Blind Witness
Authors: Alysia S. Knight
BLIND WITNESS
B
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Alysia S. Knight
Blind Witness
By Alysia S. Knight
Published by Heart Dreams Press
Layton, Utah
Copyright © 2014 Alysia S. Knight
ISBN 13: 978-1-942000-006
ISBN: 1942000006
Cover design: by Kelli Ann Morgan @
www.inspirecreativeservices.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
reproduced in any format or in any medium without written permission.
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, place and events are product of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments or events are purely coincidental.
The views expressed within this work are the sole responsibility of the author and do not represent Heart Dreams Press or any of its
affiliates.
Beemmmp
The single tune caught Rachelle’s attention as Lois, the other person in the small office, transferred the incoming call to her terminal. Rachelle picked up the headphones sliding them on with practiced ease.
“
Clairbourne Industries. Mr. Clairbourne nor his personal assistant are available at the moment. If you would like to leave a message, I will make sure it is brought to their attention.” She waited. If it weren’t for the faint breathing sounds on the line Rachelle would’ve thought, whoever it was, had hung up.
“Who is this?” The words when they came were curt and demanding.
“This is Clairbourne’s executive answering service. If you would like I can redirect your call or take a message.”
There was another long pause. Rachelle shifted in her seat. For nearly two months she’d fielded calls for the executive levels of
Clairbourne Industries. She hadn’t felt this uneasy since her first days, and then it was out of concern over her own abilities to handle the job. She forced a swallow to relieve the dryness that settled in her throat while her hands remained poised over her computer keyboard waiting to input every word exchanged.
“May I ask who is calling?” she asked to break the silence.
“You have a beautiful voice.” The words came back, startling her. Her fingers paused for a second over the keyboard then the voice continued and so did she. “Are you as beautiful as you sound? Soft, sweet, innocent, an angel, Clairbourne’s going to need an angel. He’s going to die.”
Rachelle’s lungs tightened, tensed with the rest of her body, but her fingers continued to type. “Sir, may I ask whose calling?” She tried to keep her voice from shaking as she forced the words out.
“Tell him he’s going to have to pay the price. Clairbourne, who is all-powerful, who has everything. It’s time. He’s going to pay. I’ll take everything from him. He won’t have anything left. I’ll destroy him and everything he cares about. I’ll take it all away. I can do it. Only I can. No one will be his friend. No one will stand by him. I’ll destroy him. He will pay.”
“Please, can’t I help you?” Rachelle voice trembled unmistakably now.
“You’re frightened.” The cold rambling voice changed to confusion. “Don’t be frightened, Angel Voice. I won’t let him harm you. I’ll protect you.”
“Protect me?”
“From Clairbourne. He’ll die. He has to. But not yet, he has to suffer first. Pain, I want him to feel pain. I want him to hurt like I’ve hurt. Then he’ll die and only I’ll know when. I can get him anywhere, anytime. He must know that. He’ll be helpless, but you’ll be safe just … just don’t go near Eastbourne Shipping then you’ll be safe. I’ll take care of you, Angel Voice.”
The words stopped. The line went dead, but Rachelle’s fingers remained frozen over the keyboard, waiting.
“Rachelle.” The voice that came to her next was warm, female and from in the same room.
Rachelle jumped in spite the reassuring familiarity of it. “Rachelle is something wrong? You look pale.” Rachelle could hear Lois’ slender body shift around, but when she turned to the voice only darkness greeted her eyes. It was the same darkness she’d been fighting to adjust to for almost nine months, since the accident when her sight was taken from her.
“Will you get me security, please?”
Only a moment passed before the headset came alive again.
“Security.”
Automatically, she turned back to her computer. “This is Miss Harris, executive answering.” Rachelle’s voice sounded foreign, too calm for what she felt. “I just received a death threat against Mr.
Clairbourne.”
“Please give me the details.” The voice that came over the headset seemed bored or matter of fact. It disturbed her, causing her to hesitate.
“I’m sure he was serious,” Rachelle stressed, fighting the wave of dread that left her feeling sick.
“I’m sure he was. If you’ll just give me the details, we’ll check it out. Start by giving me the number trace.”
Rachelle felt foolishly chastened, like a small child or rather an air-headed bimbo. Feeling the sides of the keyboard, she moved her finger in position and made the request.
“No listing available,” the computer generator voice answered. Puzzled, Rachelle re-entered the command. The same answer greeted her.
“The computer says there’s none available.” She heard a muffled curse, taking the image of ‘air-head’ to another level.
“Can you play me the recording?” The gruff voice held little patience.
“Yes, sir,” Rachelle answered seriously, grimacing at her attitude. The recording began, but the only thing that came through was her voice and a strange mechanical hum.
“What’s that, where’s the recording?” The voice through the phone passed well beyond annoyed.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand.” Rachelle tried to work with the recording, her fear now combining with frustration. Her stomach churned, leaving her feeling nauseated. Tilting her head forward, she pushed her fingers into her hair and forced herself to take a deep breath before once more placing the command only to receive the same fouled recording as before.
“I don’t understand. It’s not here.”
A harsh line of swear words came over the phone making her flinch.
“Do you think you can tell me what the man said? I’m assuming it was a man from what you previously said?”
“Yes, it was a man. But wouldn’t you …”
“Just tell me what he said.” The man cut her off.
“Yes, sir.” Rachelle fought to firm up her voice. “He said he was going to kill Mr. Clairbourne. That he was going to destroy him and everything he had. He mentioned specifically Eastbourne Shipping and to stay away from it.”
“Anything else?”
The voice sounded bored again.
“He said a lot. Kind of rambled, but that was the gist of most of it, stressing that he was going to take everything, and then he was going to kill Mr.
Clairbourne.” Hearing the doubt over the phone, she wasn’t quite sure what to say to make the man take her seriously.
“Rambled, like bragging to you?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“I see, thank you, Ms. Harris. I’m sure it was just a prank, but we’ll check it out.”
“But, wouldn’t you like-,” for the second time in a matter of minutes the line went dead in her ear, “the printed transcript.” Rachelle finished to herself, slumping forward.
“Rachelle, are you all right?” Not having heard Lois cross the room, she jerked as Lois’ hand settled onto her shoulder. “Sorry,” the woman said gently.
“It’s all right. I just feel a little shaken. He sounded so serious.” Rachelle raised trembling fingers to her lips.
“What all did he say?” A gentle hand squeezed her arm, showing warm concern besides the curiosity that was evident in Lois’ tone.
“Mainly that he was going to kill Mr. Clairbourne. He was so cold, so … he kept saying he was going to destroy him and that only he could do it.” A shudder raced through her body.
Lois’ hand tightened on her arm in another reassuring squeeze. “Well, security will handle it.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think they took it very serious. The man seemed to think I was a flake.”
A small chuckle escaped Lois. “Only you would say that. No matter, they’ll still check it out, so just relax and forget about it. I’ve answered a few calls that were threats before and nothing’s ever happened. You did what you were supposed to do in reporting it. So don’t worry about it.”
Rachelle managed a nod. “I need a minute, would you cover for me?”
“Sure, take what time you need but don’t let it get to you. As I said, it’s nothing. Just some jerk trying to be a big shot.”
Rachelle made her way to the door and moved down the hall, touching the wall lightly with one finger. Hesitating for a moment when she realized she hadn’t kept track of her steps. She moved the hand from her side to just in front of her. Even though the people in the offices around hers knew she was blind, she hated to look as if she was groping her way. She hated to feel helpless, fought against it with all her being. Maybe that was why the call bothered her so much. It made her feel helpless. No matter what Lois said, or the security man thought, the man on the line was serious. She could hear it in his voice, in his cold irrational words. He was going to do something.
She jerked as her hand touched cold metal. Using her other hand, she caught back her long hair and leaned forward letting the water trickle over her lips, to run down her throat. It was cool, refreshing, but did nothing to soothe her anxiety within.
The hours past torturously slow. Every time the phone rang Rachelle jumped, half expecting the chilling voice once again to reach across the line. By the time the day was through she was such a nervous wreck that when Lois offered her a ride home she accepted, knowing she couldn’t face the trial of making it to the bus and home.
Closing the door of her apartment, she turned the deadbolt, and with a satisfying click, shut out the world. Her apartment had become her refuge. For two months after the accident it had been her dark domain, where her frustrations were handled on her own, away from too helpful family. Where bumps, knocks and bruises faded, until boredom set in, and she was ready to venture out. Now, it was where peace soothed her tormented nerves.
****
The next morning, the lobby at work was in as much turmoil as her dreams had been. People milled around, talking in excited voices. It took all of Rachelle’s concentration just to make it to the elevator. The relief that came from the doors closing lasted only until they opened four stories up, where the room buzzed with conversation. She let out a sigh as she stepped into her office, but again her relief didn’t last long.
“A bomb exploded last night at building three’s loading dock. No injuries but part of the awning came down on a truck.” Lois’ words were spoken gently but left Rachelle cold. “Security will be here soon. They want to talk to you about the call.”
Without a word Rachelle nodded and made her way to her chair. Her eyes closed tight though it made no difference in shutting out the world.
I’ll destroy him, I’ll kill him.
I can do it, only
I
. The words echoed in her mind. He would do it just like he said. She’d known it. It was in the tone, in the pitch of every curt word. In the voice she knew she would never forget.
“Rachelle, would you like me to get you something?” Lois’ mothering tone was as evident as the cruel promise in the caller’s, helping Rachelle to force out a smile as she shook her head.
“I have to check the executive messages.” Rachelle turned on the computer before settling the headphones in place. Her fingers moved over the familiar keys.
****
Britton Clairbourne had never been down to the message center, always letting Darrel, his assistant, handle any dealings his office had with it. Today was different. Today, he would handle things personally. When someone attacked his company, his people, it was very personal. It had been sheer luck no one was injured in the explosion. He wanted whoever was behind it, and he wanted them now.
Clenching his fists, he strode down the hall. Ahead, he saw Theodore
Laslow, head of security, disappear through a doorway. The gravelly old bear of an ex-policeman had a sizable chip on his shoulder, but he was still a good man who knew how to get answers. Following him into the room, Britton stopped just inside. His alert senses took it all in.
There were two desks in the small office, two tall plants, and a cluster of seascapes and a calendar adorning the walls. The first desk held a computer, phone bank, an array of pictures undoubtedly of family, and a huge coffee cup that announced #1 MOM, which fit the older, petite, brown-haired woman that sat there. The other desk was barren save the computer and telephone system. A woman sat at the desk with headphones settled amongst long, brown hair that shimmered with golden highlights. Quick fingers moved over the keyboard.
Theodore Laslow rested on the corner of her desk. “Well?” His voice boomed, making the woman at the keyboard cringe.
“I’m trying sir, I don’t understand.” The voice was soft, strained to nearly breaking.
The man could be intimating, Britt thought. As if sensing his arrival Laslow turned, setting down a coffee cup by the computer, he extended his hand.
“Nothing yet, Mr.
Clairbourne, I just got here and she hasn’t brought the conversation up,” Laslow said as they shook.
Behind the security officer, the woman turned her chair his direction, but didn’t look at him. Still, he felt a punch to his system which took him by surprise. She was young, maybe mid-twenties. Her cheekbones were high, delicate; her nose small, pert. Her mouth was a perfect bow, lips slightly too full, giving an invitation to be kissed, promising lush, sweet, softness. He wondered where the thought had come from. It had to be that her lips were the only features on her face to show any signs of make-up. The rest of her face was fresh and clean. Dark lashes shaded her eyes, giving her a shy look.
How could someone so pretty, be that self-conscious?
The thought cut through his anger, startling him so that he growled out the command. “Let’s get started then.” At the sound of his voice, her head lifted, and he found himself lost in depths of blue.
Not pretty, beautiful.
Then the eyes were turned away from him as she swiveled back to the keyboard. The motion brought her arm around connecting with Laslow’s coffee cup.