The Puzzle (5 page)

“And this ridiculous thing couldn’t wait? You had to call me for that? I don’t have time for this now!”

I was speechless, rigidly waiting for his next verbal slap.

Stephen suddenly did an about-face. “Look, I can’t talk now,” he said calmly. “Okay? I’ve got to cut this conservation short.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I was still too stung by his hurtful remarks.

Stephen finally broke the silence between us. “I know what I have to do, Sam. The key to everything is behind me.”

“…What do you mean? …What key?” I asked, hesitantly.

“It could get much worse,” he explained. “This whole thing was driving me crazy. There could be recriminations, you know, but I’m just not sure anymore.”

“Sure of what?” I asked, confused. “What recriminations?”

He turned on a dime. “Don’t be so dense, Sam! Follow… The answer is there…” He paused. “…When you see me…”

“Stephen, what are you talking about?”

He sighed. “It was never meant to be. Samantha, you…” He hesitated. Suddenly, he whispered into the phone. “Don’t you understand? You have everything now. I’ve got to go. Someone’s coming… I…always thought…he… it was…”

“This isn’t making sense,” I replied, frustrated and thoroughly confused by his incoherent outbursts. “Stephen, what’s wrong?”

“You… understand…decision’s made. It’s too late.” Click. And just like that, he was gone.

It’s too late for what? I have what? Where? I held the phone for a few more seconds, blankly staring at it, thinking maybe I was hallucinating and maybe this exchange never took place. But it was real all right. And I was stone sober. And still clueless…

At the time, my thoughts were all over the place as my bruised sense of self replayed that incoherent conversation over and over in my head. I tried to piece together his
loosely-strung
words. Nothing jelled.

The final verbal assault arrived a day later, with a vigorous knock at my door and the delivery of the shocking news that Stephen was dead.

Why did Stephen always see life in black and white, while I saw only color? Apparently, neither one of us was capable of seeing that gray area that always seemed to linger in between.

And this gray area held the answers.

Chapter 8

Something Brewing

Tired but still sleepless, I yawned and kept rereading that last exchange between us. After all this time, I still couldn’t extract anything meaningful. I thought seeing it in front of me would jog something,
anything
, but it didn’t. But I kept at it, figuring the longer I dragged my feet, the more difficult it would be to pinpoint the essence of what Stephen was trying to say.

I was seated at my desk at home with only a single light on, as the rumbling of a storm developed outside. I stared down at my laptop screen, watching the cursor, willing answers to materialize, hoping my fingers would take over like last time, but they just hovered motionless over my keyboard. Apparently, they weren’t freelancing again. I crossed my arms, thinking.

What did he finally know to do?
With who?
Everything was behind him.
Where?
What could get much worse?
Death?
What were those recriminations he was referring to?
Who wanted to kill him?
What answer was he talking about?
I don’t
have any answers. Never did.
He said I had everything?
I
had nothing.
What key was he talking about?
I didn’t have that either.

A rattling and vibration from powerful wind gusts drew my attention. I heard pounding on the roof and glanced up at the windows. Rain was streaming heavily against the glass. In seconds, lightning flashed, then thunder exploded overhead. I silently counted, waiting for when the next strike would occur, then flinched when it did. The swaying trees and their branches scratched and clawed the perimeter of the log exterior. I shivered as a sense of dread suddenly swept over me at my isolation. It was a constant source of worry. I reached for my sweater.

A thunderous explosion made me reel back in my chair as something burst through the window, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. I threw my arms up in a protective shield, lost my balance and tumbled backwards. Instinctively, I rolled under my desk for protection as glass ricocheted everywhere.

Don’t panic.

Something fell from my hair and I glanced down. I was leaning on pinpricks of splintered glass. I winced in pain as small red droplets pooled on my hands. Luckily the pieces hadn’t spread further than my hands beneath the desk. Then I heard a scraping noise followed by a loud pop as my sole light abruptly went out. No electricity.

This was not exactly what I needed, to blindly crawl out from under my desk on broken bits of glass in the dark. I considered what to do. Then I remembered the flashlight I kept in my desk drawer for emergencies. I carefully reached up, blindly felt for the drawer knob, slid it open and grabbed the flashlight. I waited a moment to see if anything further happened. As a rule, I tried to be prepared for most anything, but I had to admit, nothing like this.

A scary thought hit.
Was the window a distraction? Was someone in the house with me?

Erring on the side of caution, I decided to stay in place and wait. I listened intently and waited. My heart was pounding. I waited some more. Then I held my breath and flicked the flashlight on. I cautiously raised my head and peeked out.
Nothing.
I ventured further, eased off the floor, and flashed the light around the room, trying to stay calm and think rationally.

There was a gaping hole where the window used to be. I had been sitting about five feet from impact and was positively amazed I wasn’t blinded by all that glass. Like a chalk-lined dead body with its extremities positioned awkwardly, part of a sizable tree limb lay prostrate on the floor next to the desk
. Close call.
Had it connected with me, it would have split my head open. I was definitely spooked. I looked around the room and then out the window. The rain had finally stopped.

I tried to keep my imagination in check, but was unsuccessful.
Why this window and this branch?
I stepped over it, gingerly making my way to the opening and caught a glimpse at the rest of the tree, which was still clinging to the house. It was splintered where it had broken off. I aimed my flashlight up and zeroed in on the tree itself for a better look.

Saw marks?
Hastily, I withdrew out of range of the window. I needed backup. I dialed 911.

The policemen who showed up determined the accident was caused by a lightning strike. They told me, patronizingly, that this occurred all the time in the mountains when the weather turned. It was an old forest. I better get used to it.

They still had a lot of calls to check out and were anxious to leave. Apparently, others were in worse shape than I was. One elderly woman had a whole tree fall through her house, which put what happened to me in better perspective. The officers were kind enough to board up the window, and I was grateful for that. Then they left. No sooner had I shut the door behind them than the electricity came back on.

Once again, I was left to my thoughts. I began cleaning up the debris with my newly bandaged hands mentally going over my notes. The storm took a hike, but not my opinions, which were off and running as usual, while I methodically picked up pieces of glass.

I glanced at my laptop.

I should have noticed right away that the screws were strewn across Stephen’s desk that fateful night, but my thoughts were elsewhere. If he hadn’t taken out the hard drive, and someone else had, did they get the information they were looking for from both of his computers? If not, would they come after me?

Who was it? Was it someone I knew, or only known to Stephen? Were they stalking me now to see if I might lead them to what they wanted? After this incident, I was beginning to doubt my safety, natural or unnatural. Whenever I traveled from that point on, so did my laptop.

My notes and questions were in there and maybe some answers I hadn’t figured out yet.

Chapter 9

Going Postal

After a while, any doubts about my terrifying evening began to fade and I was lulled into a feeling of
well-being
. I should have known better, but was so caught up with the demands of my shop that I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Several days later I made my daily trip to the post office. As usual, I started shuffling through my mail while walking out the door. One item in particular caught my attention. I had received an envelope with a Highlands postmark. An invitation?
A thank you note?
I quickly tore it open.

Printed on plain white paper were the words: ‘
I know you have the numbers and the key
.’

I reread name on the envelope. Yes, it was definitely addressed to me. I flipped it over, looking for any telltale marks, names, anything. There wasn’t any writing to recognize because all of it was electronically printed, and there was nothing notable about that. I furtively glanced up. Was someone watching my reaction?

Then I felt a hand on my back and spun around. It was Ben. I tensed, suddenly suspicious of his appearance at that exact moment.

Where did he come from?
How convenient him running into me!

“Hello Ben.” I backed up a step to avoid any further physical contact.

He stepped forward, leaning into my comfort zone. “Get anything interesting?”

“No, not really. You know how it is, the usual junk mail.”

“From the expression on your face, it doesn’t look like it’s the usual,” he said, smiling.

“What?” Then I realized he was looking down at my mail and the note. It appeared that he was trying to read it. “Oh, this? Just what I thought it was. More junk mail.” I quickly shoved it back into the envelope and mixed it with the rest of my mail.

He stared into my eyes, then down at my hands, and then back at me again. “Yeah, I get loads of that stuff, too. I usually toss mine while I’m still here.” He looked expectantly back down at the mail in my hands.

It was an awkward moment. No way was I giving that note up, not even to a trashcan. “I’m in a rush,” I said, edging away from him. “I have to go. Bye.”

I did an about-face and headed directly for my car, only to run smack into Jack, who was headed to the post office.

“Well, hey, good
lookin
’. What’s the big rush?”

I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath and let it out in relief. “Jack! Sorry, I was in a rush to get back to the shop.”

He looked at me, concerned. “Hey, is everything all right, Sam?”

I glanced back to where I had encountered Ben. “No, everything is fine. I’m running a little late. That’s all. Martha’s waiting for me at the store.”

He glanced down at my mail. “Anything interesting there?”

Why did he care?

“I haven’t checked yet.”

“Well, I won’t hold you up. You be careful now.” He then headed into the post office.

“
Bye, Jack.”

Why was everyone so interested in my mail?

I couldn’t wait to get back to the store and check the note more carefully. But it revealed nothing more than I had previously read. However, it wasn’t long before I totaled up three notes in three weeks, one each week. They were all identical.

In those nerve-racking days, I discovered the post office not only delivered mail, but threw in apprehension as a free sample. I found myself hesitating every time I pulled into that parking lot. Were those notes nothing more than psychological threats of harassment and intimidation?
If so, for what purpose?
I had to keep my sense of balance if I was to solve this thing.

In a weak moment, I considered telling someone. But really,
who
could I go to? It would probably compromise and ruin what meager trust I had of those around me. So, after giving it some serious thought, I figured the only thing I was in any imminent danger of was not some threatening notes, but giving in to the fear they were expected to generate.

Normally, I was a levelheaded adult and would know when and if I was in over my head. I wasn’t there yet. So I decided to keep my mouth shut and see what happened next. A rational person in my position wouldn’t be so reckless and stubborn at this point, but I was curious why someone was bothering to go to all this effort to get my attention.