The comments on the first chapter of the novel are very useful and much appreciate. This is a working draft and has not been workshopped at all. Here's the second chapter that introduces my main character. Hope it's good.
The message on Nevin Detling's desk read, "Come see me" and was in Bill's handwriting.
Nothing more.
Nevin walked through a maze of empty cubicles. It was Friday and the latest edition of The Lansing Weekly had been finished and sent to production. In a couple of days, politicians and businessmen from Grand Rapids to Detroit would have the latest copy of one the state's leading business and political magazines. The usual sounds of shouting and banging away on keyboards that filled the office on other days were replaced by the quiet hum of the ventilation system. No one on the entire magazine staff came back to work after lunch on Fridays. The only other person in the office was Bill, and even that was unusual.
Nevin would have knocked on his boss's door, which had "Editor-in-Chief" stenciled on the smoked glass, if the door was still on its hinges. After Bill's secretary quit, he removed it so he could yell at his writers and editors without barriers. Instead, Nevin knocked on the glass wall.
There was a hasty invitation, and he entered. Bill was sitting bent over in his chair searching through the drawers in his desk.
Since the secretary's departure, his office had gradually transformed from a tidy and organized workplace into complete shambles with papers strewn upon every surface that Nevin could see, including the floor, which was also littered with Styrofoam coffee cups. Bill was mostly hidden behind his desk, slamming drawers and shuffling papers. When he finally looked up above the paper Himalayas at Nevin, perspiration was running down his face and what was left of his hair was standing vertical.
Nevin grabbed the ledge at the top of the door frame, letting his long, muscular arms support his weight as he leaned forward and suppressed his laughter.
"Hey Nev'," Bill said, a little short of breath. "How you settling back in?"
"Not bad. I've been a little antsy all week trying to find a story to sink my teeth into. Not quite the same anymore, though."
He had spent the entire morning scanning over the daily news on the web trying to find any interesting stories he might be able to look into. Most of the articles written by the magazine were character sketches of political leaders in Lansing and in-depth studies on brewing scandals in addition to the articles tracking the latest developments in technology and business in Detroit. He had spent hours skimming regional stories only to let his mind wander to the still fresh images of his six weeks in Afghanistan.
Also, he had been avoiding Bill. He knew the old guy would be angry that he had published stories in the Wall Street Journal while he was on this last assignment. Nevin felt justified about. A national audience deserved to read about the kinds of operations engaged in by the special forces unit he was embedded with. It was an extra opportunity that had practically leaped into his face. Bill still got the profiles he asked for, on a couple of Michigan-born soldiers serving in the 'War on Terror'.
"Sorry I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you since you got back." Bill leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. He looked Nevin up and down and a smile widened on his face, revealing his coffee and nicotine tarnished teeth. "'Daring Detling'. That's some nickname you picked up. Musta been a wild time. Some of the guys were ticked off that I sent you. After hearing that you were actually being shot at, they stopped complaining. It looks like your military training came in handy, I guess. And I read the articles. The ones in the Journal, too. Good stuff."
Nevin winked and made a clicking sound with his mouth as he pointed his forefinger like a pistol.
"You look better, too."
"How so?"
"Don't look so angry all the time."
"Thanks." It was then that he noticed that not every surface in the office had been covered with stacks of paper. The sofa against the wall held a pillow that had been slept on and a blanket crumpled on the opposite end. A leather shaving kit was lying unzipped on the tile floor half hidden under the sofa.
"What's up, Bill. You and the wife OK?"
"Huh? Oh yeah. I was just workin' late, that's all. Not having help will do that."
That's a load of bull, he thought. The magazine was never busy enough for Bill to have to stay the night.
"Anyway," Bill continued, "It doesn't look like I'll have you working here too much longer. I already know about your other offers."
"Hey, I meant to tell you about that."
Bill waived him off. "Anyone here would kill for that chance. And you've only been here a year. Anyway, that's not why I wanted to see you."
"Good tell me you have something for me. I'm restless."
"Actually I do. You ever heard of a town called Hidden?
"Yes." Nevin wished he'd lied. "The school shooting last week. Why?"
"I need you to go there and check on something for me." He turned to his desk and was shuffling some more paper. Nevin was confused and was about to say something, when Bill beat him to it, slapping a folder on top of the other papers. "A friend of mine who sits on the Hidden city council gave me a call a few days ago. He tipped me off to something I think we need to look at."
Nevin swallowed dryly. "What is it?"
"That seventeen year old kid walked into his class room and shot two fellow students and his teacher before himself."
"I read about it. It's been covered by everyone in the state, not to mention two of the major cable news networks. What would we want from it?"
"My friend tells me there's something else. According to him, this isn't isolated. A couple of reporters were trying to dig up something the kid's parents were involved with, but no one in that town has been able to help and others won's talk.
No surpise there, Nevin thought.
"This friend of mine says there's something going on. People becoming extremely disturbed or even violent. Suicides, and not just the Moony one. Usually this stuff doesn't warrant a deeper look, it seems so commonplace. I mean Columbine, Red Lake, you name it. I guess there may be some environmental issues with the river up there." He extended his hand. "Oh yeah, my friend's number."
Nevin took the small piece of paper and stared silently at the floor.
"Get this, Nev'," Bill continued. "These people live in close geographical proximity. Like, within a mile or so of each other, near this same body of water. And from what he says, these were mostly normal people. That teenager was a two sport letterman and a model student until a few weeks or ago."
"You thinking pollution? Heavy metals?"
"Maybe. You may have been reading my mind. I did some preliminary research and found that there are two companies in that area that could handle a number of toxins. I put some info on them in this folder."
"Your friend might want to give the DNR a holler."
"They have. Don't know what the state has come up with yet, but you'll check that out."
Bill continued to talk about details and for the first time during the conversation, Nevin thought about the town of Hidden, Michigan and fear crept into his belly. The beating in his chest was heavy and his heart felt like a balloon being twisted and stretched by a party clown wrenching it into a dog or giraffe.
Bill's mouth moved but Nevin, while looking at his boss, no longer saw or heard him. He was watching squad car lights from a window in his childhood house, his ears ringing, a sticky wetness between his fingers. People were scrambling and shouting, chaotic, but like in Bill's office, he heard nothing. Someone grabbed at his hand. Another tried to shield his eyes from seeing the men in uniform take away a lifeless body lying under a white sheet on a gurney. He only had a slight glimpse, but he saw blood seeping through the white sheet where the head should have been.
"Nevin?" Bill was waving his hand.
He realized that he was rubbing his thumb against his middle and forefingers as if there was something between them. "Are you sure you want me to go? This doesn't really sound like anything we would cover."
"Well, I found something else. You know who the representative is of that district?"
"Edmunds?"
"Yep. He's been under suspicion for years for accepting bribes and other charges of corruption. He's also from that area. He'd been pushing a bill that loosens some safety and environmental specifications for small pharmaceutical companies." Bill leaned forward with his hand clasped in front of him as he always does when he wants to make a serious point. "That bill makes it so companies that match the criteria could not be held legally responsible for the damages caused by any new toxins released from those companies."
"That will never make it out of committee, Bill, you know that."
"It already has because it was attached to the new tax benefit plan. Won overwhelmingly. The part Edmunds sponsored only effects certain, very few, developmental pharmaceutical companies. All environmental standards already apply. I don't know exactly what it is, but this provision just doesn't seem to make sense, because it only has to do with labs and specific drug experiments. It could be nothing. Just in case, go see if there's something to this."
"Do you have anyone else that you can send?"
An offended and annoyed expression came over Bill's pudgy face. "You were just gung-ho a minute ago. Geez, maybe it's not as excitin' as Afghanistan. I'm sorry we don't have that sort of spectacular stuff on a daily basis here. Look, we might be able to nail Edmunds on this. Just go and see if you can find any connection. Talk to my friend. He'll have some good info for you. Try to interview the Moony's and anyone else he gives you. Do your stuff, you crazy S-O-B. If it is pollution and he's trying to help his home town buddies, we need to expose it."
You have no idea, do you? Nevin's mind scanned over a hundred excuses he could use to get out of going. The more his mind raced, the tighter that little twisted balloon in his chest got, but he did not want to say anything about his fear to Bill. What could he say?
"What all did your friend say? Exactly."
Bill's hand ran over his head and he sighed, as if he were too embarrassed to say anything.
"What is it, Bill?"
"I haven't heard from this guy in years, and he just called me up with this. He's a bit shifty normally, but he was really wound-up when I talked to him. He, uh, thinks there may be something supernatural causing this stuff. Like a ghost or something." Bill finally leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "He also asked for you by name. You know why?"
Nevin's eyes went to the paper, flimsy from soaking in the sweat in his hands "Never heard of him. Did he say?"
"Nope. Maybe he's read you."
"What did he mean by 'supernatural'?"
Bill shrugged. "Wouldn't say. He wanted me to tell you to leave any expectations behind."
Nevin saw a chuckle come to Bill's face, which was unusual. Nevin had never seen Bill laugh behind that desk. Only when the guy had a couple beers in him at the company Christmas party.
"Keep it on the quiet side until you get a chance to get a feel for everything. It might turn out to be nothing. If that's the case, just come back."
Bill was looking old now. His jowls, which usually added to his charm, seemed to be drooping more, and the bags under his eyes were dark and puffy. Those eyes were fixed expectantly on him, and Nevin couldn't think of a rational argument for saying 'no'. Besides, what could he really say? What reasoning could he use? Bill would probably understand, but the thought of having to say anything regarding his reservations for going seemed unbearable at that moment.
"Alright," he finally said. "I'll leave in the morning. I hope your next secretary works out for you, Bill. This place looks horrible."
"Get out of here, so I can go nuts in peace."
The message on Nevin Detling's desk read, "Come see me" and was in Bill's handwriting.
Nothing more.
Nevin walked through a maze of empty cubicles. It was Friday and the latest edition of The Lansing Weekly had been finished and sent to production. In a couple of days, politicians and businessmen from Grand Rapids to Detroit would have the latest copy of one the state's leading business and political magazines. The usual sounds of shouting and banging away on keyboards that filled the office on other days were replaced by the quiet hum of the ventilation system. No one on the entire magazine staff came back to work after lunch on Fridays. The only other person in the office was Bill, and even that was unusual.
Nevin would have knocked on his boss's door, which had "Editor-in-Chief" stenciled on the smoked glass, if the door was still on its hinges. After Bill's secretary quit, he removed it so he could yell at his writers and editors without barriers. Instead, Nevin knocked on the glass wall.
There was a hasty invitation, and he entered. Bill was sitting bent over in his chair searching through the drawers in his desk.
Since the secretary's departure, his office had gradually transformed from a tidy and organized workplace into complete shambles with papers strewn upon every surface that Nevin could see, including the floor, which was also littered with Styrofoam coffee cups. Bill was mostly hidden behind his desk, slamming drawers and shuffling papers. When he finally looked up above the paper Himalayas at Nevin, perspiration was running down his face and what was left of his hair was standing vertical.
Nevin grabbed the ledge at the top of the door frame, letting his long, muscular arms support his weight as he leaned forward and suppressed his laughter.
"Hey Nev'," Bill said, a little short of breath. "How you settling back in?"
"Not bad. I've been a little antsy all week trying to find a story to sink my teeth into. Not quite the same anymore, though."
He had spent the entire morning scanning over the daily news on the web trying to find any interesting stories he might be able to look into. Most of the articles written by the magazine were character sketches of political leaders in Lansing and in-depth studies on brewing scandals in addition to the articles tracking the latest developments in technology and business in Detroit. He had spent hours skimming regional stories only to let his mind wander to the still fresh images of his six weeks in Afghanistan.
Also, he had been avoiding Bill. He knew the old guy would be angry that he had published stories in the Wall Street Journal while he was on this last assignment. Nevin felt justified about. A national audience deserved to read about the kinds of operations engaged in by the special forces unit he was embedded with. It was an extra opportunity that had practically leaped into his face. Bill still got the profiles he asked for, on a couple of Michigan-born soldiers serving in the 'War on Terror'.
"Sorry I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you since you got back." Bill leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. He looked Nevin up and down and a smile widened on his face, revealing his coffee and nicotine tarnished teeth. "'Daring Detling'. That's some nickname you picked up. Musta been a wild time. Some of the guys were ticked off that I sent you. After hearing that you were actually being shot at, they stopped complaining. It looks like your military training came in handy, I guess. And I read the articles. The ones in the Journal, too. Good stuff."
Nevin winked and made a clicking sound with his mouth as he pointed his forefinger like a pistol.
"You look better, too."
"How so?"
"Don't look so angry all the time."
"Thanks." It was then that he noticed that not every surface in the office had been covered with stacks of paper. The sofa against the wall held a pillow that had been slept on and a blanket crumpled on the opposite end. A leather shaving kit was lying unzipped on the tile floor half hidden under the sofa.
"What's up, Bill. You and the wife OK?"
"Huh? Oh yeah. I was just workin' late, that's all. Not having help will do that."
That's a load of bull, he thought. The magazine was never busy enough for Bill to have to stay the night.
"Anyway," Bill continued, "It doesn't look like I'll have you working here too much longer. I already know about your other offers."
"Hey, I meant to tell you about that."
Bill waived him off. "Anyone here would kill for that chance. And you've only been here a year. Anyway, that's not why I wanted to see you."
"Good tell me you have something for me. I'm restless."
"Actually I do. You ever heard of a town called Hidden?
"Yes." Nevin wished he'd lied. "The school shooting last week. Why?"
"I need you to go there and check on something for me." He turned to his desk and was shuffling some more paper. Nevin was confused and was about to say something, when Bill beat him to it, slapping a folder on top of the other papers. "A friend of mine who sits on the Hidden city council gave me a call a few days ago. He tipped me off to something I think we need to look at."
Nevin swallowed dryly. "What is it?"
"That seventeen year old kid walked into his class room and shot two fellow students and his teacher before himself."
"I read about it. It's been covered by everyone in the state, not to mention two of the major cable news networks. What would we want from it?"
"My friend tells me there's something else. According to him, this isn't isolated. A couple of reporters were trying to dig up something the kid's parents were involved with, but no one in that town has been able to help and others won's talk.
No surpise there, Nevin thought.
"This friend of mine says there's something going on. People becoming extremely disturbed or even violent. Suicides, and not just the Moony one. Usually this stuff doesn't warrant a deeper look, it seems so commonplace. I mean Columbine, Red Lake, you name it. I guess there may be some environmental issues with the river up there." He extended his hand. "Oh yeah, my friend's number."
Nevin took the small piece of paper and stared silently at the floor.
"Get this, Nev'," Bill continued. "These people live in close geographical proximity. Like, within a mile or so of each other, near this same body of water. And from what he says, these were mostly normal people. That teenager was a two sport letterman and a model student until a few weeks or ago."
"You thinking pollution? Heavy metals?"
"Maybe. You may have been reading my mind. I did some preliminary research and found that there are two companies in that area that could handle a number of toxins. I put some info on them in this folder."
"Your friend might want to give the DNR a holler."
"They have. Don't know what the state has come up with yet, but you'll check that out."
Bill continued to talk about details and for the first time during the conversation, Nevin thought about the town of Hidden, Michigan and fear crept into his belly. The beating in his chest was heavy and his heart felt like a balloon being twisted and stretched by a party clown wrenching it into a dog or giraffe.
Bill's mouth moved but Nevin, while looking at his boss, no longer saw or heard him. He was watching squad car lights from a window in his childhood house, his ears ringing, a sticky wetness between his fingers. People were scrambling and shouting, chaotic, but like in Bill's office, he heard nothing. Someone grabbed at his hand. Another tried to shield his eyes from seeing the men in uniform take away a lifeless body lying under a white sheet on a gurney. He only had a slight glimpse, but he saw blood seeping through the white sheet where the head should have been.
"Nevin?" Bill was waving his hand.
He realized that he was rubbing his thumb against his middle and forefingers as if there was something between them. "Are you sure you want me to go? This doesn't really sound like anything we would cover."
"Well, I found something else. You know who the representative is of that district?"
"Edmunds?"
"Yep. He's been under suspicion for years for accepting bribes and other charges of corruption. He's also from that area. He'd been pushing a bill that loosens some safety and environmental specifications for small pharmaceutical companies." Bill leaned forward with his hand clasped in front of him as he always does when he wants to make a serious point. "That bill makes it so companies that match the criteria could not be held legally responsible for the damages caused by any new toxins released from those companies."
"That will never make it out of committee, Bill, you know that."
"It already has because it was attached to the new tax benefit plan. Won overwhelmingly. The part Edmunds sponsored only effects certain, very few, developmental pharmaceutical companies. All environmental standards already apply. I don't know exactly what it is, but this provision just doesn't seem to make sense, because it only has to do with labs and specific drug experiments. It could be nothing. Just in case, go see if there's something to this."
"Do you have anyone else that you can send?"
An offended and annoyed expression came over Bill's pudgy face. "You were just gung-ho a minute ago. Geez, maybe it's not as excitin' as Afghanistan. I'm sorry we don't have that sort of spectacular stuff on a daily basis here. Look, we might be able to nail Edmunds on this. Just go and see if you can find any connection. Talk to my friend. He'll have some good info for you. Try to interview the Moony's and anyone else he gives you. Do your stuff, you crazy S-O-B. If it is pollution and he's trying to help his home town buddies, we need to expose it."
You have no idea, do you? Nevin's mind scanned over a hundred excuses he could use to get out of going. The more his mind raced, the tighter that little twisted balloon in his chest got, but he did not want to say anything about his fear to Bill. What could he say?
"What all did your friend say? Exactly."
Bill's hand ran over his head and he sighed, as if he were too embarrassed to say anything.
"What is it, Bill?"
"I haven't heard from this guy in years, and he just called me up with this. He's a bit shifty normally, but he was really wound-up when I talked to him. He, uh, thinks there may be something supernatural causing this stuff. Like a ghost or something." Bill finally leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "He also asked for you by name. You know why?"
Nevin's eyes went to the paper, flimsy from soaking in the sweat in his hands "Never heard of him. Did he say?"
"Nope. Maybe he's read you."
"What did he mean by 'supernatural'?"
Bill shrugged. "Wouldn't say. He wanted me to tell you to leave any expectations behind."
Nevin saw a chuckle come to Bill's face, which was unusual. Nevin had never seen Bill laugh behind that desk. Only when the guy had a couple beers in him at the company Christmas party.
"Keep it on the quiet side until you get a chance to get a feel for everything. It might turn out to be nothing. If that's the case, just come back."
Bill was looking old now. His jowls, which usually added to his charm, seemed to be drooping more, and the bags under his eyes were dark and puffy. Those eyes were fixed expectantly on him, and Nevin couldn't think of a rational argument for saying 'no'. Besides, what could he really say? What reasoning could he use? Bill would probably understand, but the thought of having to say anything regarding his reservations for going seemed unbearable at that moment.
"Alright," he finally said. "I'll leave in the morning. I hope your next secretary works out for you, Bill. This place looks horrible."
"Get out of here, so I can go nuts in peace."
