Susan poured over her paperwork and tried once again to make some sense of it. It was a jumbled mess of missing information and double talk. Something wasn’t right here. Collecting her thoughts, she sat back and looked around the office. Everyone else was absorbed in their own work. At least they stopped giving her evil looks every time she walked past. When word got around about her promotion and subsequent case assignment, she received quite a few disgruntled reactions. She was still new to the job, so she needed to earn their respect and confidence. She did well on her last case, but there were people who worked here a lot longer without this kind of high profile case. A couple of the older guys were one step above ambulance chaser, practically begging for better cases than the mostly traffic and minor civil suit related ones they usually got. Many of her co-workers were bitter, and she couldn’t blame them.
“Anderson.” Susan turned at the sound of her name to see her boss, Gary Robertson, standing behind her. She didn’t jump or appear startled, but barely. In her short amount of time working here, she became accustomed to Gary sneaking up behind her without her noticing. He did it to everyone, and they all hated it. Some of the people in the office speculated he didn’t realize what he was doing. He was simply a quiet walker. Susan didn’t agree. She’d seen his grin on several occasions at the startled stammering of his employees. He liked to unnerve them all and make sure they weren’t doing anything non work related. He hated people taking care of personal business while at work. It was one of his many pet peeves. Susan grimaced as he began picking up stray staples from her desk to throw away and putting the few random paperclips she had lying around back into their container. He had a tendency to straighten the desk of whoever he was talking to at any given time. It was one of his nervous habits everyone accepted and ignored. Trying to make him stop was an exercise in futility. He was always a little obsessive compulsive, but it got much worse since his wife’s death a few years back. Still straightening up her desk, he looked down with interest at the open case reports on her desk. “How’s the case going?”
Susan sighed. She wanted to do this on her own, but maybe there was something she wasn’t seeing. A second opinion might be warranted. “It’s going fine, but there are a few inconsistencies I was wondering about.”
“Inconsistencies? What do you mean by that?” His voice boomed, its intensity surprising her. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. She should have kept her mouth shut and taken Mark up on his offer after all.
“Well, it’s just that . . .”
“Are you questioning the investigation by the police?” His voice dropped, but the steely tone remained.
“No, I just noticed the statements from the witnesses seem to conflict and . . .” Susan stopped abruptly, aggravated at the defensive tone in her voice. She hated sounding that way, but she couldn’t seem to stop it, so she stopped talking entirely, instead. With Gary looming over her, growing angrier by the second, she felt off kilter. He already made up his mind not to listen to her, and nothing she said would make a difference or change his mind. She never expected this reaction from him.
“Are you saying you understand this case better than they do, when you only got this file yesterday and they’ve been at their jobs a lot longer than you have? Maybe I shouldn’t have put you on a case like this so soon. I could always reassign it to someone else if you don’t feel up to it.”
Susan bit back her aggravation, noticing the drop in the office noise level. Damn. This was not what she needed. Of course everyone was listening intently. If she looked around, she would probably see more than a few grins at her misfortune. The entire office was waiting for her to screw up all day. It was important to save some face now or she might as well kiss her job goodbye. “No, of course not, it’s all under control.” She pumped every ounce of confidence into her words and prayed it would be enough. After taking a brief pause to cast an unsettling gaze over her, he nodded, satisfied with what he saw.
“Wonderful. Then it’s all settled. Now, I want to see a quick resolution here, so don’t let me down.” That said, he walked off to his office, limping slightly along the way. It looked as though he acquired another injury. He frequently hurt himself in one way or another. Susan let go of the rest of her anger. He was a crotchety old man, so out of touch with things he would probably be replaced soon. Truth be told, that was probably why he promoted her and gave her this case. He wasn’t exactly working with a full set of sails. She felt more than capable of working this case, but she could admit she was still a little green. All things considered, she probably wasn’t the best choice for this job. She ignored the hushed whispers that started all around the room now that Gary was out of earshot. She didn’t need to worry about them right now. For the moment everything would stay as it was. She would keep her job, and everyone else would keep hating her for it. Whatever Gary’s motivation, she would make the most of this opportunity. She would prove she deserved this position and this case. She would prove it to everyone.
Freshly resolved to do whatever it took, she picked up the phone. The police on this case might be avoiding her, but that didn’t mean she would give up. She would call as many times as it took to get a straight answer. Let them get as angry as they wanted with her. She had a job to do.
* * *
Meg crumbled the sheet of paper into a ball and pitched it across the room. This was ridiculous. Why was she letting a few words on a piece of paper get to her like this? Automatically, she picked up the phone, and then reminded herself it would do no good. Nicole wouldn’t be back for another three weeks, leaving Meg to deal with this on her own. The bleeping of the phone brought her back to the moment. Replacing the receiver, she looked over to the crumpled note. Almost of their own accord, her legs carried her over to it. Her hands betrayed her with nervous shaking as she smoothed out the crease in the paper. A sudden wet spot on the page caught her off guard. The dampness on her face confirmed its source. Maybe memories really never did die. It had been almost twenty years since Edmond Marlay came into their lives and ruined what little happiness they knew.
Her mom brought him home after another of her drunken binges. Meg didn’t think much of him. After all, her mom brought home people all the time. Sure, Meg was just four years old then, but kids learn quickly when they need to. She knew enough to stay away from him, from him and that knife of his. He threatened her with it many times. He would brandish it with an evil glint in his eye while yelling at her to put away her toys or stop complaining of hunger. He used it for everything, even cleaning under his fingernails. It was always on him. He used it against them, too. More than a few times, her mom came away from their fights sporting new cuts and bruises. He cut Meg sometimes, as well. He always said it was an accident, but she saw the look in his eyes, and it was no accident. Meghan hated that knife. Then one night, when he was particularly drunk, he wanted more. He wanted to torture her. He wanted to terrify her. And he did.
Her mom came home during this latest stunt. He said Meg was being bad. She broke something. She hadn’t. He broke a glass in his drunken clumsiness, but it only took a few moments for him to make the leap from being angry at himself to blaming Meghan for the damage. He convinced himself of the lie before Meghan even knew what happened. Before her mother could respond, he grabbed a fist full of Meghan’s hair and pitched her into the closet, jamming a chair under the door knob to keep her from getting out. Then came the fighting. There was enough of her mom left in Tammy Knight to actually raise a weak question of Edmond’s authority. That was all it took. He accused her of sleeping around, whoring herself to some other guys for crack or money. Then he threw her around. Time ticked by slowly, losing all meaning as her screaming was followed by a series of thuds and crashes. There were more screams, and then there were no more screams. The thuds and crashes continued for some time, though. Then, there was silence.
Meghan held her breath as the shadows in the closet grew and shrunk. Suddenly, the door opened, and she was back in the light, her mom in a bruised and bloody clump on the floor. She fought and felt slice after slice of his knife until finally she was free. Then, it was a matter of who could run faster. Fear on her part and too much alcohol on his decided the outcome, allowing her to make it outside first. She ran until she couldn’t think anymore. When suddenly she came to a stop, she screamed for several long minutes before the police officer was able to calm her down.
Standing angrily, Meg rubbed the offensive tears away and headed for the door. The loud sound of the door slamming closed was little comfort as Meg headed for the street. She needed a drink.
* * *
Eddie picked up his personal items and made his way to the front gate. After nearly two decades in this place, it was hard to believe he was finally getting out. He waved to a few friendly guards and inmates and took his first steps to freedom. Like all those he saw leave before him, he turned and looked back at the prison. Having spent all these years looking out at what he couldn’t have, he now found himself reluctant to leave. There wasn’t anything waiting for him on the outside. He did not have any family, other than an ailing mother three states over who he hadn’t seen in years. There weren’t any friends, no job and no home. At least now he was gifted with a limited education, for all the good that would probably do him. He heard the stories from all the guys who tried to make it on their own, only to wind up back at the only home most of them felt comfortable in. At least there, you didn’t have to worry about starving or making ends meet. Food was provided and the electricity was never turned off in the cold of winter because of missed bills. Being here, he finally got clean. He didn’t feel the need to use or drink anymore. A full stomach and a clean head did a lot to improve one’s perspective on life. But now he was out, and he did not know where to go from here.
Turning back down the street, he began walking. Distractedly, Eddie began looking for a payphone. He still wasn’t completely decided if he should call his mom or stay out of her life for good. Remembering a payphone around the next corner, he decided he should give her a call. She would want to hear from him. She always tried to keep in touch. He turned the corner and paused, momentarily confused. Instead of a convenience store with a payphone outside, he saw a fancy looking gas station with florescent lighting under a large metal canopy and brightly colored pumps beeping loudly as people touched the display screens. The store bore signs for a couple of fast food establishments inside and a car wash off to one side. Shaking his head, he walked up to the store and looked around for a phone.
“Can I help you?” A teenage boy stood holding the front door open. He was dressed in a uniform that made it apparent he was the gas station attendant.
Eddie felt like a criminal again. He was out of place, didn’t belong. If this pimpled face kid could intimidate him, what hope did he have to actually make anything of himself? “I was looking for a phone.”
“It’s ’round back,” the kid answered and went back inside.
Eddie walked around to the back and found a phone stationed between the bathrooms. Even this area looked clean and well kept. Everything was new and shiny, like out front. He picked up the receiver and tried to figure out this strange phone. There was a monitor screen and all the buttons were flat, merely numbers on a thin sheet of plastic. He looked for the coin slot and saw a long slot beside the screen. It looked almost like a dollar feeder, but it was vertical and there were openings at the top and bottom. The receiver beeped and the screen lit up with “Credit . . . Phone . . . Cash.” Confused, he touched the screen where it read “phone,” but nothing happened. Then he realized that he was supposed to press the plastic underneath the screen.
“Slide Phone Card Now,” the screen flashed when that task was completed. Not knowing what to do, he put the receiver down and picked it back up again, pressing “Cash” on the first screen. “Prepay Inside,” appeared on the screen for a few seconds, and then the first screen came back up again. He put down the phone and walked inside. He knew things would change while he was on the inside, but he never thought making a phone call would be so confusing.
“Excuse me.” Eddie leaned over the counter and called to the boy where he sat playing some kind of hand held game.
The boy stood and walked over to the counter. “Yes?”
“I don’t understand how to use that phone. It said to prepay inside when I pressed cash.”
“It’s simple.” The boy pulled a couple of cardboard displays over in front of them. “You can use your credit card or phone card. If you don’t have a phone card, you can buy one of these.” He picked up one card and showed it to Eddie. “This one is for in-state calls. It has twenty cents a minute with a fifty cents connection fee and five hundred minutes. This one,” he picked up another card, “is a twenty-cent connection, thirty cents a minute and you can call out of state. And this one is for international calls.”
Eddie looked at him in disbelief. “I just want to make a phone call.”
“Well, we also have the ten dollar cards with fewer minutes, or you can pay in increments of five dollars for a code to type in when it says ‘Prepay Inside.’ The code is good for thirty minutes of use, just on this phone. With the phone cards, you can use them anywhere. Or you could get one of these prepaid phones with minutes already on it. The reception isn’t always great around here, but otherwise they work pretty good.”
Eddie looked down and rubbed his head, walking away. “I just wanted to make a call,” he mumbled to himself as he left.
* * *
Mark walked into the bar and looked around, unsure what to do. He wasn’t much for the bar scene. The last time he came here was years ago, but he was always one to follow his instincts, and right now his instincts said he needed to be here. Assured he would know why he was here when he needed to know, he took a seat in the corner, making sure to pick a seat with a good view of the rest of the room. It didn’t take him long to figure out what drew him to this place
Meg finished her third drink and motioned for another. She wished she knew what was going on. She saw that woman who looked like her mom again on her way to the bar. Who was that woman? Was Meg just imagining the entire thing? Could she be that far gone? She looked over as someone sat beside her and was moderately surprised to see Officer Stevenson taking the seat. He looked as dashing as always. Tonight, he wore a dark blue button up shirt and a pair of black slacks. It was the first time, other than Nicole’s wedding, she saw him out of uniform. He looked really good in street clothes, she thought to herself. But then, he looked really good every time she saw him, so that shouldn’t come as that big of a surprise. He was one of the few men who made a uniform look good instead of the other way around. She raised a crooked eyebrow and asked, “Come here often?” before beginning a short giggling fit. Slumping onto the counter, she waited for his reply.
Mark looked Meg over closely, noting the glazed look in her eyes. She changed from her exercise clothing into jeans and a white and pink layered top. Even though she cleaned up from their last encounter, she didn’t look much better. If anything, she looked worse, and the drinks weren’t helping. Hearing several stray thoughts from her, he determined she must be heavily inebriated. He could press into her mind almost without resistance. Somewhat guiltily, he withdrew from her mind, but not before learning that Meghan was quite adverse to drinking alcohol. Even now, she was condemning her own drinking and using it as one more example of how far she fell. “No, I don’t come here very much, and neither do you. What are you doing here? This isn’t you. You don’t drink.”
Meg shrugged and swirled the contents of her glass with her straw. “So what? It’s not like it matters anyway.” She drew her brows together in confusion and looked back at Mark. “How did you know I don’t drink?”
“Nicole mentioned it,” he said without missing a beat. “Come on, let me take you home.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “Home? What a joke. I don’t have a home. I don’t even have what anyone could call a life. I’m a pathetic empty shell taking up space and oxygen. I just fake it real well, or at least I did. I fooled everyone, even myself.”
Mark leaned slightly forward, trying to lend what comfort he could without pushing and spooking her. The resignation he heard in her tone and felt flowing out from her was almost unbearable. He wanted to help her, to make these feelings go away, to see the energetic, optimistic soul he sensed underneath the surface from the moment they met. “What happened?” he asked softly.
Without bothering or needing to look at what she was doing, Meghan took the note and the letter out of her pocket and laid them on the bar. As he read them, she stared at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She didn’t recognize the person she saw staring back at her. She might as well be looking at a picture of a stranger for all the connection she felt to her reflection right now. “The note was left under my door awhile back. I don’t know who wrote it. I just got the letter.”
Mark read the papers, only beginning to understand what they meant. The letter was fairly straight forward. Someone she knew was released from prison. The note, on the other hand, was very cryptic. He didn’t have any idea what it was referring to. “Who are these people?”
“Edmond Marlay,” she said the name with deliberate articulation, making sure each syllable was clear and distinct, “put my mom in a coma when I was four . . . the same night he almost killed me. And now they’re letting him out.” There was no emotion in her voice, just an extended pause before she mentioned what he did to her. There wasn’t a trace of emotion left in her demeanor or emanating from her psyche. She could be listing items on a grocery list.
Mark kept his own tone equally as devoid of emotion. He feared it was something like that. From the day he met her, he knew she was dealing with some trauma from her past. Since then, he hoped he was wrong about how bad it was. Now, he knew he wasn’t. That just left the note to be clarified. “And Tammy Knight?”
“My mother. She’s still in a coma, I think? I haven’t seen her since then, unless you count going crazy and thinking I see her following me everywhere for the past week.” She cringed. It sounded even worse now that she said it out loud.
Mark sat in silence, unable to think of anything to say to that. It certainly explained a lot. The events she was describing were very distressing, and it couldn’t be easy to have to relive them again with the release of the man who hurt her and her mother. All things considered, it was little wonder she thought she was seeing things.
Meg stood and retrieved the letter and note, surprisingly steady on her legs, and walked out of the bar. She barely looked like she drank anything, unless one looked at her face and distracted expression.
“Where are you headed off to?” Mark followed behind as she walked away from the bar. He couldn’t let her leave alone, not in the state she was in.
“Huh,” she looked over at him as though just realizing he was walking with her.
“Would it be alright if I walked with you?”
She shrugged and looked past him. “Walk where you like. It’s a free country.” She froze suddenly, staring at something over his shoulder. He could hear her breath and heart beat quicken. “Wait,” she cried softly before taking off, running in that direction.
Turning around quickly, he didn’t see what could be responsible for catching her attention so completely and suddenly. There was no one out here but the two of them. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Meghan ran toward an outcropping of trees and a thick fog sprang up out of nowhere, quickly enveloping her. Suddenly filled with a very bad feeling, Mark quickly followed after her.
Meghan ran through the trees, catching glimpses of the woman she spied just a moment before. But no matter how fast Meg ran, the woman kept disappearing behind the trees before Meg could get to her. Unaware of the fog gathering around her, Meg kept running. She was determined to catch up to this woman and find out once and for all what was going on. The woman dashed behind a nearby tree. Meg put on a sudden burst of speed and followed behind almost instantly, sure she would have her this time. There was only an open clearing. No one was there, and there was no indication of which way the woman went. Meg didn’t know which way to go. How could she lose her? She was so close that time. She felt it. “Looking for me?” a voice said from behind her.
Meg spun and came face to face with the woman she was following, the spitting image of her mother, or at least what her mother would look like with a couple decades of age added to her. But it was her. There was no doubt in Meg’s mind. The woman wore a flowing, sheer white gown, appearing almost as an apparition in the darkened fog. But she was no apparition. She was there, standing in front of Meg, close enough to touch. “Momma?” a weak voice Meg hardly recognized called out from her lips.
“You tell me. After all, you should have a better idea what I look like than the other way around. I’m the one who was in the coma. You could see me any time you wanted to see me.” She paused long enough for Meg to stew in her own guilt and regret. “Or maybe you didn’t come see me. Maybe you were glad to be rid of me, glad to be rid of your own mother.” Biting condemnation blazed in her eyes, searing Meghan to the spot.
“Momma, no . . . I . . . I couldn’t . . . how did you . . .” Meg felt her throat constrict with a silent sob. Tears streamed down her face from eyes wide with shock and confusion.
“Wake up?” Meg nodded, unable to speak. The woman shrugged and looked off in the distance, giving a strange grin devoid of all humor. “Maybe you would know if you bothered to care what happened to me.” With that last bitter comment, the woman turned and disappeared into the ever-thickening fog.
“No,” Meg cried, running her shoulder into a nearby tree in her haste to follow. The fog was so thick, it was impossible to see where she was going, now. Crumbing to her knees, she held her pain stricken arm and sat there, unable to muster the energy to do anything more than stare at the grass in front of her. Feeling a gentle hand lift her face she looked up at Mark and felt herself melt into his waiting embrace. She felt his arms tighten around her and the pain in her shoulder quickly disappear. “Am I crazy? She was here, talking to me, but now it’s like she wasn’t here at all. She’s just, poof, gone like she never existed.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Am I crazy?” she asked again softly.
Mark looked around the clearing and picked up faint traces of another person’s scent along with the impression of another presence nearby. Looking back into her eyes he responded as honestly as he could. “I don’t think so. I don’t think you’re crazy at all.” He held her tightly to his chest and felt her body shake as she let out hushed tears. Several minutes passed in silence, neither of them saying a word nor moving from that spot.
Finally, sniffling, Meg moved to stand. Feeling how unsteady her movements were, Mark quickly stood and helped her. For once, she didn’t reject his offer of help. She didn’t reject the arm he put around her shoulder as they walked back to the street, either. He led the way, though he kept his eyes on her at all times, lending as much comfort as he could, as much comfort as she would accept. The now dispersing fog was still thick enough in spots to confuse or disorient most people, but he found his way with little effort. Without a word, he walked her quietly back to her apartment. She followed with little prompting, trusting Mark to lead the way. At the door, he gently took her keys from her and let them both inside. She didn’t resist as he took off her shoes and jacket, leaving her alone only long enough for her to change clothes before he tucked her snugly into bed. She turned her cheek to the pillow and closed her eyes, showing no concern for Mark still standing in her room. He watched silently as she quickly fell asleep, even though it was still fairly early in the evening. She was drained, mentally and physically. He could sense the exhaustion coming off her in waves, crashing against the shores of his awareness. Walking back into the living room, he set about the task of cleaning up a little. It was the least he could do to help her. The last thing she needed when she woke up was to deal with a messy apartment. There were piles of clothes and mail everywhere. Several of the letters were bills with “last notice” printed at the top of the page. Putting them all in a single pile on the end of the coffee table, he noticed another form from the university. From all appearances, it was some kind of resignation from classes. Looking back toward the bedroom door, he shook his head. No wonder she was such a mess. Everything appeared to be piling up on her at once.
Looking back toward the bedroom, Mark stretched his senses to Meghan’s now sleeping form, gently soothing away the anxiety he could still feel pouring from her subconscious. Slowly, she began to relax, releasing some of the tension as she fell further into sleep. Mark felt a moment of peace and wondered at how natural this simple contact felt. It was almost as though he knew her for years. The familiarity he felt in this mental touch was comforting, bringing with it a sense of belonging. He felt her mind reach back to his touch, returning his comfort with a sense of welcome and gratitude. Her mind began to relax, and he could feel the walls begin to fade, allowing him access.
Coming back to the moment, Mark realized with a start he maintained contact for longer than he intended. He only wanted to comfort her, to soothe her fears away. He didn’t mean to push that deep, to take advantage of her lowered defenses while she slept. Pulling away slowly, he began to disconnect himself from her mind, careful not to startle her awake with an abrupt withdrawal. He felt her mind reach out to him again, a delicate yet powerful touch. The strength of her mind astounded him. It was familiar in a way that did not make sense. Focusing his mind once more, he searched for the cause of the familiarity and paused. There was something about her mind that suggested she was more than an ordinary mortal, but it couldn’t be true. Surely he would have sensed something before now if that were the case. Besides, he thought he knew all of his kind in the area. Taking a deep breath, he took in her scent and smiled. It was true. He laughed at himself that he hadn’t realized it sooner. She was a natural born, like Nicole, like him. It was diluted, probably only one parent, but it was definitely there, just latent. She was a spectacular blocker to automatically hide her nature for so long without meaning to do so.
Finally, he felt her touch recede and her mind relax completely into sleep. Confident she would not awaken, he withdrew from her mind completely and left her to her dreams. Mark walked silently to the window and debated what he should do. She was asleep now, so she should be okay the rest of the night, but something was telling him he should stay. A bead of doubt knotted in his gut and wouldn’t let go. Movement outside caught his eye, drawing his gaze across the street to the shadows of a dark alley. He watched as a large wolf with dark fur and a lean build disappeared into the darkness. There was no mistaking who it was. Few of their kind were so impressive a sight. Few outside of the Council were so powerful. The wolf was Artemis, Nicole’s uncle. He killed her father, his brother, Richard, many years back. Not many people ever saw him in his wolf form, so most would not recognize him. Almost everyone regarded him with such contempt and ridicule they would expect him to be an equally pathetic wolf, but Mark knew the truth. As pathetic as Artemis could be, he was still very powerful, powerful enough to take on most of their kind should the need arise. He was from a very powerful bloodline. Although Richard inherited a better set of genes as far as that was concerned, Artemis was not one to underestimate. He somehow escaped from the Council after being turned over to face punishment for murdering Richard and Caroline and trying to kill Nicole. Now, it looked like he was back.
Looking back to the bedroom, Mark decided his earlier instincts were correct. If Artemis was watching Meghan’s apartment, it could only mean trouble was near. That, combined with the earlier events of the night, put Mark on edge. He would need to keep an eye on Meg and make sure Artemis didn’t catch her unprepared. Taking a seat on the couch, Mark settled in for a long night.