Vivienne

Bundled against the frigid wind blowing from the ocean, the red headed reporter pulled her fur lined coat tight and listened to the icy water lapping on the beach.  Hearing footsteps on the wooden planks behind her, Wendy glanced at her companions and back to the cold whitecaps that the ocean waves were creating.

“Wendy, why are we out here?  You do know it is winter, right?  It has to be twenty degrees out here.”

Wendy beckoned the two over and handed them a couple cups of coffee. “Cold clears the mind.  We can think in peace out here.”  She flashed her television smile to the pair. “Besides, I brought coffee.  That should keep you both warm enough for now.” 

Shivering, the two men started sipping on their hot beverages, shaking off the winter air.  “Which again, I have to ask, why are we out here?”  The cameraman asked politely but annoyed.

“This couldn’t be done in the van, with heat?” Her driver asked right after, his teeth chattering.

“I said it before, I can think clearly with this kind of cold.  I also wanted to see the sun come up in about forty-five minutes.”  Wendy paused to tuck some of her long red hair back in her hood, “I wanted some privacy to discuss our next action.  I don’t fully trust the room or the van.”  Taking a sip of her coffee and squinting her eyes at the bitterness, “So, out here on this old pier seemed to be a natural place to be able to speak without being overheard.”

“Overheard by who, Wendy?”  The driver asked.

“We already know that the person lifted from the wreckage of the hotel is both missing and gave a fake name.  We know her real name thanks to my contact.  The police knew we were onsite interviewing people.  It doesn’t take a leap to think they will come knocking, or already have without our knowledge.”

“That is just paranoia, what’s wrong with you?”  Her cameraman noted.

Wendy shook her head, frowning. “Is it, Jeff?  I also mentioned the new footage in the van and the band member I knew.  I might have given away too much then.”

“Speaking of.  Who was that on the phone?  How did you know that person by tattoos?”  The cameraman asked and took a big gulp of his coffee.

“Fuck this.”  The driver commented and started to turn away. “I am not going to indulge your silly fantasy in this wind, I am freezing my balls off, Wendy.”

The redhead pointed to the bench at the end of the pier. “Don’t leave, I am serious.  Let’s spend fifteen minutes getting our plan right and then we can go inside and get that lovely continental breakfast we are promised.”  She laughed and held out her hand for the driver. “Humor me Ted. Please.”  She coaxed.

He sighed and took Wendy’s hand, “Fine.”  He walked over to the bench and started leaning over the rail, sipping his coffee while jingling the keys to the van impatiently. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into standing out here freezing.”

“So, what is this grand plan?”  The camera operator finished off the cup and threw the paper container into the water.

“Drake.  The guy with the tattoos is named Drake.  He is a little singer of minor importance in the area.  His band, the Flying Cannibals worked the cities around their home of Petersburg.  They traveled as far south as Emporia and as far north as Richmond.”

“Why is this important?”  The driver finished his coffee as well, also tossing his cup into the water, watching as the small wave caps took it into the depths.

“If the band never goes anywhere other than just a few miles outside of Petersburg, what brought them here?”  Wendy took a sip of her coffee and raised her eyebrows. “No one?”

The two men looked oddly at their female companion.

“I am willing to bet it had something to do with who was carrying him off that roof.”  Wendy added coolly.

“Or.”  The van driver flipped his keys, “They were trying to get new fans.”

Letting out a disbelieving snort and walking beside the driver, “That is about as stupid as being out here in the cold.  Wendy does have a possible question there.”  The cameraman started hitting the small wooden rail. “No.  If that was the case, whatever that was wouldn’t have interceded in saving him as the building came down.  Whoever that was, knew he was important for something.  Which lends credibility to the question of why he was here.”

Finishing off her coffee and tossing the cup in the nearby garbage can, Wendy blew warm air across her hands and continued, “Many of these things depend greatly on your view of what you believe in.”  Wendy looked down at the small green rune pulsing from the meaty part of her thumb.   She ran her hand over the soft rune that bore a long line across, a shorter line above, and finally curved lines that looked much like grass growing in reverse.

“Where does belief come into this Wendy?” Jeff asked with a glazed look in his eyes.

Holding her hands up defensively, Wendy’s calm demeanor changed, “Look I didn’t mean to imply anything religious, that wasn’t what I meant.”  

“I didn’t think that.”  Ted suddenly dropped his keys on the pier, losing them between the slats in the wood. “God damnit.” he exclaimed before grasping the rail to balance himself. “I must be more tired than I thought.  How the hell are we going anywhere without the keys to the van?”

Wendy watched the pair for a few more minutes in silence, until their eyes started to close. “There we go, gentlemen.  Belief is everything.”  She waited a moment until both Ted and Jeff were lightly drooling and continued. “Now then, since you are open to suggestions, show me your hands.  If you please.”

Ted and Jeff readily complied and showed Wendy their hands. “Like I thought.  You don’t have the marks my friends, and what you know I can’t let go beyond us.  I wish things could be different, but there are much bigger things at play here.”

Unable to speak, the two men swayed silently.

Pushing both men over the railing, Wendy watched until they had been swallowed by the icy Atlantic water before walking away. “Secrecy is the only thing we have at the moment, my faith is in the path.”  She whispered to herself as she walked away.