Bell to Pay

by Jeremy Waldron

  “What’s going to happen to him?” I asked, thinking about his family.

  “If it’s true?”

  I nodded.

  “He’ll first be put on suspension until a thorough investigation can prove he was selling favorable coverage. Then he’ll be fired while we’re left to clean up his mess.”

  I shifted in my seat, unable to get comfortable. The crease between Dawson’s eyebrows deepened as he eyed me with enough suspicion to get me to blush.

  “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

  I shook my head no. “But his wife is looking for him, too.”

  Dawson paused to stare and I finally got around to mentioning my visit to his house without saying anything about Garcia taking his gun with him. I didn’t want Dawson to put the newsroom on lockdown. I was still confident Garcia would show up—peacefully. “Does Cecelia know about this list of victims?”

  “I didn’t ask, didn’t tell. She has her hands full with Katie.” Dawson frowned and nodded. It was a devastatingly sad story and I was starting to believe no matter what happened next, we might have already lost Garcia forever.

  Breaking the silent air, my cell phone rang. It was Susan. “Can you hang on?” I asked Susan when I took the call. “I’m in the middle of something.”

  Susan agreed to wait, and I headed for the door, saying, “Ronald Hyland was on that list, and I’m off to track him down if you need me.”

  “Ronald Hyland?” Dawson acted surprised.

  “Yeah. I thought you knew?” My eyebrows pinched. “Does that mean something to you?”

  Dawson only knew about the targets who’d died. No one mentioned Hyland’s name to him, and I wondered why that was. “It certainly does mean something to me.” Dawson stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s his company whose security software Travis Turner just installed on all our computers.”

  My head felt like a helium balloon floating off into space. Did I hear him right? Did Dawson not know that Ronald Hyland hated journalists? He was a sworn enemy to the truth. Who could have made such a mistake?

  “You know he hates journalists, right?” I said.

  “It’s the best security software there is.” Dawson lifted his wrist and checked the time. “Shit. I’m late for a meeting.” He grabbed his phone from this desk and hurried out the door. “If you hear anything about what we just discussed, call me.”

  I nodded and put my phone to my ear. “Sorry, Susan, what’s up?”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You’ll meet with Damien?”

  “I’m heading over there now.”

  “Keep cool. Act yourself.”

  “Girl, you know I’m the smooth operator.”

  My lips tugged at the corners. Then it was back to business. “If he is who we think he might be, he’ll smell fear a mile away.”

  “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ve got this.” Susan seemed rather upbeat compared to last night. I wondered what changed her opinion. When I asked her about it, her tone dropped like an anchor. “Benjamin called this morning. He’s going to take the job at Dartmouth.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  I drove downtown without paying attention to what I was doing. I was sorry for Susan and what her relationship with Benjamin now meant, but all I could concentrate on was how Ronald Hyland’s cyber security software was installed on the Times’ computers and if that was the reason why his name had been added to Garcia’s list.

  I watched the same dark SUV follow me from the newsroom. It stayed just far enough back to be suspicious. Keeping one eye on its location, I kept driving toward Ronald Hyland’s downtown office.

  Did Garcia know something that we would learn later? The skeptical part of me kept asking if Hyland could then use that same software as a portal into our system to learn what news was being reported. With how much I knew he hated journalists, and with what we did for a living, I wouldn’t pass him up to at least consider it a possibility.

  I ground my molars just thinking about having to confront Ronald Hyland myself. He was the last person I wanted to speak with today, but I couldn’t afford not to visit, either.

  Flicking my gaze to the rearview mirror, I watched the SUV continue to follow me onto Blake Street. A minute later, I dipped into a parking garage and waited for it to pass. At the gate I stared into my mirror’s reflection, holding my breath—my heart knocking against my sternum—until finally the vehicle passed without ever stopping. I wondered if it had missed my turn, or if in fact I was only being paranoid. Either way, I wasn’t quick to write it off as being nothing.

  Who it was and why it was following me, I had no clue. I didn’t even know anybody who drove a vehicle of that make or model, let alone something remotely similar.

  After taking the ticket from the kiosk, I circled my way down the concrete bunker until finally finding an open space. Gathering my things, I slung my tote over my shoulder and exited my vehicle, heading to the elevator.

  The garage was spectacularly clean, fresh smelling, with expensive cars filling the rows. It was a nice first impression of what I was getting myself into. I just hoped Ronald Hyland was here, and that he would be willing to listen to what I had to say without putting up too much of a fight.

  After a quick and lonely ride up to the lobby floor, I stepped out of the elevator car to a cathedral ceiling with pink granite walls beautifully polished to shine as bright as a mirror.

  I made my way to the building directory and located the floor for Hyland Software Securities, then turned back around and headed for the elevator. Another quick ride up in the car and I had entered into a world of its own.

  The emblem of the company was prominently displayed on the wall behind reception like a world championship trophy. It made a bold statement and set the tone for what was to surely come my way. Though the floor was quiet, elegant, and open, I was quick to note the casual way the employees dressed.

  Collared shirts were left untucked, and jeans were acceptable attire. But besides the grand first impression of a small tech company making a big splash in Denver, Colorado, one thought kept circling back to the front of my mind; everyone in this office could potentially have the same knowledge Loxley also possessed. That kept my mind swimming in possibility as dozens of eyes floated past me.

  Time slowed as I approached the front desk with a smile. I thought about what I was going to say, how I would react if asked to leave. All my prepared answers were waiting on the tip of my tongue when I said, “Hi, I was hoping to speak with Ronald Hyland. Is he in?”

  “Do you have an appointment?” the middle-aged receptionist with dyed blonde hair kindly asked, eyeing me like she knew who I was.

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Aren’t you—”

  I nodded and showed my press badge. “Samantha Bell with the Times.”

  She snapped her fingers and smiled. “Yes. Samantha Bell. Of course.” She turned to her computer and clicked away at her mouse. “Mr. Hyland’s first available opening isn’t for another two and half months.”

  I flashed her a silent questioning look. “Really? I have to wait over two months just to speak with him?”

  She locked eyes and grinned. “I’ll pencil you in if you’d like?”

  I caught sight of a security camera mounted to the ceiling and assumed I was being watched. But by whom, I didn’t know. Leaning forward, I dropped my voice and said, “It really is important that I speak with him today.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s the best I can do.”

  “Is he here now?” My head swiveled around as I searched for Hyland’s office. Then I heard voices echoing off the walls when suddenly Ronald Hyland emerged, walking with one of his employees.

  I glared at the receptionist. When I turned back around, Ronald strode straight for me.

  He was an intimidatingly tall man, with shoulders broad enough to be a linebacker. His grin was as sharp as his eyes and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t frightened of him. But I steeled my nerve
s and stepped toward him, forgoing any type of introduction. He knew who I was. Now he needed to know why I was here. “I need to speak with you in private,” I said.

  Hyland flicked his gaze to reception. “Did you make an appointment at the front desk?”

  “Mr. Hyland, I’m so sorry for the interruption.” The receptionist was now standing, her round puppy dog eyes begging to be forgiven for my sudden, and rude, intrusion.

  Hyland held up his hand, motioned for her to sit back down and relax. She did. Then he rolled his gaze back to me. “I’m afraid my schedule is tight, Mrs. Bell.” He lifted his wrist and tapped his timepiece with his opposite index finger. “I really must be on my way.”

  “It will only take a minute and is completely off the record.”

  “I would certainly hope so.” He chuckled. “Even a minute is something I don’t have. Now, if you’ll please excuse me.”

  I stepped in front of him and tipped my head back further, making a final stance with hopes of getting his attention. “You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”

  Speaking softly, he tucked his chin. “I know why you’re here, but I’m nothing like those other men.” His eyes narrowed with each word slithering off his tongue. “You can dig all you’d like, but I promise you you’ll only be wasting your time.”

  Now I wondered if maybe I should be taking a closer look. Maybe Garcia had already been here, extorting him with real dirt that could highlight the misery Hyland lived in. I wished I knew what it was, because Hyland seemed awfully defensive without knowing exactly why I was here.

  “It’s not what you think it is,” I said.

  “You want to help?” His eyebrows raised high on his head.

  “I do.”

  “You can start by leaving.”

  It all happened so fast. Hyland reaching for his chest, his shortness of breath as he landed a heavy hand on my shoulder to keep from falling face first into the hard floor. I widened my stance in order to carry his load. With his face only inches away from mine, I watched as his color faded and waited for him to topple over in front of me.

  “Mr. Hyland, are you all right?” the receptionist called out.

  Hyland closed his eyes, nodded slowly. He caught his breath and stood upright again, the color starting to come back to his face. He was once again towering over me, acting like nothing happened at all. I stood speechless as I stared at his chest, wondering if he just had a heart attack.

  “What you’re after, Mrs. Bell, is a product of your imagination. It doesn’t exist.”

  My eyes clicked up to his. I didn’t know what the heck he was talking about or what the hell just happened. I was only concerned with learning why Garcia had his name on the same list as the people who were now dead.

  I asked, “Even if your life is in danger?”

  “I’m in good hands, Mrs. Bell.” Hyland ironed down his tie with the flat of his hand. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Susan sat in the front driver side of her vehicle staring at her own reflection in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were perfectly framed in the rectangular glass as she flipped her bangs and fluffed her hair in preparation for her meeting with Damien Black.

  Though she was nervous to be meeting with the man Sam considered her number one suspect, there was also a gaping hole in her heart that needed to be patched. Benjamin’s news, though not surprising, was nothing short of disappointing. But life went on and Susan knew that she couldn’t let her sadness show, especially now when she already felt so vulnerable.

  “You knew this was coming,” she whispered to herself as she applied a new layer of lipstick. “You might not know why now, but trust that there is reason behind this pain.”

  It was how Benjamin decided to break the news that really bothered her. He mentioned nothing of what would become of their relationship, or if Susan would even consider moving across country with him. That was what stung most, because Susan wanted to believe she meant more to him than being so easily forgotten.

  It was too good to be true, she thought. They were both married to their careers. She knew it at the start of their relationship, and it wasn’t fair of her to ask him to do something she wouldn’t do herself. Over the course of the last few months, they’d had fun, and it was those memories Susan decided to hang on to. It was a lot lighter than having to carry the heavy bag of resentment.

  Deciding she looked professionally stunning, Susan took one last breath before exiting her car. With her clutch and phone in one hand, the sun beat down overhead. She rounded the corner of the brick building that was home to Backstage with her heels clacking loud and proud over the concrete as if to announce her arrival. She reached for the door handle and was greeted with a stiff air-conditioned breeze.

  Slowly, Susan strode through the remarkably quiet computer lab, looking around at the many empty desks, wondering where everyone was. Did she get the time wrong? Had Damien misspoken when they talked on the phone?

  Samantha had mentally prepared Susan for her meeting with Damien, but Samantha’s concern did make her feel uneasy. Damien Black had secrets and they were deep enough to make Susan anxious to know more about his true intention. But where was Damien? Did he know that his secrets had been uncovered?

  Susan continued to browse, wiggling a computer mouse to a live computer. The screen came alive and her heart leapt into her throat when she heard a sound behind her. Damien stepped out from the back workroom, surprising her with a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

  “Oh, my God.” Susan had her hand on her heart, feeling it pound against the tips of her fingers. “You scared me.”

  Damien was casual in his approach. His hands were stuffed into his pants pockets, his chin tucked into his chest. Susan watched his dimples deepen with a sharp grin. There was a suspicious glint in his eye that made her think he was up to something he shouldn’t be.

  “I wasn’t sure you were going to show.” His voice was as soft as a whisper.

  Susan’s thoughts were everywhere. She did her best to hide them from him. “I’ve given what you said some thought,” she said, happy to know Damien wasn’t hiding like Samantha thought he might be.

  Damien stopped a short breath away and peered down into her eyes as he murmured, “About Backstage or my offer to take you out?”

  Susan smiled despite her muscles quivering in a tender ball of nerves. “Both.”

  Soft murmurs of people talking came from the back, comforting Susan, knowing she wasn’t alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had students here.” She pointed to the workroom, shifting the conversation to more neutral territory.

  Damien’s head floated up toward the ceiling. “A few of us are just waiting to put Marion through some drills to prepare her for the event.”

  “Ah… I see.”

  “Though we’re not sure where she is—” Damien’s words were cut short when the front door jangled opened. Both Damien and Susan turned to the front. “Speak of the devil, there she is now.”

  As soon as Marion’s eyes landed on Susan, she hit the brakes. Susan watched her mouth open, then quickly shut. Biting her cheek, Marion’s shoulders tensed as if deciding whether or not she should say anything in front of Susan. Susan knew the young, anxious look now lining the young woman’s face. It wasn’t long ago she was the same age, struggling with the transition between student life and beginning a career. But something was clearly bothering Marion and Susan wanted to ask what it was, be her support, but knew it wasn’t her place.

  Marion swung her gaze to Damien. “Can I speak with you?”

  Damien pinched his eyebrows. “Everything all right?”

  Marion shook her head no, her eyes glistening with fear. “I just need to talk to you about… that thing.”

  Damien said he would be in in a minute and for her to wait before speaking about it to anybody else. Susan listened, more curious than ever to know what exactly they were ref
erring to. But she couldn’t ask. Then Marion flicked her gaze at Susan, quickly ducked her head and diverted her gaze. Susan gave Damien a questioning look as soon as Marion shuffled into the work room.

  Damien was staring at the floor lost in thought. He remained like that for a long pause, then suddenly snapped out of it. “Feel free to join us if you’d like.”

  “I can’t stay long,” Susan said.

  “Then I guess I shouldn’t bother asking you to lunch?”

  Susan looked into his soft gaze with questions swirling. She wanted to say yes, to get to know him better, feeling in her gut that he wasn’t the man she originally thought he was. A face like his was harmless. Wasn’t it?

  Susan asked, “Do you have a place we can talk in private?”

  Damien nodded, pointing Susan toward his office. “Give me a moment to see what is bothering Marion.”

  Susan tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “Of course.”

  Damien reached out and touched her elbow, his eyes saying thank you.

  Susan headed toward the office and looked over her shoulder when reaching the door. She watched Damien disappear into the workroom, and all Susan could think about was how he was a convicted hacker who’d spent time in prison.

  She didn’t want to believe he was Loxley, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what he said yesterday. Hackers are the unsung heroes of our time. Why would he say that? Could it only have been a coincidence?

  Susan floated across the floor, browsing the artwork hanging on the walls, and stopped at the bookshelf near the window. Damien had many intriguing titles, many of them non-fiction and science related, but none of them the one title she was hoping to find; Robin Hood. It was a small glimpse into learning the man he was. Satisfied with what she found, Susan circled back around to his desk.

  It was incredibly well organized. Neatly stacked papers in perfect rows and not a single particle of dust could be seen.