The Consultant (29 page)

As soon as she got home, Angie told Craig everything that had happened. She assumed Dylan was in his bedroom, playing, but he poked his head around the corner of the kitchen after she finished talking, a worried expression on his face, and she quickly reassured him that she had merely had a long day at work and was tired. Her eyes told Craig something else, however, and she waited until later that evening, when their son was asleep, before talking to him about it. They spoke in the kitchen, on the opposite side of the house from his bedroom, and purposely kept their voices low. He tried to calm her down by reminding her that BFG had stayed only a week at Dylan’s school and probably wouldn’t spend much longer at the Urgent Care, but she could tell that he didn’t believe that himself. The consultants’ engagement at CompWare was open-ended, had already lasted nearly two months and might very well have several more months to go, and there was no reason to assume the same thing couldn’t happen at her work.  

Despite all of his complaints over the last weeks, Craig seemed to go out of his way to try to minimize her concerns. It didn’t make her feel less anxious, only pissed her off—she didn’t want to be placated—and Angie broke off the discussion, turning away to do the dishes. He attempted to help, but she wouldn’t let him, and after he’d retreated to the living room, she stood in front of the sink, staring at her ghostly reflection in the window, her pale face superimposed above the patio furniture against the blackness of night. She was afraid, she realized, and a part of her thought it would almost be a relief to be fired, because then she wouldn’t have to encounter the consultant again. She thought of the night she’d found Pam’s dead body, the way the office manager had looked, that terrible expression of horror on her face, and Angie found herself wondering if the consultant had had anything to do with that, if that was when he’d started to make his move on the Urgent Care.  

In bed, Craig wanted sex, but she wasn’t in the mood. He pulled his underwear down and began masturbating next to her, and at the last minute, before he came, she took him in her mouth so there wouldn’t be any mess to clean up.  

She fell asleep almost immediately after and dreamed that she was on duty at the Urgent Care when Craig came in with a horrible case of hives that covered his entire body. She took off his clothes and got him into a gown, in preparation for the doctor’s arrival, but instead of one of the doctors, the consultant showed up. He was holding a hatchet in one hand, a small video camera in the other, and as soon as he walked in, the room went dark. The camera in the corner of the room was no longer a camera but a spotlight and it illuminated Craig’s body which was now naked. The consultant chuckled. “Nurse, watch and learn while I film your husband’s death.”  

The alarm woke her in the morning, but Angie had no desire to go to work and promptly shut it off, crawling back into bed.  

“Get up,” Craig said next to her, prodding her shoulder with his.  

“I’m calling in sick,” she told him.  

Suddenly he was wide awake. “You can’t.”  

“Yes, I can.”  

“They’ll be looking for anything you do, any reason to get rid of you.”  

“Let them try.”  

“Ange…”  

She heard the concern in his voice—  

the fear
 

—and she understood where it was coming from. She felt it, too, and as much as she hated to do so, she forced herself to throw off the blanket and get out of bed. The dream was still with her, and though she knew it was ridiculous, she felt nervous about going in today. There would be other nurses and doctors and patients, but just the thought of facing the consultant again filled her with dread.  

She didn’t actually see the consultant until mid-morning, and Angie had no idea whether he had arrived late or had been busy monitoring someone else. Either way, she was happy not to have run into him until now. They met in the hallway, he coming from one direction, she from the other, and as soon as she saw him, Angie put her head down and moved to the right, intending to pass by.  

He moved in front of her to block her way.  

Forced to look up, she took in his odd clothes and his blank face, feeling cold just being near him. “Excuse me,” she said, flattening herself against the wall and trying once again to pass.  

He pressed his shoulder against the wall to block her and, defeated, she moved to the center of the hallway, stood there and faced him.  

He looked at her, wrinkling his nose and frowning. “Did you poop your pants?”  

“
What
?”  

“Did you poop your pants? It smells like you pooped your pants.”  

She stared at him, stunned into silence. The question was so childish, so unprofessional, so off-the-wall batshit crazy, that she did not know how to respond. Anger was the emotion that replaced surprise, and she immediately turned away—  

“Answer my goddamn question!” he screamed.  

She whirled around. The other two nurses in the hallway were frozen with shock at his outburst.  

“Did you
shit
your fucking
pants
?” he demanded. His entire face was red, contorted with rage.  

“No!” she responded.  

His features immediately smoothed out. “That’s all I wanted to know,” he said, smiling. Bowing gracefully, he stepped aside to let her pass.  

Shaking, she went into the women’s restroom to calm down. In the mirror, her face was drawn, frightened. With trembling hands, she turned the water on and, using her fingers, sprinkled some on her eyes, rubbing it in. The door opened behind her, and she jumped, expecting to see the consultant. But it was only Barbara. “What was that about?” the other nurse asked.  

Angie shook her head, breathing heavily. “I have no idea.”  

“Jesus! We need to report him or something. That was…crazy.”  

“I know.”  

“Should we tell management? Or is there someone above that guy we can complain to?”  

Angie shook her head. “Let it go.”  

“But—”  

“That company, BFG, has been consulting for my husband’s work for the past month. You think this is bad? You should hear some of the crazy stuff that’s going on
there
. Those consultants are…” She took a deep breath. “There’s something wrong with them. I don’t know what it is, but… I think the best thing to do is just wait them out. They’ll be gone eventually.”  

Barbara looked toward the closed bathroom door, her mind obviously on the hallway beyond. “What do you think he’s going to recommend? What do you think his suggestions are going to be?”  

“I don’t know,” Angie said, and shivered involuntarily. “I don’t know.”  

**** 

The smells of a sunny Sunday morning. Eggs and sausage. Bacon. Coffee. Breakfast. The delicious scents wafted through the neighborhood as Craig and Dylan walked to the park. It was a windy day, the first since Dylan’s birthday nearly two months ago, and they’d decided to finally try out the dragon kite Angie’s mother had given him as a present. Craig carried the oversized kite while Dylan jogged next to him, holding onto his belt when the two of them crossed a street.  

They were the only ones at the park, and Dylan was disappointed. He’d wanted their kite to fly higher than everyone else’s, and he felt let down as he realized there would be no competition. As soon as they got the kite into the air, however, Dylan’s disappointment disappeared. The multi-colored dragon soared over the field, over the trees behind the field, over the street and neighborhood behind the trees. It was higher and farther than they’d ever gotten a kite before, and Dylan shouted excitedly as he played out the line.  

“Don’t let go,” Craig warned him as a gust pulled the kite to the right. “If we lose it now, it’ll probably go into someone’s back yard and we’ll never get it back.”  

“I know!” Dylan shouted, and looked proudly up at the dragon as it swayed back and forth, now little more than a colorful dot high in the sky.  

It should have been a happy day, but even as he stood behind his son, continuing to unspool kite string, Craig could not help thinking about Regus Patoff. The man had visited Dylan’s school and was even now at Angie’s work. Why? It could not be a coincidence. But what interest could the consultant possibly have in
his
family? There were literally hundreds of people working at CompWare. What would make the consultant focus on an innocuous middle-management employee like himself? Craig had no idea, and that was what frustrated and frightened him.  

There was a vibration in his pocket as his cell phone went off. Taking it out, he looked at the screen and saw Scott Cho’s office number. On a Sunday? Knowing ahead of time that he would regret it, Craig took the call.  

“Where the hell are you?” Scott demanded.  

“I’m at the park with my son,” he said flatly. “Where should I be on a Sunday morning?”  

“Here. At the department meeting I called. Didn’t you read your email?”  

“On Sunday? No. I promised my wife I wouldn’t.” Craig clicked off, but the phone vibrated again almost instantly. He considered not picking up, but although Scott probably couldn’t get him fired, he could make Craig’s life at work a living hell. He answered the phone again. “Hey,” he told Scott. “What happened?”  

“You hung up on me.”  

“No. I…”  

“Get over here. Now.” This time, Scott was the one to hang up, and Craig sighed heavily. “Come on , buddy,” he told Dylan. “We have to go.”  

“Go where?”  

“I have to stop by my work.”  

“But it’s Sunday!”  

“I know, I know. But it shouldn’t take too long.” He gestured toward the spool of string. “Why don’t you reel it in.”  

Dylan hesitated. “Is
he
going to be there?”  

Craig knew immediately who his son was talking about, and a ripple of cold passed through him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Probably not. I think he’s at Mommy’s work today. But even if he is, you don’t have to see him.”  

“Can I stay at Raul’s? And you can pick me up when you’re done?”  

That was a wonderful idea. The further away from the consultant he could keep Dylan the better. He tried to keep his voice as even as possible, to not let the relief he felt at the idea creep in. “If it’s all right with Raul’s parents.”  

Craig didn’t have the phone numbers of any of Dylan’s friends. Angie probably did, but calling her at work was strictly prohibited, so after reeling in the kite and walking back home, he looked through her personal address book next to the phone in the kitchen. The number was there, and Raul’s family was home, and the boy’s mother said she would be happy to have Dylan come over. “Thank you,” Craig told her. “I really appreciate this. I wouldn’t have called unless it was an emergency—”  

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured him.  

“I owe you one,” he said.  

He got off the phone and told Dylan that he could go over to his friend’s house. “I’ll try to get back before lunch, and I’ll take you and Raul out to Chuck E. Cheese. How does that sound?”  

“Yeah!” Dylan said.  

But he didn’t get back before lunch. He didn’t get back until it was nearly four o’clock. Scott wanted to go over the work of every division within the department in detail, and they all had to sit there as their colleagues held the department head’s hand on a babywalk through each division’s status. This wasn’t anything that could not have been done Monday, and Craig was pretty sure it was all for show, but even when he told Scott that Patoff was at Angie’s Urgent Care and would not be within ten miles of CompWare today, the department head refused to let them go home.  

“Asshole,” Elaine muttered as they walked out of the meeting room and down the corridor to the elevators.  

No one disagreed.  

The sun was starting to go down when Craig finally picked up his son. He apologized profusely to Raul’s mother, though he’d called to warn her that he would be late, but she dismissed his apologies and said, “The boys had fun. We should do this again some time.”  

“I’m sorry,” he told Dylan on their way out to the car. “I couldn’t get away.”  

“That’s okay, Daddy. I still had fun.”  

“What’d you have for lunch?”  

“Mrs. Rodriguez made spaghetti. And Jell-O. And we got to watch cartoons.”  

“Did you say thank you?”  

Dylan looked offended. “Of course!” There was a long pause. “Was he there?”  

“No,” Craig said. “I didn’t see him.”  

“Then he was probably at Mommy’s work.”  

“Probably.”  

Dylan nodded as though he understood, but he was silent as he got into the car, and he remained silent all the way home.  

TWENTY SIX  

The dream was realistically prosaic. In it, Matthews purposely went to work late, hid in his office for most of the day, seeing no one, taking no calls, then snuck out of the office mid-afternoon before going home, drinking himself into a stupor and going to bed early.  

Or
was
it a dream?  

Was that what had really happened?  

He was not sure. It was hard to tell anymore, and when he woke up Rachel, sleeping next to him, asked her what day it was, and found out that it was Wednesday instead of Tuesday, he decided that perhaps it had been both. Maybe it
had
happened,
and
maybe he had dreamed about it afterward.  

He had a slight headache, and the second he tried to sit up, the intensity of the pain cranked up to ten. Hangover? He wasn’t sure, but he was sure that there was a private meeting of the Board scheduled for ten, and that he needed to be there. Patoff was not planning on attending—thank God for small favors—and Matthews wondered whether he should try to talk to the Board members about the consultant. The conference room was wired for sound and would be under video surveillance, but he doubted that every minute in every room was monitored, and there was a better than even chance that Patoff would not find out about the discussion—at least not right away.  

Besides, so what if he did? The actions of consultants hired by the Board were a perfectly reasonable topic of conversation.