Chapter 3

Oliver and Caroline hash things out and find out how much they dislike each other. Devon's mysterious drive proves less helpful then he probably intended.

Chapter 3

Caroline was proud of her detective work, or was it stalking?

She wasn’t sure yet.

After she ran into Oliver at the park she tried to find him after the ride but the attendant at the other end of the ride wasn’t keen on rope hopping and she was forced into the gift shop. She would have waited in the line again but the day had picked up and it would have been at least an hour wait to get back to him and by then he’d surely have left. She bought a nine-dollar soda from a concession stand and thought about her next move.

She could always buy a ticket for a tour of The Tunnels, but she already dropped far too much on a ticket to get into the park and with the pop she was currently nursing she was set to have a tight month. No more fancy coffees, she thought as she looked out at the park.

It was a nice place, nothing but a sea of smiles and people in costume. If she wasn’t sure that the park owners were out to kill her, she might have enjoyed it more.

Then Caroline remembered that Devon used to have an apartment at Whispering Woods, an apartment complex owned by Howell Park. He left or rather was kicked out after he willfully didn’t pay his bills. She remembered him saying that he used to have roommates who paid the bills. It was a shot in the dark, but Oliver might have been one of them.

Caroline spent the rest of the day going from building to building looking for her man.

It paid off, or might pay off, she was currently having an argument with an intercom about the matter. Things had gone silent and she stood waiting outside the building at the corner of Cheery Lane and Willa Boulevard feeling slightly foolish. 

She was about to leave when the door unlocked itself with a shrill buzz.

The tag by Oliver’s name said his apartment was on the fourth floor, room D42. As she made her way there she noticed how nice the building was, much cleaner than her own, guess that’s what happens when your building is owned by a mega-corporation and not some random rich dude. The walls were covered with Howell paraphernalia, various limited edition art prints, and other things. It was very understated and classy Caroline noticed, you weren’t beaten over the head with the fact Howell owned everything you saw.

She knocked on Oliver’s door and waited a length of time that would convey total disinterest before the door opened. Caroline noticed the smell first, that unique bachelor pad stench (B.O., dust and old pizza) mixed with stale cigarettes.

 Oliver stood in the doorway with a look of practiced indifference and a smoldering cigarette in his hand.

“Well,” she said with an awkward silence, “can I come in?”

He took a drag on his cigarette, “Be my guest.” He said through a cloud of smoke.

There wasn’t much to his apartment, a ratty couch, TV, and kitchen table covered in old pizza boxes along with what looked like a lighter.

Caroline got a glimpse into his bedroom and saw it was just a mattress and sheets on the floor, unmade bed of course.

“So you knew him?” Oliver said behind her.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Is it true? He said he was dead in the note.”

Caroline turned to face him “Note? What note?’

“You don’t know?” he gestured over to his table “He left some s**t over there.” 

“You mean he was here?” Caroline asked hopefully, “When? What did he say?” Caroline did not wait for a reply and made a b-line for the table. On it, she found Devon’s note and a Bic lighter that was actually one of Devon’s many novelty flash drives. 

He was definitely here.

“I didn’t say I saw him,” Oliver corrected, “I just woke up this morning and this box was sitting outside my door."

“Oh,” said Caroline, a little deflated. “Well, at least he got this to us.”

“He really is gone,” said Oliver with what could have been confused with genuine emotion.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” confirmed Caroline.

Oliver took a moment to process the news while Caroline sat at his kitchen table, pulled her laptop out of her bag and got to work. She had already mourned Devon, as much as she could for now anyway. Being sad was not going to help anything. 

She had to press on.

“What’s on the drive?” Oliver said.

“Everything Devon and I have on Howell and Archie Mills.” Said Caroline without looking away from her laptop screen.

“No s**t. What do you actually have on them?”

Caroline realized something was wrong. She mashed the trackpad and several keys. She was getting an error on some of the fills saying they had been corrupted and others were outright locked. “I�"I don’t know,” she admitted.

“How do you not know? This is your thing isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated frustrated “some of them are�"broken, or, locked…or both”

“What do you mean, it’s f*****g broken?” asked Oliver angrily.

“I don’t know,” replied Caroline, clicking on random boxes hoping the file would magically open, “it needs a code, or a key or something.” This didn’t make sense, why would Devon go through all the trouble of sending her after this, frankly, offensive and angry looking man; give him an entire year’s worth of evidence and then lock it behind a passcode that only he knew. She was angry, not at Devon, well a little angry, OK a lot angry with him, but she was madder at herself for not being surprised that he did something this breathtakingly stupid and annoying.

“God,” she said through gritted teeth, “this is just like him.”

The room fell silent as Caroline stared at the “Enter Passcode:” window and Oliver relit his cigarette, which had gone out at some point during their conversation and took another draw on it. 

“Well,” she said at last, “how are we going to get past this?”

“What?” balked Oliver as a laugh turned into a smoky cough “What is this ‘we’ s**t?”

“Yeah, you heard Devon, we have to finish this. If only to give Devon’s life meaning.”

“Look,” started Oliver, “what’s your name, Caroline, right?” 

“You know that’s my name,” said Caroline.

“No,” said Oliver with that condescending conviction in the face of ignorance that drives sane people up the wall, “No, I really don’t, because I don’t care, which is why you don’t want me to help. Devon cared, and look where it got him, burnt to a f*****g crisp in a car.”

“It was a van,” Caroline corrected.

“So, not the f*****g point,” Oliver, said in retort, “I can see you care about this, or, at least you think you should. If any of this is true, where do you think you’ll end up? Shot to death in your depressing, tiny apartment filled with papers spider-webbed together that lead to nothing more than the inside of a padded cell? What if it is true? You would be going up against one of the biggest companies in the world. A company so large that its annual profit could comfortably buy several small nations and wipe you and everyone you’ve ever so much as spoken to off the goddamn planet!” Oliver mashed his cigarette into a nearby ashtray as if to punctuate his speech.

Caroline sat in silence for a moment to gather her thoughts. Oliver was wrong, he was just some angry a*****e avoiding the world. Devon was an a*****e too, but a different kind. He was more of an a*****e by omission; he did stupid things, but mostly on accident. He definitely wasn’t the type of guy to go to such extremes for a joke.

“First off, you’re wrong.”

“What? Because the two of you robbed a theme park together? How do you know he didn’t just steal trade secrets or something? In case you forgot, he locked up half the files on the drive.”

“First, you are wrong, and you’re an a*****e. Second, he’s not lying. Devon and I have been on this case for a while now.”

“Case?” Oliver sneered, “What are you a cop or something?”

“Shut up! And no, not yet. But that doesn’t change anything.” Caroline gestured at the computer screen, “I believe him and, granted, he didn’t show me everything, but some of the files on here are mine, I know Howell is bad, I know what they can do. I’ve seen it. They’re evil and not above doing some seriously heinous s**t. Plus, as you’ve already pointed out: you’re fucked. We know each other, and in case you’ve already forgotten, we’ve talked exclusively in Howell owned places. If they didn’t know were together before, they definitely do now. You’re right, Howell has financial clout, so what makes you think that they wouldn’t keep tabs on people who work for them, no matter how small. Hell, you’re using Howell Wi-Fi; they’re definitely screening that!”

Caroline paused to let that sink in and to get a read on Oliver. He was working hard to keep his mask of disinterest in place. He was thinking about what she said and it was getting to him, Caroline thought it was time to go in for the kill.

“You are a pretty narcissistic person, right? I mean, I’ve only known you for a few hours and I already picked up on that. So think of it this way: you’re already dead. They know who you are, they know who I am, and they know who Devon is. It won’t take them long to put the pieces together. The way I see it is this isn’t a fight for the lives of millions of people, it’s a fight for one, yours. You’ve got nothing to lose, you have to help.”

Caroline leaned back in her chair, she could see the gears turning in Oliver’s head. All she had to do now was wait and see what they’d churn out.

Oliver walked over to his couch and sat on the back of it with his arms folded looking at the floor. Caroline looked at the floor with him and noticed it could use a good vacuuming, and cleaning. Then she took a closer look and realized a cleansing would be better, something with fire and a priest or two to chant the demon stains out of the fibers. 

Oliver chuckled.

“Y’know, you’re pretty good at this, Baby Cop. Still no.” Oliver got up and gestured at the door in the manner he was accustom.

“What?”

“I believe this is the universal ‘f**k off’ gesture.” Oliver gave a more sweeping version of the motion “As in ‘here’s the door, don’t let it hit you in the a*s on the way out’.”

“Why?”

“First off, don’t try to appeal to my cynical side that just makes me double down. Mostly I’m saying no because I just don’t believe you, or Devon. He was always a bit off and I’ve only just met you so why should I assume you’re any different. The two of you are too quick to cry ‘evil’ when it’s more likely just stupidity and greed driving these billionaire jackasses. You see, there are far more stupid people than there are bad people out there. Sometimes there are no ulterior motives, just idiots doing idiot things. You say that Mills is bent on world domination; I say he’s just a greedy rich dude doing some shady s**t to make a quick buck.”

Caroline didn’t say anything.

“Don’t have anything to say? Good. Would you kindly get the f**k out.” At this point, Oliver was now standing at the wide open door.

Caroline thought about her come back. She could make another speech, but couldn’t think of anything. Appealing to his heart was out of the question, Caroline thought the jury was still out on whether he even had one, and appealing to his sensibilities didn’t do anything.

“Fine.”

Caroline copied all the files on the drive and pulled it out of her laptop before putting it away.

“Fine. I’ll leave, but remember this: Devon was your friend. He trusted you, despite knowing what a d****e you are. He saw that you were the right person for the job. The last thing he did before he died gave you that box, knowing you’d do the right thing. Frankly, I’d rather not deal with you, but Devon thought you had value, and I’ll respect that, but I’m not going to drag your a*s out of your personal squalor it’s only going to waste time that could be better used stopping Archie Mills.” Caroline shut the door behind her and left to think of what to do next.

Oliver waited a few seconds after Caroline left and let out an exhausted sigh before walking over to his kitchen table. Looking at the note again he thought back to all the time he’d spent with Devon. Most of that time also involved Kassidy, which made the whole moment of self-reflection just a little bit shittier. Caroline was right, Devon was a good guy, thick, but a good guy. Picture a golden retriever with an above average intelligence. What surprised him the most was that he actually missed him. Oliver didn’t think much of it after Devon disappeared, he just assumed that he’d pop up again someday. He was kind of right, and he hated that fact. Then Devon’s stupid lighter flash drive caught his eye. Caroline must have left it, he thought. He started idly flipping the lid of lighter revealing the drive underneath.

“Clever, Baby Cop,” Oliver said to himself.

Oliver went into his room to grab his laptop, which was currently serving as a table for a few empty cans and his bedroom ashtray. He swept off the debris before plugging in the drive, making sure to shut off the Wi-Fi before he did so.