The Heaven Trilogy by Ted Dekker

something was amiss. And like Betty, Will had not congratulated him. A thin chill snaked down his spine.
    “See what differently?” he asked.
    Will stared at him. “You . . . you’ve talked to Borst, right?”
    Kent shook his head. Yes indeed, something was very much amiss, and it wasn’t sounding good. “No.”
    “You’re kidding, right? You haven’t heard a thing?”
    “About what? What are you talking about?”
    “Oh, Kent . . .” His friend winced. “I’m sorry, man. You’ve got to talk to Borst.”
    That did it. Kent stood abruptly and strode from the room, ignoring a call from Will. His gut turned in lazy circles down the elevator. He stepped into the computer wing and walked right past a wide-eyed Betty to the back offices where Todd and Mary would be diligently at work.
    He smacked through Todd’s door first.
    “Hey, Todd.”
    The redhead started and shoved his chair back. “Kent! You’re back!”
    A stranger sat in a chair to the junior programmer’s right, and the sight caught Kent off guard for a moment. The man rose with Todd and smiled. He stood as tall as Kent, he wore his hair short, and his eyes were the greenest Kent had ever seen. Like two emerald marbles. A starched white shirt rested, crisp, on broad shoulders. The man stuck his hand out, and Kent removed his eyes from him without taking it.
    Todd stood slack-jawed. A button on his green shirt had popped open, revealing a hairy white belly. The programmer’s eyes looked at him like black holes, filled to the brim with guilt.
    “I’m back. So, tell me what’s up, Todd. What’s happening here that I don’t know about?”
    “Ah, Kent, this is Cliff Monroe. I’m showing him the ropes.” He motioned to the man beside him. “He’s new to our staff.”
    “Good for you, Cliff. Answer my question, Todd. What’s changed?”
    “What do you mean?” The junior programmer lifted his shoulders in an attempt to look casual. The motion widened the shirt’s gap at his belly, and Kent dismissed the sudden impulse to reach in there and yank some hair.
    Kent swallowed. “Nothing changed while I was out, then?”
    “What do you mean?” Todd shrugged again, his eyes bugging.
    Kent grunted in disgust, impatient with the spineless greenhorn. He turned and stepped across the hall to Mary’s office. He pushed the door open. Mary sat at her desk with her phone pressed to her ear, facing away from the door, talking. She turned around slowly, her eyes round.
    As if, Honey! You knew I was coming. Probably having an important discussion with a dial tone. Fitting partner.
    Kent shut the door firmly and strode for Borst’s door, his spine now tingling right up to his skull. The man sat stiffly in his chair, his three-piece suit tight, sweat beading his brow. His bald spot shone as if he’d oiled it. His large, hooked nose glistened like some shiny Christmas bulb. The superior made a magnanimous effort to show shock when Kent barged in.
    “Kent! You made it back!”
    Of course I made it back, you witless fool, he almost replied. Instead he said, “Yes,” and plopped down in one of Borst’s tweed guest chairs. “I called you on Friday, remember. So who’s the new employee?”
    “Cliff ? Yes, he’s a transfer from Dallas. An excellent programmer, from what I hear.” The middle-aged man flicked his tongue across thick lips and ran a hand through what hair he had. “So. How’s the missis?”
    The room lapsed into silence. The missis? Gloria? Borst must have realized his blunder, because a stupid grin crossed his face, and he went red.
    Kent spoke before the man could cover his error, hot with anger. “The missis is dead, remember, Markus? It’s why I’ve been gone for three weeks. You see, there’s an office across the hall that has my name on it. And for five years now, I’ve been working there. Or had you forgotten that as well?”
    Borst turned beet red now, and not from embarrassment, Kent guessed. He continued before the man could