My question was understood: did Patrice make the call, or had she been forced into it? The consensus was that Patrice had no choice, and wasn’t happy about it.
Of course it was the demo that did him in. We’d blown a big project milestone and lost the confidence of our CEO, all in one tumultuous afternoon. Someone had to be held accountable, and the only person who didn’t seem bent out of shape about it being Adam Wang was Matt Simons.
We’d never been able to figure out what caused the battery fire. Tests were inconclusive; configuration management checklists were double-checked. The battery should have worked as designed, but it had failed.
For Adam’s sake, I wished I could have figured out what happened. I wanted to clear his name. But it wasn’t my job to build the batteries. I just tested them. Heck, I didn’t even understand all the science, not the way Matt Simons did. And the only person I trusted less than Matt Simons was living directly above me.
I was home for about an hour, post work and post gym workout, when Brad called. He was finishing a job in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by to say hello. He had charged the woman for the water heater he had replaced but not for making contact with her departed husband’s spirit.
Brad sometimes tapped into his abilities the same way I tapped into breathing—it was just something he did without making it happen. He sensed the presence of the woman’s husband while he worked. In a flash, he knew about the man’s passion for fishing and even made a reference to the RV trip they’d been planning. She was going to take the trip now. Apparently, it was what her dead husband wanted.
Brad was my good friend, one of my very best, and yet he was a bit like Adderall for me—a pill in human form. Every time we hung out together, I thought about Max. He was my conduit to my son as much as Adderall was my conduit to focus. Over the year I’d gained more control over my impulse to use Brad than I had over the ADHD meds. I went to Brad only when I really needed my Max fix. Maybe if Adderall had the same side effects I got from connecting to Max’s spirit—depression, heartache, upset stomach, a painful longing—it would be a much easier habit to break. Still, Brad was coming over and it would take all my willpower to restrain from asking for a reading.
Brad showed up in his workday uniform, black polo shirt embroidered with his company logo and jeans. I mixed us two summertime cocktails—Bud Lights poured into chilled glasses. We sat on the front porch like a couple of neighborhood old-timers who could predict the weather by the amount of fluid in our knees.
I’d just finished telling Brad about Roy when the front door to the apartment opened and out stepped Lily. She was dressed in a paisley print sundress that hid the slight swell of her belly and ankle-high boots. She came breezing out the door like she’d been carried along on a gust of wind. She was light and airy on her feet, and I wondered if being with Roy did for Lily what my spiritual contacts with Max did for me. Was she high one minute and down the next? Did Roy know how to manipulate her the way I thought Lily could manipulate me? Was he the architect, the tutor of her deceptive talent? I wanted to smile at Lily, invite her to join us, but she was Anna’s girl, and always would be. We were no better than distant relatives with an uncomfortable shared history and a strained relationship.
“Hi, Gage,” Lily said before noticing Brad. When she did see him, her smile widened. “Oh, hey,” she said, breezy as the summer evening. “I didn’t see you here. Nice surprise.”
“Hi, Lily,” Brad said with a tilt of his glass. “How are you doing?”
“Great, really great,” Lily said with a coy (and I’d say trademark) tilt of her hip.
I watched Brad carefully, looking for any indication of some vibe he hadn’t picked up before. But Brad appeared even more enchanted by Lily than he had on their first meeting.
“Gage, I was just talking to Anna,” Lily began. “She called to talk about Roy.” I might have made a little noise because Lily made Roy sound like no big deal. “Anyway, we were talking and I was telling her about Roy and she sounded cool, you know, like you were, but while we were talking she realized she’d left an important folder on her desk. She’s going to call you in a minute. She’s like totally panicked. There are documents in there she needs for her meeting. She wants you to FedEx them tomorrow. Anyway, that’s the message. She’s going to call.”
“Okay, thanks for letting me know,” I said, checking my cell phone and making sure it was on. I felt terrible for Anna. I knew the horrible, sinking feeling of being at a critical meeting and not having what you need.
I was going to preempt Anna by calling her when the door to Lily’s apartment opened again and out stepped Roy. He was wearing a faded red T-shirt with an iron cross design on the front, jeans, and black combat boots. The iron cross was filled in with the graphic design of skulls. Without the denim jacket, I got a better look at Roy’s rippling muscles, the envy of any trainer at my gym. I also got to see the tattoos on his arms: tribal designs, mostly. The tats were dark, no color. His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses.
“Hey, Gage,” he said to me with a nod.
He acted just like one of my tenants—a guy who paid me rent and never expected our conversations to get beyond “How you doing, I’m fine thanks, you?”
“Roy, this is my friend Brad,” I said.
“He’s the plumber who came over to fix the water,” Lily added. I was sort of surprised she had shared that story with Roy. I was so caught up in the ways of Lily that it failed to occur to me she might just be living a normal life, sharing normal everyday things with this man who now shared her apartment.
Roy and Brad shook hands.
“Nice to meet you,” Roy said, noticing the beers. “That’s what we’re out for.” Roy looked at me but pointed to my beer. “Going to take a little walk into Cambridge to pick up a six. You need anything?” he asked.
“No, we’re good,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Okay. See you later, then.”
Roy and Lily bounded down the front stairs, and I watched them walk up the street headed for Mass Ave. They weren’t holding hands, but they walked close to each other, as if they were a couple. Brad took a drink, but he wasn’t watching them walk away. He was staring ahead with a distant look in his eyes.
“What’s up?” I asked him.
“Do you remember that dark energy I said was surrounding you?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Well, it just walked up the street with Lily to go buy a six-pack of beer.”
CHAPTER 28
Anna called the next morning before I got in the shower. I was a bit foggy from a fitful night’s sleep plagued by bad dreams. They were all horrible, all somehow related to Roy’s dark energy, but one was especially bad. Roy and I were buddies, involved in some crime together, until he turned on me, with no thought, no remorse, no emotion showing in his dead, dark eyes as he plunged a six-inch knife into my gut.
“Hey, baby,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Good,” I said, wondering again if I should tell Anna about Brad’s warning. Yesterday she’d had enough on her plate to worry about.
“You know why I’m calling so early?”
“You’re reminding me about the folder?”
“Smart man.”
We’d spoken about it last night, after Lily and Roy went off for that six-pack. I’d found the folder on Anna’s desk, right where she said it would be. It was a big green folder filled with papers. I’d been instructed to leave it there until Anna came up with a workable plan to get it to her.
“I called FedEx and they can get it here in time for my meeting, but you have to get it to them before ten. Can you do that?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Can you do it from work? I don’t want you to have to make an extra stop.”
“Yeah, no problem. They can ship FedEx.”
“Thanks, honey. So you’ll put it in your workbag, you won’t forget?”
I didn’t carry a briefcase (who does these day
s?), but I did have a black canvas workbag that looked a lot like a computer bag. When I didn’t shuttle my laptop to and from the office, it functioned like a purse without the embarrassment.
“I’ll put it in before my shower,” I said. “That’s a promise.”
“Do it while I’m on the phone,” Anna said. “Not that I don’t trust you, love.”
I laughed but complied.
“Remember, you’ve got to get it to them before ten,” Anna said.
“Do you want me to fax you anything so you get it sooner?” I asked.
“No, that’s all right. As long as it gets here tomorrow I’ll be fine. I’m so stupid for having forgotten it. I never forget anything. You know me. I’m all about the details.”
“Well, you have some other things on your mind, sweetie.”
“That I do. Anything new about our upstairs companion?”
“Roy,” I said, as if Anna needed the reminder. At the mention of his name, I couldn’t resist telling Anna the latest developments. Maybe I was pissed about Roy sneaking into my dreams—you know, to kill me. “Brad met him,” I said.
“And?”
“And he got the creeps. I mean he got a very bad vibe about this guy.”
“Oh, shit. What does that mean?”
I sighed into the phone. “I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what else to do, short of telling Lily we’re not comfortable with Roy living here.”
“No,” Anna said. She sounded panicked, as if simply voicing the idea would be enough to derail all our plans. “We can’t do that. We’ll lose her. We’ll lose the baby. We’ll lose it all.”
“So what do you suggest?” I asked. Her anxiety was contagious.
“I’ll run a background check. One of my clients owns a PI agency, so I’ll get him to do it for me. We’ll see what we can learn. For now, we’ll just be careful.”
“I didn’t get his last name.”
“I’ll get it from Lily,” Anna said.
Of course that made the most sense. Anna and Lily were tight, while I was the guy questioning our birth mother’s motives.
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Now go get us that big, new client.”
“I will as long as you mail me that folder.”
I pictured Anna smiling on the other end of the phone, and it made me miss her. We each took a turn saying, “I love you,” and the conversation ended.
On my own, I’d learned about CORI, Criminal Offender Record Information. It was a process to request a criminal record, and I was glad Anna had the resources to get that done. We’d both sleep better knowing more about who was sleeping above us.
The rest of the morning was rather uneventful. I was still foggy, but perked up a bit after my shower and coffee. I dressed in the usual khaki pants and polo shirt, took my workbag out to the car, drove off, grabbed a bagel at Bruegger’s, ate it in my Charger, and listened to NPR all the way to work.
I went straight to my desk before heading to the postal center. Before I got there I bumped into Matt Simons. Adam Wang had only been gone a day, so Olympian was down a program manager. Since nature abhors a vacuum, even in the workplace, Simons had stepped in as de facto leader. I didn’t much care for our new boss and Simons knew it. That didn’t stop him from acting like Wang’s anointed successor.
“The new battery is ready to test,” he said. “I hope there won’t be a repeat of the last time.”
“There won’t be if you don’t dick around with the formula for this build like you did the last one.”
I didn’t know what had gotten into me. Maybe it was Roy. Or Lily. Or it could have been the dark energy overcoming my better judgment. Whatever it was, it felt good to be the bad guy, the hard-ass guy, to inject a little Royness into my personality.
Simons took a step back. His eyes widened. He started to speak, but stammered. His words got snared in a prickly thicket of whatever lies he was preparing. Maybe Roy was rubbing off on me, because I knew I’d nailed it. Just watching how Simons shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, off balance, and how he moved back a step, and how he couldn’t find his voice, I knew I had him dead to rights.
“What . . . what are you talking about?” Simons managed to say.
I patted Simons on the shoulder.
“That’s the best you could come up with? You should stick to sabotage. You’re much better at it.”
Simons looked like a guy who’d been sucker punched. His panic-stricken face made me smile.
“See you at the standup meeting.” My tone was intentionally patronizing. I had no proof that Simons did it, but fear lingered in his eyes. Simons would spend the rest of the day wondering if I had evidence against him. We were both on the Security Breach Team, so I was sure he felt confident about how he covered his tracks. Still, I was going on a hunting expedition when I had the time. I owed it to Wang. He was a good guy who got a raw deal. If Simons had left a digital trail, I’d do my best to find it.
After a quick stop at my desk, I went to the company mailroom near the building’s main entrance. Abby, a stout woman with a haircut bordering on a mullet, was working behind the counter. She greeted me with a warm smile and a friendly hello. I was still on a high from my run-in with Simons. I’d been the victim for so long, the suffering widower, the grieving father, and Lily’s punching bag, that it felt amazing, utterly empowering, to be the aggressor at last.
“Well, somebody is in a good mood this morning.”
I didn’t even realize I’d been smiling.
I set my workbag on the counter, trying to force my expression back to center. It was hard while savoring the terrified look on Simons’s face.
“What can I do for you this morning?” Abby asked.
“I need to FedEx something to my wife in Minneapolis.” I undid the latches of my workbag. “If it doesn’t go out before ten I’m going to be setting up permanent residence in the doghouse.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that,” Abby said.
I opened my bag and reached inside. I brushed up against some loose papers, a paperback book, and a spiral-bound notebook, but no folder. Dread overcame me. It was a sick feeling—a reply to all when the e-mail conversation should have gone private, forgetting a term paper on the day it was due, rear-ending the car stopped at a traffic light, not having the critical folder I needed to FedEx before ten o’clock—that kind of dread.
Abby eyed me with increasing concern. My stomach did loops as my palms turned sweaty. I’m sure I looked pale. I checked again, turning my bag upside down, dumping the contents on the mailroom counter, tearing through the pile like a crazed person.
Abby took a step back, her concern for me shifting slightly into concern for her own safety. Was this guy about to go postal?
“What the hell?” I said out loud. I knew how important the folder was to Anna and her Humboldt deal. If I couldn’t get this done for her, I’d be the object of her lingering resentment, the reason she couldn’t take a year off to bond with the baby. I pushed most of the contents off the counter and onto the floor in one big, sweeping motion.
“Hey! Gage, are you all right?” Abby asked.
“No,” I said, breathing hard. “No, I’m not all right. I put the folder in my bag right before my shower.”
I was in a bit of a trance, retracing my steps from the morning, squeezing my eyes shut to force out every drip of concentration. I could picture myself putting the folder inside the bag, and it felt right. It felt like something that had happened, something real. Or had it? Wasn’t I in a fog from a bad night’s sleep? Could I have imagined putting the folder in my bag? Maybe it was the side effects of Adderall. Maybe I was starting to hallucinate.
A new thought: perhaps it had fallen out of my bag on the way to work. Maybe the latches had come undone. It was a possibility, an outside chance at best. Finally I had another thought—a little bug of a thought with a nasty stinger, a thought that left me panicked, confused, and angry all at once. And I could sum it up in a
single word, too.
Lily.
CHAPTER 29
The missing folder wasn’t on the floor of my car. It hadn’t shifted under the seat, either. I drove home with a black rage swirling through my head, a gathering storm, whirling and twisting my thoughts. I kept fantasizing about my upcoming confrontation with Lily, and none of the pictures were pretty. My hands gripped the steering wheel hard. I was grinding my teeth enough to chip away at the enamel. At some point, I glanced at the speedometer and cringed at the number that would have amounted to a four hundred dollar speeding ticket.
To calm myself, I thought of another possible outcome. One where I entered my home, went into Anna’s office, and saw the folder on her desk. I checked the time on the Charger’s dashboard. It was 9:30. I’d canceled my meetings for the day and informed Patrice I had to go home to deal with a personal matter. There was still an outside chance I could get the folder off to Minneapolis in time for Anna’s meeting—assuming, of course, the folder was even in the house.
And that was a big IF.
I made it home in record time. Walking up the front steps, I tried to stay positive.
It’ll be on the desk . . . it’ll be on the desk . . .
Inside now, marching down the hall.
I’m upset for no reason . . . I know it’s there . . . it’ll be there.
I went straight to Anna’s office. All was quiet—a different sort of quiet. It was a “nobody is supposed to be here right now” kind of silence, and it made me feel, for a moment at least, like an intruder in my own home.
My eyes went first to the desk. No folder. I started shuffling through stacks of Anna’s papers. Nothing. Still no folder. I stormed outside, walked across the front porch, and came to a stop in front of the door to the upstairs apartment. I could have knocked or rang the doorbell. Instead, I grabbed my master key to open the door to Lily’s apartment.
Each stair groaned a bit from my weight. At the top of the landing, I squeezed my eyes shut. I contemplated backing down, returning to my condo and calling Anna with the bad news about the folder. But I didn’t. It was a cloudless day. Sun spilled inside, forming columns of bright rays that shone through the bank of windows overlooking the street. It was the sort of light that gets apartments rented on a very first showing.
Desperate Page 15
