Futurity

FUTURITY

Futurity

Kyle R Fisher

Smashwords Edition

Text copyright © 2023 Kyle R. Fisher

ISBN 9798215963104

Cover artwork by Kyle R Fisher

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchase for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Ellie and Sydney and Sadie

A trilogy of their own

Table of Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Other titles by the author

ONE

Friday, August 13, 2010

Cooper panted heavily as they neared the green canopy signaling the entrance to Nicole’s building. At the start of their walk, he surged ahead to get outside and tugged incessantly at her arm to explore every inch of 5th Avenue and the surrounding blocks. Now, in stark contrast, he walked sedately beside her, excited only for a long, noisy slurp of water and the Greenie he would receive when they got back home. She vowed to bring some water in a backpack on the next walk so he didn’t have so long to wait.

She transferred the brown paper bag to her leash hand and pulled open the tall door to her building. Cooper led her into the lobby where the cool air washed over her in instant relief from the August late morning heat. What a tiny lobby for such a costly apartment, she thought. That bothered her nearly every time she passed through. She tried to let it go but it was an irritant she couldn’t forgive. Compared to the apartment in her previous building, well-appointed by anyone’s standards, the apartment upstairs was extraordinary. For size, quality, and location in New York City, it had little real competition. But the lobby, please. Today, someone unfamiliar sat on the hideous sofa to her right, probably waiting for a resident to come down.

She transferred the bag back to her right hand and followed her sedate best friend toward the elevators. The man at the concierge desk, Daragh, looked up and offered a perfunctory smile. He was a handsome man with a military buzz cut growing out and deep green eyes that always lingered too long on her. He was never overly friendly; always showed the right amount of deference and even indifference, but in a respectful manner. He knew his place.

In a moment of weakness, she let her eyes roam over the bulge of biceps and chest filling out the dark business suit and the wedge shape formed by his broad shoulders. She gawked for only a second, not nearly enough time for him to notice, before looking back into his eyes. She reined Cooper to a stop.

Do you have a package for me today, Daragh?

I do, Miss Foster, came his raspy reply.

She affected a doleful pout that usually worked with her father, and, most other men, now that she thought about it. My hands are full. Do you think you could bring it up for me?

She could see his jaw clench before he pulled his lips into a grim smile. To his credit, he maintained a professional demeanor despite the unusual request. This wasn’t in his job description and Nicole knew it. Uh, sure. I’ll bring it up when I start my lunch break.

Thanks, Nicole said, walking away before he could finish his sentence.

She and Cooper rode the elevator alone to the 15th floor and slid her keycard through the slot to open the doors. In a well-practiced ritual between owner and dog, she unhooked the leash and Cooper’s energy rallied enough for him to blast away at half speed toward the kitchen. She hung the leash on a hook by the elevator door and followed his lead. She found him at his water dish in the pantry off the kitchen. She put the brown paper bag in one of the fridges and reached for the bag of treats.

Nicole pulled a Greenie out and snapped it in two. Cooper’s ears pricked up and, noisy lapping forgotten, he performed an airborne about-face to rush to her side.

Spin, she said, holding one half of the treat aloft.

Cooper performed a clumsy pirouette, toenails ticking on the marble floor, spinning all the way around to face her again. Nicole tossed the treat in the air and he jumped to meet it, easily snapping it up.

He quickly chewed and swallowed it and she held the other half in front of him. Back up.

Cooper dipped his head and took a half step back.

Back up, she repeated.

He again dipped his head and shuffled back in an ungainly approximation of a show horse.

Good boy. She tossed the second half, which he again caught in midair. Ritual complete, Cooper took the fruits of his performance to his water dish to finish chewing. Nicole checked the time; she had about thirty minutes before the concierge brought up her package. Just enough time to wash off the sweat and grime of the New York City streets.

The phone rang twenty-five minutes later, just as she was towel-drying her hair. Hello.

I’m heading up now, Miss Foster, came Daragh’s raspy voice.

Okay, I’ll open the elevator for you.

She tossed the wet towel on the floor and walked from her room to the hallway that housed the elevators. As she waited, she studied the three oil paintings hanging on the wall opposite the doors. The center painting showed a blossoming cherry tree with its pinkish white flowers overshadowing the green grass and blue sky. Brownish-black limbs stretched past the border of the canvas on both sides to enter the scene on the outer two pictures, boasting pinkish white blossoms of their own. The set of three completed the image, shifting the overall focus back to the landscape behind. She loved these paintings, even though they were a pale second to those hanging in the gallery down the hall.

A muted ding announced the elevator and an involuntary shiver of excitement ran through her for her package. She pressed the button and the doors slowly parted. They revealed the concierge holding a twelve-inch square corrugated box with a small white label visible on the side. He wore the same grim smile as in the lobby.

I’ve got your package, Miss Foster.

It's about fucking time, she spat out.

The grim smile fell to reveal the scowl hiding behind it. Hey, I’m not your personal assistant.

The deep bass of his voice combined with that growl-like raspiness sent a shiver through her. Undaunted by the show of hostility from the tall, muscular powerhouse of a man, she took a step forward. Oh yeah? Come over here and say that.

Daragh stepped out of the elevator and closed the few feet between them. He stood a foot taller than her as he looked down. I’m. Not. Your. Personal. Assistant, he said, sounding out each word individually with a full stop after each.

With her neck cranked all the way back, she stared fearlessly into his eyes, close enough to feel the puffs of breath as he barked out the words. Tense seconds ticked by in their standoff until she broke the thick silence. Your cologne is killing me. I can’t wait any longer. She knocked the empty box from his hands and pressed herself against him, kissing him on the lips as his arms wrapped around her body. This lasted only moments. He lifted her easily in a bear hug and carried her away from the closing elevator door and the three blossoming oil paintings.

She made tiny moaning sounds as they continued to kiss, enjoying the strange sensation of flying backward down the closet-lined hallway. The next door took them into her bedroom. He effectively avoided the piles of clothing and the clutter of life on the floor to drop her on the unmade bed and begin tearing off his suit. Nicole pushed the robe open, revealing her lack of clothing beneath. She wiggled out of the sleeves, then scooted back to a centered position on the bed. She watched as he kicked off his pants and quickly slid the jockey shorts down to the floor. She eyed his raw, naked perfection with a racing heart before barking out in a husky breath, Get over here. Daragh quickly complied.

⁂

Thanks for picking up lunch, Daragh said as he placed the Styrofoam container into the empty box and interlocked the four cardboard flaps to loosely seal it.

Nicole wore pink lounging shorts and a white designer tee shirt which she’d put on as Daragh went to the kitchen to get the food. The brown paper bag she’d carried up with her after walking Cooper sat sideways on the bed and she was digging into a white container next to her. These are the best fries I’ve ever tasted and they’re not even hot.

Great sex will do that to you. He leaned down to kiss her. This apartment is huge. I almost got lost finding the kitchen.

I’ll give you a full tour sometime when you’re not in a hurry. She popped another fry into her mouth.

Yeah, I’ve got to get back downstairs.

Wait a minute, she said after swallowing the fry. We have to talk.

Daragh pulled his sleeve back to look at his watch. Okay, let’s make it fast.

My dad will be back on Sunday so we’re going to have to start being careful. This can only happen when I give you the signal.

He lifted the box slightly higher. The ruse with the package delivery is fun, but can’t you just text me?

Her head was shaking before he finished his question. No, he checks my phone. Twenty-two years old and he still checks my phone. He says if I want to live here and want him to keep paying for a degree from Columbia, I need to follow his rules.

You barely see him for those first twenty years and now he wants to play the strict father? Seems odd.

Well, free room and board in this amazing apartment and a full ride at Columbia; I can put up with his rules for a while.

He nodded. I get it. It's only a couple more years until you get your law degree.

Thanks for understanding. So, if I know when he’s leaving, I’ll tell you I’m expecting a package afterward. So, if I say ‘I’m expecting a package this morning,’ then he’s already gone and the coast is clear. If I tell you I’m expecting a package in the afternoon, he’s going to be there until after lunch. If I don’t say anything, he’s not going anywhere.

Daragh nodded his understanding and leaned down to kiss her once again. Got it, but people are going to wonder why you get so many packages. He smiled and winked. Gotta go.

He turned and hurried from her bedroom carrying the cardboard box with him. Nicole closed her food container and pushed herself from the bed. Grabbing it, she began her trek to the kitchen to warm her lunch in the microwave.

TWO

Monday, August 16, 2010

As Cooper literally yanked her out of the elevator and toward the lobby door, Nicole spotted three middle-aged strangers dressed like those punk skaters who carried their skateboards around at college. It was two men and a woman, all middle-aged but surprisingly still mildly attractive. The men looked alike—siblings, maybe—and all three gave her a bad vibe. They didn’t carry skateboards, but she could tell immediately there was something different about them. Something wrong.

She swung her eyes back to the phone as she approached them, all clustered around Daragh’s station. When she was abreast with Daragh, she said, Expecting a package this afternoon, Daragh. Her father would be leaving around 1:00 PM and be gone until well after dinner. There would be plenty of time for Daragh’s delivery. She wanted to smile at her naughty thoughts but not with these strangers standing there.

I’ll let you know when it comes in, Miss Foster, he said, no hint of emotion in his voice.

She stayed in character, offering him the same thin smile she reserved for waiters as they were scurrying off with her food order. As she passed the strangers, one of the men caught her eye and offered an acknowledging smile. He looked muscular under the hoodie, although he had nothing near Daragh’s physique. The tousled hair, five-o-clock shadow, and intent focus gave him an interesting quality but she was taken. She held her face in a neutral sour look and ignored his gesture. As Cooper pulled her from the building, she could hear the woman asking for someone named Dr. Walker Williams. As far as she knew, no doctor Williams lived in the building.

She stayed out a little longer than usual, at the vet’s instructions for more exercise for Cooper. She didn’t mind getting a few extra steps in, too. With school, she didn’t have as much time to exercise and she couldn’t allow herself to get flabby, not with someone as fit as Daragh seeing her naked. Cooper still panted heavily as they entered the lobby, even though she’d kept him well hydrated on the walk and the temperature had cooled a bit since last week. She’d remembered to bring extra water for him in the backpack and let him drink from some of the watering bowls set out by pet-friendly shops along the path.

Closing an app on her phone and entering the small lobby, she spotted a paramedic standing next to Daragh shining a small flashlight in his eyes. From a few feet away, Mrs. Elberson stood watching with keen interest. Two large, uniformed police officers stood like bouncers by the sofa in the lobby. A glance back through the glass of the lobby door revealed an EMS vehicle parked outside. Funny, she hadn’t seen that walking in, nor had she seen the police car that must also be out there. She tried to catch Daragh’s eyes as she strode by, but he was busy looking at the flashlight. She heard him tell the paramedic that Mrs. Elberson woke him up. Did he fall asleep? What was going on?

As the elevator doors closed, she caught the scent of outdoors on Cooper and assumed she smelled like that too, without the nuance of dog, she hoped. She absently scratched his head while thinking about Daragh. She would call down later to find out what happened. The elevator stopped at her floor. She pulled her keycard from the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt and swiped it through the card reader on the panel. Do you want a healthy treat?

She didn’t know why she used the term healthy. Cooper didn’t care either way. Maybe because she was trying to eat healthy. She unsnapped the leash from his collar. With an uncharacteristic yelp, Cooper took off running toward the kitchen. Nicole hung the leash on the hook next to the elevator and followed. When she stepped into the kitchen, Cooper wasn’t there. She opened a nearby cupboard door and retrieved a Greenie, his favorite snack. Cooper. Where are you, boy?

She waited but heard no telltale sounds of paws padding and clicking on the marble floor. She looked in the small alcove where his bowls sat but he wasn’t there, either.

Cooper!

Nothing. It wasn’t normal for Cooper to forget about a treat, healthy or otherwise. Nicole stepped out of the kitchen and walked further down the hall. She passed the door to the gallery room and stopped cold. She stepped back and did a double take, not believing what her peripheral vision told her the first time. It was empty! Nothing on the walls but bare hooks. The entire collection, gone. A cold sweat enveloped her and she could feel her heart begin thudding violently in her chest. Absently stuffing the Greenie in her sweatshirt pocket, she moved quickly down the hallway and rounded the corner to her father’s suite. She normally knocked, but the door was open. Passing through a small hallway, she entered his bedroom. Empty. Nothing amiss. Where is he? Adjoining the bedroom was his sitting room. She stopped. Cooper perched on his haunches next to the sectional and matching ottoman. A sizable auburn stain glistened from the carpet and a streak of the same color graced the top of the ottoman. It looked like… blood?

Dad?

Heart beating even faster now, she left Cooper to ponder the stain on the floor and ran past the sitting room into the adjoining dressing room. Nothing here except closet space. She diligently looked around to make sure he wasn’t there, then retraced her steps back to the sitting room. Cooper sat in the same spot, but was sniffing the red stain on the carpet. Panic mode beginning to overtake her sensory input, she hurtled through the bedroom and down the small hallway, taking a left into the long hallway past the now-empty gallery. She hadn’t checked the west wing; he may be there. She told herself she would find him in the library and they would laugh about her four-alarm panic attack. But what if she didn’t?

She ran past the hallway containing the elevators and bounded into the living room. A quick check of the dining room to her right proved it empty. Performing an about-face, she dodged the furniture evenly spread throughout the spacious living room and entered the library. Also empty. Past the half-bath and into the study; her father was not there. She hadn’t checked her bedroom but he never went it there. Said he didn’t like the mess. She was dangerously close to running out of places to check so she ran back to the library and took a sharp right. She cut the corner of the living room to enter the elevator hallway then past the twin closets into her bedroom. Just as empty as the rest of the apartment.

She stood frozen in her bedroom. What could she do? He was here when she left and so were the paintings. Now he was gone. The paintings were gone. Someone stole them and must have taken him, too. The answer struck her like a slap in the face. She needed to call the police. But they were already here, in the building. She dragged her cell phone from her pocket and dialed the concierge desk. After two rings, Daragh picked up.

Concierge. How can I help you?

Daragh, it's me.

Hello. Yes, how can I help you?

She knew someone must be standing next to him; either the paramedic, the police, or Mrs. Elberson. Are the police still there? she asked.

Yes, is something wrong?

The words came out in a rush. Send them up. My dad is missing.

A pause. Okay.

She clicked off without saying good-bye and wandered in a daze to the elevators. She sat down against the wall next the south elevator and waited, arms encircling her knees, head resting on her forearms. It was only minutes before she heard the ding and stood to let them in. It was the same two officers she passed in the lobby.

Are you Nicole Foster, the one who called the concierge? asked the first uniformed officer out of the elevator. He was a tall, overweight man with a round face and a large gut hanging over his utility belt. His double neck bulged between the tight shirt collar and his plain, forgettable face. Deep-set, suspicious eyes peered at her below a military crew cut.

Yes, she replied.

The other officer, much less forgettable, followed him out of the elevator, looking around like he’d never been in an expensive apartment before. He appeared just as large except much more muscular, like one of those CrossFit instructors. The sleeves of his shirt maintained a brutal chokehold on his massive arms, which went well with his pleasant good looks and cap of cropped but messy brown hair. This is Officer Byrnes, he said, pointing to his heavyset partner, and I’m Officer Ruditsky. What’s the problem? You say your father is missing?

She nodded through a large sniffle. I came back from walking my dog and he was gone. He didn’t tell me he was going anywhere and then there’s this bloodstain in his sitting room. Maybe blood, I don’t know. It wasn’t there before.

Slow down, Miss Foster, the portly officer, Byrnes, said. Can you show me the spot?

Nicole nodded and turned toward the hallway. This way. The muscular officer remained behind as she walked in silence with Officer Byrnes until reaching the door of the gallery. Holy shit. Is that normal? Byrnes asked.

When she turned, his head was poking into the gallery door looking at the lack of paintings and surplus of empty hooks. The echo created by the bare walls sounded foreign to her.

Oh, no, they’re gone. Stolen, I guess. With my father missing I forgot all about them.

So, all those hooks had a painting hanging on them?

She nodded and watched his eyes grow wide.

Byrnes reached for the radio microphone clipped to his epaulet. Barney, we’re going to need some help up here. We also got a bunch of missing paintings.

Nicole turned to retrace her earlier steps toward her father’s sitting room. Even with her father’s disappearance and the empty gallery, the first thought that went through her mind was, the hunk’s name is Barney? The reality of her situation quickly took over and she felt guilty for the errant thought. In the sitting room, Cooper stretched out on the carpet next to the ottoman.

I think that’s blood. It wasn’t there when I left. She pointed to the spot on the carpet standing well away from it.

Officer Byrnes eyed Cooper before moving slowly toward the stain.

He’s friendly, he doesn’t bite.

Byrnes nodded and said, Okay, but didn’t take his eyes from Cooper until he bent down to look on the floor.

Maybe, was all he said. He studied it for another half minute and then stood to look around the room. A little blood on the floor and your father not being here don’t mean much by themselves. We can’t do anything for another twenty-four hours but all those paintings being gone, well, that gets an investigation started. He nodded to Cooper, currently resting his head on his paws, and looking up at Nicole. "You should take your dog out of here and keep him corralled until