Unexpected Lightning

by Cass Sellars

  “I’m just trying to track down some information about some incidents at the office. Make sure no one at the office has anyone to worry about.”

  “Fine with me. While you’re at it, maybe you can get Reverend Newkirk a big plastic bubble in a padded cell downtown. He might be happier there.”

  “You never know.” Mack chuckled, and Syd was surprised how much she was actually amused by Mr. Akeroyd. “If you think of anything, will you give me a call?” She handed him the last card in her folder.

  He read the card. “You got it…Lieutenant Foster.” He looked thoughtful. “Hey! You’re related to that Jenny lady in HR, right?”

  Mack simply put her finger to her lips. “Let’s keep this chat between us, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He returned the gesture, placing his finger to his lips and headed out.

  “That was humorous. He certainly has a history with one woman,” Syd said.

  “I actually found him entertaining. He does have a history, but it seems they ended on his terms, so I’m not as impressed by that. Any chance you heard a VW that night?”

  “No way. They’re loud, but they have that really distinctive, air-cooled engine whistle I would have recognized right away.”

  “That’s what I thought. I’ll catch you up if I get anything new. Go home and do some work now, will you? Someone’s got to make the payments on your sex machine, right?”

  “True. I’m out. Watch out for my girl, okay, Mack?”

  “I got it. Go.”

  ***

  “Just letting you know I was leaving.” Parker looked up to find Mack leaning into her office doorway.

  “Jenny will be mad she missed you. She is delivering write-up papers on your friends from earlier.” Parker swiveled her chair away from her computer in order to look directly at Mack.

  “No worries. I’ll see her at home.” Mack stepped in a little farther and spoke quietly, “I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful, but I sent my unofficial partner and your unofficial bodyguard home. She would be mad if I didn’t at least say it.”

  “Thanks, Mack, and I will. I owe you for getting her out of her damn car.” Parker hated to think of her sitting there idly for hours. She hated being the reason she was doing it.

  “No problem. I understand, though. She loves you more than anything. If it was Jenny? I would be crazier than she is, but don’t tell her that, okay?”

  “It’s our secret. Thanks, Mack. See you.” Pretending. Secrets. She wondered how many people around her were keeping them. She had caught herself more than once staring at random acquaintances in the elevator or the parking lot. After years of keeping who she really was a secret, this all felt like a bad remake of an unpleasant story. She drove the sharp tip of a felt pen into her blotter, leaving a black stain over today’s date.

  Having to fear what might be lurking in every shadowy corner and forcing her girlfriend to disconnect from her own job made Parker stop to fantasize about catching him and making him feel the same fear. She caught herself being uncharacteristically pleased with the thought of inflicting just a little pain on the creepy coward.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Syd had managed to use up the afternoon on mundane tasks she should have taken care of over the last week but had ignored. She pulled the Porsche into the warehouse lot where Charlie Kessler’s Cadillac sat alone outside his office, the unit just next to Syd’s. She wondered if she should talk to him about the window incident. For all he knew, the boarded-up window was simply vandalism, so there wasn’t any reason to make more of it, Syd supposed.

  The white envelope was tucked inside the handle of the lobby door. She saw it before she reached to punch in the code. She turned around as if someone would actually be waiting there to further taunt her or take responsibility. She dialed 9-1-1 and slid her finger under the flap since she was certain he wouldn’t have left any evidence behind. Again.

  You told your dyke to look for me?

  She’s too close to even see

  I’ll lay you down and make her view

  As I crawl on top and slide into you

  She thinks now she runs the show?

  One night with me and then she’ll know

  It’s close, my dear, the bitch will pay,

  You crave my love, you will obey

  Syd fisted the note and cringed at the thought of the revolting pervert touching her girlfriend’s body. She took a photo of the vile missive and sent it to Mack.

  Are you still at DPI?

  Mack responded quickly. No, at station. A patrol unit is on the way to pick that up. Want her to ride to our house with Jenny?

  Sydney was already waiting outside when the marked police car headed in from Meridian Street.

  Syd replied, I’ll go get her.

  She stood in front of Parker’s office door fifteen minutes later and stared at her empty desk. Assuming she was down the hall or speaking with another employee, she waited.

  After ten more minutes, Syd checked in Jenny’s office and saw her rushing back down the hall.

  “Hi, Syd. I thought you went home?” The question in her voice made Syd feel as if she should defend her overprotective reputation.

  “I did. I just needed to talk to her. I have some things I need to tell her about.”

  “That doesn’t seem very productive, Syd. What’s going on?” Jenny sat on the edge of her desk in front of Sydney.

  She sighed heavily. “There was another note when I got home.”

  “Bad?” Jenny asked nervously.

  “They’re all bad, but yeah, I think he’s escalating.” She didn’t want to talk about it at the office any more than she had to.

  “We were talking about you guys coming to stay with us tonight, and she got a call about some emergency on the Ellison office project in Maclean. She was stopping by the architect’s office and then going out there.”

  “That’s over an hour away, Jenny.” Syd was dumbfounded. How could Parker leave without telling her? Why would she take such a risk?

  “Yes, Sydney. That’s her job, remember? She hasn’t been out there in over a month, and they needed her. They had no one at the party, and they aren’t linked to the notes. Give her some air, Sydney. Just call her on the phone and don’t be crazy.”

  Syd nodded and walked out of Jenny’s office. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Parker. The phone sounded from Parker’s office where it sat alone on her credenza. Syd stared at the device making its noisy walk across the surface, spurred by the vibration. She clicked off and grabbed Parker’s phone, squeezing it in frustration and dread.

  “Jenny, she left her phone.” Sydney tried to stay calm, but it took every bit of control she could manage.

  “Well, you take it home with you, and I’ll try to call the stops she was making to let her know you have it, okay? I’ll leave a message for her to call one of us. I’ll be home by four, and you can meet me there then. Why don’t you go pack and bring your stuff over? Leave a note or something in case she goes back there, but she’ll call me first.” Jenny was clearly trying to give Sydney enough busywork to keep her occupied.

  “Please, call me as soon as you hear from her.” Syd didn’t mean it as a question. She fought her instinct to rush out on a mission to find her, but she forced herself to respect Parker’s space. Chasing after her would make Parker feel like a child once again.

  Jenny picked up her desk phone and dialed the architect as Sydney walked out. “Hi, Aaron, it’s Jenny Foster at Davidson Properties. Parker Duncan was supposed to come down there for a meeting this afternoon; have you seen her yet?” She waited and listened to the reply. “Oh, okay. No worries. I’ll call the Ellison jobsite and track her down that way. If she comes back by for some reason, could you give her a message to call me? Thank you.”

  Jenny gave her a bored look. “Already been there but may be back. I’ll try the jobsite if you promise to leave now. You can hang out with me all day, but you won’t be packing to get her
out of the house by hovering here. Could you please go and be productive?” She smiled to soften her words.

  Sydney managed to relax a tiny bit, knowing that at least Parker was far away from the danger that seemed to lurk at the office and their home for the moment.

  “I’ll go, but I’m not happy.” Sydney grimaced.

  “Yes, you are. You’re just miffed that she’s out of your grasp for the moment. Most of that is sweet, a small part is suffocating. She won’t tell you that, but I will.”

  Syd recognized that Jenny had stopped pulling any punches with her. She stared at Jenny for a moment, weighing her words against her emotions. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” Sydney managed not to beg Jenny to give her the address of her destination.

  She walked to the elevator and fought the urge to search through Parker’s phone. She knew what she would probably find. Business calls, texts to her and Jenny, and an email folder full of blueprints and other business correspondence. She might have been overprotective, but she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Parker. She shoved the phone in her back pocket and marched to her car. Parker had to know that she was vulnerable and that, despite her job responsibilities, she owed Syd some consideration. She couldn’t help but feel angry that Parker wasn’t just a little conscious of her feelings.

  ***

  Parker took the shortcut via County Line Road headed into Maclean. The early afternoon traffic would have been heavy on the main highway, and she enjoyed the scenic route and the tiny towns that usually consisted of a bar, a multipurpose store with gas, and some kind of antique shop or craft boutique.

  She was mentally calculating another thirty miles in the car when a loud clunk sounded just before her steering wheel jerked to the right. She slowed to a crawl, hoping to make it just a little closer to the next town only a mile away. The smell of burning rubber and the uneven slope of the ride told her that this was as close as she could get on what she surmised was a blown tire. She dug in her purse for her phone to call the auto club but couldn’t find it. Pulling onto the soft shoulder, she jammed the car into park. She searched clumsily through the bag, failing still to locate her phone. She overturned the bag onto the seat. She could suddenly picture the phone on her credenza at the office and let out a frustrated growl. She cursed and stared down at the skirt and heels she had worn to the office, not anticipating a hike through a construction site, let alone a lonely trek down a deserted highway in ninety degrees.

  Parker hoisted herself from the car and fished through her trunk. She came up with scuffed ballet flats from a bag earmarked for Goodwill. She dropped them onto the asphalt and stepped into the shoes that had just enough cracks in the soles to make her wonder if she might as well go barefoot. She walked around to inspect the offending tire. A large nail protruded from the sagging tread, and she briefly contemplated changing the tire herself. She reconsidered when she saw the steep drop into a muddy creek and couldn’t fathom keeping her balance, let alone a sufficient place to brace her ill-clad feet, when tightening the lug nuts. She wished she’d been able to drive a bit farther.

  She strapped her purse diagonally across her body as she was nearly toppled by the wind of a speeding truck. She waffled between grateful that he had kept driving and a little pissed that he hadn’t stopped to see if she needed help. She looked ahead and began the mile-long trek to whatever small town was next.

  A few cars passed her, but no one slowed. People must assume everyone had a cell phone, so walkers were there by choice. Her choice would have involved a different outfit, of course, but she only had a few thousand more steps to go. She attempted to peel the damp strand of hair sticking to her neck, and she searched through her bag for a hair band. She managed an improvised knot and began to walk faster when a black SUV slowed as if to stop. When they didn’t, she was at once resentful and somehow grateful. Goose bumps skimmed down her arms despite the oppressive heat. She realized how vulnerable she was, alone on a relatively deserted highway.

  At the sign promising a quarter of a mile to the town of Woodview, a loud black Ford Mustang pulled to a stop a few yards in front of her. Tint wasn’t uncommon in Virginia, but she thought it was too dark to even be remotely legal. She couldn’t see the driver and stopped short of passing the vehicle now parked on the grassy slope of the shoulder.

  The driver’s door opened, and a wiry blonde pushed out. Parker’s gaydar went off, but she thought she shouldn’t trust anything on an isolated county road. Besides, being a lesbian didn’t necessarily preclude you from being an axe murderer.

  “Should I assume that the Audi back there is yours?” The woman with nearly shaved blond hair smiled at her.

  Parker nodded and stood quite still, unsure how to react.

  The driver made no move to approach, and Parker was grateful. It must have been very clear that she was wary. There was no indication that her stalker was anything other than what they assumed: simple, deranged, and male, but she wouldn’t take any chances.

  “My name’s Charlie. I own a tavern up the road in Woodview, which is, I assume, where you’re headed since this ain’t exactly Vegas, and there aren’t many other choices.” She chuckled and seemed to wait for Parker to decide whether or not to trust her. Charlie dug her wallet from her back pocket and produced a small card from a slot inside. She extended the item in Parker’s direction. “Here’s my business card so you know I’m legit. You can call the number and hear the message if you like—it’s my voice. I just figured you could use a lift to town before you melted.”

  Parker relaxed a tiny bit. “I just need to call the auto club, and I apparently walked out of the office without my phone, like an idiot.” Parker thought she had just tipped her hand to the potential axe murderer. She’d confessed to not having a backup plan. She smiled and took a few steps closer and decided to assume she was a Good Samaritan instead of a psychopath.

  “Yeah, I figured you weren’t priming tobacco in that outfit.” Charlie gestured toward Parker’s skirt and matching jacket, now draped over her arm.

  Parker stared down at herself and laughed. “You mean this isn’t what we’re all supposed to wear on our first day?” She threw up her hands in mock exasperation. “Now I’m going to look out of place.” She stepped closer and reached for the card.

  “Come on, I’ll drive you to the bar, and you can wait for the auto club to come find you.”

  Parker warred with her brain that recalled all the childhood admonitions about getting into cars with strangers. Looking down, she read from the simple white business card, “Charlie’s Tavern. I’m going to assume, since I’m batting a thousand today, that you own the place?”

  “Guilty as charged. Do you want to continue this inside the car? Even I’m sweating to death out here.”

  Parker finally nodded and walked to the passenger side of the car, trying to see inside. She briefly imagined herself telling Sydney how she got into a car with a strange woman on a deserted road. Then she thought she should come up with something less crazy. Charlie spun the temperature dial until it sat firmly on the snowflake symbol and turned the fan to high. Parker quelled her urge to lift up her skirt in the direction of the vent to cool her sweating thighs. She mused that she would one day convince car makers to include a crotch vent that would forever be known as the Duncan Cooler or something like that. She forced her brain back to the situation at hand. Leap of faith—or at least a step of faith. She had to make a choice between a lonely road and whomever stopped next or a fairly-well-presented possible Good Samaritan.

  “Oh my God, thank you. I think I was about to melt.” Parker was more appreciative as the air hit her collar and pushed the wisps of hair from her skin.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be there in two minutes, and you can have a drink while you wait, on the house, of course.”

  Parker appraised the woman and decided she didn’t look much like a criminal, but the tattoo of interlocking female symbols behind her right ear made her family.

  “Why a bar
out here? Are you from here?” Parker couldn’t help but dig for the center of other people’s stories.

  “I used to own a women’s bar under the same name in DC until my dad got sick. So, I had to come back to Woodview, and I opened this place.”

  Parker found life interesting, and she found people even more interesting. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

  “Shoot.” Charlie pushed the muscle car over the hill, and Parker could see store signs and buildings a few blocks ahead.

  “How do you manage to live here and run a business when you’re used to DC?” Parker was genuinely curious.

  “You mean, how does an obviously out lesbian manage to not go crazy serving drinks to straight farmers and desperate housewives?” Charlie smiled as she turned into the packed gravel lot in front of the one-story brick tavern.

  “That wasn’t meant as an insult.” Parker rushed to correct whatever error she had made.

  “Don’t worry; it wasn’t taken as one. It’s a fair question.” She slammed her car door and waited for Parker to join her as she unlocked the steel grate covering the front entrance. She rotated it until it sat flush against the brick.

  “I hated it when I first came back here. I was glad to get out the first time and would have bet you I would never spend another night in Woodview, Virginia. At first, I thought I would have to be in the closet again, which made warring factions in my brain very unhappy. Then I decided that I refused to live my life in reverse. Either they accept me for who I am, or they have to drive twenty more minutes to buy a drink in Peter’s Station.” Charlie pushed the wooden front door open and slapped her hand over the light fixtures, revealing a small room with twenty mismatched tables and a long, lacquered bar.

  “That’s a great way to look at it. Congratulations on making it work.” Parker remarked as Charlie retrieved her phone and laptop from behind the bar and signed in. She flipped the screen until it faced the barstool she pulled out for Parker.