Page 38 of Judas

"Judas," her smile graceful, "I feel the emptiness when you're gone too. But I'm perfectly safe here in this hospital. Please, do this for me."

He relented because he would do anything those gorgeous eyes wished for him.

Judas opened the door to his home and the scent of cold food met him. Taking a step inside, something crunched under his shoes and he quickly flipped on a light. He looked down to find a simple white envelope wedged into his tile entry.

He tossed his keys on the bar and then ran his thumb under the fold to find a check written out to him for five thousand dollars. The signature read Paul Arthur withThank Youscrolled in the memo line.

"Thank you?" he said aloud in the empty room. Was this a bonus? Even though his payroll records had Paul’s signature, his salary was directly deposited into an account and he never received a paper check. It was odd for sure, but Judas was too tired to deal with it at the moment anyway. His focus was getting back to the hospital as soon as possible, fully rested and ready to work. He wouldn't allow Eliza to be alone for very long.

After tossing the food in the garbage and filling the dishwasher, Judas found himself in the confines of his shower. He couldn't help but think about how much he missed sharing it with Eliza. Closing his eyes, he imagined her lips making trails on his skin, her body awash with the hot deluge of water. His imagination ran wild and his body reacted to the images. He flipped the temperature handle over to cold before eventually exiting to an empty bedroom for an unsettled sleep.

Judas laid in the darkened room staring at the ceiling. Rolling over, he curled into the soft pillow, and breathed deep, forcing his eyes to close. The faint scent of soft honeysuckle and musk filled his nostrils and he buried his face further into the pillow that held her smell. Closing his eyes tighter, Judas did his best to relax his mind into sleep. Feeling his body loosen, he waited for the warmth of slumber to overtake him.

As if a strike of lightning shot through him, Judas sat bolt upright in the bed. Throwing the loose blanket from his body, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and flipped through his calls. Something was off about Paul’s assault, he could feel it. Judas scanned his call log for clues but to what, he didn’t know yet.

Then there it was. His heart raced and nearly jumped in his throat remembering the conversation. Chet Branson’s name and phone number with a timestamp of five minutes after five the afternoon prior shone on Judas’ face in the dark like a beacon. The phone call itself was strange but remembering the conversation was more so, especially now, given the most recent events.

The pit in the bottom of his stomach was growing. Was Chet the one who tried to murder Paul? He certainly had enough time; there were almost two hours between his call and Eliza’s call to Judas. But why would Paul’s longtime partner and seemingly only friend try to kill him? Judas reasoned why people who just met him would want him dead, but a long time ally? He was missing something.

Judas thought of the mysterious check. There was no way Paul would cut him a check for that amount of money without a solid reason. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he looked the document over carefully for any signs of forgery. But to his dismay, it was printed on a computer with the signature as part of the check writing program; it hadn’t been actually signed by anyone. He threw the piece of paper back on the bar in anger.

The recognizable feeling of dread boiled in his stomach. If Chet was the shooter, there had to be a reason. What had Paul done that his friend decided an execution was the only option? He thought of Eliza. If his suspicions were true, she would be devastated, after all, the Branson’s had been her only familysince her mother’s death. Judas didn’t want to be the one to upset her more, especially now, but what choice did he have?

Sleep was no longer on the table. If he was going to be the one to tell Eliza the man she considered as close as an uncle tried to murder her father, he would need more than his gut feeling. Judas redressed and now in the wee hours of the morning, he drove to the office to get his proof.

Chapter twenty-five

The building was still dark when Judas unlocked the heavy wooden doors of Arthur and Branson around four a.m. while sipping his second cup of coffee. Knowing that he would be alone for at least the next few hours, he contemplated where to start. If someone other than Paul had written the check that he found on his floor, it was possible that the cameras would have caught them entering the office. Turning down the dark hallway, Judas made his way into the security room.

With Paul’s campaign in full swing, Judas was happy he forced the man to add the recording capabilities to the office’s surveillance program. He was shocked to learn their system was mostly outdated and only held on to video for twenty-four hours. Judas thought for sure that Paul was the kind of man that would want to spy on his employees if only to make sure they were earning the money he paid.

For the next three hours, Judas played and replayed the digital recording from the previous day. Every employee, every hour, ran like a movie before his eyes; but he was really only interestedin one person. To Judas’ irritation, Chet Branson never showed. He never entered the building. Could the pit of suspicion in his stomach be wrong? Was the phone call a coincidence?

Even though he was alone in the room, Judas shook his head. He had been witness to more than a millennia of history and experience. He could feel it in his soul that Chet was involved. Lost in his thoughts, he nearly didn’t hear the soft knock on the door.

“Jude?” The soft voice was gentle.

Judas shuttered slightly, swinging around in his chair, “Oh! Lydia…I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

The older woman looked much smaller than normal as her head hung low and she wrung her plump, wrinkled hands. Judas could see her eyes were damp from tears that she most likely had cried all night. She was an original; the first employee of Arthur and Branson and probably the most respected. She was mother or grandmother to everyone and handled Paul’s tantrums like an expert. Now that he thought about it, it’s probably where Eliza learned a lot of her skills.

“I was wondering if you had any news about Paul? I figured you had been with our Eliza all night,” her eyes begged him for a good word.

He nodded, “He came out of surgery fine. He has a head injury, so they’re keeping him still for now.”

“How is Eliza? She must be just beside herself,” Lydia dabbed her eyes with a tissue from her pocket.

It broke Judas’ heart to see the old woman hurting. As much as Paul could be a complete asshole, he could tell that she loved him almost as much as Eliza did. Judas stepped toward her, wrapping his arms tenderly around her.

“It’s okay, Miss Lydia. He’s going to be fine,” he soothed.

Lydia coughed a short sob, “Oh, I know. He’s a tough old mule.” She leaned back from his hold to look Judas in the eye,“He can be hard to get along with, but he’s a good man. And he loves that little girl more than life.” Smiling through the remnants of tears, she teased, “It’s something the two of you have in common.”

Judas blushed, “Now, Miss Lydia. I wouldn’t let that rumor get back to Mr. Arthur.”

“Pfft,” she chided him. “He’s a lot of hot air. And I’ve got my own eyes, young man… no rumor to be told.”

Smiling down at her, he gave her one last gentle hug, “How about I make you a cup of tea?”

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