gone.
***
We had dinner together that night.
Mel and David were their usual playful selves. David picked at his food,
excluding certain foods arbitrarily. Others, like the dumplings, he scarfed
down. I could tell Alaina was watching me, but not really knowing. Finally, she
blurted out her question across the dinner table.
“Were those…?” she began. I knew she was referring to Brock
and Vaughn.
“Yep.”
“And did you…?” she pointed at her nose with her fork.
“Yes, I did.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Good,” she said finally.
I looked up from my plate and she was smiling faintly.
“So you really know how to…?”
“A little bit, yes…” I replied.
She stewed on that.
“Cool.”
***
After dinner, I put the kids to bed
and read them a proper bedtime story. On my way downstairs I saw the book
Kendrick had been reading to the kids. I picked it up and deposited it in the
kitchen garbage can, pulled the bag out, and walked it out to the can by the
garage.
With a moment alone, I pulled my cell from my pocket and
dialed Jess.
“Hello?” she said a moment later.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, reading my voice from that single
word.
“Been better.”
“Let me know if there’s something I can do…” her voice
trailed off and I knew she was concerned about me.
“Really, I’m okay,” I said. “Listen… I don’t really want to
get into it over the phone, but maybe we could talk tomorrow.”
“Simon, we talk every day,” I could tell she was smiling
from the way she said it.
“I know. I’m just thinking about us… about the future…”
“Hmm…” She said. I could tell she meant more than what she
said, but I understood the context. “Good stuff?”
“Good stuff,” I replied. I knew she was thinking more
amorous than business, but I wanted to start a business with her, get away from
Max and all the baggage that entailed. Maybe things weren’t that far gone.
Maybe I could still get away without having to run away.
“Well, talk to you tomorrow,” I said.
“’Night,” she replied and hung up softly.
I made my way up to bed and settled in. I tried to block out
the thoughts of the day. I knew that if Randall Kendrick wanted to do me harm,
he’d find a way, but he’d come to my house, sat in my chair and never raised a
finger.
I tossed and turned in my bed for a while and finally rolled
over, found the remote and turned on the TV. I watched Jay Leno’s monologue,
both guests, and then flipped around until Conan O’Brien came on… I was
beginning to doze near the end of his show when my cell phone rang. I sat up
and had to orientate myself again. Cell was in the pocket of my pants over the
chair. I retrieved it and answered before the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Simon…” the voice came across in a harsh whisper. “Simon…”
“Who… who is this?”
“It’s Chris… Chris Swenson…”
“Chris, it’s late. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, man. I thought I was supposed to meet you
here. That’s what the e-mail said…”
“What? What e-mail? Chris you’re not making any sense…”
“I got an e-mail from you saying to meet you at the Donovan
offices in Chicago to talk about the DHS project. I came on the first flight
back out of Reagan National.” “Chris, I never e-mailed you.” I was awake now
and on alert.
Chris cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Someone was in the building, waiting for me,” Chris said,
still whispering.
“Waiting for you?” I asked.
“They’re trying to kill me…” Chris wheezed.
I tried to reply but before I could, I heard the distinctive
sound of a silenced gunshot followed by short scream of pain and panic. The
line went dead.
Chapter Eight
I parked the Volvo in my usual spot
and jumped out, sprinting for the door. I threw it open and ran across the
skywalk. I noticed that the security guard’s desk was vacant. I
***
We had dinner together that night.
Mel and David were their usual playful selves. David picked at his food,
excluding certain foods arbitrarily. Others, like the dumplings, he scarfed
down. I could tell Alaina was watching me, but not really knowing. Finally, she
blurted out her question across the dinner table.
“Were those…?” she began. I knew she was referring to Brock
and Vaughn.
“Yep.”
“And did you…?” she pointed at her nose with her fork.
“Yes, I did.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Good,” she said finally.
I looked up from my plate and she was smiling faintly.
“So you really know how to…?”
“A little bit, yes…” I replied.
She stewed on that.
“Cool.”
***
After dinner, I put the kids to bed
and read them a proper bedtime story. On my way downstairs I saw the book
Kendrick had been reading to the kids. I picked it up and deposited it in the
kitchen garbage can, pulled the bag out, and walked it out to the can by the
garage.
With a moment alone, I pulled my cell from my pocket and
dialed Jess.
“Hello?” she said a moment later.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, reading my voice from that single
word.
“Been better.”
“Let me know if there’s something I can do…” her voice
trailed off and I knew she was concerned about me.
“Really, I’m okay,” I said. “Listen… I don’t really want to
get into it over the phone, but maybe we could talk tomorrow.”
“Simon, we talk every day,” I could tell she was smiling
from the way she said it.
“I know. I’m just thinking about us… about the future…”
“Hmm…” She said. I could tell she meant more than what she
said, but I understood the context. “Good stuff?”
“Good stuff,” I replied. I knew she was thinking more
amorous than business, but I wanted to start a business with her, get away from
Max and all the baggage that entailed. Maybe things weren’t that far gone.
Maybe I could still get away without having to run away.
“Well, talk to you tomorrow,” I said.
“’Night,” she replied and hung up softly.
I made my way up to bed and settled in. I tried to block out
the thoughts of the day. I knew that if Randall Kendrick wanted to do me harm,
he’d find a way, but he’d come to my house, sat in my chair and never raised a
finger.
I tossed and turned in my bed for a while and finally rolled
over, found the remote and turned on the TV. I watched Jay Leno’s monologue,
both guests, and then flipped around until Conan O’Brien came on… I was
beginning to doze near the end of his show when my cell phone rang. I sat up
and had to orientate myself again. Cell was in the pocket of my pants over the
chair. I retrieved it and answered before the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Simon…” the voice came across in a harsh whisper. “Simon…”
“Who… who is this?”
“It’s Chris… Chris Swenson…”
“Chris, it’s late. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know, man. I thought I was supposed to meet you
here. That’s what the e-mail said…”
“What? What e-mail? Chris you’re not making any sense…”
“I got an e-mail from you saying to meet you at the Donovan
offices in Chicago to talk about the DHS project. I came on the first flight
back out of Reagan National.” “Chris, I never e-mailed you.” I was awake now
and on alert.
Chris cursed under his breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Someone was in the building, waiting for me,” Chris said,
still whispering.
“Waiting for you?” I asked.
“They’re trying to kill me…” Chris wheezed.
I tried to reply but before I could, I heard the distinctive
sound of a silenced gunshot followed by short scream of pain and panic. The
line went dead.
Chapter Eight
I parked the Volvo in my usual spot
and jumped out, sprinting for the door. I threw it open and ran across the
skywalk. I noticed that the security guard’s desk was vacant. I
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