Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Jessica Green pushed her thick black glasses up her nose while her body bent in an uncomfortable position as she examined the tiny new solar cell she hoped to show Dani first thing Monday morning. She respected the hell out of Dani, but if she were honest, she would have to admit her disappointment at never meeting the infamous Toni McFarland. She’d heard that Ms. McFarland had made a rare appearance at a summit a few months back, and Jessica hoped she’d finally visit the flagship manufacturing plant where Solar Flair housed their state-of-the-art research and development facility. But apparently, her idol’s unusual foray into the world was a one-off. Maybe someday Jessica would meet the woman.
Her phone buzzed on the table and with a practiced move, she flipped the magnifiers on her glasses up and glanced at the videophone gyrating against the wood. Not recognizing the number, she returned the magnifiers to their previous position and refocused on her work.
“You’ve got mail,” the automated voice announced.
Jess sighed and grabbed her tablet. First a phone call and now a video mail message. She’d have to tweak her spam filters and add a block to video mail like she’d done with phone calls. Although, bots didn’t usually leave video mail messages. Occasionally, she’d get a call from her emotionally stunted father. He wasn’t much for conversation or staying connected except to provide for her every need with his vast financial resources. It wasn’t until after her mother and father had divorced that he finally hit pay-dirt. Jess wasn’t sure which invention had made him rich like he’d always insisted would happen.
Her father was an enigma. A brilliant man who was unnecessarily paranoid. About what, Jess didn’t know. His once-a-year obligatory call always came from an unregistered phone and never on the same day. Somehow, his calls consistently penetrated her spam filter. Jess wondered why he didn’t just save the task for her birthday or maybe Christmas, but no, he always picked a random day out of the year. She supposed she was being too harsh to label his attempt at connection a chore, but she suspected that was how he viewed it. Who knew? It certainly felt like a duty to Jess.
Jess tried to remember the patient man who had let her hang with him in the garage as he tinkered away. Whenever she asked a question, no matter how childish or ridiculous, he would stop what he was doing and answer her. Lately, Jess was sure nothing was left of the man she once knew. The last call had been so awkward it lasted barely five minutes. Maybe he was giving up on face-to-face interaction and left a video mail message instead.
Accessing the message, she frowned when she saw the overweight middle-aged man with thinning hair appear on the screen—definitely not her handsome father, who could be the poster boy for fitness.
“Ms. Green. My name is David Comey. I tried to call earlier, but whatever software you installed blocked me from leaving a video message on your phone. I’m calling about your father’s estate. He left very specific instructions for me. We had an arrangement that if he did not check in with me at least once every three to four months, I would need to begin preparation for liquidating his assets to place in a trust for you, Ms. Green. You are the sole heir to his estate. You can reach me at 202-354-7845, and we can discuss the arrangements in further detail. I have an envelope for you as well. Your father left you a letter.”
Jess slumped in her chair. Knowing who her father had become, it wouldn’t surprise her to learn he’d skipped town and found a remote island to retreat from whatever boogeyman her father imagined was after him. She didn’t want or need his money, but that didn’t stop her from calling the man and arranging a time to meet on Monday. She was far too curious about what was in the letter.
†
Jess sat across from her father’s attorney and blinked twice. She had assumed her father had finally made his fortune from one of his inventions, but she had no idea how wealthy he was. Her mother rarely talked about her life before Bob, her mother’s second husband.
At first, Jess kept her distance from Bob, desperately missing her father. After the divorce, contact with her biological father became minimal at best, and Bob slipped effortlessly into his role as her stepfather. While Bob provided all the love and emotional support she needed at that young age, her father evolved into nothing more than a sperm donor with money to burn. Not wishing to deny her daughter the opportunities afforded Jess with her father’s money, her mother had reluctantly accepted the steady flow of checks provided for Jess’s schooling and any other needs she might have.
If Bob felt insecure about accepting the money to send Jess to the best private schools in the nation, he never let on. Neither he nor her mother ever kept a penny of the money sent for Jess. Not only had she been able to attend an elite college, including a world-renowned graduate school, without incurring a suffocating amount of debt, but also the excess funds remained in a trust account given to her when she’d turned twenty-five.
Now the attorney was informing her of the extent of her father’s estate. This was an obscene amount of money. More than Jess could ever spend in a lifetime. Despite being surrounded by privileged kids starting in high school, Jess had simple tastes in almost everything. She enjoyed her job at Solar Flair and wasn’t about to give that up just because her wealth now placed her in the top one percent, if what the attorney informed her was correct.
Mr. Comey was talking again, and Jess looked up, attempting to focus on his words. “What? I’m sorry. This is just so…”
He pushed the letter toward her and handed her a set of keys. Her father had meticulously labeled each one, except for a tiny brass key. “This is the letter he instructed me to give you, along with a spare set of keys for his various properties. I have a list of those assets for you. His primary residence is not too far from this office. Do you have any questions?”
“I have a lot of questions, none of which you’d be able to answer.”
“Perhaps the letter will provide the information you seek,” Mr. Comey suggested.
“I do have one question. You stated my father gave specific instructions in the event he failed to check in with you?”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“Has anyone done a welfare check?” Jess asked.
“You mean at his primary residence in DC?” the attorney clarified.
“Yes.”
Mr. Comey cleared his throat. “I’m afraid the estate has an impenetrable security system. DNA access only. Your father was a cautious man and programmed your DNA into the system.”
“More like a paranoid asshole,” Jess mumbled. Jess pushed the set of keys toward Mr. Comey. “You know what, I’m not even sure I care whether a welfare check was done, and I don’t want any of this.”
“It is certainly your prerogative to do whatever you wish with the money, but it is yours, Ms. Green.” He set the keys in front of her again. “Donate to your favorite charities if that makes you feel better. In the meantime, the liquidated funds will go directly into the trust account your mother established for you. I would recommend opening new accounts. Transferring the funds into that account is only a temporary measure. The bank cannot provide any guarantees on that amount of money. You’ll need to spread out your wealth now. I can provide the names of reputable real estate agents if you wish to sell any or all of his houses.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Comey. It isn’t fair to take my frustrations out on you. The truth is that you probably knew my father better than I did. He wasn’t exactly the doting type.”
“Honestly, Ms. Green, I didn’t know your father well either. He was a private man, but the fact that he made arrangements to leave you his entire estate suggests he cares or cared for you. I can’t say for sure if he is alive or not; I’m simply carrying out his instructions. Perhaps the letter will shed more light on everything.”
Jess pushed back her chair, grabbed the letter and keys, and held out her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Comey.”
The attorney shook her hand. “Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.” He plucked a card from a holder on his desk. “Here’s my card should you require any legal services in the future. I specialize in estate planning, but our firm has other attorneys I’m sure would be able to meet all your needs.”
†
After calling her boss, Dani, to let her know she’d need the rest of the afternoon off, Jess laid the letter on her kitchen counter before opening a hard cider. She took a healthy swig from the bottle. Whatever was in the letter was sure to require liquid strength. Jess wasn’t sure who had scrawled her name on the envelope as she lifted it from the counter to inspect every inch. Flipping it over, she looked for additional writing. Nothing. Deciding to take the plunge, she slipped her index finger under the corner, pushing it along the edge to open the letter and acquiring a paper cut for her efforts.
“Son of a bitch.” She sucked the small amount of blood oozing from the cut, but not before a red smudge appeared on the outside of the letter. Unfolding the paper, she noted the neat cursive writing. She briefly wondered why her father had elected to communicate old school in a hand-written letter. For a man obsessed with technology, this did not compute with Jess. Focusing on the words, she began to read.
Dear Jessica,
If you’re reading this letter, that means I’ve finally been caught. I must admit I never anticipated this would happen. However, on the off chance someone was better than me, I had to account for the possibility. If I’m lucky, you’ll never find out how I acquired the great wealth that is now yours. Although I did not set out to pursue this line of work, it suited me. Guilt is a luxury intended for those with a conscience and a mastery for emotions that I do not possess. Yet, that does not mean I did not care for you, Jessica. You may be the only thing in this life that mattered to me. I suppose I am trying to say that if I had any capacity for love, you would have been the recipient of that love. Try not to judge me too harshly. I simply played the cards dealt to me.
I’ve kept a close watch on your career, and it seems, in one small way, you’ve followed in my footsteps. You’re a talented engineer. I’d like to believe your intelligence and creativity are two traits my gene pool provided to you. While my inventions may not have a practical application for what society considers honorable work, you are welcome to expand on them and find a principled purpose. The military may find them useful. Although I’m not at all convinced the government or our armed forces are ethical choices. I leave that to you to decide. I’ve kept detailed notes in my main workshop at my primary residence in DC. Your DNA will allow you access. Keep the keys hidden in a secure location until you need to use them. Remember the cabin? Those were better times.
I wish you a good life, Jessica.
More paranoid ramblings from her unhinged father. Yup, he was probably sitting on a remote beach, continuing the delusion of a man in someone’s crosshairs. Jessica didn’t rule out the possibility he’d purchased his own private island. The last three lines of the letter were a complete mystery. Why would Jess need to hide a set of ordinary keys? Tossing the note on the counter, she walked to her living room with her drink and settled on the couch. Jess had to admit she was curious about his workshop. Opening the file Mr. Comey had provided with the various addresses, she found the one for his DC residence. No time like the present.
“I suppose it’s time to uncover what you’ve got tucked away in that workshop of yours.”
†
Jess grabbed the set of keys Mr. Comey had given her and headed out the door. Once she slid into her car, she provided the address via a voice command and listened as the robotic voice directed her out of the dense part of the city. When Jess finally reached the site, she wondered if she was in the right spot. If there was a house behind the massive gate, she certainly couldn’t see it. However, the row of cameras suggested whatever was behind that gate was well-protected.
Climbing from her car, Jess reached the impressive barrier at least twice her height. An entry pad with a blue light glowed despite the brightness of the sun. Not knowing exactly how her DNA would open the gate, Jess pulled off her glove and placed her thumb in the center of the blue light. She felt a tiny prick and pulled her hand away, noting the minuscule bead of blood that had formed on her thumb. The blue light changed to green. Before Jess had a chance to react, she heard a kind of grinding sound, then a click before the gate popped open. She pulled on the heavy metal until the opening was large enough for her car to drive through.
Cherry blossom trees lined the long driveway—beautiful sentries offering a kind of softening to what Jess assumed might be a little overwhelming to the casual observer. It wasn’t until she’d traveled down the flawless asphalt a fair distance that she noticed the massive structure. She parked, and as Jess approached what she assumed was the front door, an overwhelming feeling of dread flowed over her body. That sentiment wasn’t just because she expected the second prick to her thumb after repeating what she’d done at the gate when she found the blue light. A green light flashed before she heard a beep and tried the door.
Jess pulled her hand away and sucked the blood from her thumb. “Sheesh, this must be what it felt like in the old days for people with diabetes to test their blood sugar levels. Macabre, Dad. Your place could be the perfect haunted house,” she grumbled.
The minute she walked inside, the odor of death smacked her in the face. It was at least thirty degrees warmer inside, so she unzipped her jacket. Gagging, she pulled her sweater over her nose and mouth. Jess tried to remember if her father had ever talked about a pet. She didn’t want to come across some dead cat or dog that her asshole father had left to fend for themselves. That might break her heart. While she was definitely a dog person, she loathed seeing any dead animal on the road, and that was especially true of cats or dogs hit by a car and left to suffer before finally expiring.
Making a beeline to the windows in the front room, she made quick work of opening every single one to let the fresh air flood inside. The smell was still overwhelming as she began searching for the source. Maybe her father had left food out. Rotting meat or fish could be the culprit of that nauseating smell. Her next stop would be the kitchen—as soon as she could find it. The place was enormous, and she checked every room on the main floor. Jess had never seen such opulence. Not only were the rooms smartly decorated, but she assumed the artwork, carefully chosen, was worth millions.
She let her nose guide her to where the odor seemed most offensive. Finding a door, Jess knew she’d found the source of that awful smell. Daylight shone through the basement windows, and she cautiously descended into relative darkness until she reached the bottom. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the body, or what was left of the body. Holding her hand over her mouth, she climbed back up the stairs, looking for a bathroom or a sink, anything. She didn’t make it far enough as she vomited on top of what she assumed was a very expensive carpet. She could clean that up later. Quickly gathering her phone from her pocket, she dialed 911. The one trait she didn’t inherit from her father was his paranoia. In Jess’s opinion, not having to give your location when making an emergency call was helpful. She’d never turned off her GPS tracking, providing emergency personnel with an automatic address whenever anyone made a 911 call.
“Nine one one. What’s your emergency?”
Jess couldn’t stop her body from trembling, which came out in her voice. “My father, um, he’s dead.”
“Are you sure, ma’am? Did you check for a pulse? We can send an ambulance to your location.”
“I’m sure.”
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