Chapter 11
Author's Note: Lots of new content this chapter! Actually... it might be entirely new, so I hope you all enjoy
Paul seemed pleased, but not surprised to find Stacy waiting for him outside his office the next day.
"Ms. Jones? May I offer you a seat inside so that we can chat in private?" he offered pleasantly.
"Of course," she replied smoothly.
"Is Mr. Twofeathers here?" he asked quietly as he sat down. The station wasn't open to the public yet but it wasn't unusual for Billy to be there early.
She shook her head. "Not currently, he's not comfortable coming in before opening, uh, at present."
Paul raised one eyebrow, his interest piqued. "And what about you?"
She met his eyes. "I could never be uncomfortable here."
He gave a small smirk. "Just so. Now tell me, have you given my requests any thought?"
A pause followed, she didn't break eye contact. "I have."
"And what is your response?"
"No deal," she said simply.
"Hmm, well this is not what I had hoped to hear. But are you here just to give me bad news? I sense you have something more pressing to discuss. Why else come to me so alone and unprotected?" he pressed further, interest gleaming beneath those near-emotionless eyes.
She cocked her head slightly, as if sizing him up. "I have a counter offer. But first I need assurance. Do you have any negative intentions for Schemee or his well being?"
"I do not. I don't have any intentions for him. My, shall we say, business associate has requested he be brought to him alive and healthy. I cannot speak on his behalf, but he has no reason to harm the boy, of this you can absolutely trust me."
She considered this carefully. Trying to judge Paul for honesty was a dangerous game, but she was already playing and had few moves left. She knew she was already walking a path that she would have previously dismissed without a second thought. It was heinous, but what other language did Paul speak, if not the language of wickedness?
"And your associate, what were his intentions with… you know who?" Stacy felt the bile rising in her throat as she asked but kept a cool composed look on her face.
"I don't have all the details, but that job was highly important to my associate. Keeping my associate happy is my top priority, and that win made him very happy."
Stacy sat, frozen in place. She blinked once, willing herself with every fibre of her being to remain calm.
"Yes, well... Here are my terms. I will not leave Shining Time Station, not now, not ever. You in particular may find it beneficial to keep me here. Billy… he does not agree with me, nor will he bend to your will, but if you could promise me that absolutely no harm would come to him, removing him from the station permanently would be agreeable to me."
Paul tilted his head to one side, a small smile playing on his lips. "I could accept those terms. But what of the boy? My business associate has requested that he receive him within ten days."
After a dramatic pause, she spoke up, "I could help arrange that. But there is one thing. There will surely be a town memorial for his uncle, as his only living family it will be extremely important to him that he attends. I'm certain it will take place before two weeks is up, but it's in the planning stages. We're working on it." She had thought it up quickly and on the spot, but it seemed to fit. Her eyes were drawn hard as she spoke, and as if sculpted from marble she did not move a single facial muscle.
"I could agree to those terms. As someone helping with the planning, can I trust you to expedite this process as much as possible? There will have to be a lot of trust between us moving forward. And I do have one more favour to ask of you. Can I trust you to remove Mr. Twofeathers from the situation yourself? As it stands, you are much better positioned to transition your friend to his lack of employment, and would be much more careful with him."
Pressing her tongue against the inside of one cheek she nodded once, slowly. "Yes. I can help with that."
He looked mildly surprised at this turn of events, but no less pleased then when she had first come to speak with him.
"Ms. Jones, Stacy, I'm very happy you've had this change of heart. And I believe this will be a mutually beneficial partnership for the both of us. You won't regret this." He extended his hand and she gripped it firmly in response.
"I hope I don't," she acquiesced.
"Good, now please see to Mr. Twofeathers today. I have plans to be in Snarlyville this afternoon. I will notify Mr. King of this, I take it he will be pleased to know that his star staff member is doing whatever is best for Shining Time Station, even when facing a friend."
"Billy, I'm sorry," Stacy said as neutrally as possible. If standing up to Paul was hard this was excruciating.
"Stacy… What on Earth are you doing?" he asked incredulous as she stood in his office. Paul was stationed outside waiting for the next train to Snarlyville, insistent that Stacy should complete her end of the bargain as soon as possible.
"Billy, I know this is hard but it's for the good of the station. You've been moving against higher management, and that's unacceptable. We need a team, not single members moving against each other."
He stood up suddenly, confusion written across his face. "I won't let you do this. This isn't like you. You're one of my best friends, I'm not leaving you here alone with that monster."
"He's not a monster, he's our direct supervisor. And you're being highly insubordinate," she emphasized, raising her voice ever so slightly.
"What has gotten into you?! Stacy! This is absurd. Insubordinate? What about betraying your friends? What punishment comes with that?" He was beginning to get upset. Good, this would help her.
She held strong, keeping her chin up. "Billy, I cannot allow you to stay in my station, insulting our management and personally attacking me. This is my station, and everyone under this roof is under my care and responsibility. I can't be responsible for those who move independently. It's that kind of irresponsibility that gets people hurt, and safety is a top priority at a train station. Now please, collect your things and remove yourself from this establishment by the afternoon."
Her delivery was swift, cold and brutal. Billy was stunned, but finally began to move. He slowly shuffled around her, and they exchanged a pair of cool looks as he passed.
"I'll collect my things another day. Good luck Stacy… Let me know when you've returned to being yourself. You've been my friend for a long time, this can't be the end of that," he said sadly and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. She bit her lip and remained turned away as he let go and walked out of his former office. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a great shuddering gasp but willed the tears to remain at bay. She had plans to see to; there was no time to cry.
Forcing herself to recover quickly, she spun on her heel to find Billy and Paul squaring off. Billy looked on furiously at Paul, while Paul casually leaned against Stacy's desk. Not unlike a certain arcade manager would have, not so long ago.
"If you ever hurt her, you're a dead man," Billy growled, and left the station without another word, slamming the door behind him.
"Uttering threats against a colleague is certainly a fireable offence, good work Stacy. I thank you for keeping your word and being such an admirable ally. Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to catch my train."
Billy immediately drove to Schemer's house. He had to know that Schemee was safe. Whatever Stacy was doing, though it didn't make any sense to him, had to be for a reason. But until he knew what it was, he couldn't trust that Schemee would be safe without her acting on their side. He screeched into the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dust.
"Schemee!" he bellowed, opening the door with such ferocity that it slammed against the frame.
"What?! What is it?" Schemee teared downstairs at Billy's sudden calling. He looked as if he had just been violently woken up and was shaking as he reached the front door.
"I'm sorry, I just…. I had to come check… Something happened, and I don't fully understand it," Billy stammered, glad to see Schemee was okay but still struggling to understand everything.
"Why, what happened?" Schemee asked worriedly, wringing his hands.
"It's Stacy. She just fired me, and… I don't know what's happening but she's still staying at the station, working for Paul supposedly."
Schemee jerked his head backwards in shock.
"Is she okay?"
Billy struggled to answer that. "I… I don't know. She's all alone, under Paul's watch now. Whatever she's doing, getting me out of the station, certainly doesn't leave her in a good position."
Schemee considered this, worry etched all over his face. "What is she up to?" he mumbled to himself. He glanced outside, furrowing his brow. "Wait…"
Without stopping to grab his jacket or boots, he ran outside in his pajamas towards the end of the driveway. Billy followed him past the property, and onto the road. They stopped short of where they knew the barrier to have been. Schemee reached out, fingertips just brushing past the ever present glimmer of gold. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, Billy felt his shoulders fall.
"Not that I doubted her, but she's still with us," he said raspily.
"Oh Stacy, what are you doing?" Billy whispered with a groan.
They walked slowly back inside, and Schemee rubbed his arms briskly to try and warm them up again.
"She… She's got a plan… or something," Schemee lifted his gaze upwards and closed his eyes almost painfully, "I just hope she knows what she's doing."
After Billy had left, Schemee sat himself down heavily on the couch in his uncle's office. He was terrified for Stacy. Whatever she was doing, she was doing it alone. He could at least tell that she was safe as long as the golden barrier was still up, as they had determined the stability was based on the three of them. The trio.
He closed his eyes. He recognized that he was a usurper of sorts. His uncle was the one who should be here as the original member of their trio. But he wasn't here, and Schemee was, and that's all there was to it. Schemee would just have to do.
The phone rang, jolting him out of his reverie.
"Hello?" he mumbled, half hoping it was Stacy on the other line, desperate to fill him in on exactly what she was planning.
"Jonathan? Oh thank goodness. My dear boy, are you alright?" The relief in Allcott's voice was evident.
"Oh, Uncle Allcott. I tried to call you." It wasn't a lie, he had been trying to reach Allcott at his house, just to tell him that he was alright.
"Yes, well there's been a minor complication. But no matter. I'm just… very glad to speak to you. Listen closely, I'm at my brother's house. Jasper, I mean. He's… he's your grandfather."
"My uncle's father?" Schemee frowned. "Why are you there? I mean, it's not my business, but I thought everyone was estranged."
"We are. I mean, I was. But something's come up. I know this is sudden, but I need you to please come to meet me."
Schemee felt a sudden coldness take place in his chest.
"Uncle Allcott? I don't think that will be possible, I'm sorry."
"I know, it's hard. But I'll be here, and it's extremely important that you come here. Please." The last word hung heavily in the air, Schemee felt the weight behind it.
"I… I don't think you understand. I have… unfinished business here…" he trailed off, feeling foolish.
"Look if you feel unsafe at all I'll make sure you're protected. Please Jonathan, I have something to tell you but I can't say it over the phone."
Schemee was curious, and felt the guilt crashing upon him.
"Are you safe?" Schemee asked.
"I… Yes, I daresay I am. But I'm worried about you. I fear you're unsafe in your current situation, and I know we can protect you. Please, as soon as you can, let me help get you here."
Schemee sighed. "Okay, I'll figure it out with Billy and… Well, we'll figure it out."
He could hear Allcott hesitating on the line. "It will all be okay, I promise."
As they hung up Schemee contemplated the meaning behind Allcott's request.
Stacy, now Allcott… They all seemed to be moving independently. And they were keeping considerable parts of their plans concealed. It was concerning, but he just had to trust that they would make it through.
Mr. King arrived at the station later that day, and beckoned Stacy into Billy's old office.
"I heard about what happened earlier, from Paul," he said gruffly but she could hear the concern in his voice, "I'm sorry you had to take those actions but I'm proud of you for putting the station first."
"Of… of course Mr. King. But there's actually something very important that I need to tell you. It's a grave matter."
"Oh? Well please, I'm all ears."
She heaved a sigh, "It's about Schemer."
He nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry Ms. Jones for what happened. I know you were... close," he said somewhat awkwardly.
It occurred to Stacy that he might be feeling responsible for what happened. If Schemer had stayed in Shining Time, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Nonetheless, she pressed on.
"Thank you, but I've got something very important to tell you. It's about Schemer's death. It wasn't what it appeared to be," she explained
He didn't say anything, but she had his attention and took it as a sign to continue.
"Paul killed him," she said simply.
"I... Wait, what?" He jerked back in shock, barely registering what she had just said.
"Paul murdered Schemer. He's working for… someone, and that person wanted him dead. Based on what we've heard it's also very important to Paul that he has control of this railroad. We have some evidence, and I know this is a lot to take in, but I need you to listen to me. You can help us bring him down, please." Her eyes searched his face desperately.
A silence fell between the two as Mr. King took in this information. He finally cleared his throat and spoke slowly.
"Ms. Jones, that is a very strong accusation to make-,"
"I know but it's-,"
"-And it's one that I don't believe for a second!" he thundered over her. She closed her eyes in defeat, but knew she had to keep trying.
"But sir, you have to listen-,"
"I don't have to do anything, Ms. Jones!" he snapped, "Do you honestly think that I would hire a cold blooded killer to be a stakeholder?"
"Yes, because you don't know him! I'm telling you this to try and protect you, please sir!
"Ms. Jones, I am very disappointed in you. I won't be telling Paul about any of this but just know that your tenure here is very fragile at the moment. Accusing your boss of murder? Preposterous! I won't stand for it, and I won't hear another word of it."
He swept out of the station, leaving Stacy feeling more vulnerable than ever before.
Over the course of the train ride to Snarlyville Mr. King had ample time to think about the recent events that had taken place at his railway. The last few months had been nothing short of chaotic to say the least. His branch staff at Shining Time Station had seemingly lost their minds, and no matter how many collective chances and allowances he gave them (which, when you combine all the trouble they had caused over the years, turned out to be a considerable number of chances) they just seemed to sink further. The problem was that no matter how chaotic they were, or how often that station just happened to be in the thick of some wild plot, they always just worked . The station was much loved, the people even moreso. But lately? Everything had fallen apart, and it had been going from bad to worse.
Mr. King closed his eyes and gently thumped the back of his head against his seat. When did it all go wrong? When did they stop working? The business with Schemer was no doubt a large factor, but it preceded even that. Perhaps Schemer and Stacy's dalliance? The timelines matched, and they certainly didn't have a clean ending, but it seemed to be greater than that.
He struggled to ignore Stacy's impassioned plea to him. She seemed to truly believe that Paul was behind… Well, best not to think about it. It couldn't be. Though as much as he tried to put it aside in his mind, he couldn't help but think about how Paul's tenure had aligned with the sudden downward spiral at his most popular station.
The train slid into Snarlyville Station and he strolled to his office, still deep in thought. The thing that broke him from his musings was the sound of angry chatter coming from the executive boardroom as he passed by it on the way to his own office.
He paused, thinking about his calendar. He wasn't aware of any board meetings occurring today. And he should know, as president of the Indian Valley Railroad. Sidling up to the door, he strained to hear what was being discussed inside. Suddenly, the door swung open and he flung himself backwards. If the person storming out of the room had noticed him, he paid Mr. King no mind. Instead Mr. King watched as one of his fellow board members swore angrily and screamed back into the room he had just exited so violently.
"You disloyal traitors! Do you know how long I've been here? How many years of service?! COWARDS!"
Mr. King's eyes followed his old friend in a stunned horror; one of the longest serving members of the board was currently storming from the station. He didn't realize that his mouth had fallen open until Paul sauntered from the boardroom.
"Ah Mr. King, we weren't expecting you here today," he said casually.
"Mr. Miller… What on earth just happened?" he asked in a hushed voice.
"Oh sir, it's nothing really. The board has been having some long standing issues, and I've taken it upon myself to weed out the weak links."
Mr. King sputtered angrily. "Mr. Miller, you can't simply dismiss board members! Why wasn't I notified?"
"Mr. King, it was a majority vote. We don't have to consult you for every motion," Paul explained, as if he were a parent explaining to a young child why they couldn't have a second dessert.
"I'm at a loss for words. This is entirely unacceptable." Mr. King strode into the boardroom to confront the other members but stopped dead in his tracks.
The occupants of the room turned to look at him and Mr. King found himself struggling to formulate his next motion. The faces looking back at him were far fewer than normal. Furthermore, he only recognized about half of them. The new faces looked on at him blankly, as if wondering who he was exactly. The older faces ranged from guilt to downright defiance.
Suddenly shaken, he swept in the direction of his office, beckoning to Paul to follow him. Paul obediently followed, and sat across from him.
"Look Mr. King, changes had to be made. A lot of members weren't pulling their weight anymore, quite frankly. Or they were standing in the way of progress. I apologize for not including you, but these were discussions that did not require your input and we had to strike swiftly in order to make progress and be effective."
"Is that all that remains of the board?" Mr. King asked in a hushed voice.
"Yes sir. I trust you'll be happy with them," Paul said insistently, a smile spreading widely across his face.
Mr. King was notorious for missing board meetings, he was a man of action, a man of the front line. Paul had been a gift when he arrived, taking over the administrative role that Mr. King had been expected to maintain previously. However, as Mr. King watched Paul exit his office, his strong and tall form exuded such confidence that Mr. King felt suddenly unnerved. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was that he felt, but it was almost akin to being an animal of prey, moments before the predator struck.
Stacy's father sat down at his desk to review some recent files. It had been quiet lately, not that Shining Time was particularly active. Quite the opposite, in fact. But despite being almost oddly quiet he accepted the slow period gratefully. It was a good time to get caught up on paperwork.
"Mail for you sir." His assistant had shuffled into the room to drop off some lettermail and one small package.
He thanked him with a warm smile and was about to set the small pile aside, but stopped when he noticed the writing on the package. It looked like Stacy's penmanship. Frowning, he opened it carefully to find a small tape recorder. He pondered it for a moment, clutching it carefully within his hand, but decided that he should listen to it. The recording was of Stacy and Mr. Miller, the one she had accused of killing Schemer.
He played it once, paused it, and then played it again. There was nothing on here that sounded like a confession. Nothing that would grant him with a warrant. And yet, he felt odd about it. The conversation was guarded, and the topics were veiled, but Mr. Miller had some oddly specific requests of Stacy and her coworker Billy Twofeathers, and, by the sounds of it, Schemer's own nephew. He exhaled deeply, thinking about what this meant. He caught sight of a piece of paper poking out of the package and he opened it to find a short list of instructions.
Listen to the tape. Please see what you c an do. - S
He twisted his mouth as he mulled this over. This gave away very little, but he trusted his daughter's judgement. He may not get a warrant, but there was nothing stopping him from doing some background research into one Paul Miller.
It was after hours at the Dillylick Station when Billy arrived. Though being unemployed from the best job he ever had was far from ideal, it did give him the time to sneak around uninhibited. He had actually helped to design this station and he was well aware of the lack of security cameras. Also, Stacy must've "forgotten" to confiscate his set of keys. He had keys for every station in the Indian Valley Railway, how fortunate to have been an engineer that was required to occasionally travel to other locations.
He entered the station cautiously and looked around corners carefully. When he was satisfied that he was alone, he carefully donned a pair of latex gloves and pushed his way into Paul's office. He didn't know specifically what he was looking for, but he did know that Schemee had been able to find his uncle's tie, so Paul was either sloppy or arrogant or both. He hoped he'd have the same luck in this office as Schemee had back in Shining Time Station. He hadn't shared this plan with Schemee, nor had he been able to talk to Stacy, so he was acting totally alone.
He moved silently, running his fingers along the desk, looking for hidden compartments. There was nothing out of the ordinary, so he tried to open the drawers. A gentle tug on the handles revealed that they were unlocked, however they appeared to lack anything of interest. The only items inside were a box of paperclips, some post-it notes and a few pencils. He carefully removed them and gently probed the bottom of the drawer, knocking along it.
Disappointed, Billy carefully replaced the items. It was simply a drawer used to store simple office supplies.
The office hardly contained any personal effects, and looked barely worked in. Further review of the other furniture and shelving revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied his investigation was complete, Billy turned towards the door with a look of resignation.
The gentlest of whistles sounded. He turned back quickly, expecting to see Mr. Conductor. The office was still empty, and Billy felt a pang of sorrow. No, he was dead too. It seemed like they had been cursed with losing friends lately. He was sick with worry over the rest of them. Stacy, Schemee, the rest of the townspeople. The danger that had blown into town when Paul entered their lives seemed insurmountable. And they were in over their heads and seemingly working alone. Stacy was doing… something, and he had no doubt it was for their benefit, but it worried him deeply. It had to be dangerous and lonely, this game she was playing. Even now, he wondered if his actions were hurting or helping their cause. He wished he could talk to her, but it was too dangerous. She was making a point to stay away, so he had to trust they were all going to be alright. Still it was hard not to lose faith.
He turned away once more, but a faint glimmer caught his eye. Gold dust! There were traces of it near one of the desk legs. He frowned, but noticed something further. A piece of paper was folded unceremoniously and shoved up under one of the legs for stability. It was probably nothing, and yet alarm bells were going off in his head. Breathlessly, he carefully removed it and unfolded it.
His heart plummeted in his chest. This was a letter to Schemer, dated the day before he died and inviting him to the pier.
"My god…" Billy whispered. Schemer didn't go there of his own accord, he was lured out. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Billy moved quietly and quickly towards the door. He peered out and crept through the halls. The letter felt like a lead weight in his pocket. As he moved towards the front entrance another thought occurred to him. Despite the fact that all instincts told him to keep moving far away from this building, he moved towards the control room.
It was risky, taking this much time, but there was one thing worth checking. He entered the room with slightly less grace and caution as when he entered Paul's office and sat down in front of the sole computer. He logged on with the general security credentials, not wanting to risk using his own, and opened up the security camera application. It was again fortunate to know so much about the inner security workings, as he used to work closely with the security team when everything was being set up under the newer, more modern systems.
He reviewed the known cameras for video footage of the docks during the date and time of Schemer's disappearance.
DockCam1…. Black screen.
DockCam2…. Black screen.
DockCam3…. Yet another black screen.
His heart was pounding through his chest, but he couldn't give up now. DockCam4 through to DockCam10 were similarly black. Just to be certain, he attempted to look at video footage of DockCam7 the next day at a random time point. The video came in perfectly clear. Billy was disappointed, but this could be helpful nonetheless. He might not have time to review hours of video footage, but if he could download a day or two of each he could see exactly when they were turned off and on. He grabbed a nearby USB stick, and started downloading the files. He was acutely aware of his anxiety rising with every second that passed on the download timers. As the last one completed, he had one last thought. There was one more camera on the dock, but what was its name? There were no other cameras named DockCam, and he wracked his brain despite the alarm bells now screaming at him to leave.
He inhaled, then exhaled deeply, silencing his alarm bells. " Okay, let's just try one thing, and then get the heck out of here ," he thought to himself.
ShipReceive… It worked! He pulled up the full video for the day and time of Schemer's disappearance. His heart was hammering out of his chest and he felt the breath sucked out of his lungs. Fast forwarding to the approximate time that he thought Schemer might be there, he held his breath. Suddenly, there was Schemer, walking by the camera alone and out of sight. Billy felt like he was violating his friend's last moments, and yet he could at least get this small piece of footage. He was wearing the same tie Schemee had managed to find in Paul's office.
And then suddenly, four people walked in the same direction as Schemer. A group of four men in total, and the leader was clearly Paul. Similarly, they weren't on screen for more than a few seconds, and yet there it was. Clear evidence that Schemer had not been alone. Billy sank back in the chair for a moment, feeling entirely drained. He downloaded it as quickly as possible and made an immediate break out of the building.
Fortunately no one had entered the building in the time he had been there and he wasted no time screeching out of the parking lot in his truck. The USB and letter were safe with him and he knew exactly where they needed to go.
Mason was just exiting his office, rubbing his face with his hand as the newest case cycled around his head. He mentally kicked himself for calling it a case, it was anything but that at the moment. But there was something going on, he couldn't deny that. Digging into Paul's past had seemed surficially benign. However, something sinister lurked under the surface the further he looked.
He graduated from a state university with an accounting degree, and seemed to have a spotty official work history. For someone who eventually seemed to be financially well off enough to become a partner and stakeholder of a railroad, this struck Mason as unusual. He tried to look into parentage that might indicate other sources of wealth, but any available information on his parents indicated that they were quite ordinary people who had died in a car accident when Paul was thirteen.
The other interesting pieces of information that Mason had found were from other states' police records. He had previously been interviewed in missing and/or dead persons cases. Nothing significant, either he knew the victims through work or personal life, but there was a clear string. He had been interviewed by police for nine different cases.
Mason supposed this connection was never made by previous police departments as there was never a reason to look into his history. Nevertheless, there was a lot to take in and think about. This one concerned him deeply because his daughter was now seemingly involved.
He had just sat down in his car when a pick-up truck wheeled into the station. He eyed it warily, wondering why someone was coming to the office after business hours. However, his fears were assuaged when Billy Twofeathers exited the truck.
Mason got out to greet him.
"Mr. Twofeathers, what can I help you with?" Mason asked warmly, taking note of the troubled expression on Billy's face.
"I'm happy to answer any questions you have about the source of these, but I need you to take them and look at them as soon as you have time," Billy said hurriedly, as he held out the USB and note to Mason.
Mason immediately knew that his day was far from over. "Thank you, I'll let you know if I have any questions."
Hours later, after reviewing the new evidence, Mason began the process to obtain a search warrant. Then the investigation would be starting in full force.
"Stay safe Stacy," he thought to himself, "Get out of there."