Town at the Edge of Darkness (The Excoms Book 2)

by Brett Battles

  He smiled as if he knew she was joking. “I thought I might give you a tour and we could talk. About business.”

  “Business.”

  “Isn’t that what this party’s for? Give you a sense of what it might be like to relocate to Bradbury?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Then I am here to answer any question you might have. Any question.” The creep factor ratcheted up another notch.

  Rally led her out of the Fun Zone and toward one of the boxy offices in the center of the building.

  “We have a relatively simple operation. App development and support is mostly handled in the Bridge.”

  “The Bridge?”

  He pointed to the big open area with the long tables. “It’s what we call the common workspace.”

  “Cute.”

  Upon reaching the office, Rally paused. “When we started, it was just Elijah and me, coding in our tiny, one-bedroom apartment. I still can’t believe how big we’ve become.”

  He turned and opened the door. “After you.”

  She held her ground. “And what’s in there?”

  “My office.”

  She stifled a snort. “I think I should probably be getting back to the party.”

  “But we haven’t really talked yet. I want to hear all about your company. See if there’s anything I can do to help convince you to move here.”

  “I never said I would be moving here.”

  His brow creased. “Isn’t that why—”

  “We’re a big company.”

  “Is that so? How big?”

  Interesting, she thought. For the first time, she detected his interest had moved beyond wanting to get into her pants.

  “Big enough,” she said.

  A mischievous smile. “You, Shawn, are a tease.”

  She allowed her own smile to match his, and then she turned and walked back to the festivities.

  As she weaved through the crowd, someone moved up beside her.

  “What was that all about?” Rosario whispered.

  “Exactly what you think.”

  “Please tell me he is not coming to your room later.”

  “If he does, you have my permission to come in and shoot us both.”

  “Good. He is maybe handsome, but there is something…” She gave up trying to find the word and just shivered.

  “Slimy?”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Shawn! Shawn, over here.” Toni waved to them from near one of the pool tables.

  She was with the mayor and several others, one of whom was in a uniform. Ananke and Rosario made their way over.

  “Having fun?” Toni asked.

  “A great time,” Ananke said.

  “I’m so glad to hear that! Now, I have a few more people I’d like to introduce you to. This is our police chief, Ronald Yates.”

  The man in uniform gave Ananke and Rosario a curt nod, but didn’t extend a hand until Ananke did it first. Clearly he was uncomfortable with the setting or Ananke, maybe both.

  She turned on the charm. “What a pleasure. Thank you so much for coming.”

  “Um, sure. No problem.”

  “And this,” Toni said, gesturing to the man whose back had been to Ananke as she walked up, “is Kyle Scudder, CEO of Scolareon.”

  Ananke turned to him with the appropriate sense of awe. “It’s an honor, sir. I’m a big fan of what you and your company are doing. Not only for the energy solutions you provide, but for what you’ve done here in Bradbury. The community you’ve fostered by your presence is something to be proud of.”

  He chuckled. “You make me sound like some kind of saint. I’m just someone who wants a nice place to raise my family. Turns out a lot of others want that, too.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Kyle,” the mayor said. “To a lot of us here, you are a saint.”

  “So, we’re all curious,” Scudder said. “What company do you represent?”

  The corner of Ananke’s mouth ticked up playfully. “I’d be curious, too, if I were you. But I’m sure you can understand that until we formally decide where we’ll be moving, we’d like to keep our name confidential. It’s actually a board mandate.”

  “Makes it hard to offer any specific advice without some idea of what you’re planning on doing here.”

  “What I can say is that our operation will be closer in size to yours than this place.” She gestured at the building they were in. “But I can also say we’re not one of your competitors.”

  “Even if you were, I wouldn’t worry.”

  They talked about the benefits and drawbacks of working so far from a large city, and about what made Bradbury special. Twice during the conversation, Ananke’s phone buzzed with a text but she ignored it.

  Not long after eight p.m., a young woman approached the group and said to Scudder, “Sir, it’s time.”

  He looked at his watch. “Wow, that went fast.” He turned to Ananke and Rosario. “I apologize, but I need to return to the office.”

  “A CEO’s day is never done,” Ananke said.

  “I have a feeling those words will be written on my tombstone. If you have any question you think I could help with, feel free to contact me.” He pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “That’s my cell number. I’m the only one who answers it.”

  If Pretty Boy had been the one to give her the card, it would have been done in an obvious attempt to hook up. But she received no such vibe from Scudder.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  To both her and Rosario, he said, “Enjoy your evening.”

  As he and the woman started to leave, Chief Yates said, “I’ll walk out with you. Ladies, good night.”

  And then there were only Ananke, Rosario, and Toni.

  “I’m glad you had a chance to talk with Mr. Scudder,” Toni said. “No matter how he downplays it, he’s truly a hero here.”

  “I get that sense.”

  “I don’t want to imagine what this town would have been like if he hadn’t—” Her eyes suddenly widened as her gaze strayed past Ananke. Excited, she said, “Have you met the author yet?”

  “Author?”

  “We have a bona fide New York Times best-selling author at the party.”

  Ananke followed the woman’s gaze, playing dumb. “Where is he?”

  “Not he, she. That Asian lady over there.” She leaned toward Ananke and whispered, “She’s a foreigner.”

  “But she lives in Bradbury?”

  “Oh, no. She’s here on a research trip, I believe. Her publisher called the chamber of commerce, wondering if there were any events at which she could meet some of the locals. I didn’t think it would be a problem for her join us.” She paused. “Her last name is Kraus, I believe. Um…Andrea Kraus. The truth is, I don’t read much so I haven’t heard of her. Not a very Asian name, though, is it? Kraus?” This last was said, as Ananke had come to expect, in a hushed voice. “You should meet her.” Raising her voice, she called, “Ms. Kraus! Ms. Kraus!”

  When Liesel looked up, Toni waved her over.

  “I hate parties,” Liesel said, after she and Dylan had been escorted to where the party was held.

  “You were a bodyguard,” he said. “You must have gone to hundreds of them.”

  “Exactly why I do not like them. You have no real control in this kind of crowd. Everyone is extra friendly, even if you do not know them. Lots of close talking, bumping into each other. Too many chances for something to happen.”

  “Relax. You’re not on bodyguard duty tonight. Have some food and a drink. Maybe two drinks. Enjoy yourself a little bit.”

  “We are not here to enjoy ourselves.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake. We do need to pretend we’re enjoying ourselves. You can at least do that, can’t you?”

  “It is what I am doing.”

  He snorted. “You’re funnier than anyone gives you credit for, you know that? Because right now, you look like you’re he
aded to a funeral.”

  “I do?”

  “You do.”

  Her face relaxed a little. “Is this better?”

  “Now it looks like you’re going to apply for a loan. But I guess that’s an improvement.”

  They met Toni Mahoney early on in their wanderings. Dylan had to work hard not to comment on the rhyming of her name. It was so ripe for the picking.

  After that, they mainly tried to listen in on conversations for anything that might be useful. They picked up a few tidbits here and there, but nothing earth-shattering. Mostly it was general stuff on the local tech industry and life in Bradbury. Their eavesdropping came to a crashing halt when a group of programmers introduced themselves and went wide-eyed at Dylan’s Irish accent.

  Toni Mahoney calling out Liesel’s fake name provided them with an excuse to extricate themselves from Dylan’s group of admirers. But when he saw she was with Ananke and Rosario, he said, “Weren’t we not supposed to mix?”

  “I do not think we have much of a choice,” Liesel said.

  “Ms. Kraus,” Toni said as Liesel and Dylan walked up. “I’d like you to meet our guest of honor. This is Shawn Ramey and her colleague, Caroline Cruz. Shawn, Caroline, this is the novelist Andrea Kraus and…I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

  “Carl Lyne,” Dylan said.

  “That’s right. Carl Lyne. He’s with her publisher.”

  “It’s nice to meet both of you,” Ananke said. As they shook hands, her phone vibrated. Then again. And again. Annoyed, she pulled it out. “I apologize. I need to check this.”

  “Of course,” Dylan said.

  Ananke walked a few feet away and activated her screen. There were eight texts, all from Ricky.

  First text:

  Sun’s starting to go down.

  Second text:

  I’m ready to go whenever.

  Third:

  Is the party really THAT interesting?

  Fourth:

  I’m starting to go stir crazy. Just thought you’d like to know.

  Fifth through eighth:

  You can’t possibly still need everyone there.

  I just need one person. Just send me one, I know you can.

  For the love of God, release me from this static torture!

  Too dramatic? Then give me someone to work with. PLEASE!

  Ananke stuffed the phone back into her pocket and returned to the others.

  “Everything all right?” Toni asked.

  “Just an associate who needs a little hand-holding now and then.”

  “Oh, I know what that’s like,” Toni said with a fake laugh.

  I doubt you do, Ananke thought, but said, “I’ll have one of my associates deal with him.” When Toni wasn’t looking, Ananke caught Dylan’s eye and flicked her gaze toward the exit, then asked Liesel, “So, what kind of novels do you write?”

  “Mysteries.”

  “I love a good mystery.”

  Dylan glanced at his phone. “My apologies, Ms. Kraus, I didn’t realize how late it was. I have some work I need to do tonight.”

  “Then I guess it’s time for us to leave,” Liesel said.

  “Already?” Toni said.

  “I don’t want to ruin your evening,” Dylan said to Liesel. “Just call me and I’ll come get you when you’re ready.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Toni said. “I’d be honored to drive Ms. Kraus home once the party is over.”

  “Oh, that would be grand,” Dylan said. He looked at Liesel. “I mean, if it’s all right with you.”

  “Yes, that would be fine.”

  Dylan gave Toni the address.

  “That’s the Careys’ place,” Toni said.

  “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “It’s a rental.”

  “They’re artists. Only here part-time. They do that Airbnb thing when they’re away.” She leaned forward and put a hand near her mouth. “The hotels hate that.”

  Ananke watched Dylan leave, wishing she could go with him. She was sure they’d learned all they could from the party, but, as guest of honor, taking off early would be poor form. She and Rosario talked with Liesel and Toni for a few more minutes, and then, claiming a need to visit the restrooms, left the two women to carry on without them.

  As they neared the restroom entrance, a young man hurried toward them. “Ms. Ramey?”

  “Yes?” Ananke said, turning. It was the chipper receptionist from up front.

  He held out an envelope. “I was asked to give this to you.”

  “By who?”

  “Mr. Rally.”

  How very junior high, Ananke thought. “Am I supposed to give you a reply or something?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  She waited until she and Rosario had entered the bathroom to open the envelope.

  Shawn—

  I just wanted to apologize for any misunderstandings earlier. I assure you my intentions were purely business related, and if it came across otherwise, then I’m truly sorry. I would have told you this in person, but I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

  I would love if you’d allow me to buy you a coffee while you’re here. We can discuss the merits of Bradbury, and I can fill you in on where all the bodies are buried. Hahaha. Call me if you’d like to take me up on the offer.

  Devon

  She let Rosario read it. “Are you going to call him?”

  Ananke grimaced as if she’d taken a drink of sour milk. “Not if I can help it.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ricky hadn’t been lying about going stir crazy. He tried sitting down. Pacing. Watching TV. And then he tried all those things again.

  Nothing worked.

  He looked over at his phone on the bed. “Screw it,” he said, and grabbed the device to send Ananke another text.

  His thumbs hovered above the screen for a full ten seconds before he moved them away.

  Put the phone down, Ricky. She’ll answer when she’s ready.

  He tossed the mobile back onto the bed and started pacing again, carving a path from the window, around the end of the bed, to the front door, and back. He was on his fifth lap, right in front of the window, when someone pounded on the door.

  He sprinted across the room and peered through the peephole. With a grin, he pulled open the door and let Dylan slip inside.

  “Party over already?” Ricky said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Still going when I left.”

  So Ananke had listened to Ricky after all. He wanted to gloat, but there would be time for that later. Instead, he grabbed the spare helmet he’d bought that afternoon, tossed it to Dylan, picked up his backpack, and held it out. “It’ll be easier if you wear this.”

  “I brought the car. Can’t we just use that?”

  Ricky snorted and shoved the backpack into Dylan’s arms.

  The moment they reached the open highway, Ricky let the bike fly down the road. Dylan clung to the underside of the seat, praying to God he’d live through the next few hours, and wishing he’d put up more of a fight to use the sedan.

  When they turned onto the dirt road, things didn’t get much better. Though Ricky reduced their speed, Dylan now feared the next bounce on the rough surface would send him tumbling into the woods. He’d seldom been more thankful than the moment Ricky pulled to the side of the road and said, “We’ll stow the bike and walk in from here.”

  The dark woods reminded Dylan of every demented fairy tale he’d been told as a kid: a child wanders into the forest, gets eaten by a wolf or a witch or a goblin or whatever and is never seen again. As Dylan and Ricky snuck through the forest, Dylan couldn’t help but feel like the boy about to be served up for dinner.

  They’d been going for less than ten minutes when Ricky snapped his head around and jammed a finger against his lips.

  “What?” Dylan whispered.

  Ricky silently mouthed something back.

  Dylan frowned, having no idea
what his colleague meant.

  Ricky rolled his eyes, leaned in, and whispered in Dylan’s ear, “You’re walking too loud.”

  “I’m walking as quietly as you are.”

  “You’re not. You’re too loud. Watch your step.”

  Ricky started off again, not giving Dylan a chance to say anything else.

  Though Dylan knew he hadn’t been loud, he now took extra care with each step, not wanting to evoke another Ricky condemnation.

  Somewhere to the left, an owl hooted.

  Probably sending a message to its demon master that new morsels are on the way, Dylan thought.

  He wasn’t actually scared. Just uneasy.

  He preferred the drone of traffic to the alien noises of the wilderness. Roads and alleys and highways were in his blood. Hiking through Narnia, not so much.

  After another several minutes, Ricky paused again. He pointed ahead at a sliver of light between the trees.

  “That’s the guard shack on the road,” he whispered, then led on.

  Keeping a thirty-yard cushion between themselves and the light, they passed without incident. Another ten minutes and they reached the fence-enclosed clearing.

  Pools of light created by a handful of flood lamps dotted the construction site, revealing several of the short concrete pillars Ricky had described. One of the lamps jutted out above the office trailer, lighting up the area in front of it that, at the moment, played host to a golf cart and two pickup trucks. The cart sat near one of the two trailer doors, while the cars were parked next to each other near the fence. These latter were likely the guards’ personal vehicles.

  The cart represented a problem. Parked by the door, it probably meant the guard assigned to patrol the fenced-in portion of the site was inside the trailer. Which was exactly where Dylan and Ricky wanted to be.

  Ricky tapped Dylan on the shoulder and waved for him to follow again. Staying well within the trees, they moved parallel to the fence, past the mobile office, to a dark spot a few hundred feet behind the building.

  Dylan eyed the barrier. Three strands of nasty-looking razor wire topped the chain-link. They could, of course, cut a hole through the fence, but the whole idea was to get in and out without being noticed. Digging under might work, but that would take a lot of effort, and would also leave evidence of their trespass.