Too Late, Mr. Johnston: She Is Gone

The basement smelled of mold and old cardboard. Kara sat in the corner, using the dim light of the tiny phone screen to navigate.

She called Chloe, her agent.

"You can't sell it," Chloe shrieked on the other end. "The 'Ethereal' gown? That was your masterpiece! You made that for your wedding!"

"Dead women don't need wedding dresses," Kara said. Her voice was flat. "I need cash, Chloe. Fast. Davin's network is a fortress. Any attempt to access my usual resources will trigger alarms. This is the only way."

She hung up as another call came through. It was the nursing home director.

"Mrs. Johnston," the director said. His tone was grave. "Arthur has had a second stroke."

Kara felt the floor drop out from under her. "Save him! Do whatever it takes!"

"We can't," the director said. "The Trust sent a cease and desist on payments. We are already in the red. If we don't have a hundred thousand dollars by noon tomorrow, we have to transfer him to the state facility."

The state facility was a warehouse for the dying. If Arthur went there, he wouldn't last a week.

"Please," Kara begged. "Just give me twenty-four hours."

"I'm sorry."

The line went dead.

Kara screamed. She threw the phone against a stack of boxes. She banged her head against the wall. The physical pain was grounding. It distracted her from the panic.

She had to get out.

The door handle turned. Kara froze.

Charles slipped inside. He was holding a bottle of water and a roll. He looked terrified.

"Charles," Kara gasped. She crawled over to him and grabbed the hem of his trousers. "Lend me the money. Please. I'll pay you back double."

Charles shook his head. "Madam, I don't have that kind of money."

"Then let me go," Kara said. Her eyes were wild, feverish. "I need to see Davin."

"He's at the tower," Charles said. He hesitated. He looked at her pale, desperate face.

"I'll leave the door unlocked," he whispered. "But if anyone asks, I forgot."

"Thank you," Kara sobbed.

She waited until Charles left, then slipped out. She ran through the rain, out the service gate, and flagged down a taxi on the main road.

She had no cash. She pulled off her diamond stud earrings-the only jewelry Davin hadn't bought her-and tossed them to the driver.

"Johnston Global Tower," she commanded.

The lobby of the tower was a cathedral of glass and steel. Kara walked in, dripping wet, her clothes muddy, her hair plastered to her skull. She was shivering violently. The fever was spiking.

She approached the reception desk.

"I need to see Davin Johnston," she said. Her teeth chattered.

The receptionist looked her up and down with disdain. "Do you have an appointment?"

"I'm his wife!" Kara shouted.

The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am, I know who you are. My instructions are clear. Mr. Johnston is not available to you." She reached for the phone. "Security."

Two large guards grabbed Kara's arms.

"Let me go! Davin!"

The elevator doors pinged open. Davin walked out, surrounded by a phalanx of suits. He looked immaculate.

He stopped when he saw the commotion. He saw the wet, screaming woman struggling with his guards.

"Davin!" Kara cried out. "Grandpa is dying! Please!"

Davin looked at her. There was no recognition in his eyes. Only cold annoyance.

"Get that trash out of my building," he said to the guards.

He turned and walked out the revolving doors, leaving Kara to be dragged backward across the marble floor.