Page 63 of The Hitch
"Thank you," I sigh. "It's a very unfortunate turn. Valencia is—was—an excellent employee, not to mention a dear friend. I'm honored to have known her."
"Well, I'd like to honor her memory and ensure the perpetrator canneverdo this again. May we go over the findings?" The Eligos gestures to the conference room, now empty of her crews.
"Of course. Roman will need to be present."
"No trouble, I'll be waiting." She gives me a professional nod and makes a beeline for the conference room.
I've never noticed how labyrinthine the office is until this very moment, as I wind through cubicles and open spaces to find Roman. After a few moments, I spot him pointing out a window at the roof of a nearby building.
"Pardon me for interrupting, but Roman is required elsewhere." I give the technician a tight smile, and he nods in a strikingly familiar fashion to The Eligos. She trains her people well.
Roman follows me back to the conference room where The Eligos has papers and photos arranged neatly across the mahogany table. Small, yellow notecards accompany each of the pages—her notes, I presume. Various angles of Valencia's strung-up corpse make up the majority of the pages. It takes all of my willpower not to avert my eyes.
"Wonderful. Let's begin. First, I'd like to—again—extend my deepest condolences on your loss. And though it may not be areal comfort, Valencia wasnotalive when the killer… arranged her like that. No, she had a very quick death. Everything else was, ah, presentation." The Eligos points to a photo of Valencia's head. I didn't notice it when we found her, but the picture shows a small puncture wound on her left temple.
"Here. They injected a substance—I'm not sure what it is, not yet, the lab is running tests currently—but it seems to have ceased all neurological activity. It's like she simply went to sleep in the break room. Which leads us to your blind spots in surveillance and any possible capture of the killer. Your cameras run 24/7, but as you know, there was a blip. Missing time. As if everything in the building just… shut off at six-oh-three in the evening.
"Now, about her phone. I understand you received the last known call, correct?" She points to Roman. He nods, scanning the page in front of him.
"I am sorry to say that she was dead at the time of the call. Based on the software we recovered from the device, it was a voice modulator programmed to her pitch and tone. And before you ask, no—we did not find any errant fingerprints or identifying information that may lead us towhodid this."
"So, where do we go from here?" I ask, feeling a little ill. I'm not a stranger to death, of course, but the sheer brutality against poor Valencia turns my stomach.
"Well, I'd like to commend you for calling me. My people are the best of the best, and I can uncover any secret—given enough time. For now, we wait for the lab work to be completed. I'd also like to install my own monitoring software on your surveillance system. Thisisn'tan invasion of privacy. This is adding to the database, and we'll be able to quickly link up similar situations, no matter how remote the possibility may seem."
"I don't think that's necessary—" Roman starts, but I cut him off.
"I disagree. I think it is necessary. Together, GoCon is strong. Fractured, divided, we are weak. There's no point in keeping us all siloed." I give Roman a pointed look. While I understand his desire for privacy, the Consortium is based on collaboration. The Eligos raises her eyebrows but turns back to me and nods.
"Excellent. I'll need to speak to your IT department."
"Of course. I'll connect you momentarily. The staff is, of course, being given leave currently." I stand, and Roman follows suit.
"How kind of you. Well, we have every speck of evidence we could possibly find, so you are free to reopen at your leisure. May I expect the connection before end of day?" The Eligos gathers all of the papers into a manila folder and tucks it under her arm. "You'll also receive a digitized copy of our findings once everything is complete."
"Yes, perfect. Roman, could you reach out to the IT team and connect them with the Eligos?" It's a bit of a test, me asking Roman. I'm sure it's the stress of losing Valencia—finding her like that—which fueled his challenge against The Eligos's recommendations.
"On it already," he says and pulls out his phone, thumbs flying across the screen. "Sent. You're both copied in, of course."
"Well, I'd say it's been a pleasure, but the circumstances don't call for that," The Eligos says as she looks us over. "Again, my condolences. If I find anything of note, I'll reach out immediately."
The weight of the day hangs heavy on my shoulders as Roman and I pull up to the parking garage down the street from my home. I haven't heard from Melody all day—she usually sendsme silly little photos of whatever she and Helena get up to. Such a small thing, but I miss it now that she's been radio silent.
Roman opens the passenger door for me and silently follows as we approach the house. Strange. The windows are dark, like no one is home. Marie would have left for the day already, but I've been looking forward to Melody's radiant smile when I walk in the door.
Unfortunately, the house is eerily silent when I unlock the front door. No laughter between Melody and Helena. No errant art supplies littered across the tables. For years, I loved the quiet solitude of my home—broken only by the sounds I make, by the people I invite over—but it feels cold now. I've become used to Melody's presence. I relish in her attention when she's here, and mourn the loss when she's gone.
"Have you heard from Helena?" I ask Roman.
"Not since the early afternoon, sir. She mentioned taking Melody to an outdoor shooting range to play with that rifle." He peers around me. "I would have thought they'd be back by now."
"I'd have thought the same," I mumble as I find my place on the sofa where Melody played with my hair and massaged my shoulders when I came home distraught.
"I'll try calling her," Roman says as he whips out his phone. A second later, he frowns. "Straight to voicemail. That's not like her. She knows that communication is of the utmost importance in this line of work."
A creeping sense of dread washes over me. "I'll call Melody."
With shaking hands, I unlock my phone and press the first option in my speed dial. It rings for half a second, then her voicemail kicks in.
