Chapter Nine
On his first night in their new home, after being rested and fed, Daniel set up his office, complete with secured Wi-Fi hub, copper shielding, and computer array. Daniel contacted Darkest Knight to get a step ahead on protections, electronic and otherwise, that suited their situation. The scrambler would keep the sniffers on secret cellphone towers and nearby military bases at arm’s length. The freezer with Diana’s Empty inside sat under several shipping crates and a tarp in the unfinished garage. He found “Bill the Odd-Jobs Man” on Handyman.com and sent photos of their plans for the garage. Odd-Jobs Bill had a photo of himself and of several jobs that featured fine finish work. Daniel didn’t need Bill for finish work—just to skin the unfinished exterior of the shop. Bill’s photo, an off-center selfie, revealed long, graying hair that framed a tanned, mid-thirties face. His email address was the public library.
Daniel contacted the PODs people and their furnishings arrived over the next two nights, which stimulated a nesting gene in Diana and suspended the sullen gene she’d been packing for months. Three nights later he helped haul her personal gym upstairs to her office. Her level of exercise would spike her appetite. He needed to boost their backup supply pronto.
Half of the garage space would be Daniel’s art studio. His tools and lab equipment hunkered in a pyramid of crates under tarps. His greatest worry came with the dangerous proximity of Diana to the various laborers assisting their move. She maintained by seriously depleting his refrigerated Matrix. He’d had to take a block out of the freezer this evening, way ahead of schedule.
The frozen should last a month, he thought, and shook his head. At this rate, we’ll be dry in two weeks.
Odd-Jobs Bill replied from the library’s computer with a bid within an hour. The bid was low, he could start immediately, and Daniel’s need for speed boosted concerns about quality. Odd-Jobs Bill had 4.5 stars on Handyman. Comments about his work were glowing except one: “The guy’s creepy quiet. Nothing missing, though.” Daniel didn’t mind “creepy quiet,” so he copied down a list of materials, got the number for America’s Lumber Supplies, and put in the order for tomorrow, including Diana’s order for paint. He explained that they couldn’t be reached during the day, sent Odd-Jobs Bill an advance through Venmo, and received a call-back immediately.
“We sleep during the day, so call or text,” Daniel said. “One of us will answer.”
“Gotta make noise,” Bill said, “saws and all. What about that?”
Noise wouldn’t bother them, but Daniel thought a moment. “Then finish up as soon as possible,” he said. “You said four days?”
“Yes, sir. Good photos. Four days. That’s pushing it.”
“Push harder, make it two, and I’ll double your bid.”
Bill was quiet.
“Hello?” Daniel said. “You there?”
Bill cleared his throat and spit into something. “Can do,” he said, “but I’ll have to work evenings, too. Or hire some help.”
Daniel didn’t like the idea of more people around after dark. All his salon work would be after dark. So far, he’d only secured one place, and that was a demo. He had needs greater than money. He didn’t want to decide between those needs and monitoring his sister, though her renewed fitness program and passion for design should keep her busy for a few days.
“My sister is a very private person,” he said. “Let’s keep it to you unless there’s an emergency.”
After that call, he created a Washington State LLC online for $75, opened a local bank account, and checked the secure server for messages from his Proxy. He received the address for a storage garage in Port Angeles, the passcode for the electronic gate, and the number of the garage. He wanted to refit and restock their box truck and get it stored ASAP. The Proxy promised new ID, addresses of new rentals in both Canada and the US, and new contact info for him (or her) inside the cab within twelve hours. Daniel felt uneasy about the one-hour drive from Salish Landing to Port Angeles, but no local ferries sailed into Canada.
Daniel checked his phone for a map and was disappointed in the winding drive to Port Angeles but relieved that the truck storage was less than a block from the Canada ferry. He would have to pull everything out of the truck and rethink for emergency entry into Canada. Diana was restless already, and he worried about leaving the handyman alone with her. Daniel could be with Diana tomorrow, but that night was his first salon appointment, and Odd-Jobs Bill would be out there alone. After dark.
“I’ll deliver the truck tonight,” he told Diana. “I have my first appointment tomorrow. I’ll have something for us when I get back. It’s hard to find someone to do construction at night, so calm yourself. It’s a small town. People miss people.”
Diana smiled the kind of smile that fooled other people and said, “Look at you, the youngest, barking orders.”
“Consider it a request. It’s for our own good.”
She kept the smile. “Say ‘Please.’”
He knew that eye-rolling, exasperated sighs, physical signs of irritation would only make things worse, drag on longer.
“Please,” he said, palms up in supplication. “Really, please.”
“Okay, Brother,” she said, “but you’d better deliver tomorrow. I can’t wait much longer.”
You mean you WON’T wait much longer, he thought, and hoped it didn’t show.
“Remember,” she said, without the smile, “this move was your fault for being careless. Twice before that we moved because of your women. Please control yourself.” She raised her fingers for air quotes: “‘It’s for your own good.’”
“Mocking me doesn’t help.”
She picked up their new blue drapes and turned to the picture windows across the north wall.
“Maybe it doesn’t help you, Brother, but I feel better.”
He unpacked his new appliance, set it up in the dining room, then left in the truck for Port Angeles. This time he didn’t leave his cedar puzzle-box in the truck with IDs and credit cards. Considering that one-hour drive, he wanted some security if he had to flee without the truck.
She’s too erratic, he thought. If she unravels, and I have to run …
Daniel pushed the thought aside and focused on his mission. He met the only Uber in Port Angeles at the ferry landing and pretended he’d just crossed from Canada. He wanted a garrulous driver, brimming with local lore and opinions about local salons, health clubs, and spas. Instead, his driver switched the car to autopilot and spent his time reading Sartre’s No Exit. Daniel didn’t collect any local lore, but he did feel ignored, therefore invisible, which was the next best thing. He got out at Four Corners Store anyway and walked the last mile to their house, grateful that the rain had let up. First on his mind was his inaugural product demo tomorrow evening at A Cut Above Hair Studio.
Owner had a nice phone voice, he thought. Good sign.