by Linda Barlow
"I can’t help you there," Silkwood said cheerfully. "It’s up to Kate. Treat her right and someday you’ll be welcome. Treat her badly and you’ll stay on our shit list for good."
Okay, thought Daniel. He couldn't really quarrel with that, but he wished he could think of a shortcut.
"Oh, and that reminds me," Silkwood went on, "Kate’s mom? I’ve known her since I was 18. She’s a little peculiar, but we love her. Get your facts straight, man. I don’t know what she is, exactly, because I don’t believe in that crazy ghost shit myself, but she’s never deliberately deceived anybody in her life. She’s incapable of malice. She’s like one of those holy innocents who sees the good in everybody, whether they deserve it or not. Kate and her mom are both pure gold."
Daniel resisted the urge to get into a debate about Iris Carter. Come to think of it, Stephen’s was an interesting perspective, when you considered that he wrote meticulously researched historical novels that evinced a rather stark view of human nature. Silkwood’s books were both rational and intellectual. They were also violent. His hero, Bartholomew Giles, had overseen the torture of more than one malefactor accused of witchcraft. If anybody knew all the gory details about burning witches at the stake, it was probably Stephen Silkwood.
But Daniel couldn’t focus on that now. At the moment, Silkwood was a roadblock preventing him from getting to Kate, and what he needed was a way to get past him. "Look, I appreciate your talking to me, and I’m particularly grateful with you for being straight with me. But I’d appreciate it even more if you’d take the phone to Kate and let me speak to her directly."
"Not gonna happen," Silkwood’s pleasant voice informed him. "What I will do is tell her you called. Whether she wants to call you back is entirely up to her."
Shit. Frustration had never been a feeling he coped with well. But Silkwood had been more affable that he's had any right to expect. "Okay, thanks," he said, feeling at a bit of a loss. Should he drive out there? He didn’t know the address, but it shouldn’t be too hard to find in this super-connected world. Instinct warned him, though, that anything resembling stalker behavior would not go down well with this crew. He needed to talk to Kate. Would she even consider calling him back? What an idiot he’d been not to have contacted her before now.
"I hope your friend feels better soon," he said, hoping it didn’t sound too lame. It wasn’t as if he knew the guy. "Sounds like he’s lucky to have his friends looking out for him."
"We all look out for each other. You should try it; it feels good." No sooner had Silkwood said this than he barked a self-deprecating laugh. "Christ, listen to me. Sorry 'bout that. I’ve fucked up my share of relationships, too. I just got dumped, as a matter of fact. Love’s a bitch."
Unexpectedly, Daniel felt himself grinning. Dammit, he was beginning to like this guy.
"Gotta go; heard the doorbell. Probably Max. Take it easy, man."
"You, too. Thanks again."
"No problem," Stephen said, and closed the connection, leaving Daniel once more staring down at the phone in his hand.
Chapter 19
Kate woke with no memory of where she was. Disoriented, she opened her eyes to a strange room with unfamiliar furnishings that were barely perceivable in the darkness. The only light was coming from the hallway beyond a door that opened slowly inward, revealing a shadowy figure moving into the room.
Am I dreaming? she wondered, feeling her heart speed up as the strange figure approached her bed. Arthur? No. In the light from the now fully-open door, she could make out a tall man with gangly arms and legs whom she could swear she had never seen before. He was entirely clad in black, and the clearest thing she could see about him was his face, which was very pale. He turned his head slightly, and she noted that he had the longest hair she had ever seen on a man—thick wavy hair that flowed over his shoulders and down his back, darkly shining as a few strands of it caught the light. Good god, he didn't even look human!
She sat up with start, realizing as she did that the room was unfamiliar because she was in Jeff's house. She must have fallen asleep, leaving Stephen to watch over Jeff. But this wasn't Stephen.
As she moved, the uncanny figure froze. "Kate," he said. "You're awake. Sorry if I startled you."
"Who the hell are you?" she said, her brain still muzzy with sleep.
The apparition gave a low laugh. "Close your eyes, Sleeping Beauty, and listen to my voice." He came closer. "You should probably keep them closed, because if you ever actually see my face—cliché alert–I’m gonna have to kill you."
She knew the voice. Relief washed through her. "Nekrotic?"
He smiled and nodded. His grin was a flash of white in the dark. "Hullo, Kate. Nice to finally meet you at last."
She switched on the lamp beside the bed so she could see him better. His eyes, huge in his angular, fine-boned face, blinked several times as the light struck him. Unusual eyes—they were coppery brown with gleaming gold flecks. And his river of hair was even more remarkable. She wondered how long it had taken him to grow it.
So this was the mysterious Max. Despite his sexy voice, she’d half expected him to be unkempt and ugly, but he was handsome in an unearthly sort of way. Those strange amber eyes….that impossible hair…maybe he was a vampire.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. Don't be ridiculous, she ordered herself. Just because she'd grown up with ghosts didn't mean she had to start believing in vampires.
"Stephen asked me to wake you before I left," he said. "I've been here for a few hours, but I've got to hit the road soon."
She glanced at the window, where she could see no trace yet of the dawn. "Got to get back to your crypt before daybreak?"
His grin broadened. "Something like that."
She pulled the sheet up a little higher. No need to expose her neck. "I’ve been sleeping longer than I meant to. How’s Jeff?"
"I just looked in on him, and he’s resting peacefully. About an hour ago, he was awake and demanding his pain meds, which I administered. He cursed me in a colorful manner for not giving them to him sooner. He’s not a very good patient, is he?"
"Nope. Jeff’s usually the one taking care of everybody else. He doesn’t like having his role reversed. Where’s Stephen?"
"He was up until after midnight when he finally crashed. I think he was awake most of the night last night, too, so he’s exhausted. We should let him sleep. Can you handle things for a few hours? I’ve really got to get back to work."
"Where do you even live? Max, I hardly know anything about you."
"I live in New Hampshire. But, hey, you know all the important stuff."
She wasn't so sure about that. She knew he was awesome at Hunt the Night City, and that he was some kind of computer genius. He could be fun and engaging online, although he tended to clam up and get awkward whenever they played with anybody new. As far as his real life was concerned, she knew almost nothing.
"All I know is that you don’t get out much and you don’t have a girlfriend–why is that, by the way? You’re an intriguing-looking dude. I’ve never seen hair like that on anybody. Don’t women want to run their hands through it? Wrap themselves in it?"
His amber eyes seemed to get larger; he actually seemed puzzled by the question. "It’s just hair. And I’m too busy working to manage much of a social life. I keep weird hours, and besides," he smiled at her, "I’m shy."
"Not with us, you're not. I’ve chatted and gamed with you for over two years now, and I wouldn’t call you shy."
"With people I don’t know, I am. I never know what to say. Making small talk's not my forte. As for girlfriends," he shrugged, "I’m not a total loser. These things never seem to last, though. I’m a bit of a loner, and I value my privacy."
"No kidding! You’re obsessive about it."
"We all have our idiosyncrasies. So. Are you gonna get up now?"
"Not while you’re looming over me, looking as though you might be about to sample the vintage from my jugular."
/>
Another big grin. "It’s tempting. But I’ll try to control myself." He backed up, seeming to melt into the darkness. "I’ll let you get dressed and meet you downstairs." And he was gone.
Shaking her head at the strangeness that was Max, Kate rose and shivered into her clothes. Max had originally been a friend of Jeff and Nick—the three of them had gone to high school together. But Max had gone to a different college, and she hadn’t encountered him until she'd started playing the online game. The excessive secrecy he maintained about his work suggested to her that he worked on classified government projects, but she didn’t know enough about the computer industry to assess whether or not that was really the case. Now that she’d actually met him in person, though, she wondered. She had never seen a government type who looked like that.
She was about to descend to investigate Max a little more when she noticed her phone on the bedside table, with a note scribbled on yellow legal paper wrapped around it and secured with a rubber band. That was odd. She’d left her phone with Stephen when she’d come up to bed because he’d forgotten to charge his.
She unwrapped the note, which was written in Stephen’s clear, even handwriting. As she read it, she forgot all about Max.
Kate,
You’ll be up before I will, if there’s any justice in this world, so we won’t be able to talk before you check your calls. Thus this note. Please finish reading it before you do anything rash.
Your boyfriend called. I recognized his name as the call came in, so I answered. Sorry if I crossed a line, but I was feeling protective. And, I admit it, I was curious.
Kate stopped reading for a moment. Daniel had called! She wished her heart hadn’t just leapt with joy, because, dammit, he didn’t deserve it. It had been over a week since she’d heard from him, and he had walked out on her on a night when she really could have used his comfort and understanding.
She returned to Stephen’s note:
He and I had a conversation. Here’s what I learned about D. B. Haggarty, professional skeptic and iconoclast.
First, he wants you back. It’s not over for him, after all.
Second, he went to the theater tonight to see you. Apparently, Graham told him enough about your absence to scare the shit out of him without clarifying any of the facts. Have I ever told you that I don’t like Graham? Anyway, Daniel claims to have realized that he screwed up with you, big-time.
Third, he offered to come out here and help. Mentioned he'd been embedded with a medic unit or something in Afghanistan, which sounded kinda cool. If I wrote contemporary thrillers, I'd interview him for research purposes. Anyway, I refused; we don’t need some stranger among us who hurt you, no matter how sorry he is about it. But I give the guy some credit for the offer, which sounded sincere.
That’s pretty much it. It wasn’t a lengthy conversation.
So, here comes my (unsolicited) advice, which you of course are free to ignore. Don’t be in any hurry to take him back. Please note that I am not saying this because I disliked the guy. In fact, I didn’t dislike him. He seemed OK to me. But in my experience, there’s a big gap between the realization that one has fucked up and the understanding of how to not fuck up again. Your Daniel, I suspect, is just beginning that journey.
And you, dearest Kate, have your own issues to resolve. Namely that Arthur is never coming back, in any way, shape or form. Forgive me for saying it, but you haven’t wanted to let him go, and your mom’s weird profession really does not help.
What I, in my great wisdom (LOL) suggest is that you take this thing slow. This is your chance to renegotiate the terms of the relationship. Demand some proof that he’s capable of change, and provide the same to him. Only after he’s made some sort of show of faith should you consider taking him back. Otherwise this probably won’t have a happy ending.
OK. I’m done. Please ignore the fact that my own girlfriend just dumped my ass last weekend, which calls my ability to give relationship advice into serious question.
I love ya, babe, and want you to be happy again.
S.
Kate smiled as she read the last sentence, and then wiped her leaky eyes. "I love you, too," she whispered.
Chapter 20
When Kate didn't call him back first thing the next morning, Daniel stewed for a while, wondering if Silkwood had ever given her the message. Most likely, he decided, he had. He’d seemed like a decent guy.
Unfortunately, Kate had plenty of reasons for not returning his call. He knew that, but he also knew it was vital that he talk to her. If he could speak with her, there was some hope of winning her back.
Since it would be even better if he could see her in person, he did the research necessary to track her down. Although he couldn't remember Jeff's last name, there were only two Jeffs listed on Stephen Silkwood's Facebook friends list, which he could see because Silkwood was the friend of a friend (Kate). Only one of these matched a Jeff on Kate's friends list. It looked good—the guy's job was assistant professor of history at a small Massachusetts liberal arts college. To confirm that this Geoffrey Slayton was indeed his object, Daniel used his press contacts to check medical emergencies in the area and hospital admissions and discharges. That nailed it. Slayton's address and phone number were in the directory, and Google Maps kindly provided him with a street view of the old Victorian farmhouse in Rolling Meadows, MA. where he lived.
Exercising what he considered to be great self-control, Daniel did not immediately climb into his car and drive out there. He rejected the idea of sending flowers or a get-well fruit basket since couldn't claim to know her injured friend. All it would prove was that he had stalker abilities.
Since he was stalking anyway, he did a search on Silkwood, which lit up the internet. Authors, it seemed, had all sorts of pages and websites referencing their works. Getting personal info on the guy was a little more difficult, but by no means impossible. With the help of a few public databases, he quickly tracked him down to an address on Cape Cod. His home, right on the beach, looked much more contemporary than Jeff Slayton's place. Higher real estate valuation, too. Silkwood’s mystery novels must be selling pretty well.
Their friend Max proved to be more of a challenge. Kate, Stephen and Jeff were all on Facebook, but none of them listed a friend named Max. He tried running Max, Maxwell, Maximilian, Maxim as last names on their friends lists, but came up empty there, too. Remembering Max's in-game avatar, he did a search on the word Nekrotic and found several references to Hunt the Night City. Apparently, Nekrotic was the name of the vampire boss of one of the early raids in the first edition of the game. That was interesting. It struck Daniel as odd that Max was able to use a game boss's name for his avatar, since non-player character names in MMO storylines were usually off-limits to ordinary subscribers. Was it possible that Max was one of the game's developers?
Pursuing this line of thought for a while, he researched the gaming company that had initially created Hunt the Night City. Although the game was quite successful, the company that owned it was small and privately held, which limited the available information. But Daniel was never less than dogged when he was doing research. He eventually dug up the tidbit that one of the original founders of the company that had developed the game was a guy named Max Rambler. Daniel felt a little gleam of excitement when he discovered this, and he got more hits when he returned to Google with a first and last name.
Max Rambler, it seemed, was some sort of "software genius," or so several computer industry writers enthused. He had been the CEO of a software company in New Hampshire that employed a large number of people, but had stepped down from that job a couple of years ago, for "personal reasons." He was now said to be working on some mysterious under-the-radar technology, but the details were scant, and personal info on Rambler was non-existent. No biographical data, no photographs. No address or phone records anywhere in New Hampshire or Massachusetts or, indeed, anywhere in the northeast region of the country. But he couldn’t live too far away, St
ephen figured, if he had shown up last night in Rolling Meadows to help Jeff Slayton. There were no public records like a marriage license or a property sale, and he was glad to find that there was no police record. Nothing came up on any social media search. If Kate’s Max and this software genius dude were one and the same, he had covered his digital tracks unusually well.
Why? Daniel wondered. The war against public dissemination of people’s personal information had pretty much been lost during the last decade. Why would anyone take such care to bury his identity so deeply?
When afternoon rolled in and Kate still hadn’t called him back, Daniel lost interest in Kate’s mysterious friend and picked up his phone again. He stared it at moodily, willing it to ring. It didn’t. Damn. He didn’t want to hassle her; he’d done enough of that already. She’d return his call when she felt like talking to him.
But what if Silkwood hadn’t passed on the message? Maybe she didn’t know he’d been trying to reach her; maybe she didn’t know he was sorry for letting her down.
Pulling up her number in his contacts list, he sat with his thumb poised over the phone, trying to figure out what he would say to her if she answered. And, worse, what the hell he would do if she didn’t.
* * *
"I taught my last girlfriend to do Buddhist meditation so she could control these panic attacks she was having," Jeff was saying. "It worked, apparently, but the next thing I knew she had joined a Buddhist temple, where she met this really hot monk who wasn’t into asceticism. I got dumped so she could practice Tantric sex with the guy."
"I remember her," said Stephen. "You had her on a strict meditation schedule and yoga exercise regime. You wouldn’t even give her a day off."
"She needed the routine. She was very disorganized. I was just trying to help her get her shit together."
"The trouble with you is that you're domineering. But in a nice way, so your girlfriends don't notice it at first."
