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I turned on the lamp next to the bed. I hadn’t relaxed completely. It was absurd to think someone was hiding in my hotel room. I had been on edge the entire trip. I couldn’t sleep.
I was a night owl by nature, but lately it had felt like a full-blown case of insomnia. It was far worse than catching my second wind at midnight and struggling to wind down. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did I had chilling dreams. Dreams that seemed to linger in the room when I awakened.
Trying to dampen the insomnia with a few margaritas hadn’t worked either. And truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t made it worse. I blamed the tequila for a fitful sleep. That and the email I’d received when I touched down in Dallas. It had been six months since one had popped up in my inbox.
Long enough for me to almost forget they existed. Almost.
I shuffled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. It was past ten. Too late to order breakfast room service. I wasn’t in the mood to order off the lunch menu. I would have to pick up coffee on my way out. I thought I remembered seeing a gourmet coffee bar near the reservation desk in the lobby when I checked in last night.
I pulled my long auburn hair into a bun on top of my head before brushing my teeth. By the time I showered and dressed it was close to eleven. I wiggled into a pair of jeans and pulled on a fitted tank top. Even though summer was over, there was still a trace of my summer tan on the tops of my shoulders.
I checked over my equipment one more time and repacked it in its case. Each piece had been charged overnight. The settings were configured. All I had to do when I reached my destination was hit record.
That was probably the most paralyzing and yet freeing part of the project. Once I tapped the record button, everything became real. There was no denying the truth. It was something I had grappled with for six months. When someone told me their story. Revealed their part of the puzzle, I couldn’t undo that. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know just a little bit more. That I understood things a little deeper. That I was one step closer to the truth.
I heaved the bag over my shoulder and let the door close behind me. The key was tucked in my purse. It was ornate and heavy. A custom relic leftover from the hotel’s history.
I walked toward the elevator, thinking about my interview today. In some ways I felt as if I knew what I was doing. Like I was a pro at asking questions and hunting down clues. After all, I had a made a living doing just that. Only, it had been in the secret underbelly of the dark net. A place I swore I’d never visit again.
But each time, I faced more uncertainty. More questions than answers. More doubt. Less hope.
My neck turned when I heard another door in the corridor open. When I looked, there were only closed doors. God, I was still paranoid from the dream. There was no one there. It was likely there never had been.
I walked between the elevator doors as they retracted.
There was one name on my list today. Ethan Howard.
I knew he was forty-eight and single with two divorces under his belt. There were no kids that I knew of. He worked at a metal plant nearby. He was a Cowboys fan and a weekend hunter. It was easy to put together a small profile from his social media, but he didn’t post often. Just enough to stay relevant. Just enough for me to know a few things about him.
So far I hadn’t been able to make contact with him. He never answered the cell I had dug up for him. He didn’t respond to emails. I restricted myself to certain channels. I was reformed. No more hacking. No more stealing information. I stayed on course, even when it went against all my instincts.
I knew there was an easier way. Staying off the back channels of the net for a hacker was like an alcoholic staying away from the mini-bar in the hotel. I ignored the twitch in my fingers every time I went online. I wanted my story to be authentic. I wanted to prove I was worthy of the truth. I couldn’t do that if I stole the answers.
I had parked the rental car in the private garage adjacent to the hotel. Parking in downtown Dallas was scarce. I could Uber or use a car service, but I liked having my own
car, even when I didn’t know my way around the city.
After a few minutes the car was cool and I was headed toward Arlington. The address I had for Ethan was only fifteen minutes out.
When I pulled in the driveway I did what I always did. I pushed out the hope. I squeezed it far down until it wasn’t there anymore. I trained myself to stop having expectations. I trained to stay objective, even though this was the most personal assignment of my life.
I stepped out of the car and reached for the microphone and recorder. It was my traveling set. Light. Compact. Simple.
I cleared my throat before I flipped the switch to on.
