Chapter 7: Laus Deo

She awoke to a blustery morning. She could hear the cars in the street below, but they did not matter. She could hear the sounds of the world waking up, but that didn’t matter either. It was the swirl of the blankets around her that did. The fading shadows across the room. They were with her. They were here bearing witness to her anguish. Why should she get up today? She had just begun to think that things mattered again and now this!? Suddenly she was angry enough to forget how sad she was and realized that she was already on her feet. So much for staying in bed, wasting away. The longing stare of the unmade bed called her back. She ignored it as if to insult her own self pity. Enough of that! Moving to the other side of the room to the dresser against the far wall, she grabbed a thin red robe that had been left carelessly on top, and swirled it about her in a flurry to cover what the world could not see and walked out into the main room of her small apartment. The TV was still on she noticed, and muted, for which she was momentarily thankful to be unable to hear the insidious commentary from the diffident talking heads. It was an affront that the scrolling bar across the bottom of the screen still taunted her with the news of Asher’s death. Although for the moment the news casters seemed to have moved on to a different story. Something to do with the Washington monument it seemed. What did that matter? Who cares about that now? She sat down on the red plush couch and switched the TV off of mute. There was a pundit on now being interviewed for his opinion on something to do with whatever was going on, she still didn’t care. Her mind wandered to the face she would not see any longer. He had been good to her. Giving her a job during the final months of his administration and taking care of her after she moved to this city to get away from the questions left behind after her father’s death. The news program switched back to the anchor with some sort of brief about a press conference that was coming up. As he droned on, she thought about Rick and the look he gave her as he left yesterday. Had it been one of remorse? Why should he feel remorse? He had been so cavalier about the hole affair from the beginning. She wondered why he had come to see her anyway. That drifted off as she felt a pang of melancholy wash over her. She almost started crying again. To fight it off she tuned back in to the TV and the starting press conference. She read the banner beneath the screen and saw that some group called Laus Humanitas was about to deliver a statement. There were a large number of people gathering at the foot of the Lincoln memorial on a stage that had been setup with bleachers with red fabric sitting on a red stage with a single podium painted red. What was with all the red she wondered? The bleachers were filling up with a random assortment of people, she assumed they must be members of this group. A processing of self important looking people began to march up from stage left towards the podium. A tall man in a grey suit approached the podium while the other 6 people gathered slightly behind him. There was an odd looking man on the far right with squinty eyes and fidgety hands that caught her attention. The camera then zoomed to focus on the man behind the podium. He appeared to be in his mid 50’s with slightly graying hair and circular glasses. It seemed as though she had seen him somewhere before. He began speaking and she wondered where she had seen him before. Something about the way he pronounced his words. Almost over pronouncing each syllable. Of course! She had seen him at Asher’s mansion at last years Christmas party. Asher had been talking to the man. Something must have upset him because he became more and more animated as he had spoken, that day, to the man who was now up on the podium. The marquee on the screen gave his name as David Baxter. Well Mister Baxter, why are you so important as to be on stage today? It appeared that she had missed most of his speech.

Laus Humanitas! Mankind Be Praised!” He said to the roaring cheers of the people gathered in the bleachers behind him and the audience below.

Whatever did he mean by that?” wondered Penelope aloud. And almost as a response there was a sharp knock at the door that caused her, in her emotional state, to jump with a slight cry. She rolled off the couch and padded to the door across the cold floor which bit at her bare feet. As she was about to look through the eyehole she heard a voice through the door.

“Ms. Baker, this is Evan Scott with Grumbs, Mccolmb, Johnson, and Hardin. I would like to speak with you briefly”

She sighed and thought “Great, more lawyers, hadn’t they had enough with her by now” She spun the lock and pulled the door back until it was caught by the chain.

“Hello, Ms. Baker I presume? I am Evan Scott with Grumbs, McColmb…”

“I heard you the first time” She said, a bit more acidic than she had intended. “What do you want from me?”

“I’m very sorry to intrude, Ms. Baker. However I need a moment of your time. I assure you it will only take a minute.” He said.

“Fine, one second please” She said as she shut the door. She turned to the mirror on the wall and examined her appearance. Her hair was slightly matted to one side of her head and her eyes were a bit red. “Perfect,” she thought. “She looked terrible, but better than she felt. He gaze drifted down to her too thin robe and momentarily she thought of getting something else to cover herself up with but gave up on that with a smirk. She hesitated for a second time and thought of splashing some water on her face but instead settled with smoothing her hair as best she could. What difference did it make. She didn’t care what this lawyer thought of her. She pulled her robe tight around her and turned back to the door. As she opened it, she was surprised to see not one, but 3 people standing in the threshold. The man, to whom she had been speaking, stood closest and seemed familiar. To his left was another man with a plain face and a mouth that turned down at the edges to give him a boring and unhappy look. To the odd mans right was a pretty young woman with blond hair pulled back into a tight bun wearing a power pant suit with a slightly upturned nose that gave her a condescending appearance.

“Please make this quick Mister…Scott was it? I was not prepared for…visitors…today as you can probably tell.”

“Ah..yes…yes, I assure you this will be quick” he said as he wrung his hands together. He was shorter than the two behind him and it made him look like some kind of mad scientist with a couple of henchmen…hench…people that is, flanking him, waiting to do his bidding on any whim. “Ms Baker. As I said before, I am here representing the firm of...” he started, but then changed to “…the firm on behalf of a very important client that would like to have a word with you. I am here to deliver this envelope…” as he was talking, the man to his right had reached into a briefcase and pulled out a large manila envelope, “and to ask that you open and review the materials at your earliest convenience. After you have reviewed these materials, you will find directions on how to contact me to arrange a meeting.”

“Who is it that has sent you here? What is this all about? What if I choose to decline?” She was in no mood for games today.

“Ah, well, ah…Ms Baker…I believe all your questions will be answered through the review of the material. I just ask that you open the envelope and follow the directions inside. And please, allow yourself a bit of privacy before opening. I am certain you will understand after you open the envelope It is of the utmost importance, not only to our client, but to you as well. I assure you.” he said, then followed with short nervous chuckle. She wondered how well someone this odd would do as a lawyer.

“Very well. Thank you Mister Scott. I trust that is all you need from me now?

“Yes. Ms baker,” he seemed…relieved…she wondered if he had been afraid she might actually throw the envelope in his face and slam the door or something. Why would he think that? Then she realized she was as good as scowling and forced her face to relax a bit as he continued “Please accept my apologies for our intrusion. I hope you have a fine day.”

“Thank you, sir.” She even managed a sort of half sincere smile as she closed the door. He was, after all, fairly courteous. She spun the lock and stood listening at the door while they walked away down the hall. She leaned back against the door and looked down at the envelope in her hands. It had nothing on the outside except for “PENELOPE BAKER” in block letters typed in one corner. It was then that she realized where she recognized the lawyer from. He was on stage with the speaker at the speech in Washington. How could he be in two places at once? She glanced over at the TV and noticed it was paused on the stage at the end of the speech. It was a DVR recording. It must have been Shiloh that turned it on. Why did she record some boring news conference? Why did she turn it on and leave? Why is it so cold in this apartment!? It seemed very random. Dismissing it, she sat down and opened the envelope. Inside was a small DVD player. There was a note attached that said “For Penelope”. She opened it and it began playing at once. It was a home movie. The camera operator panned across the room. All around were small children. Apparently it was someone's birthday. The date in the corner said “7/4/1998” That was over 10 years ago. Then a woman came out with a cake and everyone started singing the typical rendition of Happy Birthday. The name on the top of the cake matched the name in the song. Happy birthday Sarah. Why was she watching this? The little girl had black hair and big blue eyes and was completely enjoying being the center of attention. Suddenly a chill ran thorugh Penelope’s body. Through the window, behind the girl, in the yard behind the house were three men. They were obviously having some sort of argument. That was nothing special by itself. It was who the three were that made her heart skip a beat. One was the man from the speech she watched not 15 minutes previously. The other two were none other than Mr Asher Cole and Penelope’s own father, Edwin(Check) Baker. The man from the speech and Asher were talking to Penelopes father in a heated exchange. Pen could tell her father was upset by the way his right hand was wrapped tight in a ball with his index finger hooked and slightly extended. When he got mad, his arthritis would flare up causing him intense pain in his hand. How he managed to deal with those situations without completely losing it was beyond her comprehension. What could possibly be the reason for this video? Things were moving beyond mere coincidence.

In between 6 and 7

In a room, dark and cold, her fingers freezing, she slowly scans left to right and realizes a place she knows, but cannot remember. Why am I here? She thinks. It has been so much time, too much time. "I need to turn on the light" She says aloud to no one. Suddenly light blooms from the far side of the room. It seems to be radiating from under the door. The warm bright glow reaching across the empty floor. It cuts a straight line through the center of the room and stops just before her bare feet. The entire door is now a silhouette and changing. From behind her, a new light appears, angry and red. She turns and is aware of flames that are just now flickering to life. They spread to the curtains around the blacked out window and reach upward in search of the ceiling. Panic grips her heart, laced with a deep longing pain that will not subside. She is frozen by the awful sight, her legs and arms refuse to respond. Somewhere deep inside she thinks it strange that she feels no heat. But the pain! The pain is so real her lip quivers and tears begin to fill her helpless eyes. It slices her into pieces as she stares at the flames that have now flowed like water across the ceiling. The room is painted by uneven light, yellow and red and black. She senses more than hears a voice call and she turns to see a man dressed in black with a face of fire staring from burning eyes. He speaks again…"Penelope. Why?" Her heart breaks as tears fill her eyes. "Tell me, why?" He asks again. She opens her mouth to respond and the scene is swept away. She is standing at the door, still rounded in bright light, her hand inches from the handle. She glances back and sees the man with the face of fire still looking with pained eyes of flames. She turns back and the handle to the door is now in her hand. She can feel the cold metal. Strange, too strange. She turns the handle and the latch gives, steps back as the door swings in. The light washes over her arms, her face, her body. She raises her right hand to shield her sensitive eyes. One step, two, running now. The light screams. The man screams. She screams only silence. The question haunts her mind, "Pen, Why?!!..." A breeze now sweeps her long hair across her face. Her eyes adjust and she is in a field of bright green. The grasses tickle the bottom of her left hand as it hangs by her side. The eternity of green stretches forever. No sound but the soft breeze through the grass. She turns, confused and the man, the fire, and the room are gone. Only a memory and a scent of burned wood hangs in the air. There is one tree, breaking the otherwise endless field, far in the distance. She approaches, noticing the sway and drift of the breeze across the green field leading her forward. As she nears the lonely tree she sees it is twisted and burned, a deep featureless charred black. Tears fill her eyes again and she falls at the foot of the tree and buries her face into her hands. A whisper carries a soft voice to her heart. "Why?"

She awakes in strangling tangled sheets, her hair matted to her head by the sweat of the dream. Her eyes burn with the last remnants of tears. Her heart pounds in rhythm to the racing of her mind. Her head throbbing a counter point to her heart. She thinks to herself, that seemed too real. She still feels the pain in the man's eyes bearing into her. As her pulse slows and settles and her breath becomes measured, she remembers the striking similarity that the black room bears to the hotel she lived in while still in Los Angeles years ago. Why was the room on fire? She wonders. Remembering the face of the man on fire even as the dream fades from her mind, a chill runs the length of her spine to the hairline of her neck. Something about that face seems so familiar, but the harder she tries to picture it without the fire, to see the man beneath, the faster it seems to fade. Finally, with the last thought, what time is it, she settles back down and drifts to an exhausted sleep.

The Actual Chapter 6: Reflections

Penelope closed and locked her apartment door. She leaned her back against the door and slowly slid to the floor. Her head was spinning and she felt nauseous. She just needed a moment to process everything that had just happened. Asher was really gone. Asher was gone? What would her life be like here in the city without him? And Rick was somehow involved. She had so many questions, so many doubts. Things had happened so quickly. How did Rick even know Asher? What other secrets did he have? She thought she knew him. She thought she could trust him. Sure, he could be annoying and was always trying to insert himself into her life, but deep down she thought she knew that he had just been trying to protect her, not ruin her life. Maybe she was wrong?

But she and Rick had so much history. Her mind traveled back to the night that her father had brought him home for dinner, as he did with all new officers. Dinner with the Captain, they all seemed to have a look of awe around her father. It was at the end of his Rick's first shift, he still had that fresh-from-the academy polish. He had looked so handsome that night. But those times were long gone now...just a faint glimmer in the back of her mind.

What would her father have thought about the life she now led? Edison Theodore Baker. He was so distinguished, well respected, strong. And look how his only daughter had turned out. Penelope's gaze fell upon the silver bracelet on her wrist. It had the inscription E.T.B. She smiled as she traced her finger over her father's initials. Pen knew that it was dangerous to wear something that could be used to trace her identity, but it was all she had left. She would never forget the night that her father had given it to her...two nights before he died. Shot on the street by some thug he had thrown in jail. Had it really only been a few years?

Rick had been the one to call her from the hospital. He had consoled her, held her hand through the funeral, promised her father that he would look after her. And now he strolls into her home with news of Asher like he knew all about it. It just didn't make sense! He had even been to her apartment, if the landlady was to be believed, how did she not know? Had she come to see Shiloh? Maybe he came to see Asher on one of the rare occasions he would show up out of the blue and stay for weeks before disappearing again. Perhaps Shiloh saw Rick and Asher together. Maybe she could ask. Or maybe she should wonder why Shiloh would not have said anything before. So many questions, no answers, too much doubt.

With a heavy sigh and unraveling trust, she pushed herself up off the floor and headed towards the bathroom. If I'm going to stick around here to sort things out, I'd better start working on a new image, Penelope thought, change in appearance always made her feel better, like she was changing who she was, a little. Maybe it was easier to think she was hiding. She opened the cabinet and took out a box of auburn hair dye and a pair of scissors. Tears were dripping off the end of her nose as she numbly began snipping away. Her raven locks fell all around her feet and soon covered the cracked, yellow linoleum floor. Just as she was turning on the water to start the dying process that she knew by heart, Penelope heard the apartment door open.

"Pen? Penelope? Are you in the shower?" Penelope sighed with relief at the sound of Shiloh's voice but didn't respond. Doubt about her entire world still fresh in her mind. Penelope felt like her world had been turned upside down. She felt so alone.
Shiloh continued, "Hey, I heard the news about Asher on the radio. I'm really sorry. But hey, look on the bright side, at least you know now that he wasn't blowing you off! Right?" Shiloh's lame attempt was met with silence on the other end of the door. "Okay, okay, I understand, you don't want to talk right now, but I brought home pizza and beer. Thought it might make you feel better. I'm gonna watch tv. I'll be here when you're ready to talk."

Penelope checked out her latest hairstyle in the spotted mirror. An auburn bob...it barely grazed her jawbone. Her neck was kind of cold. Penelope shrugged her shoulders. It didn't look too bad. She stared at her face for a minute. Her outside image changed all the time and she wasn't even sure what her natural hair color was anymore. Rhetorically, she asked herself aloud, "Who am I? What happened to the fun loving, happy girl that I used to be?" Then to spoil it she added, "Oh yeah, that's right, she got packed away somewhere with her memories when Daddy died and the lawyer's and sycophants took all my money and I started trying to fill the void with meaningless crap." Finally sickened enough with her own self pity she sighed and moved toward the door.

Penelope dried her tears, put on her best fake smile, and stepped out into the hallway. Shiloh muted the tv and looked over at her and held out a beer. "The hair looks good, Pen," she said with a grin. "So what was the deal earlier today when I called?" That crooked smile she had flashed a million times seemed so familiar, Penelope's doubts faded a bit.

"It was...there was...someone was at the door," Pen answered, or stammered. "It was Rick," she added, easier this time.

"Rick? Rick who? ...Oh that guy from LA thats always 'checking' in on you" she said with cliche air quotes around the word. What did she mean by that? "What did he want?" Shiloh said inquisitively.

Why is she so curious? Thought Penelope, then, due to the internal struggles, imediately thought How could I doubt her of all people, after what she has done for me! Then realizing she had not responded as seconds ticked by she said without thinking, "You don't know him? He's been here before, according to Dora."

"Really, not that I ever noticed," and added a sudden shock of spontaneous laughter, for which she was known. Sometimes it made Pen wonder at her sudden mood changes.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. Nothing does." Said Pen, darkly. "I'm tired and going to go sleep until I don't care anymore."

Already halfway down the hall to her room, Penelope heard Shiloh call, "Sorry things have gotten so bad, Pen. Let me know if there's anything I can do..."

With the lights off and the sheets wrapped tight, Pen felt like she was disconnected from everything around her, which gave her time to cycle through the evening. Her eyes filled with burning tears that cascaded down her face and got lost in her hair and the uncomfortable pillow. The last thought she had before sleep was Questions, too many, and no answers...

Chapter Six:

Penelope is in the ICU and in critical condition. All that can save her now is....Dr. Rachel Hurst, but her pager must have run out of batteries or something because she's not here and Penelope is DYING!!!

"paging Dr. Hurst......paging Dr. Hurst, you're wanted in ICU"

Chapter Five: Pieces, together.

As Rick left the apartment and let the door swing closed behind him, he heard the old bag from the apartment down the hall asking something about a gash in the wall. The way she had looked at him when he came up the stairs, he did not doubt that she might even accuse him of somehow being involved although he felt sure she did not see him in the building a week ago. That was when Asher had thrown him out of the apartment after the argument that ultimately brought him back here today. He was sick of that name. Asher. The man was not even close to what everyone thought. Not even Penelope had a clue as to the reality of who he was. The thought bothered him as he descended the stairs and began to imagine the poor girl above him. For a brief moment he paused, considered going back, wanting desperately to tell her everything but knowing that would ultimately doom him. He satisfied himself with envisioning her walking slowly back to the center of her apartment, already falling apart. He could see the anguish behind her eyes, though she hid it well. He imagined her switching the television on, hoping to catch some news about Asher. Hoping to find some answers, some hope, anything. In his mind, he heard the news broadcaster say with a perfectly succinct delivery.
“Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today…”

He knew she would be falling into the red couch right now, tears already forming. She should not be so alone right now. That was one of the worst things about times like these. He felt bad for her, even if it was his fault.

He left the apartment building and walked to the corner of the block to hail a cab. That was when the real guilt began to set in. He reflected back on the time since he left the force in LA. Things had seemed to make sense back then. His life had turned into a seedy pool of violence and manipulation since. His heart hated what he had become. How did he get so entangled? He managed to hail a cab after a few halfhearted attempts had left him with no response from the yellow cars speeding past and he slid into the back seat.

“Corner of Dudley and south 6th” he said to the driver, already ignoring the man.
The scruffy fellow from the front seat said something like, “Sure, be there in 10.”

Hatchett slouched down into the seat to reflect on his role in the last week, the vinyl squeaking as he slid into it. As he considered his options again, he knew he had no choice, but it still nagged him. He always had this suspicion that there was more going on and, though he would not find out for some time, he was right.

Without realizing it, the 10 minutes passed and the cab turned down the dirty and neglected Dudley Street. The rows of aging apartment buildings loomed over the narrow road like robed judges ready to bring down the hammer. The dark clouds in the sky threatened more rain later, although it was getting cold enough that it might be more than rain this time. As he stumbled out of the car, he stuffed his hands into his pocket and drew out some cash for the driver without bothering to count it. He knew by the driver’s response that it was far more than the trip should have cost but he could not manage a care. As he stepped away from the car and it sped off, probably so he did not have time to change his mind about the generous tip he just gave, he pulled his coat up around his neck, tugged his beanie down fully over his ears, and trudged down the street towards number 215. Through the door and up three flights of stairs had him staring at the door to apartment number 306. He paused and exhaled before putting the key into the lock, his broad shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. After a moment, he gathered himself up, turned the handle and went inside.

“What took you so long” asked a deep baritone voice from the flickering darkness, just a hint of annoyance spiced with a noticeable amount of animosity. “That should have been a quick in and out thing.” A small, muted television set on a wobbly looking end table cast sickly shadows across the small room and the features of the man behind the voice.

“There were…interruptions…I think she was hit harder than you anticipated.” Rick desperately wanted to scream but suppressed the useless feeling.

“Nonsense, she was involved only to the point where it would cause her to be hurt, but still predictable.”

“I don’t know man, she seemed pretty upset.” Rick responded while pulling open the door to the refrigerator, hunting for a beer. Blue Moon…it was just like this guy to have wheat beer to face the coming onslaught of winter. “I think she may fold up for a few days. It’s going to set you back a bit”

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts, so you can keep your mouth shut. As long as you said everything I instructed you to say, things will be fine”

“If you say so man.” he paused; then added, “We are done now, you know. I’ve had enough of this,” stated Rick, trying to sound absolute, authoritative. Knowing as he said it what the response would be.

“You’re done when I say so. Don’t forget who got you out Seattle when your deal went bad. You do your job just as I do mine. That will keep the unpleasant people from knocking on our door.” The voice never missed an opportunity to assert his authority over Rick like a king. Rick suspected that that small action helped the man cope with his lowly status being almost as unimportant as Rick’s.

“Fine, but I’m just tired of using her like that. She doesn’t deserve it, you know? She just doesn’t deserve it,” Rick said, thinking briefly of his former captain, the late, great Edison Baker. What would he have to say about how Rick was now involved with destroying his only daughter? His spine tingled at that. How things could change in just a few short months. Most people in LA probably did not even know he had quit. What would they think if they knew the truth of what he was into now?

“I know how you feel about her and her father, that’s why you were chosen.” The voice said, erupting into a fit of cruel laughter. “You should just remember why she can never know…or do you want to see what happens if you tell her the truth?” There it was, from laughter to cold dead animosity in one instant, how could anyone change like that, Rick wondered. He decided to change the subject.

“Shiloh called her while I was there” Rick said, even though he was only partially sure it was true. The voice shifted at that and might as well have fallen out of his chair. The man was not expecting that and Rick knew that would cause the fool to worry. Good. “She is using Pen, just like you are.” Of that, Rick was certain.

“I will take care of that one soon enough” responded the voice, not as sure now as before. A flicker of light briefly illuminated the hawkish face of the voice as a cigarette was lit and a long, deep, drag was pulled in. Did Rick just hear a slight tremble in that deep voice? An interesting thought occurred to Rick although he filed it away until he had a chance to think more about it later. Maybe he had a way out after all.

“You can go about your own business for a few days, I’ll contact you when I’m ready to move again” the voice said, “Don’t make contact with her until I give you the word” he finished, dismissing Rick without another thought.

“OK man, you take it easy and keep your head down or all my work will be completely wasted,” Rick reminded the voice as he moved towards the door.

Suddenly, Rick felt a surge of anger rise from somewhere deep that he had been so successful at repressing of late. “She still loves you, you know…its sick, really.” Rick said with disgust. “Did you hear me?!” He almost yelled, his emotions getting the better of him. “Asher, she still thinks she loves you!”

The man the world was just now beginning to think was dead responded with a quiet, chilling voice. “That was the point.” The self satisfied smirk evident in the way the words were delivered.

As Rick left he heard the volume on the muted TV come back to life and heard the broadcaster telling the world “Former Governor Asher Cole was found dead today...”
Rick nearly threw up as he slammed the door behind him.

Chapter Four: Just a wrong number...

The hoagie and chips on the counter had smelled good until Hatchet had showed up and churned her senses. The hunger had left her stomach now, replaced by a yearning for someone. At first, she took for granted that the knot she felt was for Asher, but as she eyed the lone photograph on the refrigerator door she realized it was the only person left that she cared about, and the only person left she could save.

Lonely, cold, and blonde Penelope had stumbled off the train at the 30th street station in an unforgiving mood, in an unforgiving city. She felt abandoned, as though the life she dreamed of had just been stripped from her grip. The reflection of the slums on the puddles surrounding her lifted her spirits nowhere, and seemed all too familiar. Beyond the turned over trashcans a sweet but scraggly tenacious looking girl who couldn't have been more than 18 was leaning against a rusty train schedule sign taking a long drag of her cigarette when they caught each others eye. Shiloh had been waiting for someone like Penelope, and Penelope had needed someone like Shiloh. "Girl, you've got to do something about that hair.", Shiloh voiced in a raspy confident tone, "Blonde just isn't your color." Penelope let a smirk relax her. "You look like you need a place to stay, and I need somebody who needs a place to stay. Hi, I'm Shiloh. What's your name?"

Shiloh was walking past the playground outside of her apartment when she noticed the unfamiliar car sitting at the curb. This wasn't the type of neighborhood that often had visitors, and having a roommate like Penelope she constantly questioned anything she didn't recognize. She decided to call Pen to make sure everything was okay.

Waiting on Asher's call still had Penelope's ears tuned to the phone. As soon as it rang she opened it without even a thought.
"Hello, this is Penelope."
"Pen, it's Shiloh. Everything alright?"
"NO. I mean, uhh no no, you must have the wrong number. That's fine, I just like my privacy." she spoke sternly into the phone hoping that her friend would read between the lines.
She slammed the phone shut and threw it on the counter hoping to sell the act she had just given Hatchet. His look had turned from one of relief for having found her, to one of concern and doubt from the call. He asked, "What was that all ab...."
"Nothing, it was nothing. Just a wrong number. Look, I need you to go now. Things are just weird right now. Why don't you call again tomorrow when I've had a chance to figure some things out. Something just isn't right."
"I understand. I know Asher was important to you, but don't let your past here keep you on edge. No one remembers what happened two years ago. You got lucky that they didn't tie you to that lawyers murder. He was a scumbag that just wanted your money anyways. I think we can tell by the look of this place that you wish you had your money too."
"Screw you Rick. I didn't have anything to do with that. I still think those called to 'serve and protect' did exactly that, they served their wallets and protected themselves. I'm going to get my money back, and I don't need your help. I told you that in Los Angeles three months ago! If you hang around any longer, who knows I might start thinking you had something to do with Asher. So just go away for now and let me figure some of this stuff out. I'll call you."

He thought he was so close, but despite 'removing' Asher from the equation he realized that someone still had her questioning things. Who the hell had she been talking to besides Asher?!?! He had no problem leaving now, but he'd be back. Heck, he was there just the week before.

Pen walked Hatchet to the door. And as she watched him walk down the hall to the dark creaky stairwell at the end, Dora, the landlady, walked up to her and asked what she was planning to do about the gash her friend that had just left put in the wall the week before. "What gash?" Penelope asked just as she remembered the dried glue that had been used to fill it. It took her a moment to realize the rest of what Dora had said. 'Hatchet had been here a week ago???' she questioned to herself. How much longer had he been here? What had he seen? Shiloh? Asher?
The last time she had seen Asher was when he left to go home during the storm...a week ago....

Chapter Three: Again

Sliding her blue eye-shadowed lids down over her eyes, Penelope stood still just for a moment: could this seriously be happening again? AGAIN? Her pink razr phone laid open in her right palm, the little green symbol showing that she was on a call was still displayed in the right hand corner. Her eyes slid back open and she glanced slowly to the left at the small gleam of light peering underneath her paint-peeling apartment door. Drawing in a quick, shaky breath, Penelope’s eyes stayed locked on the image of the two feet on the other side of the door that were spreading a shadow across the yellowed laminate entryway. Her breath was quickening with each second that ticked by.

Knowing that her present phone call was now irrelevant, Penelope willed herself to use both hands to methodically close up her phone. She couldn’t help but pause a moment as the image of her and Shiloh, her only friend here in Philadelphia, glowed brightly on the face of her phone and then faded as she held down on the power button. Even the phone call from Asher that she’d been waiting for couldn’t interrupt this next conversation. Tossing the phone into the basket of blankets that she kept next to the sofa, Penelope turned on her purple Converse heel, faced the two shadows that had not moved a millimeter, pursed her lips into a tight line, took in a deep slow breath, and walked confidently towards the door.

She grabbed the dented brass colored handle of the door and pulled up to free it from catching as she slid the deadbolt back as well as the latch-lock above it. Letting the door drop back down into place, her shaking fingers slid the chain lock to the left and pulled it from its catch. No longer pausing out of indecision, she grabbed the door handle and jerked the door open.

She hadn’t expected him to have changed.

She hadn’t expected him to be out of uniform or unshaven.

She hadn’t expected his hair to be black.

She hadn’t expected the slight smirk on his face reaching up to meet the slightly reddened scar on his right cheek. After all, this was supposed to be her game, her play, her chance to call the shots. But then again, he was the one that found her. Penelope allowed a slight smirk to inch up her right cheek and meet her own slowly healing red scar.

Keeping her eyes on Hatchet’s hands buried deep in his jeans pockets, she let her body fall and lean against the door frame and allowed her fingers to toy with the tarnished silver bracelet she still wore on her right wrist. He was the one that wanted to talk, so… let him talk.

“Well, Pen… it’s been a while,” Hatchet acknowledged as he strode past her into her living room and took a seat at the little card table she’d been using in her breakfast nook. Penelope kept her eyes focused on the sheetrock in the hallway, where just yesterday there had been a rather obvious gash just above the chair rail line. It appeared that someone had tried to fill it in with Elmer’s glue. Probably one of the kids playing tag downstairs on the playground. Funny that the mind of an eight year old truly conceives that simply filling a huge hole with glue might keep the whole world from noticing the imperfection. Penelope leaned across the hall and with her partially blue fingernail, picked out the strip of dried glue from the gash, and threw the chunk on the ground.

She turned around again, and sauntered into her apartment, instantly unable to avoid meeting Hatchet’s eyes as she rounded the corner to her kitchen. Out of habit, she rolled her eyes and blew a puff of air out of her mouth as she went to the fridge and got out her half filled bottle of water. Taking a long draught, she could feel his eyes boring into her as he patiently waited for her to acknowledge that he was there. Rather than delay the unavoidable, Penelope finally looked him straight in the eye across the counter and replied:

“Yes. Yes, Rick. It’s been a while. And rather than catch up on pleasantries, why don’t we just get down to business so that you can go do super important work saving lives and whatnot and I can continue picking the three month old polish off of my fingernails?”

Hatchet paused for a second, his eyes lingering on her nails, chuckled and replied, “Yep – I knew that you wouldn’t have changed. That was for sure. But, since your nails apparently need quite a bit of work, I’ll do my best to be quick and thorough.” His gaze shifted up to her face and the cocky expression melted off and was replaced by a look of compassion:

“Pen… Asher isn’t going to call. He’s never going to call you again, actually…”

The rest of Hatchet’s words started to just blend together as Penelope tried to focus her eyes on his lips so that perhaps her mind could keep up with what he was saying, but it was no use. She had done it again. She had killed someone else. Well, she hadn’t really killed Asher herself, of course, but it was no matter. She might has well have pulled the trigger, might as well ahve thrown his body in the Delaware, and might as well have walked away without remorse. Oh, but she did feel remorse. She had used Asher knowing that there would be more risk for him than for her, and now she was to blame for his death. Asher. Chace. Sean. Jonathan. Their faces floated in front of her mind as she started to inadvertently tune back into what Hatchet was saying…

“and I’m being serious. You should just get out of here. You haven’t interacted with anyone except for Asher, so nothing will pop up on the grid. I won’t even report that I found you. I’ll just go back to LA and fake like it was a dead end here. It’ll be easy. Okay, Pen? Hey… Penelope?!?!”
Penelope’s eyes snatched up to meet his. Her light brown eyes glowing a bright amber, “Yeah, sure Rick. Sure. I’ll just get out of here. I’ll just pack up and go. Done it before. Heck, I’ve done it so many times I can’t even count. But it’s not a dead end Rick. Philadelphia is exactly where all of this started and I’m not leaving until I get everything worked out. Whatever, Rick. Did you really think that I’d just bail and move off to Albuquerque or something? And for your everlovin information, Asher is not the only person that I’ve… what did you call it… ‘interacted’ with here. So, it’s not a dead end. It’s not an easy tie off.” Penelope grabbed at her water bottle and twisted herself around facing the fridge again.

She had to get Shiloh out before they both met the same fate as Asher.

Chapter Two: A Knock At The Door

At first she heard nothing on the other end. “Hello! You have been selected to win a free trip to Hawaii! Follow these simple instructions to claim your prize! Go to www…” She angrily slammed the phone closed. “Damn sales calls,” she thought to herself. However, for a split second she was thankful for a little break from the pressure of waiting.

As soon as she put the phone back on the table, it rang again. This time she knew it was the call she had been anticipating. She picked it up and in her most steady voice said, “Hello, this is Penelope.”

“Penelope, this is Office Hatchet from the LAPD. It’s been a while since we saw each other. May I have a word with you sometime today? And I want to speak with you in person.” Officer Rick Hatchet had been trying for months to catch up with Penelope. The last time she had an interaction with him was in Miami. She was with her boy friend at the time, Sean. Sean was long gone by now. Penelope thought that she had out-foxed Officer Hatchet again, but it looked like she was wrong.

“Umm…sure. Where do you want to meet?” Penelope asked, her mind racing through the most public meeting area in Los Angeles. “How about your apartment?” was the reply on the other end. Penelope’s blood froze and her breath caught in her lungs. How did he know where she was? Her eyes darted over to the duffle bag by the door that she kept packed. Incase of moments just like this one. Moments that she had come to know all to well.

Just as she was about to hang up on Office Hatchet, there was a knock at the door.

Chapter One: Hello

It is quiet, finally, and she has a few moments to think. It has finally started cooling off outside, the first real cold front of the fall came through last night. The storm was swift and severe. She remembered laying there, listening to the thunder and rain tapping on the windows of the bedroom, wondering if there was going to be any hail. That was the last thing she remembered from that night; a truly fitting finish to a very tumultuous day. She looked around at the small apartment she had been living in for the last two months. It was much smaller than the other places currently listed on various documents under her name, but it was also, currently, her favorite. She preferred small places. They seemed easier to decorate and felt more like home. There was one bedroom and a study along with the kitchen and breakfast nook. It was new and modern and she felt very sophistacated here. There were plenty of windows and two of them, just past the kitchen, looked out over a small playground. Outside there were several small children playing some sort of chase game. Or possibly, it was the beginning of a fight. She hoped it was the former though, as she turned away to look at the phone on the table in front of the couch. The call should have come already. What was taking so long? She sat down on the soft red couch and looked through a couple of magazines that she had gotten from a friend with little interest. It was difficult to focus on such things with what had been happening over the last week. She grabbed a brush from the drawer in the end table to her left to pass the time. Her hair was longer now than ever before and black for the third time. She thought briefly about dying it again. Maybe something lighter this time. It had been awhile.

Again she looked down at the phone, sitting there, cold, not giving away any of the information for which she longed to hear. She looked at the car keys and the blue purse next to it and thought about cleaning it out. It was becoming very cluttered, lately. So many receipts and gum wrappers. It was not worth fooling with so she let the thought pass. It seemed unimportant to think about such things but she had to keep reminding herself that these distractions kept her from thinking about what happened, and why she was sitting here, glancing at the clock over the fireplace every few minutes, in spite of herself. Suddenly a panicked thought came over her.

“It’s not on!” she said aloud, exasperated, even afraid.

In the same instant, she reached for the phone; her hand inches away when suddenly it rang, and caused her to jump up so suddenly that she banged her shin on the low table. The flash of pain it caused was overcome by the chill that ran down her spine at the sight of the ringing cell phone, flashing and vibrating itself towards the edge of the table. She reached down again, picked up the phone and said,

“Hello, this is Penelope.”

Ok, so I figure we can all log on here and use this for our funny stories about Penelope. Whoever starts each story can either just say who is next, or set out a list of who will contribute in what order to the stort, or my personal choice is just whoever logs on next and wants to update it can do so. That way there wouldn't be any waiting for someone in particular to add their part. I would start one right now, but I've gotta get going. I'll go ahead and forward all the info to all of you I can think of, and let one of you take the ball and run with it from there.

Penelope's Beginnings

This is the dawn of a new life for our budding character, Penelope. She's a faint figment of our minds for now, but as time goes on, and our words are pieced together, she'll develop quite a personality I'm sure and quite a collection of stories to tell her illegitimate children and grandchildren.

She is ALIIIIIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!! mwhahahhahahahaha.......