Intercepts: a horror novel Page 7

  So, he loaded up the video of Riley arriving at the house.

  There was a fisheye view from the living room ceiling. Riley never knew that a secret camera existed behind that recessed lightbulb.

  The video showed — in clear night-vision — Riley step into the house and enter her passcode on the alarm. Then she walked across the living room toward the lamp by the couch.

  As the lamp clicked on, Riley clearly tensed. Her entire body language angled defensively toward the hall. It was abundantly apparent that, at that precise moment, his daughter saw something.

  Joe paused the video.

  He clicked around to another feed — a wide-angle of the hallway itself.

  The act of turning on the lamp had caught the camera in a transition between night vision and regular vision. The screen had washed out with a white blur. And yet… a strange shadow hovered in the dimly lit hall.

  Joe leaned toward the screen.

  He advanced the video, one frame at a time…

  As the camera adjusted to the light, the shadow vanished.

  Nothing there.

  His finger clicked at the left-arrow on the keyboard, scrolling the video backward, frame-by-frame.

  Still nothing. A trick of light.

  He nodded, content.

  With a weary sigh, he turned off his computer and crawled into bed. He’d deal with this tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 8

  Joe didn’t have a good night’s sleep.

  He had crawled into bed soon after checking the security cameras but never did relax. Ordinarily, he conquered his sleepless nights, and they were many, by pulling out a book and reading until he dozed off. But when he tried at 2 a.m., his mind kept wandering.

  After he found himself reading the same paragraph three times, and the words still didn’t enter his brain on any cognitive level, he finally gave up and resigned himself to a bad night.

  As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he thought he heard a rustling in the house. A kitchen drawer opening. A door closing softly. But the sounds never continued, and he wasn’t sure he actually heard them.

  Every time sleep seemed to almost take hold, his mind would dredge up Kate’s face. All he knew was what Riley’s principal had told him. Suicide by gunshot. And so, that’s what he saw when he closed his eyes — half his ex-wife’s face, torn apart from where a bullet entered one temple and burst through the other.

  Did she do it in the living room?

  In the backyard?

  In her bed?

  His mind raced through all the possible locations Kate might have blown apart her head. He pushed those thoughts out. Instead, he thought about Christmas. Camping trips. Their big family road trip down the east coast all the way to Disney World.

  Good moments. Good memories.

  But then there were the fights. The sniping. The pettiness.

  No, it wasn’t his fault. These things happen. He had been a good father, even after Kate took Riley away. He gave Riley anything she ever wanted. If Riley was now having psychological trauma from her mother’s suicide — and Joe was certain she was — it wasn’t his fault, it was Kate’s. She had hurt their child and left him to pick up the pieces.

  He wasn’t sure when exactly, but at some point he had drifted off into a sleep so deep that it was if his consciousness were a lead ball that had been dropped into the ocean. Down it sank into silent darkness. No dreams. No light. No thoughts nibbling at his brain. It was a sleep that was not refreshing or invigorating; it was a sleep that encompassed pure nothingness.

  BZZZZZZZ!

  Joe’s vibrating phone, clattering on his nightstand, shocked him awake.

  Morning light filtered through his blinds.

  He picked up his phone and tried to purge the grogginess from his system as he answered with a forceful, “This is Gerhard.”

  “Joe, it’s Hannah,” came the familiar voice on the other end. He could hear her shoes squeaking and echoing on the hallway floor in Level One. As was typical, Hannah was probably walking with a purpose. “Did you put in for a week of personal time?”

  “Well, yeah. I got some stuff I gotta take care of.”

  “I totally get it. But just know, you picked a bad time.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll finish that report on the incident sometime this morning. If anyone’s got any questions, I’m on my cell—”

  “HQ is sending an investigator.”

  Joe sat upright in bed. Any lingering effects from his poor night’s sleep immediately vanished. “What? Who?”

  “Javier Aguirre. Tyler mentioned it to me when I clocked in.”

  “Shit.” Joe jumped out of bed and went to his closet. He began digging out clothes for the day.

  “Look, I just thought you’d want to know. Also…” Hannah took a long pause. “Tyler mentioned that something happened to Kate.”

  “He told you?”

  “We’re friends.”

  “No offense, but this ain’t your business, Hannah.”

  “It kinda is.”

  Joe had no response, and so he quietly dressed himself while cradling the phone to his ear.

  “I… I’m really sorry about Kate. If you want to talk about it—”

  “I don’t.”

  “Fair enough. But you know I love Riley. I only told you Aguirre is coming because I knew you’d shit yourself if I didn’t. But Riley should be your top priority. The rest of us can handle Aguirre. It was just a freak accident. That’s all his report will say because it’s the truth. No one will blame you or your leadership.”

  “Is he there already?” Joe asked as he pulled on his nicest, whitest dress shirt. He was usually a polo and khaki kind of supervisor, but a visit from Javier Aguirre probably called for a tie.

  Hannah sighed, seemingly resigned to the fact that everything she had just said was going to be ignored. “Scheduled to arrive at nine.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Joe, I really think you should stay with Riley.”

  “See you soon.”

  He hung up before she could get another word in. He grabbed a simple black tie from his closet and held it up against his shirt. He looked like some 1960s NASA engineer. Whatever. He figured it was the look he was going for anyway.

  The moment he opened his door, the smell of coffee wafted in. Riley must be awake.

  He walked down the hall to the living room then peeked through the door and into the dining room and kitchen.

  It was a beautiful, sunny day outside, and the sun lit up the lush green forest beyond the kitchen’s large picture windows. The house, which had been so dark and gloomy the night before, had been transformed into a forested paradise. The white stone counters and stainless-steel appliances sparkled and reflected back the daytime sun. It was a kitchen straight out of a commercial; seeing it during the daylight always made Joe regret that he worked too much to ever be able to enjoy such a room.

  Joe looked around. The coffee pot was maybe four-fifths empty. He stepped through the dining room doorway and walked toward it.

  And then he saw his daughter.

  Riley sat in a chair in the far corner of the kitchen, staring out the window. She brought her cup of coffee to her lips and took a sip. She looked over at him as he approached.

  “You’re up?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “That’s two of us. How you feelin’?”

  “Fine,” she said. She took another long sip of coffee.

  “I gotta go into the office and tidy up a few things. Should be a short day. You gonna be okay if I leave you alone a few hours?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sorry I embarrassed you last night.”

  “You didn’t embarrass me.” He shifted on his feet uneasily. “So, um… ya see anything else?”

  “No. Nothing. I just… I don’t know what happened. I’d rather not talk about it.” She looked down at her coffee.

  Joe nodded.
He pulled out his wallet and laid a hundred dollars on the counter. “Go on and order a pizza if you get hungry. Maybe get out to a movie, if you want. Whatever you need to do for yourself. Just shoot me a text where you are. I’ll try to be home soon as I can.”

  “Cool.”

  He began walking to the door but paused and turned back. He looked at her, sitting there all by herself.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “Too.”

  With a little wave, he turned and walked out.

  CHAPTER 9

  Joe parked his pickup at the Facility.

  It was 9:15.

  Mr. Aguirre was probably already there, beginning his review process. Joe wanted to run, but he felt the perspiration building in his armpits and along his spine. Sweat was a bad look on any supervisor, and Joe knew his would only get worse as the day progressed in the recirculated air of his office.

  And so, he forced himself to take a calm, leisurely stroll from the parking lot to the entrance. He kept his breathing flat and tried to convince his heart rate to do the same.

  It was a beautiful day. Sunny, but cool.

  The morning dew evaporated from the leaves and grass. The dampness combining with the sunlight always had a way of making the scents of the forest bloom. It was the smell of earthy decay. Not rotten, pungent decay, but a natural cycle-of-life aroma. At times like this, Joe found himself transported to his youth, tromping through the forest, back when the world was a safe place.

  The slow walk calmed him. As he swiped his ID on the pad by the entrance, he felt ready to face the day.

  And face the inspector — Javier Aguirre.

  Upon entering the Facility, Joe underwent his normal routine: He placed his phone, keys and wallet in a locker and scanned his ID. Then he went into the body scanner and held up his hands as the machine whirled around him.

  The guards on duty, despite their weapons held ready, smiled and nodded at him as he waited for the scan to complete.

  “Morning, Joe,” one of them said.

  Joe gave the man a little wink. “Should probably call me ‘Gerhard’ or ‘supervisor’ or something all formal while we’re under inspection. Gotta keep it buttoned-up around here.”

  “You’re all clear, Supervisor Gerhard, sir,” the man said with a smirk as he waved Joe through.

  Joe walked toward the elevator.

  Beside the elevator, at one final security station, was a glass booth. Inside, Tyler eyed an array of monitors.

  Joe rapped his knuckles on the glass.

  Tyler rose and slid open a little window in the booth. “G’ morning, sir. Mr. Aguirre is waiting in your office.”

  “Sleep well?”

  “Yes, sir. Very well.”

  Joe kept a pleasant smile on his face as he leaned toward Tyler’s window and lowered his voice. Tyler also angled his face toward the hushed (but not trying to seem hushed) conversation.

  “Did you file a report about that thing that happened at my house last night?”

  “Not yet, sir.”

  Joe looked around. No one was listening. “We’re under some scrutiny ‘cause of yesterday’s accident here. What’s going on with my daughter is a personal matter. I don’t want the loss of her mother to get wrapped up in this whole mess, if it can be helped. I’m not saying do anything against the rules. I just think it’d be smart for us to focus our attention on issues inside the Facility. Catch my drift?”

  Tyler gave him a sly wink. “I’ll be too busy to file that report for a few days,” he said. “At least.”

  “Take your time,” Joe said. “And, obviously, I’d prefer you not mention it to any of the staff. Other than Hannah, of course.”

  “Of course. Your elevator is ready, sir,” Tyler said as he hit a button. The elevator door opened.

  Joe stepped in.

  He rode down to Level One.

  As he stepped off, he glanced at the poster of the woman and little girl joyfully eating dinner.

  “Do your job. Keep them safe.”

  He marched on, his shoes squeaking on the clean linoleum.

  Upon reaching his office, he rested his hand on the door handle and allowed himself a deep, calming breath. Then, he forced a big, friendly smile, opened the door and stepped in.

  Javier Aguirre sat at the guest chair in front of Joe’s desk. He was in his fifties. Bald, bespectacled, and a little on the heavy side. The man looked like a mole, which Joe felt suited him because so much of their work was underground. It wasn’t as though the man were physically intimidating. He was more of an accountant. Exacting, meticulous, always focused on the tiniest of details.

  And that, of course, worried Joe all the more. From Joe’s experience, when an accountant wants to find something wrong — or someone to blame — they’ll generally find it. Or they’ll keep digging until they do.

  Right now, Mr. Aguirre stared over the rims of his glasses at the tablet in his hand. He had the video of Bishop’s attack loaded up and, with his finger sliding the status bar back and forth, ran the incident forward and backward.

  On the screen, Bishop forcibly ripped a chunk of the man’s vertebra out through his back and tossed it aside. Then she went back in for more.

  Mr. Aguirre watched, so entranced that he didn’t notice that Joe had walked into the office. The man’s features betrayed no emotion toward the scene. No disgust or sadness. Just an impartial fascination, as if he were observing a spreadsheet whose columns didn’t quite add up to the expected value.

  He replayed the video.

  Forward.

  Backward.

  Again, and again.

  Joe stood for a moment before deciding to announce his presence. “Javi!” he said in as friendly and excited a tone as fit an office environment.

  Mr. Aguirre paused the video, set down his tablet, and rose, a big smile on his face. “Hey, Joe. Good to see you.”

  The two men grasped hands with a firm, collegial handshake.

  “I heard you might not be in today,” Mr. Aguirre said.

  “Yeah. I have some personal things going on, but they can all be put on hold for a bit,” Joe said as he stepped around Mr. Aguirre to his desk.

  The two men sat.

  “I’m sorry about Katherine,” Mr. Aguirre said. His tone seemed to indicate that he was sincere.

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Ain’t no secret safe from you boys?”

  Mr. Aguirre flashed a little grin that seemed to say, That’s right, no secret is safe.

  “I appreciate it,” Joe continued. “It kinda all came down on me yesterday. I still got a lot to sort out.”

  “If you need some time…”

  “I’ll manage.”

  Mr. Aguirre looked down at his tablet. He opened some files and swiped around, searching for something. “You have a daughter, correct? Riley Gerhard?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “And how old is she now?”

  Joe tried to maintain his pleasant smile, but he felt the muscles and tendons in his face become strained. His posture stiffened. His hands, resting on his desk, sought out each other and formed a tight steeple. He knew Mr. Aguirre wasn’t making pleasant conversation. “Sixteen now. Seventeen in August.”

  “Riley lived almost exclusively with her mother, isn’t that right?” Mr. Aguirre asked as he opened a file on the tablet and began tapping in notes.

  “Yeah, that’s right. They moved out about ten years ago. Right after the divorce.”

  “I see Riley has grandparents nearby. On her mother’s side.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will she be living with them?”

  Joe’s stiff smile vanished. “That wasn’t my plan. They’re getting on in age. And I am her father, after all.”

  Mr. Aguirre smiled. “Of course, of course. She’ll be living with you full-time then?”

  “Until she goes to college.”

  “I see.”

  Joe watched as Mr. Aguirre tapped away, quietly entering in more n
otes. The typing went on longer than Joe expected. The man wasn’t just putting checkmarks in a few boxes; Mr. Aguirre appeared to be composing a full memo.

  Joe forced himself to lean back in his chair and cross his legs, giving the appearance of nonchalance. “Yeah, I just picked her up yesterday. Really sad thing. So sudden. Far as I know, Kate didn’t have any history of depression or nothing. But what do I know? I’m just the ex. Something must’ve been bubbling under the surface. But Riley seems to be handling it well.”

  “Good.” Mr. Aguirre kept writing his memo.

  “This all just happened. Still sorting it out. I haven’t been able to update my Personal Life Status Profile yet—”

  “I completely understand. I’m doing it for you.”

  “Thanks,” Joe said, eyeing Aguirre as the man kept typing. “Riley, um, she stayed with me, at that house, every other weekend for the past ten years. She’s been vetted and cleared as a non-security risk.”

  “It looks like we last cleared her—” Mr. Aguirre paused as he searched around for Riley’s profile. “—five years ago. If she’s living with you permanently, we should run a new check on her. She’s probably due for one anyway. Kids today… You know how fast they change, what with social media and all that. Better to be safe than sorry. Might be time for a psychological evaluation too. Things like depression can be hereditary. Wouldn’t want to put anything at risk.”

  Joe couldn’t stop the glare from forming on his face. “That really necessary?”

  “Is there a problem?” Mr. Aguirre asked, his eyes innocently twinkling from behind his glasses.

  “I just don’t want some intern thumbing through my daughter’s phone and internet history. Let alone her med records.”

  “You think she might have sent some pictures or emails that might open her up to blackmail?” Mr. Aguirre asked innocently.