Page 112 of Whistleblower

I’ve been ready. It’s time to end this once and for all and put the past in the fucking past.

* * *

They patted me down at the front gates. My purse was searched and I had to sign in on a clipboard. Other than that, there is absolutely no indication that this is a correctional facility. I certainly didn’t think I’d find a cushioned, wicker patio set at a prison, but here we are, enjoying the light breeze on what can only be described as a terrace in the middle of a quaint garden.

I stare at Porky, who looks well-rested and far more fit. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen him in person, but I remember a slight beer belly that he would strategically hide underneath his dress shirts, one size too big. Either he’s been getting a lot of exercise, or his khaki prison uniform flatters his figure.

“You look well, Eden,” he says, a sheepish smile on his face as he glances at the guard who is pretending not to listen to our conversation.

“Do I?” I ask, my eyes narrowing. “Because I’ve been through hell. You, however, look like prison is treating you well.” If we can call this “prison.”

Folding his hands together, Porky ducks his head. He used to keep his blond locks a little long, just grazing the tops of his shoulder. His previous California look has been replaced with a neat, short do. “The strain here is more psychological than physical.” He gives me a small smile and I’m immediately furious at his casual attitude. I wanted him to look in my eyes and feel guilt, not…joy.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” I say matter-of-factly.

He nods in agreement. “I’m just happy you visited at all. I wish I could give you a hug, but physical contact is against the visitation rules.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I hiss in a cruel tone I don’t even recognize. Porky’s eyes pop into wide circles as he assesses the outrage in my expression. “You tried to have me beaten and tortured, and you’re happy to see me? What kind of sick, twisted fucking mind games are you—”

“Eden. What?” Porky interrupts.

“You’re one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met. You can’t fool me by playing dumb. Just tell me what you want. I need this to stop. I’m done living in constant worry. I’m done looking over my shoulder. Right here, right now—tell me what the fuck you want, so I can explain how I don’t have it.”

He shakes his head at me, perplexed and startled. “Who tortured you? What don’t you have?”

“Here’s what I know.” Holding up my hand, I extend one finger. “After you tried to sue me for corporate espionage, I was harassed and threatened for an entire year. You filled the employees’ heads with all that awful bullshit about how I stole their futures. The very bullshit that started a witch hunt for me. I waited out the storm—scared shitless for a year—until I was driven away from the only place I’ve ever called home…but that still wasn’t enough for you.” I hold up another finger. “You had a note delivered in the most facetious way asking me to come here. I’m embarrassed to say it, but it spooked me. I didn’t like the fact that you were still pulling puppet strings from prison.” I hold up a third finger. “And when the note wasn’t enough to get my attention and pull me back into the fray, you hired someone to hold me a gunpoint, tie me up, and hit me—”

“Eden, I don’t—”

“No!” I shout. “Let me finish. What you did not account for is my ability to adapt. I made new friends even after Empress stole my whole fucking life. You got in bed with the most evil and depraved criminals to try and light our country on fire. You forced my hand. I got no joy from tearing apart the company I helped grow. You tricked me. I believed in you. I thought you wanted to help people and instead you were just teeing them up for the slaughter. Aren’t you the one who was preaching across all of Silicon Valley the dangerous influence of social media on world issues? Yet, you manipulated it and jumped right past bullying, straight into terrorism. How could I stand by, Porky? How could you turn out to be so evil? What the hell do you still want from me?”

He’s silent now, his eyes shifting back and forth like he’s thinking way too hard. The only sound between us is our loud breathing until Porky finally breaks the silence.

“The lawsuit was just to buy time,” he calmly explains. “You shouldn’t have lawyered up, Eden. It was never going to go through. It was a defensive move, so I could figure out how to build my case.”

“You didn’t deserve to have a case—”

He holds up his palm. “It’s my turn to speak.” Raising his brows, he continues, “I had nothing to do with the harassment after Empress went down in flames. That’s just people for you. They needed an easy target to blame because a lot of money was lost. I’m sorry you bore that burden. And yes, I did have Abby find a way to contact someone at your building who had access to your apartment to leave a subtle note.”

“You had your wife bribe the maintenance workers at my apartment?” I ask.

He cringes and nods. “Just to leave a message. Neither Abby nor I could call you directly. All of our phone conversations are tapped.”

“They tucked the note in my bed sheets,” I growl. “Do you know how menacing that is?”

Porky presses his fingers against his closed eyelids. “These aren’t rocket scientists, Eden. I’m sorry. They might’ve misunderstood what we meant by subtle.”

“That still doesn’t explain—”

“No.” Porky’s eyes begin to redden, then water. “I never hired anyone to hurt you. I never would. Never. I only wanted to talk to you to warn you. You never gave me a chance to explain my side. Although… I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. I’m not the villain you think I am. I’ve been um…” He trails off as he tries to choke back tears.

“You’ve been what?” I soften my voice to a whisper as I get closer to the answer I need most. “What Pierre?”

“Scared, too. Not just for me, for my family.” He looks over his shoulder again at the guard who is fidgeting like he needs to pee. “And for you. I dragged you into this.”

“Dragged me into what?” I plead.

The words are on the tip of his tongue but he’s holding back for some reason. I have to think on my feet.

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