Lila

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It was eerie to watch it happen. She'd only ever seen him in that cold, emotionless place after he'd already slipped into it. But as they sat at the table and his panic passed, she realized she was watching it overcome him. He went from shaking and frantic, to fidgety and distracted, to cold and calculating… in seconds. It was as if something possessed him. It was terrifying. And when he looked at her after the transformation was complete, there was something missing in his eyes.

She squeezed his hand and tried to hold his gaze, but he'd already turned back to Chris and started asking questions about pieces of technology she knew nothing about.

He could have been talking about the weather, or an accounting problem for all the emotion in his tone. She stared at him trying to understand how her husband, the man who'd just been shaking and pleading with her, had become this… robot.

It was so unsettling that once she was certain they were discussing areas where she could be no help, she excused herself from the table to go make phone calls to the contacts she had that might be able to keep an ear to the ground with the press and give them a heads up if a story broke that centered on Daniels Security, Dane, or Tish.

Later, all of them tired and Lila flustered because trying to make people take her queries seriously without telling them what had actually happened was a real trick—they were joined by Josh. She knew Dane had to have called him in. She gave Dane a look that he ignored and left Josh posted near the door. In the office. It was ridiculous! But at least it meant he wasn't so far gone that he'd stopped caring about her. She tried to comfort herself with that.

Staff came and went. Heated discussions were had over laptops and monitors in Dane's office. The picture wasn't a good one. She sat through the briefing a couple hours later, her stomach sinking.

Dane gathered the key staff into his office and used his screens to demonstrate what they knew. He described everything as if he had no personal connection to any of what he described. It made Lila's heart clench.

"… the short story is, we know where she was until about ten or eleven on Friday night when Chris left her with her roommate. But she was sleeping when the roommate left with her boyfriend, and they didn't return until after lunch Sunday—by which time she was gone."

Dane frowned at the notes in his hand. "Her phone never moved from the apartment. So we have a thirty-six hour window when anything could have happened. But it seems most likely that whatever happened took place early on Saturday, since I think if she'd woken up normally—even very hungover—she would have been on her phone pretty quickly. So, let's move on the basis that we're looking at sometime between midnight and one pm on Saturday. She was removed from the property in a way that our cameras in the lobby, parking lots, and roof didn't pick up anything immediately suspicious. We're combing the footage now for any unknown vehicles or large bags or transports. What we know for sure is that she didn't walk out of the building on her own. So, I want any local surveillance tapes, 911 calls, and traffic reports from the eight-block radius around our building for those hours."

The staff who handled those inquiries murmured and made notes. One woman raised a hand and Dane nodded for her to speak.

"Are we seeing a link between Tish and Becky Hanson?"

Dane didn't even blink. "Yes."

As the staff murmured and shifted in their seats, frowning or drop-mouthed, he went on. "I don't have to tell you that we're invested not only in finding Tish, but in identifying whoever might have moved or harmed her. We believe there is a link between this and the Becky Hanson death, and if we find concrete evidence we'll be immediately providing it to Law Enforcement. However, we are looking for our colleague whether the Police are interested in that link or not. Am I clear?"

A chill ran through the room, but Dane moved on as if he didn't feel it. Lila wanted to cry. Was he keeping himself separate from all this, or was it real what he said, that he just didn't feel it? He'd obviously felt it—a lot—earlier when he'd come to find her. So how could he just stand there now? Talk about it like these people were strangers?

Questions flew back and forth from that point. Lila made notes of anything she thought they might share in a statement or with contacts for investigation. But the truth was, she felt helpless. She couldn't help her husband. She could only help the company manage the messages—which did nothing to change what they were. She couldn't change anyone's life, or save anyone from death. She was a spectator of the worst kind—using information about the tragedy to spin for gain.

In that moment, she hated herself, hated what she did. But she was practical enough to know it was necessary. That the company—not to mention, Dane—would be hurt more if she didn't do her job and do it well.

So, as sick as she felt, when the meeting broke up, she headed back to her office, to mor phone calls, and more staring at the screen figuring out how to communicate these very frightening details without causing panic.

Hours later, the office was quiet. Most of the team members were out investigating, or taking care of their clients. The reception phone rang constantly, but obviously not for Lila since it was never put through. Dane had been holed up in his office since the briefing, with visits from Chris and a few others, so she hadn't heard from him. Josh had stood outsider her office all day and she felt terrible when he told her he wasn't off shift until midnight.

"This is ridiculous!" she muttered to herself. But just like everyone else around Dane Daniels, she found herself doing exactly what he'd want anyway.

She went back into her office, and went to work.

*****

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