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Chapter Ten
Damien
Talking with Zoe shifted my thoughts from Cameron to my father's murder.
Before all of this happened, I would have said that I wouldn't be able to work in the same place my father got murdered. But as awful as it might sound, being here makes me feel closer to him. Not that we were all that close while he was alive. My whole family unit was absolutely fractured during my entire childhood.
When I was really little, my mom ran off with another man, and my dad did his best to raise us, but he was constantly stretched thin and stressed out and angry. I can remember as a small child creeping out and listening to him talking on the phone with a friend saying this isn't what he signed up for. As a child, those words nearly destroyed me. As an adult, I can completely understand being in a relationship with someone and things not going as planned.
I can’t imagine deciding to have a family with someone for them to just bolt and leave me holding the bag while they start a new life.
I tried to reach out to my mother on social media back when I was a fresh adult. Some part of me always hoped that she regretted her decision and that she wished she'd been part of our lives and that she actually loved me deep down. The reunion I'd hoped for - one where she welcomed me with open arms and wanted to know about my life and me as a person and everything she'd missed over the years - never came to fruition.
I recline back in my desk chair, remembering that awful week. I can still recall my stomach flip flopping as I sent her the message. Then, the waiting. Agonizing seconds gave way to awful moments turned into humiliating hours. Then numbing days. Nearly a month later, I got a response from her, finally.
She blocked me.
Not a single word was said, it simply went from available to unavailable.
Even now, I remember that fresh feeling of pain. It was such a powerful response; not once, but twice, she'd thrown me away like trash.
Which made the horror of losing my father so much worse. He was the only parent I'd ever known, and while I wouldn't necessarily go so far as to say he was a good dad, he did the best he could with what he had. I could count on him to be there. Like the time he'd been there to bail me out of jail when I punched a bully in the face and broke his nose. He taught me an important lesson that night; that silence can be more powerful than fighting. I'd learned a new way to stand my ground and that having a criminal record wasn't going to serve me for the rest of my life. He taught me to be aloof, distant, and cold. He taught me that the more people know about you, the more ammunition you give them to use against you.
Harsh lessons for a twelve-year-old boy, but invaluable lessons, nonetheless.
And now that he's gone, I wish he could teach me one more lesson in that gravelly voice of his.
But the fact that Zoe wants to help me solve the mystery surrounding my dad’s death gives me hope that one day other people might believe that his death wasn’t just an accident. He was by no means the world's greatest dad, but he did work hard to make the best out of the shit sandwich excuse for a life the universe had handed him. The least I can do in return is to try to figure out who killed him and why.
The problem is my PI isn't able to uncover anything substantial. The cops hid every last shred of evidence, and nobody will talk to me about the now-closed “accident” case.
Being shut down at every turn hasn't helped me come up with any answers, but it sure as hell has made me a lot more suspicious about what really happened.
I glance at the security camera in time to see Cameron standing outside the building. Max refuses to let him in by holding a hand up at about chest height, and Cameron throws his hands up in the air and brings them down in a violent gesture before turning and walking away. I watch him shove a frustrated hand through his hair and hold back my amusement.
By now he knows that whatever key logger he tried to install absolutely is not working and will not work. Any information that's vital, he doesn't have access to. He can't remote enter my computer and glean company secrets. And all of that makes me happier than it should. I have to be a step ahead and I'm good at it.
But as my gaze lands on the manila folder on my desk with the pitiful amount of evidence I have with my father's accident, I wonder why I’m so far behind in this regard.
My dad deserves better and I'm letting him down.
I glance at the clock and realize it's time to start getting ready, even though most of the things for tonight's dinner with Zoe are already in place. I came up with the idea in the setup, but I'm not doing all the heavy lifting myself.
I stand up and make my way to the hidden closet built into my office. That and the sleek pullout couch were the best decisions that I made to this space, because it means I can sleep here without anyone being the wiser and get changed first thing in the morning. And the full bathroom with the hidden shower compartment make it so that I can virtually live at the office and never have to go home and no one will have any idea.
Maybe it's not the healthiest setup, but I am absolutely a workaholic. I wonder if Zoe can forgive that fact about me.
It's amazing to me that in a world where I feel like I can trust no one, I trust her.
Of course, someone here at my work betrayed my dad, and if I’m right, he was murdered. I have no idea who, and there weren't any cameras installed on the night he lost his life. Not that I'm sure I could stomach watching whatever happened, but it sure would make it easier to prove there was nothing accidental about his death.
But I just have this gut feeling that I could tell Zoe anything, and everything I say would stay with her. I really want to sit down and really dig into the few facts that I have around my father's death, just to get her perspective and see if she agrees. Letting someone else in might give weight to my fears. Or maybe she would tell me that she actually believes it's an accident, and I can finally put all of this to rest. I don't know what response would scare me more.
I pull out my clothing and take it into the bathroom. After a quick moment in the shower to rinse away the day, I get out, dry off, and get dressed. My pulse is pounding in my ears and my throat, and I realize this means a lot to me. I don't want to screw things up between Zoe and me; I really like this woman.
After several days of not hearing from her, I've been genuinely concerned that she wouldn't call. Hearing from her had flooded me with an absolute, indescribable relief. But as I slick back my hair and glance at myself in the mirror, I think about how I’d like this dinner to go.
I have no plan to focus on what happened to my dad. Instead, I'd like to focus on us, her and me, our potential relationship, and the promise I see there. I have to act normal in front of her. The last thing I want to do is scare her off. She's smart, kind, funny, and beautiful. Our first date here at home needs to be as relaxed and normal as possible.
