Day of Secrets by Daryl Wood Gerber

Author:Daryl Wood Gerber [Wood Gerber, Daryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chucklin, Inc.

26

I sped through Monday morning traffic, swearing at the idiots who cut in front of me despite the rain and slick roads. Minutes later, I pulled in front of the black-windowed building and peered up at the Young Warriors’ logo. A crack of lightning pierced the bloated clouds and flared like the blade of a sword. How appropriate, I mused, given the circumstances that Jack Jr. and I might find ourselves at war. I parked at a nearby meter and charged through the rain into the building.

Posters of Young Warriors’ most famous game covers hung on the entry walls. I approached the burly security guard and stated that I had an appointment with Mr. Battle. A plaque on the wall listed Jonathan Battle, Jr. as president.

“Driver’s license,” the guard said. “And sign this log.” He pushed a black book with a pen attached at me.

Surprised but pleased at the lack of security measures, I jotted my name then took the elevator to the top floor. I exited into the circular reception area set with one desk. At the desk sat a whip-thin assistant, her tawny hair pulled into a ponytail. Behind her stood a bureau, arced to match the curving wall. A slew of schooner replicas rested on top. There were three doors in the reception area. One led to the stairwell. Another was narrow and looked like a supplies closet door. A security panel was embedded in the wall beside the third door, which I assumed opened to Jack Battle’s personal office. So much for easy access. Unless his code was the default 1-2-3-4, I would have to resort to charming his assistant.

Pictures of Jack Battle with leaders of the community filled the walls, as did photographs of Jack in various athletic events. I looked for more similarities between us. We had the same rugged jaw, the same oval-shaped eyes. In one series of snapshots, the photographer had captured Jack at a triathlete event: running, swimming, biking. Seeing the photos made me think of Kimo, who intended to compete in the next Iron Man triathlon in Hawaii. Why hadn’t he returned my call? Had Reggie tracked him down? And what about Holland? Had someone kidnapped her or was Tommy lying about that? Why hadn’t she returned my call? I hate loose ends.

Stop. Focus. One task at a time.

I strode to the assistant. “Good morning. I have a meeting with Mr. Battle.”

The woman tightened her ponytail. “I don’t think so.” She ran her finger along the edge of a stack of what appeared to be swirly sketches. I spied brochures beneath the artwork. For travel? Was Jack intending to leave town with our father? “Try again,” the young woman said.

“Try a…” I summoned a boyish smile. It felt tight. Swell. “Hmm, let’s see, I should have an appointment with Mr. Battle.”

“Sorry, nope.”

“I would really appreciate a meeting with Mr. Battle.”

“To discuss…?”

“A merger.” It wasn’t a total lie.

“Are you a dot-com business?”

“No.”

The woman had a brittle smile. “Then why should Mr. Battle bother?”

“I’m a designer.

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