Shattered Remnants of a Dream

18. An Exercise in Futility

All alone within the empty house, Edward Darcouver unpacked his suitcases. The white stucco walls rose high, making it feel far grander than his old house back in Pittsburgh. That house had been a hand-me-down from his parents, who had moved down to Florida after their retirement. It was the house he'd grown up in as a child, and once carried sentimental value to him.

Now, though, all he could think about was his son Vance, the last remaining link he had to his old life. Naomi had done little to console him, and it disturbed him when Grayson mentioned that he knew his whereabouts without offering any sort of concrete answer. Had it been a few years earlier, he would let his rage get the best of him, and Victoria would have been right by his side, helping him fight for Vance.

But weakness and emptiness won out. Vance hates me. He blames me for Victoria's disappearance, too. Maybe he's better off without me. So far, Edward hadn't done anything to try and find his son. Instead, he'd moved to the opposite side of the country.

Naomi said it made perfect sense. The company will take care of everything. It felt weird at first, but I guess she's right. No use in worrying about what I can't control.

An odd feeling lingered in his mind, telling him that something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was like waking up and remembering that he had dreamed something, but forgetting all the details.

Later that day, Edward had run out of things to do, so he decided to head into the office after lunch. After driving for an hour, he arrived at the Zexaron Building, the glass obelisk that stood tall in a wide field of nothingness, cushioned by oil fields on all sides.

The afternoon went by quickly as Edward's new co-workers introduced him to the many floors and offices of the Zexaron building

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felt cold and dark as Frank Arazia shuffled nervously down the hall. Patrick Sherman was missing, and no trace of him had been found anywhere. No evidence existed, which meant that even if the police did interrogate Grayson, they would have nothing to stick on him.

Frank ran the images of the murder through his mind over and over again, mixing them with the images of the confidential records room on the fifth floor. That was Frank's project for today – attaining access to the only records he'd never searched. Handling all the company's confidential matters was Grayson's job, and Grayson was good at keeping secrets.

Frank had searched the building a great deal thus far in his spare time, but the only useful thing he'd found was a floor map. He'd taken time in between his actual work to meticulously go through each room, inspect it, and mark it off on his own copy. By the end of the day, the records room on the fifth floor was the only one he'd never reached.

Now on the fifth floor, Frank prepared to inspect the door's security. He told his secretary he would be going to inspect a new construction site so that she wouldn't try to find him in the building in case someone called. No lie was too off-limits at this point – Frank's mind was solely focused on getting into that room and uncovering Grayson's conspiracy.

When Frank made it to the small room in a rear corner of the fifth floor, he found it locked. This created a problem, because he didn't know where he was going to find a key for a room that only one man used. Frank decided to take his search down to the first floor lobby. He'd seen Grayson walk into the small room behind the front desk many times, but never found out why. If there was a place for a key to be, that suspicious nook would be it. The problem was getting inside.

Frank moved up to the two secretaries at the desk, Janet and Marianne. They were ditzy, but did their jobs well. Frank hoped the former quality would come in handy now.