“No. Julian’s dead.” Emily was beyond stunned. “He has to be. His plane went down. He’s gone. ” A flash of anger ripped through her body. “How can you just sit there and tell me something like that when everyone knows it isn’t true? I’m the one who’s had to live without him. I don’t know how you people can be so cruel… She stood up and started to walk toward the door.”
“Did you see any wreckage? A body?” Harry’s voice was gentle as he asked the probing questions. “What do you have, Emily, beyond what other people have told you? You’re a reporter. How much of this lack of evidence could be used for a news story? Please just consider that. When you write about deaths, be it an accident or whatever, how much proof do you require? Leroy wouldn’t sign off on a story made of nothing but gossip.”
Something of this logic resonated within Emily. She stopped and turned to face Harry and Mary Jean. “No, he wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t present him such a piece, either.”
“I know. Why don’t you apply the same ideals to this case?”
“Wesley did warn Natasha against chasing after Julian in the event of my murder,” Emily recalled. “But everything there seemed so unreal. I don’t even know why they live there.”
“It’s far worse than a love affair,” Mary Jean said. “They’re only fooling themselves, though. They imagine their employers to be some sort of monsters who will be displeased if they don’t shed as much blood as possible.”
“Julian’s blood.” Emily meant to state it as a question but it sounded like a statement.
“No, my dear,” Harry sighed. “Yours.”
“Why? Who am I to them?”
“A witness,” Mary Jean answered. “And they’re too blinded by fear to realize that what you saw had nothing to do with them but rather these employers of whom they’re so afraid.”
Emily shook her head in confusion. “The lights? How could they have made that happen? And what’s wrong with my witnessing it, if that’s even true?”
“In reality, nothing. They only think so.”
“How could Julian be alive?” Emily returned to the original source of shock.
“I’m afraid we can’t keep you safe right now if I answered that question,” Harry intoned with a glance at his wife. “But you can know that he is truly alive.”
“Then where is he? I want proof!”
“He isn’t here, but it won’t be long,” Mary Jean answered. “I suppose you’ll either trust us, even though we can’t reveal much yet, or take your chances with Wesley and Natasha.”
I can’t do that, Emily thought. They want to kill me and I have no idea why. But how much dare I trust Harry and Mary Jean? Something inside told her that the couple were by far more trustworthy than the perennially owly Wesley and the simpering Natasha. So she sat back down.
“I’ll stay. Just promise me this will make sense.”
Etcetera 