Interlude: Whispers in the Dark
Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Riiiinnnn….
"Hello?"
"Sterling, is it done? Has our little problem been eliminated?"
An audible gulp followed by a fearful stutter. "N-n-no sir…"
"No? I made it very clear that…"
"H-he… he g-got in the w-way, sir."
"He, Sterling?"
A hesitant pause. "Y-your s-son, sir."
A stunned silence, followed by a raspy whisper. "My son?"
"Y-yes sir. He came outta nowhere. I had 'er an' she was alone an' she started screamin' for help an' he came runnin' outta nowhere. I-I didn't even notice till he had a gun to the back of me head, sir. I wasn't sure, but then I saw 'im, sir."
"… it's not possible." That same raspy whisper, disbelief and regret laced through it.
"I-I s-swear, sir. Dyke's got pictures." A long pause. "H-he looks a lot like y-you used to, sir."
"He's got so much of his mother in him." A wistful murmur, heard only by himself, meant only for himself. Oh, if he could turn back the hands of time.
"Pardon, sir?"
"You said pictures…" the tone is all business again, any trace of emotion gone from it.
"Y-yessir. Of 'im and Decan's girl."
A menacing hiss, filled with bitterness and hatred; a voice low and murderous. "Never say that name in my presence, Sterling."
"I-I'm s-so s-sorry, sir." A fearful stammer, an unspoken plea for life.
"Take Dyke, be here in fifteen minutes."
"B-but…"
"Fifteen minutes. Tell no one."
"Y-yes…"
A sharp click in the dead phone line. The conversation was over, whispered tendrils hanging suspended in the foreboding dark. Pictures; they had pictures. It couldn't be. He had to see.
***
R&R