Killer Summer

76

The impenetrable coal-black sky bled to the color of a fresh bruise as it surrendered to the first photons from a faraway morning sun. It held a luminescence not unlike the ocean depths where the last vestiges of sunlight mingle and fade. Soon the ashes of the Milky Way would shrink to a mere brushstroke, leaving only named constellations and the planets battling for recognition.

At four-thirty A.M., Fiona should have been in bed, savoring a final few hours of sleep. Instead, she, along with Teddy Sumner, had hung around the Sheriff’s Office, awaiting word of Walt’s rescue attempt, her stomach in a knot. When asked if she would fill in for the videographer, she agreed solely because of the subject matter: Teddy Sumner. Walt had requested an interview with the man.

The interview room, directly across from Walt’s office and one of three down a long hallway, had a metal table bolted to the floor and metal chairs. Two fluorescent tubes lit the room too brightly. Fiona and her tripod-mounted camera kept to the far corner, a close-up of Sumner’s tortured face on the screen.

Deputy Gloria Stratum read from a card, declaring the date, time of day, location, and who was in the room. It was noted that Sumner was submitting to the interview voluntarily.

Sumner was nodding. Fiona saw an acceptance on his face that she didn’t understand.

“You understand this interview is at the request of the sheriff,” Stratum began, reasserting what had just been said.

“Yes. I’m aware that timing is critical. You people have no idea what this is like for me.”

Fiona watched the close-up of his face as his pain intensified. She braced herself, realizing this was no simple Q &A.

Stratum shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“You understand: I know what’s going on,” Sumner said.

“The sheriff… I realize this is a bit unorthodox… but the sheriff asked that I say just one word to you. He wanted me to add that the best chance he has to rescue your daughter requires full disclosure…”

Sumner pursed his lips until bloodless white and nodded solemnly.

“Mastermind,” Stratum said.

She then waited for some kind of response.

“That was it,” she finally said. “The one word he wanted me to say. Mastermind.”

Sumner was flash-frozen by what he heard. Then his lips twisted and a wave of relief seemed to melt his agonized expression.

“I…” he started, then trailed off. “The point is… No one knows what it’s like…”

His eyes flashed at the camera angrily. He was addressing it, not Stratum.

“Trying to hold this together without her mother, trying to reinvent the wheel and get something going… In this economy, no less. Are you kidding me?”

Stratum said nothing.

“But, here we are, right?” he continued. “I want to help her. If I don’t do something now and it’s later determined that if I had… If it gives the sheriff an advantage…”

“It comes down to money, right?” he continued. “Love and money. How fragile it all is, how quickly it all changes. All you ever want to do is protect her, take care of her, keep her out of trouble. Steer her away from the things that are only going to make it harder and push her toward the things that make it easier… college, good friends. Build her a solid foundation to stand on. Am I right?”

He jerked back in his chair so abruptly that he went out of frame of the camera. Fiona widened the shot, noticing in the process that her finger was trembling.

“Mastermind,” Stratum repeated.

He looked up at Stratum, up at the camera, and winced.

“They say I’m a one-hit wonder, did you know that? You know what it’s like to hear that said about yourself?”

He closed his eyes slowly, shook his head, opened them, managed another smug grin.

“To stay in the game…” he continued. “There’s a level of play that I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s critical if you’re going to see the A scripts, if you’re going to have a chance at the big projects.” He leaned forward across the table, the camera laboring to keep him in focus. “A bridge loan, that’s all.” He was shouting by now. “ ‘ Nothing to it!’ he said.” Sumner snorted. “Nothing to it…”

He exhaled and looked around the room anxiously. “He’s a clever man, your sheriff.”

“He’s a keeper,” Stratum said.

Sumner put his hands behind his head and stretched. His neck made a popping sound. It wasn’t fear in his eyes but anger, a man pitting himself against the world. Fiona cowered into the corner.

“Okay,” he said. “Pay attention.”

Again, he was addressing the camera directly.

Fiona pushed herself farther into the corner, her back flat against the cool wall.

“I first met Christopher Cantell when we were developing the script for Mastermind. He was brought in as a paid consultant.”

Fiona threw her head back and it hit the wall with a thud. Sumner’s eyes ticked in her direction but only briefly. He looked back into the calm, unresponsive face of Deputy Gloria Stratum and said, “Ransoming the Lear… That was my idea.”