by Heskett, Jim
“I’ve been having trouble with something,” Ember said.
“You’re having trouble with a lot of things. There are people coming to kill you. Can you be more specific?”
"I was asking the Boulder Historian about the last black spot trial by combat in 1971," Ember said. "I sent him on a wild goose chase that took him a full day to get back to me."
“And?”
“He doesn’t have any record of it.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a Boulder member. I don’t know. I know I seem old enough to have known the founder, but 1971 was actually before my time.”
“But I asked him to look into all records from that year, and there’s nothing about it. You’d think someone from the Branch would have been there, at the sentencing, and then reported it back. That would have made it into the Branch meeting minutes around that time. But no, nothing. Isn’t that weird?”
Fagan shrugged. “Yes. But I have seen records disappear before. There was a fire at the Highlands Branch about ten years ago, and they lost quite a lot. It’s all paper and computer hard drives with no internet backup. When it’s gone, it’s gone. Similar thing happened in the 90s when there was a flood at the old Post Office in Golden, before they had their fancy new building.”
“Maybe. Maybe that’s what happened. Still, it doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Let it go, Ember. In about five weeks, then you can look into it. This should not be foremost on your mind right now.”
“That’s a fair point. This week has been enough of a mystery already.”
Fagan dipped a finger in her tea and swirled the contents of the mug. “Speaking of that, what do you have for me on your assassin du jour?”
"Lydia Beauchamp. She's a soccer mom down in Parker. Husband and one kid, three-bedroom McMansion, white picket fence, an active member of her neighborhood HOA. From the outside, she looks normal in every way."
Fagan tilted her head to the side and frowned with half of her mouth. "I've never heard the name."
“Not surprising. She’s a Dark member of Parker. Her number is registered with the Review Board, so she’s got her token and everything.”
“Ahh, right. I always forget Parker does it that way. It’s hard to believe the Club allows such a thing to happen, since there are so many layers of accountability everywhere else.”
Ember shrugged. “It makes my job harder this week.”
“Not that hard. You have her name, so their secrecy isn’t impenetrable.”
“I have Gabe to thank for that. He worked his hacker nerd magic and got me the info like snapping his finger.”
Fagan scowled. "Oh, Ember. You're putting that boy to work already? He almost died a couple of days ago."
“He was all for it. I don’t think he wants to sit at home and play video games while he’s recuperating.”
“Fair enough, if that’s what he wants. What else did he learn about Lydia Beauchamp?”
“She’s also a pill-pusher. Looks like she uses her Club contacts to find people to sling opioids to. Whatever secrecy Parker allows, I’m pretty sure the Branch does not condone using their resources like this.”
“I would have to say they don’t.”
“I want to have a discussion with President Wellner about that when it’s all over.”
Fagan shook her head. "You can, but I wouldn't expect Wellner to do anything about it. It's hard to enforce a moral code on an organization that condones the killing of people for money. Also, I doubt you can use Gabe's findings as evidence. I'm sure however he got that information is not within the Club's bylaws."
“Probably not. Still, I don’t like it. Not just the drug dealing. I don’t like that she uses the message board to make these deals. It feels wrong. It’s a betrayal against the Club, and against all of us who use it the way we’re supposed to use it.”
“Well, when you kill her, you can put a stop to that. And you can get justice for our two members who died at her hands at the brunch.”
“I’m working on a strategy.”
Fagan set her tea down, leaned forward, and pointed a gnarled finger at Ember. "You said she has a family? I'd go after them. Grab the husband from wherever he works and tie him up in a warehouse. You probably won't even have to get very physical with him. Send her a couple of pictures of the guy with a broken nose, and I'll bet that will get her attention."
“That’s not my style. I have no reason to think he’s involved in her business, and I don’t go after innocents.”
Fagan sat back, looking a little disappointed. “If you say so. But, you’re running out of time, and your moral compass isn’t making the clock tick any slower.”
“I’m going straight to Parker after we talk. If she’s home, I’ll sit on her house until she leaves. She doesn’t seem like she’s chomping at the bit to come after me, so I don’t have any reason to think she’ll be expecting it. I follow her, get her alone, then it’s one bullet to the back of the head.”
“How old is the kid?”
“Young. Four or five.”
“And you’re okay with leaving a young child without his mother? That’s not pointing the wrong way on your compass?”
Ember scrunched her brow. “I don’t… are you playing devil’s advocate?”
“I just want to make sure you’re willing to do what has to be done. You’ve turned down contracts before because the target had small children.”
“This is different. This Lydia person is dangerous. With one scoop of potato salad, she nearly killed a dozen people. I can’t let that run around unchecked any longer.”
Fagan sighed and lifted her mug to her lips. “Don’t underestimate this woman. I can’t give you any background since I don’t know her. But clearly, she’s ruthless. Don’t think she’s going to lie down and die when you pull a gun on her.”
Ember took one last sip of her tea and stood up. “Don’t worry, boss. I’m going to end it. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
EMBER
Ember first stopped at Forever Home Real Estate with her pistols in armpit holsters and a smile on her face. She poked around in the lobby for a minute or two, checking out brochures. There was a reception desk, but no one sat behind it. It was still early in the day, so maybe the receptionist wasn't in yet, or perhaps she was back in some break room, slugging coffee so she could deal with eight hours of interaction with people.
Ember did not see Lydia’s car out front, and neither did she see her in the building.
Ember considered asking around about her but decided against it. If this was Lydia's fake job, then people here might be in on the ruse, and she didn't want to give them a heads up. Or, actually, it probably didn't matter, either way. Lydia would have to expect Ember to snoop around here.
“Can I help you?”
Ember turned around to see a short and frumpy man, with a crown of hair like a wreath of flowers below a bald spot high atop his skull. He wore little round glasses and had the wisps of a mustache perched on his upper lip.
“I don’t think so.”
“Take all the brochures you like, but if you want the personal touch, you’re not going to get it from a piece of paper. That’s where we come in.”
“I’m actually looking for Lydia. Is she in today?”
His lips twitched for a fraction of a second. “I’m afraid not.”
“Well, it’s early. Will she be in later?”
“Can I ask what this is regarding?”
“No, I’m afraid you can’t. It’s a personal matter between me and her.”
Ember noted his shoulders drifting forward as if pulling his body back into a turtle shell. "Would you like me to pass along a message to her?"
“Sure. You can tell her that Ally Carmichael stopped by to get her potato salad recipe and to pass along my condolences for Shane. His suicide was so sudden and tragic, I know Lydia must still be reeling from the loss.”
The man’s brow wrinkled as he frowned u
p at Ember. He obviously had no idea what she was talking about, but that didn’t matter. All Ember wanted out of this exchange was for him to remember her and to pass along that a strange and intense woman stopped by and said something about potato salad and a suicide.
Not that Ember expected Lydia to show. Their chess match had proceeded beyond carrying on with the mundane aspects of life. No more day job, no more sleeping at home, maybe even no more tucking in the kiddo at night.
But, Ember had to try.
“Okay, friend,” she said, “I’m outta here. If you see Lydia, you give her a big, fat kiss on the cheek from me.”
She turned and walked out of the real estate office.
* * *
Ember drove out to Lydia's home and continued a little ways down the street. As she drove past, she noted the garage door open, and one car inside the two-car garage. She had to assume this was the husband's car since he worked from home. It wasn't Lydia's car, for sure, and the little kid probably didn't have his license yet.
Ember parked in the same spot as before, near the cul de sac halfway down the block. She reclined her chair and positioned the rearview mirror so she could spy the front of the house.
A few minutes elapsed with no activity. Lydia wasn’t home. Ember had expected this, but she’d held out hope she might be wrong.
If Lydia wasn’t here and she wasn’t at work, Ember didn’t know where to look for her. She wasn’t the type to hang out at the Parker Branch Post Office. In fact, with all their secrecy and Dark member crap, hardly any of them did, as far as she knew. They probably had their regular meetings over video chat with a filter to mask their appearances and voices.
So tailing Lydia and intercepting her as a surprise would not work. And, knowing her, she might have another family in another town or a series of safe houses—none of which Ember knew how to find.
She wished she had time to put Gabe onto Lydia, to tap her phones or do something else. She'd asked him to look into her further, but so much of Lydia's professional life was murky. To all appearances, she was a normal mom who picked up her kid from daycare, went to book club on Sundays, and had the Facebook, TownHall, and other social media presence to prove it.
Without knowing what else to do, Ember settled in to wait.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Ember grew tired.
“Screw it,” she said as she left her car and walked up the street to the house. If she couldn’t find Lydia, she could send a message.
Ember knocked on the door. Two minutes later, it opened, and there stood her husband. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans, with soft house shoes. The standard dress code for someone who could work from home. He had bags under his eyes, and his mouth hung open.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a stuffy voice.
Ember put on a broad smile. “Yes. My name is Ember, and I just started at Forever Home Real Estate. I mean literally. Today is my first day.”
“Oh,” he said, looking pleasantly surprised. He sniffled, and she noticed his red eyes like allergies or a head cold. “Congratulations on the new job. My wife works there. I assume you know that.”
She gave a polite laugh. "Oh, yes, I do. They sent me over here to pick up the binders about the Centennial properties. I have to integrate some new specs into the closing figures. Lydia was supposed to bring them in, but they sent me out because we need them today. Like, right now. I mean, I'm totally sorry to intrude on you like this, but I wouldn't unless it was legit important, you know?"
Ember knew nothing about real estate, so she was praying this guy didn't either, so he would buy her pseudo-jargon and a barrage of unrelated words.
“Well, I’m not sure what to tell you. She’s not here.”
"Oh, crap. Is she at the office? I was just there, but I didn't see her. I mean, day one, I'm not a hundred percent sure, with all the names and faces, you know?"
He shook his head. “No, she went on a work trip. Scouting some territory in Utah, or something like that. I don’t understand half of what she tells me about her work.”
They shared a laugh, and Ember scrambled to think of what to say next. Work trip meant Lydia was likely staying at a hotel or a motel somewhere. Probably planning her next attack, and also hoping to draw Ember away from her family.
Maybe there was a chance Ember could find a clue about where she had gone—a receipt in her office, or a phone number written down in a notebook.
“Crap. I’m so sorry, but would you mind terribly if I came in and took a look around in her office? I know you don’t know me, but I have to get those binders today. I’d hate to get fired on my first day, you know? I promise I’ll be in there for two minutes, max. It shouldn’t be hard to find what I’m looking for.”
His eyes darted around for a minute, then he smiled and waved her in. “First door on the right.”
“Thank you so much,” Ember said as she entered.
“Can I take your coat? Do you want some tea or coffee or anything else to drink?”
“Not necessary. I’ll only be here a second.”
He stood by the door, which she took to mean he wasn’t going to escort her to the office. After a moment, he said, “Well, it’s time for my cold medicine. I’ll leave you to it.”
He shuffled down the hall, so she marched toward the office and opened the door. Inside, she found a simple room with cork boards on the walls, a couple of file cabinets, and a mahogany desk in the middle of the room. There were stacks of pages next to the file cabinets, nearly half as tall, poised to topple with the slightest agitation.
Ember now realized she didn’t have a solid plan of what to do. She couldn’t shut the door behind her, and he would probably come to the door to check on her if she took too long. She strolled around the room, examining the items tacked to the walls and cork boards. This Lydia woman was thorough. One of the most convincing fake jobs Ember had ever seen.
There weren’t any stray papers sitting around to indicate anything about where the real location might be today. She checked her watch and noted she’d been in here for a full minute already.
Then, a thought occurred: keep it simple.
She took one of Lydia's business cards from the desk, turned it over, and wrote her name and phone number on it. She'd considered writing the name Ally Carmichael as she had at the real estate place, but there was no reason to hide any longer. A direct approach would work much better with Lydia to scare her out of the shadows.
Ember walked the business card back into the hallway, where the husband was holding a little plastic cup filled with thick red liquid. He frowned at her.
“Didn’t find them?”
"No, but it's okay. I think they'll let it slide since I did drive all the way out here." She held out the card. "Please, take this. When you talk to your wife, can you ask her to call me? Just tell her I stopped by and that we need to talk as soon as possible. I'm sure she'll understand how urgent this whole thing is."
He accepted the card and looked it over. “Sure thing. I’ll be happy to.”
Ember straightened up and extended a hand to shake. “You have a good day, Mr. Beauchamp. I look forward to speaking with your wife.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
ZACH
Zach eased up the steps up to his apartment floor at a slow pace. He’d been out for a vanilla run, but his quads had screamed at him the whole time. The hike with Ember yesterday, while short, had been quite a workout. Zach hadn’t been up in the mountains for a while, so he’d forgotten how the terrain could work muscles he didn’t normally engage.
Still, it had been worth it. The fact that he’d shared details about his father’s death and his estrangement from older brother Harvey were breakthrough moments. Not only that, but Ember had talked about her little brother. And, it was an odd transition to making out, but that also felt right too, for some reason.
He kept thinking of Ember's lips on his, the energy of that kiss. And how he wanted more. But, he would force hims
elf to be a gentleman this time, because there might be something real there. Something more than a sweaty and impulsive night that would make them both regret it the next morning.
At the top of the stairs, he wiped sweat from his brow and proceeded down the hall. He thought he saw his roommate Alec walking the other way, down toward the set of stairs on the other end. Probably on his way to class. That was good since Zach and Alec had not been getting along great lately. This semester's class schedules had them both at home often at the same time. Zach's responsibilities at the Firedrake lab had cut into their communal time, but they were still together too often. And, one thing Zach had learned about successful cohabitation with other people was the simple rule: If you're not home at the same time, you get along great. Familiarity breeds contempt, as the saying went.
He picked up the spare key from behind the hallway light fixture and stuck it in the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Alec appear at the top of the stairs on the other end of the hall and walk toward him. Alec was looking down, patting his pockets as he came back toward the apartment.
“Forget something?” Zach asked.
Alec looked up and smiled. “Yeah, bro. My wallet.”
Alec came to a stop a few feet away, both of them facing each other.
“What are you doing here?” Alec asked.
“Nothing. Just stopping home for a minute to get ready for class.”
“Out for a run?”
Zach nodded.
“I guessed that because, as usual, you look like you’re ready to puke. What was your time?”
Zach shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit. What was your time?”
“First mile was 7:10, second mile 7:17, last mile 8:05.”
Alec whistled. “That last mile is terrible.”
“Yeah, thanks for pointing that out. I’m a little sore today. Did you check your backpack?”
