Chapter 10 #2
Maybe they’d been heading to Maui to meet with someone from Asia about this project. They’d done that before, since Hawaii was a good middle point. Japan, China, Hong Kong, Singapore, they all had a plethora of high-rises.
Who the hell knew?
Frustrated, Rory set aside the blueprints and rifled through the other papers.
What about that lawsuit Bjorn had mentioned?
He found nothing resembling a legal document, but he did find a handwritten note on “Maureen T. Kerr” letterhead stationery.
It read, L—Your decisions are going to ruin us all.
What is wrong with you? Are you trying to sabotage us?
Why do you always think only of yourself and no one else?
When will you lose this chip on your shoulder?
If you act like an outsider, that’s how we’ll treat you.
I don’t want to be at odds, but I have my children to consider. Something you don’t know shit about.
Rory let out a low whistle. Big trouble in the Kerr clan.
Maureen had been furious enough to put her warning on paper.
Too bad she hadn’t been more specific about what caused her anger.
He searched through the other documents for a clue, but found nothing obviously relevant.
Profit and loss statements, quarterly reports, a report from the charitable arm of the Kerr Group, a proposal from a different health care insurer.
He took some time to peruse that one, which might have been a mistake because all it did was make him resentful. The new plan would save the company money, but everyone’s deductibles would go up.
Why was he trying so hard to protect Lincoln? Fuck that guy.
He slammed the briefcase closed, and as he did so, felt something rattle. Interesting. He hadn’t seen anything that might make that sound. He went through the process of opening the lock again, which meant more manhandling of Lincoln. He wasn’t quite so gentle this time.
“If you mess with our health coverage, I will consider that a breach of my employment contract. You hear that, motherfucker? Just quoting your own half-sister, by the way.”
Once the briefcase was open again, he felt the lining for signs of hidden pockets. Jackpot! He had to tear the lining to get it out—he could always say the crash did that—but when he did, goosebumps ran up and down his arms.
It was a dog tag, but instead of a name, it had four numbers printed on it. Was that the code for the med kit?
He set down the briefcase and turned his attention to the med kit. There was no obvious place to enter the code—unlike the briefcase, the med kit didn’t have a screen. All it had was that pinprick of red light.
He tried reciting the numbers out loud, but that didn’t work. He tried the same thing in his best imitation of Lincoln’s voice. Nope. Finally, as a last-ditch attempt, he waved the dog tag in front of the light.
The lid sprang open.
Not a pill or a syringe to be seen inside this med kit. Instead, its interior was lined with a dense high-tech fabric and had been modified to hold one item, and only one. Rory drew it from its nest and gazed at it in awe.
A crystal about two inches long sat in the palm of his hand.
He didn’t know its purpose, what it was made of, or anything else about it.
All he knew was that it was beautiful—beyond beautiful.
Hypnotic. Mesmerizing. It held a radiant glow in its clear, sparkling depths.
At the core lurked the tiniest hint of a color that could be considered blue, but only if you used a more rare word, like azure, or cerulean.
It was the color of the most perfect day you’d ever experienced, or maybe one you hadn’t yet experienced.
It was the color of nirvana, of heaven, of pure and endless peace.
Just staring at it made all Rory’s worry and stress drain away.
What was it? Why had Lincoln locked it away in this unassuming steel box that was so much more than it appeared?
Where had he gotten this crystal, if that was what it was?
Rory had never pictured his boss as the hippie new age crystal type.
He glanced back at Lincoln and saw a slight smile curve his lips. Maybe he’d felt the glow of the crystal from there. This was what Rory was supposed to guard. But why?
“Is this your big secret, man?” he asked—to no response, of course. “What should I do with it now?”
On impulse, he pulled out his phone and turned it on.
He took a few photos of the crystal, then he switched to video mode and recorded its gentle glow.
When he was satisfied, he carefully put it back in its nest, then closed up the box.
Then he wrapped it in a hoodie and, for now, tucked it deep in his own overnight bag.
Maybe there was something in the briefcase that would explain what that crystal was all about. He sat down with it and, with a muttered apology to Lincoln, dove in.
A puff of wind whispered through the tent, as if he’d called it to him. He smiled, and whispered back, “Hey, you.”