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  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 (Coming later in 2015. See below for notification when available.)

  Would you like Amazon to notify you when the future books in “The Blackwell Files” are released? Just click on author Steven F. Freeman’s Amazon Author page, then click on “Add Favorite” below the author’s picture.

  Author website: www.SteveFreemanWriter.com

  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.

  CHAPTER 2

  After dinner, Alton, Mallory, and Beverly returned to the family room.

  Skipper, Beverly’s Maltese, sauntered into the room. Upon seeing Buster, he began to bark incessantly, while Buster merely waved his tail. Eventually, the barking proved to be too strenuous for the chubby Maltese, and he quieted. After exchanging the customary front-to-back sniffs, the dogs separated. Buster settled onto Alton’s feet, while Skipper jumped onto the love seat next to Beverly and rested his head on her leg. Before long, both dogs were gently snoring.

  After enjoying the canines’ antics, the trio fell into conversation once again. Their talk naturally gravitated to military recollections, the common denominator of their lives. Beverly listened in somber silence as Alton described the fateful day on which the mobile communications van he had commanded in Afghanistan had been devastated by a terrorist bomb, an attack that had killed most of his men and left him with a permanent limp. Over the course of several more hours, they swapped Army stories—some comical, some serious, others tragic. In seemingly no time, midnight had come and gone, much as it had on many occasions back in Gandamak’s Lodge, the dingy Kabul bar in which Alton and Mallory had first grown to know each other.

  Mallory rested her head on the arm of the couch and eventually nodded off.

  Beverly smiled at her daughter. “I haven’t seen Mallory this happy since before her father died. She’s quite smitten with you.”

  Alton looked upon the sleeping figure, then raised his gaze to Beverly. “I hope it’s obvious that the feeling is mutual. I feel privileged to be the person who has won the treasure of Mallory’s love. I’m still not quite sure how it happened, though. I don’t deserve her.”

  “She thinks you do. Isn’t that enough?”

  “It’s enough to make me determined to make her happy.”

  “And that’s why she loves you. You want what’s best for her, and you want to make her feel special and protected.”

  Remembering the psychotic criminal who had recently made two attempts on his life, Alton laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know. She ended up protecting me not long ago. But yes, I’ve had her back on occasion, too. Not that she’s incapable of taking care of herself—far from it—but she has chosen rather dangerous occupations: the Army and the FBI.”

  Beverly nodded. “It may not be obvious, Alton, but Mallory needs to feel protected—emotionally, I mean. She was so close to Ron, her dad. After he died, she was still a happy person generally, but she always seemed uncertain about men—whether they’d stick with her. Thank goodness Scott, her older brother, took her under his wing. That helped for a time, but eventually he moved away to Wisconsin to take a job. In a way, her relationship with Scott made things harder for her in the long run. Scott and Mallory had been close, and then he, like Ron, was out of her life—not permanently, of course, but in a way that inevitably diminished their contact. In quiet moments, I could see that Mallory still suffered from the loss of her father.

  “For the first time since Ron’s death, though, I don’t see that sad part of her anymore. I don’t know if you realize the important place you’ve taken in her life.”

  Alton pondered Beverly’s words. “I’m beginning to appreciate just how deeply she felt the loss of her father, and how that experience has shaped her feelings towards me.”

  “It’s more than that, Alton,” said Beverly. “She really loves you, not just because of the assurance you give her but also because of who you are as a person.”

  “I’ve wondered about that, to be honest. I’m not sure what she sees in me. It’s true that I would do anything to protect her, but what else? So far as looks go, I’m not exactly GQ material, especially with my injury,” he said, gazing at his damaged leg.

 
“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a fine-looking young man. I’m sure she’s happy with your appearance,” replied Beverly with the hint of a smile. “But more importantly, she sees the qualities that make you who you are: integrity, determination, loyalty…and love. She’s told me all about what she sees in you, believe me.”

  Alton nodded yet remained silent, reluctant to interrupt the retired general.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you this, but I’m going to anyway,” continued Beverly. “The joy Mallory feels being with you would make the pain of your leaving—if you were to leave—all the more difficult. Please take care with my baby. Her heart is more fragile than it looks.”

  Alton didn’t need to imagine the devastation of lost love. He had experienced it personally. His mind flashed back to the hospital room in which Mallory had been recovering from wounds sustained during their first investigation together. Before learning of Scott’s sibling relationship to Mallory, Alton had figured Scott to be her boyfriend. He remembered the crushing black cloud of depression that had descended upon him when learning Mallory’s love was—so he believed—beyond his reach. The thought of causing such a bleak feeling in Mallory made him shudder.

  “Beverly, I can’t tell you how highly I esteem your daughter. She is truly the best person I have ever met, and it will be my honor to fill her life with all the love and fidelity I can provide.”

  “You know, Alton, from anyone else, that kind of statement would border on the preposterous,” replied Beverly. “With you, though, it rings of the plain truth. I believe you, and I’m a good judge of character.”

  Later, as Alton retired for the night, he recalled Mallory’s words with sleepy pleasure. “You forgot to add watching over me. That’s part of your job description, too.”