The Message in the Crumbs
The morning breeze off of Lake Blue Serene was crisp, but Sebastian didn't feel the chill. He felt... centered. The panic attack from the night before had been a momentary weakness—a test of, not only his devotion, but of his intellect and resolve. He had been taught to trust the process, and to understand that just because he could not see the final vision he should never doubt it's brilliance.
And that was how his Amber was – brilliance. Everyone saw it: people like Calvin Tucker and Dan Trace saw it and became disillusioned, confused and lost. They began to think it was meant for them, when in reality neither of them were worthy. But that was the risk of having such brilliance – sometimes you attract the wrong attention.
Sebastian had showered, dressed in a crisp linen shirt, and pushed the events of the previous day from his mind, like it never happened. His weakness was his burden to carry and he had to prove to his mother that he was always prepared to go beyond what was expected.
He walked into BonBons with the easy grace of the regular unassuming customer that he was. The smell of yeast and sugar usually comforted him, but today it felt like a trail of breadcrumbs. He looked at the empty space behind the counter where Amber usually stood.
The young lady, the same one that Amber had been training the first time he saw his beloved in her bakery, smiled and greeted him. "Good morning Mr. Montague. Would you like your usual today?"
He smiled cordially, his eyes a bit too intense but she pretended not to notice. "Yes please." He allowed his eyes to slowly scan the bakery as he sat down. "You seem pretty busy today, I am surprised that Mrs. Lance-Trace is not here to help out. But she is such a busy woman, I guess it's understandable."
The young lady placed an almond croissant and a chai tea latte before him with a wide smile. "You're right - She is always very busy. She had urgent unexpected business and she will be away for a short time. But don't worry, she has taught us well and we will maintain her standards."
The young lady was engaging in harmless banter. She was actually repeating verbatim what all employees were told to say if asked about Amber. But for Sebastian it was a direct message from the most precious person in his life. His heart didn't race; it hummed. Always very busy. Unexpected business. Maintaining standards she taught.
"Unexpected business," Sebastian repeated, his smile widening just a fraction. "How wonderful for her. How wonderful for her. Maybe a BonBons location will open where I live one day."
The young lady smiled in response to his widening smile. "Maybe it will. If it doesn't be sure that you are always welcome here with us." She moved on to help another client and Sebastian sipped his tea.
He nodded to himself in thought, Always welcome there with them. His heart raced again – a message from his beloved. She was busy as usual but something unexpected happened and she needed change plans to maintain their time table but he was to wait for her there – at the bakery, on the lake.
His Amber was so brilliant. Having her employee give him a message and not even know it. His heart continued to race, but his entire body calmed. He did not need to worry. His Amber had everything under control. She would send for him soon.
"Thank you," he whispered into his tea. "That's exactly what I expected from brilliance."
In the Blue Serene Security building, the air was electric with the buzz of a state of the art mainframe and hackers hunting a ghost. It smelled of expensive coffee and copy toner. Miller sat in his sprawling office, bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep, and his hand listlessly tapping through electronic files. The Lance name and his military and law enforcement carrier got him access to years of Interpol cold case files. He was surprised by the number of cases he found when he entered the criterion. He had been toggling through files trying to connect dots that were now swimming before his tired eyes.
He sat up straight as he read the next file, then he leaned into the screen as things began to click into place. His hand was on the secure phone and dialing his contact without his brain even knowing.
A woman with an elegant Czech accent answered. "It has been a long time. How are you Mill?"
"I am not sure Elena, let's see how this conversation goes." He was surprised by how gravelly and tired his own voice sounded.
"You sound like hell, this must be something big. Come on, spill it."
"I am going through files looking for connections. I think I found one in Prague."
"Okay. You have my full attention. What do you have?"
"It's a cold one. Case PSL-91022000A. A young girl named Adela S. She was found without her pinky toe and she had a shallow knife wound on her lower back."
Miller could hear the efficient woman typing like a demon on the other end of the line. "I see. The local police in Prague filed it as a botched robbery. Do you have a current case in the states?"
"I think this bastard is stalking my employer. I am looking at your victim's picture, she is the spitting image of my boss – red hair, intelligent green eyes, and they are both entrepreneurs and creatives."
She clicked a key, and a photo appeared on her screen. She nodded. "I see." She began a new search her mind spinning – this case was already ten years old and she was getting a lead from the most unlikely place.
"There was no struggle," Elena continued. "She was sedated. He took his time. And three weeks before she disappeared, she complained to a friend about a 'polite gentleman' who kept coming into her shop to ask about the meaning of different lilies."
Miller felt a cold stone drop in his stomach. Could this guy have already made contact with Amber?
"Well you better get with your contact in Iceland." Miller passed on the information about the victim in Iceland. She had soot on he Skin, Adela had it in her lungs, both were missing pinky toes. He shivered.
"This didn't start with Amber," Miller muttered, rubbing his face. "He's been building this 'collection' for years. But in Iceland he was a bit different, like he learned to be calmer, less intrusive."
"What else has he done there?" Elena was in full detective mode. If Miller had contacted her he already saw the pattern, or his gut did – and she trusted his gut.
"There was a gift. This guy is a tech wiz and got around our security…" Miller spent the next hour going over things in his end and what he found out about Iceland. He was even more tired now and his high-priced coffee was beginning to sit in his stomach like a boulder on the side of some lonely mountain.
He called in his assistant and soon a team of ten vetted employees were sifting through the electronic Interpol files. He was in his car and heading to a meeting with Samuel Lance, Albert Cummings, and Vane. The situation had turned darker than any of them could have ever imagined.