Vigilant Chapter One

Sneak Peek

Beneath the conference room table, Taylor Gardner’s foot drummed a violent rhythm. He flipped through copies of the email, still warm from the printer, waiting for everyone to arrive. It had finally happened. After all this time.

The station’s producers and writers trickled in, brows furrowed in confusion or annoyance at his request for an immediate meeting. Anchors were only the pretty faces and baritone voices hired to read the teleprompter. He didn’t have the authority to tell anyone to do anything or go anywhere. A few glanced at him between questions to their coworkers about how long they thought this would take. They never asked Taylor directly, probably expecting to receive the same silence he’d given everyone over the past few months.

When someone knocked on his office door to notify him of a story change, his only response was a polite smile or distracted nod. If asked about weekend plans or the hottest sports highlights, the reaction was the same. These were unimportant questions. Intrusions to the task at hand. His body might stand before them, but his mind was at his desk, tucked between pages of law books and connected to his phone and filtered into various email folders and sorted through stacks and stacks and stacks of research. All in pursuit of this moment.

Jake shuffled in last, asking everyone to sit down while peering over his glasses at the phone clutched in his swollen fingers. “Taylor’s asked us to meet today for what I assume is a very good reason.” He placed his glasses on the table and leaned into his well-worn chair, interlocking his hands across his gut. A soft smile crossed his face.

Jake still handled Taylor with kid gloves, long after everyone else at the station moved on and stopped trying to connect. But whenever Taylor brought it up, the man just shrugged and acted like he didn’t know what he was talking about. “What’s on your mind, Mr. Gardner?”

Taylor licked his lips. His fingers quaked as the pieces of paper refused to separate from each other. He cleared his throat.

“I got him. I got Hudson.”

A producer stopped typing copy into his phone. Another slowed the rocking in his chair, and turned to his neighbor, whispering. Jake narrowed his eyes. His chair creaked as he leaned forward. He pressed his hands to the table, spreading his fingers.

“You got him?”

“Yeah. Well, I mean I got him to email me back. Or his assistant at least. A woman named Linda Howard.” Taylor sent the stack of emails around the table. Paper rustled as producers snatched copies off the pile. Jake kept his eyes on Taylor until the stack came all the way around the table. He placed his glasses back on his nose and read the page aloud, despite everyone already dissecting it. Taylor’s foot continued to shake underneath the table.

“‘Mr. Gardner. Please find Mr. Hudson’s response to your emails below. Please excuse the…’ yada yada yada… Okay, here we go: ‘It has been my pleasure to watch you present nightly news in Hamington over the past few years and get to know you through your interactions with local citizens. Your dedication to the city and its commitment to you through difficult times is encouraging, and, in a way, a confirmation of my lifelong goals. I’m writing now to acknowledge your plentiful emails and…’” Jake paused and looked up at Taylor.

“Are you sure this is real?”

“Positive,” Taylor said. “I checked everything this morning. Verified the email address with his old advertising agency and the station’s security software detected nothing suspicious. It’s real.”

Jake adjusted his shoulders and continued reading. “I’m writing now to acknowledge your plentiful emails and to accept your request for an interview. I have reached the age when I would like my story to be told, and I believe you are the person who would do that story the most justice.” He stopped short of reciting the rest but continued in silence. Taylor watched his gaze travel down the page, his brow furrowing the closer he got to the end.

Jake folded the paper in half, covering the words no one in the conference room could look away from. Taylor did not move. Did not participate. He simply stared at the top of his boss’s head while the man deliberately folded the paper’s corners like origami, back hunched and stomach rolling over the end of the table.

The producers’ discussions started as whispers. What questions should be asked in the interview? What kind of equipment would be necessary? What would be a good release date for the special? Is there any way this could finally be actually happening?

“Excuse me, everyone,” Jake said. “You can all go back to your offices now. Mr. Gardner, will you sit here with me for a moment?”

The producers evacuated the room, finally able to speak outside the parameters of hushed voices and jotted notes. Jake closed the door behind them and returned to his seat. He lifted the paper between two fingers like a soiled diaper.

“I cannot have you do this.”