Pushing the Envelope: A Prequel from "The Barter System" World (3 page)

October 2004

More than a year after they buried Dalia, something happened that changed Tawny’s life from the ground up. 

No one who loved her knew. 

Caught up in a combination of grief and a crushing expectation of perfection from herself, Riya worked day and night to bury every emotion. 

Maggie was stuck in a loop of her own bone-deep sadness and her desperation to pull Archer from his. 

She received regular updates from Marta at the O’Connell household and Jaslene, her counterpart at the Ratliff home.  The women were quick to ask for her advice and Tawny was always willing to give it as long as they didn’t mention her name. 

There were times she could force Riya out of her own head but it didn’t get rid of her worry that her best friend was in trouble. 

When she wasn’t in school, she withdrew into herself.  School and her writing kept her mind off a situation that was rapidly deteriorating. 

There was no laughter and she never rested. 

As Riya internalized, Tawny worked to feed her mind and her spirit all the knowledge about the world they seemed ravenous to consume. 

She spent time with Arnie.  He was a good man, a nice man, and she wished it was possible for her to love him. 

After four years, she knew she never would.

One night, they were leaving one of her favorite restaurants hand in hand and were mugged by two men in the parking lot next door. 

Within seconds, Arnie was stabbed several times trying to protect her and never took his eyes off her face as he fell to the ground. 

Her mind in a red rage at the sight of the gentlest man she’d ever known bleeding in front of her, Tawny prepared to fight both attackers. 

She never heard the third man sneak up behind her.  He hit her in the head with something heavy and when she regained consciousness, she was naked and battered on the wet concrete beneath her car. 

Her surroundings were muffled and dim.

Understanding what had happened to her but refusing to deal with it until she checked Arnie, she rolled from under the vehicle, found her shirt, and winced at the horrible pain between her legs. 

Crawling to his side, she held a hand that had
never
been cold and sobbed until a car skidded to a stop behind her.  Police lights gave the scene an eerie blue glow.

She leaned down so her lips were beside Arnie’s ear.  “I’ll miss you hard.  Thank you for being good to me.”

Then the world rushed in bright and loud again. 

Paramedics attended to her while she watched the crime scene people photograph the scene, examine Arnie’s body, and finally zip him into a black bag. 

The female officer who took her statement mentioned that there would be a trial and that it was important that Tawny be prepared to testify.

Numbly, she replied, “There will
never
be a trial because you’ll never catch the men who did this.  There are too many cases just like mine and this will be the last time you and I ever talk.”

“There’s always hope…”

“No.  There isn’t.  Sometimes, life is totally random and shit just sucks.”

At the hospital, she endured a rape kit and shook her head when the nice older woman asked her if there was someone she could call.

The nurse looked at her in surprise.  “Are you sure?  This is going to be a hard time for you, sweetheart.”

“No.  I don’t want to call anyone.  I’ll be okay.”  She had no intention of dumping this on her loved ones.

Finally, she was released.  On the second floor, she found a man under heavy sedation and used the shower in his room to scrub her body raw before she put on the sweats she’d been given. 

The police kept her clothes.  They were
evidence
.

On the night that Arnie was stabbed to death and she was violated by three men who had no concept of humanity, everything in Tawny’s mind stilled. 

The day after Arnie’s funeral, she bought a gun, took lessons on how to use it, and started training. 

Never again would she be unable to defend herself.

Though she’d given accurate physical descriptions of the men who had taken so much from her, she’d left out a few key identifiers.  Tattoos on the two men she’d seen were what she planned to use to find them herself.

They would receive
justice
not
incarceration
.  Sending men like them to prison would do nothing but make them worse.  They lacked human decency.

If the men had robbed them and left them untouched, she could attribute their actions to desperation, to addiction, to greed, to
anything
but what it was.  She would have let it go, hoped they got help, and moved on.

The three criminals didn’t make that choice.

They killed an unarmed man who had already handed over his wallet, watch, and cell phone then raped a woman they’d knocked unconscious after she’d given them her purse and earrings.

Their actions changed the outcome.  She would never be the same.

They were murderers and rapists, no better than feral animals.  They would continue committing the same crimes unless they were put down. 

All three of them deserved death for what they’d done to her gentle Arnie, for what they’d done to
her
.

She planned to see that they got it. 

Far more quickly and efficiently than law enforcement would be able to distribute.

March 2005

Over the next months, Tawny ramped up her crazy around Riya so her best friend wouldn’t ask questions.  She drank too much, laughed too loud, and forced her out to dance as much as possible.

When she wasn’t with her best friend, she was hunting. 

She put her online businesses on autopilot, breezed through her sophomore year finals, dived head-first into the virtual world, and stumbled on her calling.

It started with a random search on how to use emerging facial-recognition software and hack mug shots of men with prior convictions for rape, murder, or armed robbery in South Florida. 

The ability to hack complex systems came easily.  Her joy in doing it was unexpected.

She found a blog that seemed to speak directly to her and read every word.  The author’s history was unknown but his mistakes were written about in detail. 

The site was called
The Carving
and was written by a man who identified himself as Hollow. 

Within days, she found herself interacting with the man behind the screen through online instant messaging.  He knew her real name immediately but she wasn’t worried.

No one would ever hurt her again.

Most of his posts were about missing women and children.  He wrote features that gave background on the faces that normally went through the minds of people watching the news and then promptly filtered out again. 

Part of her mind wondered at what he seemed to know and she fact-checked every article to confirm. 

At almost two in the morning on a Wednesday night, she drifted to sleep at her desk and woke to the ding that told her she had a friend online. 

Disoriented, she grinned when she saw that it was Hollow.  Scrubbing her hands over her face, she yawned and expanded the window. 

It was a serious
Matrix
moment and absolutely his style.  Gathering her hair into a messy bun, she pulled her keyboard closer. 

Thought you’d be asleep by now.

I don’t sleep much anymore.

Everything okay?

They found one of the women today.  Sonja Mills.  I didn’t get to her in time.  I failed.

You didn’t fail.  The system failed.  What can I do?

Tell me about your day.  Something silly or random. You always make me laugh.

I told my professor she wouldn’t understand women’s rights if her vagina used a bullhorn to tell her to stop stomping on her fellow vagina owners.  She wasn’t amused.  I may have to drop the class.

LOL – what started it?

How do you know anything started it?  Maybe I was being a bitch…

No.  That isn’t your way.  In every story of outrageous behavior, there is always a reason. 

…Thanks, you give me too much credit.

You’re welcome.  When’s the last time you flashed the retirement home?

No point anymore.  My darling Mr. Cotton passed away last month in his sleep.  I only did it for him.

I’m sorry.

It’s okay.  He was ninety-eight and said I gave him another three years he shouldn’t have had…a statement that made me laugh since my tits are underwhelming. 

Not to a man who likely hadn’t seen any in twenty years.  I assure you, he was thrilled.

Ha ha…charmer.  What lovely lady is the recipient of these skills?

There isn’t one.  Relationships don’t work for me.  Trust me when I tell you that I’m emotionally fucked up beyond all belief.  There’s zero hope.

You’re telling me there’s no one at all?

There’s a woman who fascinates me.  She’s a pure spirit.  Her heart is firmly committed to someone else, which is best for both of us.

That sounds lonely.

I’m one of the few who’s at peace with loneliness.  Now it’s more like an old friend.  You understand loneliness.

It doesn’t scare me like it does most people.  I know I need the right outlet to stay occupied.

Work with me, Tawny.  Let me teach you.  I could help you and then you can help me.  You’re a natural.  You’ve dabbled but I could use your skills full time.  Consider it.

Hollow…you know everything about me.  I know nothing about you.  All I know are your capabilities, that Hollow isn’t your real name, and in this scenario I’m the vulnerable one.

I refuse to allow you to feel vulnerable.

Live video feed suddenly appeared on the screen.  She looked at the man’s face and he was
beautiful
.  Black hair, lean features, and pewter eyes that seemed to stare into the deepest part of who she was.  Her phone rang and she reached for it numbly. 

“Allow me to remove some of the mystery.”  He typed his full name in their message stream.  “Assure yourself that I’m telling the truth.  I’ll wait.” 

Her fingers flew over the keys.  In less than a minute, photos and articles loaded on her second screen that made her eyes widen in shock. 

She turned, staring at the face of a man who was clearly haunted with a secret past.  “Why would you trust me?  You don’t even
know
me, Hollow.”

He shrugged.  “I chose to reveal myself to you.  I like knowing there’s someone else out there like me.  Different than who you show the world.”

Allowing the silence to draw out, she considered his words.  “You read my online journal.”  He nodded.  “You know who I’m searching for.”

“I do.”  Photos and news stories populated her screen again but this time, the information was much more personal.  “They’re dead.  It’s believed to be gang-related.  I didn’t want blood on your hands.  You are many things, Tawny but you aren’t a murderer.  I didn’t want the weight of that for you.” 

For a moment, she tried to process.  Then she blinked, closed her mouth, and ran her own hack on the names in the articles.  She recognized the tattoos and facial features of the dead men in coroner photos. 

When the realization hit that her search was over and they’d received
justice
for what they’d done to Arnie…to her…she broke down.  Resting her head on her folded arms, she cried while Hollow watched her from the screen and remained silent.

After what seemed like a long time, she lifted her head, went to wash her face, and returned to her desk. 

Hollow stared at her from a dark room in an undisclosed location.  He was as pale as she was.  Finally, he said quietly, “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know.”

For half an hour, she asked him questions and she knew that every word he answered was true. 

“Work with me.  You won’t regret it and I’ll protect your identity.  I’ll protect
you
, Tawny.”

Inhaling deeply, she thought about Arnie, about how she’d felt as she knelt at his side and ignored the pain in her own body from her attack. 

She remembered the earnestness of the officer who believed they’d catch the men who’d taken so much. 

Her own knowledge, even then, that they wouldn’t.  What had started as vigilante justice had changed over the three months she’d been talking to Hollow. 

The things he’d shown her about the underbelly of mankind, the crimes that went unpunished due to power or position, and the victims who had no way to seek justice as she’d done. 

Many, like Sonja Mills, lost their lives and like Arnie’s killers, those who took them were never caught. 

“What do you want me to do?”

“Come to New York.  Let me train you and introduce you to the members of my team.”

There was no hesitation in her mind.  “I’ll be there in the morning.  I’ll take the first flight.”

“A plane is fueled and waiting for you.” 

He sent her the information and she smiled.  “A private plane, just for me?  You knew how this would play out?”

“I hoped your natural tendencies would make the decision an easy one.  I was right.  I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Hollow?”  Their eyes met.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Tawny.  Let’s change the world.” 



She sent Riya and her mother an email explaining that she was taking a trip to visit a client in New Jersey while she packed a bag. 

A car picked her up, drove her to Fort Lauderdale Airport, and delivered her to the door of a private jet. 

Three hours later, she disembarked and Hollow stood beside a black Audi with a welcoming smile. 

After a brief hug, he took her bag, opened her door, and said with a wink, “You’re going to
love
this cloak and dagger shit more than you love your Marvel comics.”

The choice to work with Hollow altered the course of her life, solidified her personal views, and gave her the opportunity to generate the kind of good so many wanted to do but weren’t sure how to make it happen. 

She never experienced an ounce of regret and he’d been right about something else, too.

Tawny loved the cloak and dagger shit.