At Wit's End (6 page)

“Wit, I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” he said shortly.

“I suppose you left town to heal?”

“In a manner of speaking. I started combing beaches. I had my laptop with me. When they announced the name of the group taking responsibility, when they captured the two who had set off the bombs, I used my skills to make that group’s, those
men’s lives, miserable. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week I was going after those people.”

“And thus the start of the internet Robin Hood? So to speak. I thought I read that their trial would be starting soon.”

Wit nodded. “I’m one of the many witnesses they’ll be calling.”

“There’s going to be a lot of publicity during the trial.”

“Yes, there will. It’s not something I’m looking forward to. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

“In that spirit I’ll remind you that you’re my assistant and it’s time we took Susan’s dinner out of the oven. Seeing as I’m being generous and you set such a low hourly wage, you can come with me to deliver it and run through the set up. We’re on a tight schedule so I hope you can follow directions.”

Wit saluted her. “Yes, Ma’am.”

After double checking that the deadbolt was secure, Marie made her way into the living room. She dropped her satchel and collapsed on the couch. She couldn’t feel her feet and different aches in her body were making themselves known.

She’d always known cooking was hard work and at times she had even embraced the pain. This was not one of those times. She desperately wanted a soak in the bathtub and a final glass of wine. Instead she tilted her head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

It had been one of the more interesting days that she could remember and there was one reason for that: Bradley Witson. She’d known after searching images that he’d be attractive, drop dead gorgeous if she had to be honest and why not? She was the only one here.

What the photos had not been able to capture was a certain glint in his eye. A sheen of pain that made her heart ache with the need to help him. Anyone who could walk away from another person in that kind of torment was not human.

With one foot, then the other, Marie pried her shoes off and propped her feet on the coffee table. She took a deep breath, held it and waited. Sure enough her toes started screeching at the insult of being trapped in shoes all day. With a slow whistle she brought her legs up and started massaging her own feet.

His palm could envelope her entire foot, she reflected, and nearly groaned at the thought. She wondered how he felt about giving foot massages and her aching toes curled at the thought. Before long it wasn’t her feet she was thinking about having his hands stroke.

A knock came at her door and Marie grunted in disbelief. Maybe she was imagining things. When the knock was repeated she lightly cursed her guest to perdition. She didn’t bother cursing whoever had buzzed them into the building. It was ridiculously easy to get through the main door.

Marie stumbled to the peephole and examined the interloper. A boy in his late teens stood there tapping his foot while holding a large bouquet of flowers. He chomped gum and looked at his watch. He leaned in to knock again and Marie called out. “One moment, please.”

She unlatched the deadbolt but left the chain on the door. She opened it as far as the chain would allow. “”May I help you?”

“Are you Marie Lee Chase?”

She could hear the loud, chaotic music spilling from his headphones and wondered how he’d know what she answered. “Yes, I am.”

“These are for you.”

“Whoa, thank you.” Marie had no idea who would be sending her flowers, especially in the middle of the night. “Please set them down. I’ll pick them up shortly.”

“They ain’t booby trapped or nothing,” the kid told her petulantly. Apparently he saw that there would be no tip here today.

“I believe you. All the same. Thank you.” She closed the door and listened to the kid call her a not very nice name before there was a thump from the flowers falling and his footsteps began to recede.

With a shake of her head – Marie’s Momma didn’t raise a fool – Marie waited for him to board the elevator before bringing the flowers inside. The bright bouquet contained nearly every colour of flower Marie could imagine and some she hadn’t. Though she didn’t know much about flowers she did know when a lot of thought went into a bouquet. These were a prime example.

She reached through the petals until she found the tiny white card. Her name and address were written on the outside in a feminine hand. The card, however, was barely legible. That or she had double vision from exhaustion.

Marie
closed her eyes tightly, cleared her mind and then looked at the card again, treating it like an ink blot test. Slowly the words became clear. “Thank you for feeding a starving man. Until we meet again. Wit.” She read the card aloud twice before it sank in that the most attractive man she’d ever met had sent her flowers.

Her heart fluttered and she felt re-energized. She pressed her face into the flowers and breathed deeply as she made her way to the kitchen. She found a crystal vase she’d gotten as a gift from her grandmother and filled it with water. With great care she arranged the bouquet until she’d found the maximum effect.

She tried several different places and wasn’t satisfied. She set the vase on the side table next to her bed and gently touched a blue petal with her finger. It felt like velvet. With a smile and a sigh Marie started the water in the bathtub, adding a bubble bath she’d created at a little shop. On feet that no longer ached Marie went to the kitchen for that glass of wine.

The small radio was already set to a light rock station. Marie turned it on and settled into the frothy water. She took a small sip of the crisp wine and finally let herself really think about Wit.

When he’d first walked into CoffeeBot Marie had been all nerves because of their consultation. Once the truth had come out she’d been angry, confused, worried and any number of emotions. The unexpected lunch invitation and the grocery shopping had kept her on an emotional roller coaster.

             
Wit had removed his sunglasses and most of the intimidation she had felt had disappeared. He hadn’t looked well at all and, after hearing what he’d gone though, Marie couldn’t say that was unexpected. She didn’t know if she’d be anywhere near stable if she’d witnessed four of her friends being killed so suddenly and for such a stupid reason.

             
While they’d been going through the aisles at the grocery store Wit had seemed to come to life. He’d started making jokes and nearly had her in tears laughing while discussing the wardrobe choices of the other shoppers. She’d felt vague pity when everything he put in his cart qualified as what she called Bachelor Staples: soups, microwave meals and meat to grill.

He’d taken it well when she’d removed his canned tomatoes and replaced them with fresh. “The sodium count in the canned stuff will kill you. For the same price you can dice your own tomatoes. They’ll taste fresh and your meal will be the better for it.”

“I’m suspicious but I’ll take your word for it. This one time,” he conceded. After that he’d surreptitiously check her reaction to his items in the cart. When he’d grabbed the gallon of whiskey and her eyes had widened he had immediately put it back. “Habit,” he told her. “It was a rough few months on the islands.”

“I’m sorry. You know, working out can release some of that tension you’re carrying.”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get more exercise today than you think. Cooking is not for weaklings.”

“Whatever you say, Captain,” he’d shot her an arrogant grin and had started loading the check-out belt.

Well, he’d learned his lesson, Marie grinned. By the time she’d left him for the evening, having successfully smuggled Susan Collin’s dinner in without her in-laws being aware, he’d been swaying with exhaustion and was in dire need of fresh clothing.

Marie twirled her toes through the bubbles and realized a solid truth. She wanted to see Brad Witson again and it had nothing to do with revenge against Michael.

The stop at the flower shop had been an impulse and now Wit felt vaguely idiotic - especially when he thought about what he’d written on the card. He looked over his shoulder and considered going back and cancelling the order but it seemed cruel to take a surprise bouquet away from a woman even if she didn’t know she was receiving them.

The street was crowded, a fact that did not escape his attention. Wit kept an eye on his surroundings and thought about what he would do for the rest of the night. Though Marie looked ready to fall asleep on her feet when they parted, Wit was feeling exhilarated. This time of night was more like noon than midnight to him. His eyes covered the street in a steady rhythm, always on the watch for suspicious behaviour. Never again would he ignore an instinct.

There was a convenience store two blocks from his condo. Wit stopped in to load up on energy drinks. After the way Marie had watched him at the grocery store he hadn’t had the heart to buy his usual two cases of the high octane liquids.

His arm shot out and he looked down to realize he’d grabbed a bag of chips. Huh. He must have been sublimating more of his junk food urges than he’d realized. Wit was accepting of this health flaw. For the most part he lived healthily so a few chips couldn’t hurt, right? He thought about the look of disappointment Marie had occasionally worn at the store. Before he knew it he was putting them back.

The smell of his own body odour shocked him out of his stupor. Good Lord. He prayed he hadn’t been standing too close to Marie at any point after this stench emerged. He added a shower to his mental to-do list and made his way to the counter with his targeted drinks in hand. He’d given up the chips, hadn’t he?

Surely the drinks wouldn’t kill him. Wit read through the label while he stood in line, his brow furrowed. He’d never heard of more than half the chemicals on the list and the nutrition value was negligible. Another huh. Then he saw the sign that all was right with the world. The final ingredient, meaning the one it contained the least of, happened to be real fruit juice. Though it didn’t specify which fruit Wit counted it in the plus column.

Back at the condo Wit drank one can while taking a hot shower. He could feel the energy zipping through his veins, exactly as advertised. It was nice to know you could still trust in some things. He slung a towel around his hips and made his way to his closet. It was amazing the difference soap could make. He hadn’t even realized he’d felt sticky until he’d rinsed off for the second time.

Wit pulled on comfortable pants and a
t-shirt and went to his home office. When he’d first bought the condo he’d had to wait two months before moving in due to some special construction requirements.

He entered the code into the lock and waited patiently for it to read his thumb as well. When the door opened the lights came on automatically. Wit entered the soundproof room and shut the door behind him. It locked immediately.

Not only was the room soundproof but it had been reinforced in every way imaginable. It was a panic room, a safe only he could enter, and a fireproof box. There were no windows and only one visible door, the one he’d come through. A hidden panel had been installed leading to a safe room within the safe room.

He stepped around the spare parts he had lining the
wall. Each one had a use and he wouldn’t be getting rid of them anytime soon. He also held a sentimental attachment to each box on the floor that encouraged him to constantly find new uses for old equipment such as connecting a server to his television to control media storage. In this day of digital downloads you could never have a server large enough.

T
he monitors and motherboards lay lifeless now but someday soon he would pull a Doctor Frankenstein and bring them back to life. He wondered what kind of bidding he would send his new monsters on. The possibilities were nearly endless.

“Speaking of doing my bidding,” Wit muttered. His main computer hummed at the desk, as always ready to answer his every command. He opened several screens and went through the protocols to enter the Deep Net. He checked his various mail drops and decided nothing there needed his immediate attention. He shut down the main window while remaining connected, rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and went to work on tracking down Michael for Marie.

First he attempted tracking the phone number she’d given him and figured out what he expected, it was a throw away phone that didn’t require any sort of registration. It didn’t guarantee the guy was smart, only that he’d read a lot of books or watched CSI type television shows.

Next it was the most basic search for the man’s name. The problem being that Michael Morrison was a very popular name in New York City. He attempted to cross reference the name with the phone number and drew a blank. After that, it was game on.

When Wit went to work on projects such as this one he preferred loud, obnoxious music most people had never heard of. Thus the reason the room had been soundproofed. He put on an album of electronica, cranked it and dove deep into the Net. It was time to search out some bank accounts.

While he worked Wit thought about Marie. He’d been intrigued before he’d met her officially and now that he had he found he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Though his brain was focused on the task at hand he could still smell her scent, feel her eyes as they landed on him and the quiet trill of her laughter when he’d gotten flour in his hair.