

  Naaru’s eye stalks twitched at me. “You are attempting humor despite the threat of death. I have mastered your crude languages, but context still eludes me.”

  “Why do I face the threat of death? I mean you no harm.”

  “I briefly joined with your mind. You mean us great harm. You wish to vacate the Wru from this realm so we may cease troubling the two humans who dwell in the structure enclosing the third gate, even if that requires sending your warrior caste and its vast array of killing devices into our world.”