Society Rules (40 page)

They proceeded to go over all of the details, in preparation the next morning’s misdeeds, finally leaving the diner after many more cups of coffee, with plans to meet up again at eight AM.

As they left, Cassandra climbed into her car after snatching the ticket she had earned, straight off her windshield, tossing the crumpled wad down in the mud.

Baker watched her from his own vehicle until she drove away, tires screeching as she pulled recklessly out into traffic.

Yes, he had definitely chosen the right person for this job. He just hoped that he could keep up the facade of civility toward her until the job was done. He sighed.

It was going to be a challenge.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, Shawn hastily dug for his cell phone to make an impulse call. For some reason he knew he couldn’t be alone tonight.

The lighted curser scrolled down his contact list until he found a likely candidate, and Shawn hit the “send” button as he started his car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Chapter 20

There were approximately eight hundred and sixty two thousand dots on the textured ceiling in his office, by Will’s best estimate. He came to this figure, having been in the supine position on the small twin guest bed for the last five hours.

First, he counted them in rows lengthwise, then across, in sections. Anything to distract his mind from reality, and to allow the pounding feeling of the unwise amount of alcohol to evaporate from his aching brain.

Sobriety and the passage of a little time were one hell of an eye opening combination.

It was slowly beginning to dawn on him that he might have had a critical lapse in judgment; that he had allowed jealousy, an emotion that he had never believed himself capable, to mix with his rage, his hurt and more beer than his body was accustomed, to form a potentially deadly combination.

The thought had grown persistent, creeping through his brain despite his attempts to keep his mind benignly occupied.

He also felt another rapidly growing emotion—one that he’d had more experience with, but not in many years.

Fear.

No, not fear. Terror.

Terror, sparked by the realization that he had possibly set in motion something that could potentially have horrible consequences. Something that once put in motion had become unstoppable.

Will sat up, a little too quickly as the feeling began to grip him in earnest. He sat for a moment on the edge of the bed, allowing the room to stop swirling around him. He pressed his fingers to his temples, moving them in hard circular motions to try to dissipate the lingering throb ricocheting inside his skull.

Baker.

The guy was a snake. Just what the Hell had he been thinking? How could he have involved this man?

Will stood, a little unsteadily and made his way through the now darkened hallway and into the kitchen. He flipped on the light, and filled a glass with icy water from the tap.

Cursing his stupidity, he rummaged around in the cabinet looking for some Motrin.

He shook four of them out of the little bottle, having triumphed over the pain in the ass childproof cap, and tossed them down his throat. He chased them with the ice water that suddenly, he could not get enough of. As he lowered his glass, his eyes dropped to the shadow that had slinked down the hallway after him.

Max came into the kitchen and sat next to Will, staring up at him with mild urgency.

“Need to go out, boy?” Will asked. Max responded by leaping up and racing toward the door. Will ambled after him, and opened the heavy oak door, watching the dog bound out into the yard and disappear into the darkness.

Will gripped the doorjamb with both hands, and leaned to rest his forehead onto the frame. He considered his situation for a moment, wishing that he could press some sort of “undo” button, to rewind the events of the day.

Make that the last two days.

Or ten years.

Will was now forced to face some realities that he never had before.

He was selfish. He was inconsiderate to his wife. She had not been happy, and he had paid no attention. Not to her feelings, not to her . . . nothing. He had just done his thing, and thought of little else, and he had gotten away with it for all this time.

She had deserved better, whatever she may be.

Will’s rage had left him, and he was in a much better position to look at things more clearly. Indie was not bad, or evil. On the contrary, he had never met a kinder or more compassionate person in his life.

She was dependable, hardworking and took care of him and their children without complaint.

It was odd that now, suddenly; it was as if he was able to see her more clearly than he ever had before. Moreover, what he saw was a condemnation of himself as a man.

He felt an overwhelming sense of nausea as he found himself hurtling down a spiral of shame and remorse.

How had he never noticed that she had always seemed on the edge of despair? Suddenly, he could picture her beautiful blue eyes, always touched with a sadness and longing.

Had he ever inquired about this? No, he had not. It was like he had never seen it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

His mind, against his will, was playing back ten years of little scenes, times where it seemed she was trying to reach him. Trying, and failing. How could this be?

The other thought fighting for attention, was the idea that if Indie
was
one of them . . . then how could they be bad? Or a threat?

If Indie had any “super powers”, she would use them to save the world, not harm it, of this he was sure. In addition, from what Will had learned about these beings, if Indie was indeed a Society Member, she had no choice but to follow this man, Jackson.

She—Will choked on the very thought—
belonged
to
Jackson!

In order for Indie to have the life and the happiness she deserved, he had to let her go. He was coming to the realization that he had never really had her. She was physically there, but never in spirit, and it was not her fault. He could see that now.

But how could he fix this? He himself had set up the very foundation of her destruction. Whatever Baker was planning, it was going to hurt Indie.

Even if he didn’t suspect the truth, which Will now thought was highly unlikely, having reviewed his drunken video editing job. Baker was many things.

Stupid was not one of them.

Will felt, for the first time in his life, that the same could not be said about himself. He had never felt more idiotic, and he knew suddenly, that there was going to be a heavy price paid for his own ignorance.

Exactly who was going to pay that price was also becoming painfully clear. All of them were . . . his entire family.

He, Indie and God help him, even his children.

He whistled for Max, and tried unsuccessfully to stop the shaking of his body, which had started deep within his belly, and was now spreading outward with alarming speed.

As Will shut the door behind the dog, he glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten o’clock. He debated as to whether or not to call his mother. He felt a great longing to speak to his children, but he decided with a sigh, that he had better wait. His mother was always early to bed, and besides, if he called her now, it would alarm her.

He did however, dial Baker’s cell number only to have it go immediately to voice mail. This did nothing to calm the tension growing like a cancer in his core. He felt strongly that Baker would move very quickly to act on this chance to look like a champion, the best agent in the department.

Baker was extremely career-minded, and would take no chances that the prey would escape while he sat around perfecting a plan. No, he would be on the move tomorrow. Probably bright and early if Will read him correctly.

“This could work to my advantage,” Will thought. “If, in his haste, he leaves himself open to mistakes.”

Will’s mind was beginning to clear, and he got down to business doing what he did best.

He was something of a computer-hacking genius, and an accomplished profiler who paid close attention to the habits of those around him.

Everyone
but
my
wife,
he reminded himself with an anguished moan that he freely allowed to escape, taking advantage of the fact that he was alone.

With a valiant effort, he threw off his guilt and remorse, determined to save it for later, when he could more freely indulge in a nice long session of self-loathing. He returned determinedly to the task at hand.

Will made a fresh pot of coffee, and returned to his computer on a new mission, now. He paused for just a moment, thinking, and then began to type.

“Okay, let’s see who Baker has spoken with since our visit, for starters.”

It took Will exactly two and one half minutes to break into the T-Mobile account of Mr. Shawn Baker, and retrieve his latest cell phone records. His heart quaked as he cross-referenced the first number that Shawn had called as he left Will’s house. Its listing was private, but this was no barrier for Will, and he quickly found the name of the owner for that number.

Cassandra Lockhart. This was no good. No good at all.

“Jesus Christ, Baker . . .
Lockhart
?”

Will was shaken. She was one scary ass female. Well, there could only be one reason that he would call her, and that would be for business. He knew for certain that Baker despised the woman, as did virtually everyone.

If ever there was a person that Will could describe as pure evil, Cassandra fit the bill. Her involvement could only mean disaster. His fear intensified.

Whenever Cassandra went on even the simplest of missions, people had a nasty habit of ending up dead. Amazing, everyone always tried to attack her, or whenever a man was involved, she would claim he had tried to sexually assault her, and she had no choice. Self-defense, clear-cut as always. She was trouble, most definitely.

He noted that the phone call had lasted less than two minutes, and deduced that he had probably arranged a meeting with her. He would need a place to speak to her and not be noticed, overheard or rushed. There were three options, Will decided.

A nightclub, which, luckily there were a precious few in this area; easy to check. A restaurant or just a simple meeting in his car.

He though carefully. Nightclubs were good places to avoid notice, but were loud, and not good for discussing important details. A restaurant would be perfect for a quiet, intimate discussion, would it not?

Where would Baker go on a Friday night in this area, dragging along Cassandra Lockhart? Nowhere that he would normally hang out, Will guessed. He would never allow himself to be seen publicly on what would be perceived by all as a date, with that woman.

Baker was very much into appearances, and would make sure that no one he knew would see them. Besides, running in to friends would infringe upon his ability to cook up a plan. There would be interruptions. This cut down on the possibilities dramatically.

Will briefly considered the car theory, but quickly rejected the likelihood of Baker closing himself up in a vehicle with agent Lockhart, parked in a quiet and intimate location for privacy. He knew Baker had an ulcer, what with his desk drawer full of Zantac and Tums, which he popped into his mouth like candy.

His stomach could never take it.

Besides, who would want to give Cassandra an opportunity like that? She would probably get the wrong idea, and try her luck in that scenario. No, Baker wouldn’t put himself in an uncomfortable position like that. It almost made Will gag just imaging it.

Will decided to zero in on the restaurant angle. A good possibility came to him in an instant.

The Wayside.

Baker was not a regular, but enjoyed it infrequently. In addition, no one Shawn knew would be caught dead in there. Especially at five-thirty in the afternoon, when it would be filled with a few early-bird special seekers, and that would be about it. It would be easy to sit in there for hours, incognito, as many of the old-timers did, just drinking coffee and socializing with the waitresses.

Will made a quick phone call to the diner, describing the two of them, and the approximate time they might have been in.

Yes, the cashier answered, she remembered them all right. Especially the woman.

She and her date had hogged the table for hours, and then split the check. At least the man had tipped well, to make up for it. The woman had left nothing.

“What a surprise,” Will thought, disgusted. He frowned as he hung up. Yes, they were clearly hatching a plan.

He returned his attention to the cell phone records and saw that after he had left the diner, Shawn had made two more calls. Will recognized both names that came up as former girlfriends of Baker’s. The first call lasted for only one minute, and the call concluded on her end first. Will had to laugh a short humorless laugh.

“Got shot down on your booty call, didn’t you, jerk?”

He noted that the second one lasted longer. Nearly fifteen minutes, and both callers had hung up simultaneously. After another quick hack job, Will noted that the location function was “on” for Baker’s phone, and he was able to ping his whereabouts precisely at the address of Jessica Kiel, the apparently successful back-up call that Baker had made.

Oh yeah. Baker was on a high, full of excess energy and excitement for his upcoming feat, and had decided to burn off some of that excess with a recycled girlfriend.

At least Will knew that he would not have to worry about Baker tonight. He carefully set the GPS tracker he fished out of the drawer, to alert him when Baker left this location.

Armed with this new knowledge, he knew he probably had all night, because Baker had no problem sleeping over, usually scoring a free breakfast out of the deal as well.

He rounded up another cell phone that he used for fieldwork, when he needed to make calls. It was programmable to show any name and number you entered to come up as the caller id.