T Wave

T Wave

Steven F. Freeman

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 Steven F. Freeman

All rights reserved.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to Ruth Gresh, Cheryl Snapperman, and Lynn Hesse for their invaluable feedback and assistance.

PURCHASE OTHER BOOKS IN ALTON AND MALLORY’S “BLACKWELL FILES” SERIES NOW!

Book 1:
Nefarious

Book 2:
Ruthless

Book 3: T Wave

Book 4:
Havoc

Book 5:
The Devil’s Due

Book 6:
The Evolution of Evil

Book 7: Bloodline
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Alton passed through the building’s automatic doors and into the warm humidity of the summer evening. He headed into the parking lot, an expanse of asphalt bordered by a sidewalk, beyond which lay a dense grove of trees. On previous visits to the building, he had often observed squirrels darting through the underbrush, but the parking lot’s faux-antique streetlamps couldn’t begin to illuminate the interior of the dark copse now.

As he walked down the sidewalk towards his Explorer, Alton ruminated over the curious series of events. The evening’s investigation had only strengthened his inclination to believe them to be more than a result of chance.

With no distractions beyond the soothing symphony of crickets, Alton seemed to think more clearly in the moist night air than he had in the cramped office. He slowed his pace as the outline of a pattern began to penetrate his thoughts. His mind was on the cusp of forming a connection, of recognizing a common attribute shared by all instances of the cases he was investigating. The noise of squirrels rustling underneath the trees proved a momentary distraction, but he quickly resumed his attempt to identify the solution which lay, tantalizingly, just out of reach.

As Alton struggled to complete the intuitive leap, a blur of motion appeared at the periphery of his vision. His world exploded into a thousand bright lights, then turned utterly dark.

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

SATURDAY, JULY 7

CHAPTER 1

Alton Blackwell assessed his appearance in the mirror. He felt a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. He was a decorated Army veteran and a respected manager in Kruptos, Inc., one of the most illustrious technology firms in the country, yet those roles provided little preparation for the formidable task ahead of him: meeting Beverly Wilson, his girlfriend’s mother, for the first time.

A cascade of thoughts tumbled through Alton’s mind. Did Beverly know about his bad leg? Had he already told her about that? And what was the right way to address a retired Army general?
Should he say “General Wilson,” or would she prefer “Miss Wilson”?
Alton chastised himself.
You can do this. After all, you knew you’d have to meet her someday.

“Are you ready?” asked Mallory Wilson from across the room.

“No…yes. I guess so.”

Mallory approached him from behind and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you worried about my mom?”

Alton sighed. “Yeah. I really have no idea what she’ll think of me. She hardly knows me. We’ve only communicated via a few phone calls and e-mails. What if I say something that makes her angry or disappointed?”

“Mom will love you. I promise.”

“I hope so.”

“I know you’re nervous,” said Mallory, “and I admit Mom can be a little intimidating, but just be yourself. She’ll respect that more than anything.”

Alton nodded and called for his Labrador. “Buster—let’s go, buddy.”

Four hours later, Alton pulled into the entrance of Beverly Wilson’s Charlotte, North Carolina estate and traveled in a tight radius around the circular driveway fronting her house. Despite the summer heat, the lush grass in Beverly’s lawn reflected a perfect shade of deep green. A manicured splash of immaculate lavender and pink landscaping completed the “Better Homes and Gardens” scene. Nothing was out of place.

Alton glanced at his left leg, which had been permanently injured as a result of an IED explosion in Afghanistan. Beverly Wilson seemed to have high expectations for her yard. What kind of expectations would the retired Army general have for her daughter’s beau?

Beverly emerged from the front door just as the Explorer pulled to a stop. As Alton exited his SUV, Buster jumped out and trotted anxiously towards the landscaping. Alton snatched the dog’s leash from the back seat and limped after his canine. If Beverly didn’t know about Alton’s bum leg before, she did now. He grabbed the dog’s collar just as Buster relieved himself on an impeccably-pruned hydrangea. The protracted duration of Buster’s three-legged pose bore witness to his lengthy confinement in the vehicle without a break. Alton gave his head a rueful shake. This wasn’t the introduction he had been hoping for.

Alton attached the leash to Buster’s collar and made a beeline for the front door. Mallory walked to her mother and embraced her while simultaneously holding a hand over her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to stifle a fit of laughter.

Alton reached Beverly Wilson and stood in front of her. He felt an almost irresistible urge to salute. The uniform might have been missing, but Beverly’s military bearing was unmistakable.

Rather than saluting, Alton extended a hand. “General…ah, Miss Wilson, Ma’am…”

Beverly didn’t smile, but her eyes twinkled. She extended her hand in return and exchanged a firm handshake. “It’s nice to meet you, Alton. How about we go on a first-name basis here?”

“That would be fine…Beverly. I’m pleased to meet you, too. I believe you’ve already noticed Buster.” He turned apologetic eyes to his host. “Um…sorry about the plant.”

“Not to worry,” replied Beverly. “That hydrangea has been pink long enough. I think blue would suit it better.” Apparently noticing Alton’s bewilderment, she added, “The color of its bloom is a result of the soil’s pH, and dog pee is slightly acidic. The plant will eventually turn blue.”

Beverly examined Alton for a moment and pursed her lips. “You’re a little shorter than I imagined from Mallory’s description, but I like the look in your eyes.” After a pause, she continued. “Why don’t we gather your luggage, and let’s get out of this hot sun?”

The three collected a few suitcases from the Explorer, entered the house, and began trudging up the stairs with Beverly in the lead.

Alton leaned over to Mallory. “Does your mom know we’re not doing it?”

“No, but I guess she’ll figure it out now.”

Several months ago, Alton had told Mallory of his desire to abstain from intimacy until marriage, believing it to be the only honorable course for a man claiming the treasure of her love. She had agreed, but in the interval, they had both felt nature’s pull—he certainly had, at least.

In addition to his noble intentions, Alton was also held in check by a lingering fear. His limp might have been the most visible outcome of his combat injury, but it wasn’t the only one. How would his limited range of motion—and the intense pain that often accompanied it—affect his performance in bed? Had this anxiety not existed, Alton suspected he would have broken down by now. 

They reached the top of the stairs and deposited the suitcases in two bedrooms facing each other in the middle of a long hallway.

As Alton placed his small suitcase on the wood floor of his room, he caught a glimpse of a weeping willow gently blowing in the breeze outside the window. The sight stirred one of his earliest memories, that of playing under an ancient version of the same species as a boy in his small hometown of Tifton, Georgia. The tranquility of his childhood had been shattered when his parents had divorced during his high-school days, leading him to assume a level of responsibility beyond his years as he worked part-time to supplement his mother’s meager teacher’s pay.

The trio retired to the downstairs family room, a recessed space furnished in a casual, tropical theme. Palm tree lamps and a decorative wicker portmanteau complemented leather furniture of a deep burgundy hue. A faux palm-frond ceiling fan rotated in a lazy circle. The vibe of the room invited conversation.

Alton and Mallory fell onto the couch, while Beverly relaxed in an adjacent love seat.

“So Alton, I understand you work for Kruptos,” said Beverly.

“That’s right,” he replied.

“What exactly does your company do? I’ve heard of it, but to be honest, the name is all I know.”

“We specialize in telecommunications security—ensuring the security of our customers’ voice and written electronic messages and decrypting any coded messages our customers want to read.”

Mallory cut in. “They don’t merely specialize in telecom security. They’re the best in the business.”

“And you’re a manager there, right?” asked Beverly. “You must know your stuff.”

“I suppose,” said Alton, feeling a little embarrassed. He lowered his gaze to the floor.

“He’s being modest, as usual,” chimed in Mallory. “Alton is one of the undisputed experts in the field.”

Alton raised his head and found Beverly looking him squarely in the eye.

“You seem a little distracted, Alton,” she said. “Are you all right?”

Alton thought about all the things he would like to say to bolster the underwhelming impression he supposed he was making, but he decided this was no time to deviate from his usual honesty-is-the-best-policy approach. “To tell the truth, I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

He gazed at Beverly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “Most of the time, I’m not too concerned about making a good impression on other people. I try to be courteous and fair to those around me. If they like me, fine. If not, then it wasn’t meant to be. But with you, it’s different.”

The corners of Beverly’s mouth tugged slightly upward, and her eyes twinkled again, but she remained silent.

Alton plowed ahead. “You’re the mother of the most important person in my life, so of course your opinion matters more, if for no other reason than it will be a source of either joy or stress to Mallory. I’m sure you have high expectations for her—her career, her friends, her relationships. I really have no idea how I’m going to stack up against those expectations. I know I’m not the catch of the day, especially with this bum leg.” He gestured towards his limb. “Yes, I have an interesting job, and I’m not the dumbest guy on the planet, but will that be enough? I hope so. For what it’s worth, though, I can tell you that I care for Mallory deeply, and I’ll use whatever qualities I possess to make her as happy as I can.”

“You already do, Alton,” said Mallory, resting her hand on his arm. “More than you know.” In a more teasing manner, she added, “You forgot to add watching over me. Don’t forget, that’s part of your job description, too.”

Alton laughed. “I think that job is mutual. You saved me from the booby-trapped laptop left for me by that lunatic a few months ago.”

“That’s right. You owe the FBI now, buddy.”

For the first time, Beverly smiled. “You all up for a beer?”

“You bet,” replied Alton.

Beverly returned with a tray of Coors Light bottles, and the trio continued to chat until dinnertime. Over the course of the evening, Mallory embraced the opportunity to spend time with her mother, while Alton and Beverly enjoyed the novelty of meeting for the first time a person with such great capacity to influence the happiness of one they mutually held in high regard.