The Hunted

4

Lauren walked up to the new four-story office building on East Bidwell Road and shielded her eyes from the high gray sky that was bouncing off the reflective glass. Inside the lobby, the directory displayed the company name, Cablecast, and listed the three floors that it occupied. She had not been to Michael’s office since his division had moved suites six months ago and had to ask several people before finding the proper floor and section.

Lauren introduced herself to Amber, Michael’s secretary. Dark skinned and thin, Amber was not what Lauren had expected.

“People in his group have been in and out of his office,” the young secretary said. “After we talked yesterday, I checked around, and everyone said they’d left things pretty much as they were.”

Lauren thanked her and proceeded in. Amber was a lot more attractive than Lauren had imagined. Certainly, if what Deputy Vork had said was true, then Michael didn’t need to go all the way to Colorado to have an affair. He had a sweet, young candidate ten feet outside his office door.

Lauren shook her head and scolded herself for having such thoughts. But were such thoughts any worse than imagining her husband buried under ten feet of snow, the victim of a sudden snow slide in the middle of Colorado back country?

She stood just inside his doorway and took in the character of the office. It was dark and the air was stale, with an old, nicked and pocked wooden desk pushed over to one side of the ten-by-ten room. She turned on the overhead fluorescent lights. Piles of reports were stacked on his desk, along with a dusty collection of silk flowers protruding from a nondescript vase, and a photo of Lauren, one he had taken himself in their front yard with Tucker. She walked around and sat in his creaky chair, trying to take everything in. She couldn’t resist playing the psychologist. Was this a happy office or a sad one?

The hum of Michael’s PC caught her attention. Like most corporations, Cablecast kept its computers running 24/7. She reached over to the monitor that was squeezed in amongst the folders and turned it on. As the image appeared on the screen, she realized that Cablecast used Microsoft Office, which she was familiar with. She started Outlook and clicked on the CALENDAR icon.

Lauren searched Michael’s schedule for the days before his departure, hoping to find a name or phone number that could give her more information as to where he had gone. She clicked through the prior two weeks without finding any reference to the trip other than one entry on the day he was to leave: “Skiing.”

Before closing out the software, she decided to check his inbox for e-mails. She scrolled through the more recent messages that had arrived while he was away — all of which appeared to be work-related — and found one from a month ago sent by someone identified only as “targard.” Frustrated that it didn’t provide the person’s name, she read through the short message:

The message was unsigned. Lauren reread it, then realized there was nothing of use in there… other than that this was a real trip. If she had had any doubts after speaking with Deputy Vork, they were now extinguished.

She hit REPLY and composed her own message:

Lauren added her contact information, then hit SEND and waited as the message was transmitted across the cybersphere… hopefully to someone who could provide some answers.

She gave one final look through Michael’s drawers, hoping to find a letter, a memento from his frat days, or something else that might indicate where he had gone. There was nothing. But she did find his handheld PC. She powered it on and checked the inbox. The only message was an e-mail Lauren had sent him a couple of weeks ago. The calendar was identical to the one she had seen on Michael’s desktop computer.

She slipped the little PC into her purse, took one more look around her husband’s office, and covered her eyes. As tears began to well, she realized she could no longer keep her emotions under control. She sat there and wept, praying that Michael would soon be found alive.