Reed froze, the cold air from the river biting at his skin, his phone still poised over the water. The faint glow of the screen lit his face, reflecting the message that had stopped him in his tracks. His breath hung in the air, visible in the chill of the evening, as his eyes locked onto the name.
“Tammy Stark.”
He said it aloud, the words escaping his lips without thought. The sound of her name against the quiet hum of the city felt out of place, like an answer he hadn’t been looking for but now couldn’t ignore. He blinked hard, his mind racing to make sense of the message. Slowly, he lowered the phone, pulling it closer to his face for another look, as if proximity might change what he was seeing.
The river lapped gently against the rocks below, a faint reminder of the decision he’d been about to make. Reed stared at the name on the screen, his voice breaking the stillness again. “Tammy Stark? The Pro4uM.com admin? That cannot be possible.”
The words tumbled out in disbelief, yet they hung in the air, gaining weight with each passing second. Reed turned, pacing a few steps along the river’s edge. The distant hum of traffic blending with the whisper of the water. Tammy Stark—the name was so ordinary, so familiar in its predictability. Yet, now, it loomed over him, casting a shadow on everything he thought he understood.
“Tammy Stark,” he said again, louder this time, as if testing the reality of it. The name felt strange against the backdrop of all he had experienced—the chases, the cryptic messages, the betrayals. How could the seemingly unremarkable administrator of Pro4uM.com, the woman who managed discussions on lighting ratios and camera settings, be the one reaching out now, after months of silence?
Reed tightened his grip on the phone, the cold metal pressing against his palm. The message was there, undeniable, simple in its clarity: Reed, we need to talk. Now. And the signature—Tammy Stark—was unmistakable. The air around him seemed to thicken as memories flooded back: the cryptic posts, the carefully coded warnings, the calculated way every piece of this puzzle had fallen into place.
The river shimmered, its surface calm, mocking the storm building in Reed’s chest. He paced back toward the railing, leaning against it, gripping the cold steel. His mind raced, trying to connect dots that had seemed scattered and unrelated. If Tammy Stark had been behind this all along, what did that mean for everything he thought he knew? And why now? Why, after months of silence, had she chosen this moment to reveal herself?
Reed stared at the message on his phone for another long moment, the urge to hurl it into the river fading with each second. His thumb quickly swiping to his contacts. A call to Tammy Stark was long overdue. Whatever this was—answers, closure, or yet another twist—he couldn’t walk away now.
He tapped her name. The line barely buzzed once before a voice came through, crisp and direct.
“I see you got my message, Reed. Or should I say, messages?”
Reed paused, her words hitting like a jolt of electricity. “That’s been you? All this time?” His tone was equal parts disbelief and accusation.
“Every last one,” Tammy said, her voice calm but laced with something unspoken. “But this isn’t a conversation for the phone. We need to talk. Can you meet me now?”
Reed’s grip on the phone tightened. “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “Where are you?”
“Turn around,” Tammy replied, her tone almost casual. After all, they were making plans to unravel months of chaos. “Go one block along the river. You can’t miss it—The Cat Chat Café. I’m inside, on the right.”
Reed glanced over his shoulder instinctively, scanning the shadowy stretch of the riverside as if he might spot her watching him. But there was nothing—just the quiet murmur of the city and the faint glow of distant streetlights.
“The Cat Chat Café?” he repeated, the name feeling absurd in the context of their cryptic exchange.
“You’ll understand when you get here,” Tammy said, her tone giving nothing away. Then, just as quickly as she’d answered, the line went dead.
Reed lowered the phone slowly, his heart pounding harder than he’d expected. He slipped the phone into his jacket pocket and started walking, his steps steady but his mind racing. The Cat Chat Café? Of all the places for an endgame to begin, it had to be a café named after cats. The absurdity wasn’t lost on him, but neither was the gravity of what he was walking into.
Reed pushed open the door to The Cat Chat Café, a soft chime announcing his entrance. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the subtle scent of baked goods, creating an inviting atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the cold evening outside. His eyes scanned the room, quickly landing on Tammy Stark. She sat at a corner table, a laptop open before her and a kitten curled contentedly in her lap, its gentle purring visible even from a distance.
As he approached, Tammy looked up, a welcoming smile spreading across her face. "Reed," she greeted, her tone both familiar and mysterious.
"Well, hello Tammy," he replied, taking the seat opposite her. Before he could say more, a beautiful red-haired woman wearing cute glasses appeared at their table, her demeanor cheerful.
"Hi there! Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.
"Yes, coffee, black," Reed responded, appreciating the simplicity amidst the complexity of his thoughts.
As the woman walked away, Tammy gestured towards her. "That’s Scarlett. She owns this place. I love the vibe here—sometimes I sit here all day long doing Pro4uM duties."
Reed’s focus returned to Tammy. She was relaxed, at ease, as though they were old friends catching up rather than participants in a high-stakes game of espionage.
Her smile grew wider, a glint of mischief in her green eyes. “Oh, by the way, nice move on the John Smith alias. I left that login active, just in case you want to use it again.”
Reed raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering across his face. "You knew about that?"
Tammy chuckled softly, gently stroking the kitten in her lap. "Reed, there's a lot more I know. And this evening, it's time you knew too."
The casual, warm setting of the café, with its soft lighting and the gentle hum of quiet conversations, made Reed feel that this really was the perfect spot for the conversation that was about to take place. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the answers he had long sought, now finally within reach.
“Okay, Tammy,” he said urgently. “You have got to tell me the story. All this time—you knew everything?” His words came out in a rush, each one sharper than the last. “The messages—the Light and the Shadows, the code. It was like you were guiding me, step by step. Why? What’s going on?” He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. “I have to know.”
Tammy tilted her head slightly, studying him with an almost amused expression. She took a slow sip of her tea, as though she had all the time in the world. But Reed could already feel his patience thinning. He was ready to know all of the answers.
“Reed,” she began, her voice calm, measured, and maddeningly composed, “I always knew this conversation would happen, but I didn’t expect it to be in a cat café.” She chuckled lightly, rubbing the kitten’s soft ears. “But you’re right. You deserve answers. All of them.”
The way she danced around the question made him a bit crazy, but he bit back the urge to push harder. He had waited months for this moment; a few more minutes wouldn’t kill him—probably, hopefully.
Tammy set her tea down, the smile fading from her lips. Her tone shifted, taking on a gravity Reed hadn’t heard before. “It’s not as simple as you think. Guiding you... that’s not exactly what I’d call it. Let’s just say... I was there to make sure the pieces fell into place.” She met his gaze directly, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “You were the one moving the chessboard, Reed. I just made sure you didn’t miss the right moves.”
Reed blinked, caught off guard. “Pieces? Moves? You’re talking in riddles, Tammy.”
“Am I?” She said softly, leaning back. “Or have I just been making sure you’re ready for what you’re about to learn?”
The cryptic response only deepened Reed’s frustration, but it also fanned the flames of his curiosity. Whatever Tammy was holding back, it felt big—bigger than he’d realized. For months, he had tried to unraveled layers of deception, but now, sitting across from the person who seemed to have orchestrated it all, he was finally close to the truth.
“Start from the beginning,” Reed said, his voice steady, though every nerve in his body felt on edge. “Tell me everything.”
Tammy shifted in her seat, as the kitten yawned and stretched in her lap. She took a deep breath, her gaze steady on Reed. “To understand this, Reed, you need to know that it started long before either of us realized. Long before you ever picked up a camera with PPI’s agenda behind it.”
She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft, as though unraveling a memory she hadn’t revisited in years. “Marcus was married to Lisa, one of my closest friends from college. Lisa was the kind of friend you could tell anything to—your secrets, your fears, your wildest dreams—and know she’d never judge you for a second. She was like family. And when she married Marcus, it was clear she’d found someone just as brilliant and intuitive as she was. Marcus had this way of noticing things other people missed. He was sharp, always asking questions, always observing.”
"Lisa and Sydney—Barry’s third wife—were inseparable. And through them, the rest of us became this little circle. Marcus, Lisa, Sydney, and me. Even after Barry and Sydney divorced, we stayed connected. The four of us would get together from time to time, sharing meals, swapping stories, just... being friends. It felt easy, comfortable.”
"They all knew my close ties to the professional photography industry, of course. Marcus was curious about the work I did with Pro4uM, and Barry—well, he never missed a chance to pick my brain about cameras or gear. And of course, he was always curious about the Admins and Moderator associated with the running of the Pro4uM. I thought nothing of it at the time. Friends ask questions, right? But looking back... it all feels so deliberate now, like every question was him gathering intel, assessing me.”
She exhaled softly, with a sadness coming across her face. “Back then, I didn’t see it. None of us did. It felt normal—until it didn’t.”
Tammy paused, her expression darkening as her fingers traced the rim of her tea cup, the memory visibly weighing on her. “Marcus started confiding in me about Barry—not all at once, but in bits and pieces, like he was testing the waters. At first, it was small things—quirks about how Barry ran his business. He had this unnerving way of always being ten steps ahead, like he already knew how a situation would play out before it even began. Marcus would talk about deals Barry closed that didn’t feel clean, where too much money changed hands for too little explanation. And then there were the people—people who crossed Barry or got too close to something they shouldn’t have. They didn’t just fade into the background; they vanished, like they’d been erased.”
She shook her head slowly, her voice dipping lower. “At first, I shrugged it off. Barry was powerful, sure. Everyone knew that. He had connections, influence, charisma—the kind of guy who could charm you into trusting him while robbing you blind. But every now and then, Marcus... well, let’s just say he had a flair for overreacting. He saw patterns in things most people wouldn’t notice, and I thought maybe he was reading too much into Barry’s moves. I told myself it was just Marcus being Marcus. You know, little brother and all.”
She took a deep breath and a sip of her tea. “And then, there was Barry’s attitude about marriage. At the time, it didn’t seem like a red flag—people get married and divorced all the time. No one gave it a second thought. Barry had this way of making his divorces seem almost... inevitable and normal, like they were just a natural progression. ‘Irreconcilable differences,’ he’d say with a shrug, and everyone would nod along, accepting it. It’s only now, looking back, that it’s so clear—every marriage ended when the wife got too close to something Barry didn’t want her to see. Sydney talked about it later, how she’d started piecing together things that didn’t add up—bank statements, meetings he’d leave for at odd hours, people he referred to in whispers. But hindsight is 20/20, right? At the time, we were just friends watching him move on to the next chapter, thinking, ‘Well, that’s just Barry.’ No one saw the pattern until it was too late.”
Tammy glanced at Reed, her eyes sharp, the weight of her words heavier than ever. “But then the details got darker. Marcus started talking about how Barry didn’t just control people—he destroyed them. Financially, emotionally, even physically, if it came to that. He had no limits, no boundaries. Everything and everyone was expendable if it served his purpose. And Marcus? He’d started to realize he wasn’t Barry’s litter brother anymore. And he wasn’t his ally either. Marcus realized that, like so many others in Barry’s world, he had become a liability.”
She hesitated, her eyes distant, as if pulling the memory from a deep, hidden place. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, betraying the weight of what she was about to say. “It was late—the kind of late where everything feels heavier, quieter. Marcus showed up at my house, pale, shaking, carrying this enormous file box. I remember teasing him, asking if he was moving in.” A fleeting, hollow smile passed across her lips. “But he didn’t laugh. Not even a little.
“He put the box on my kitchen counter and looked at me, Reed. Really looked at me, like he was trying to figure out if he could trust me with something he couldn’t even say aloud. ‘Tammy,’ he said, his voice shaking, ‘if something happens to me, if I go missing—Barry killed me.’”
Her voice cracked slightly as she continued. “I laughed. I actually laughed, Reed. I mean, Barry? Kill Marcus? His brother? It sounded so absurd, like something out of a bad crime novel. I even told him to stop being dramatic. But he didn’t stop. He said it again, slower this time. ‘If I disappear, Tammy, it’s Barry. Don’t trust anyone.’”
Tammy’s expression darkened. “I still didn’t believe him. Not then. But he made me promise to keep the box safe and to go through it if anything happened to him. And then...” Her voice dropped, her words slowing. “And then Marcus disappeared.”
She exhaled shakily, her gaze dropping to the table. “That’s when I realized—he wasn’t joking. He was terrified. And I didn’t see it until it was too late.”
Reed’s eyes widened, his gaze locking onto hers as if the room had shrunk around them. Tammy continued, her voice heavy with the weight of her words. “I didn’t know what to do, Reed. I sat there with that box, just staring at it, wondering if opening it would make things worse. But then I did, and what I found inside...” She paused. “It changed everything.”
Her voice laced with a quiet intensity. “There were documents, photos, financial statements that didn’t add up, recordings—things Marcus had clearly gathered over years. It was all circumstantial—nothing concrete enough to take to the police, nothing that screamed ‘smoking gun.’ But it painted a picture. Barry wasn’t just some shrewd businessman. He was ruthless, manipulative, and dangerous. He didn’t just crush his competition; he erased them.”
Tammy’s words slowed. “When I talked to Sydney, she confirmed it. She’d seen Barry’s temper, his control, his absolute need to dominate everyone around him. She told me about the time he smashed a glass in his hand during an argument, just to prove a point. Blood everywhere, but he didn’t flinch. He made her clean it up while he stood there, staring at her. She told me about the way he’d watch people—like he was dissecting them, figuring out how they ticked, how to break them if they got in his way.”
She leaned forward, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “Sydney said she once overheard him on a call, threatening someone—calm, polite, like he was making dinner plans. But the things he said, Reed... ‘If you don’t sign, your family won’t make it to the weekend.’ Just like that, matter-of-fact. And when Sydney confronted him, he laughed. He actually laughed and said, ‘It’s business, sweetheart. Nothing personal.’”
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
Tammy exhaled shakily, her gaze dropping to the table. “It was horrifying. All of it. And the worst part? Sydney said he always had a way of making people feel like they were the crazy ones, like they were overreacting or imagining things. He made her doubt herself so much, she didn’t even realize how trapped she was until after the divorce when she was finally free of him. She said it was constant gaslighting, never his fault.”
She looked back up at Reed, her eyes focused on his. “That file box, those stories—it was enough to know Marcus wasn’t imagining things. Barry was dangerous, and he had everyone around him walking on eggshells. And when Marcus disappeared, I knew I had to tread carefully.”
She took a shaky breath before continuing. “That’s when I knew I couldn’t fight Barry alone. I didn’t have the skills, the resources, or the connections. I needed someone who could play his game. And then you came along.”
Tammy let her lips curling into a faint, knowing smile. “You and I... well, we didn’t date long, but you impressed me. You were clever, resourceful, and confident in a way that didn’t rely on arrogance. And that little John Smith stunt on Pro4uM?” She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, Reed, you thought you were so slick, didn’t you?”
Her smile widened, but her eyes remained serious, intent. “You thought you were manipulating me, pulling the wool over my eyes, but all you really did was prove something I’d been wondering about. You proved that you had what it took—that you could do what Marcus couldn’t, what I couldn’t.”
She leaned back slightly, her expression shifting to one of amused recollection. “I know you like to think the John Smith login was some genius move, a stroke of brilliance on your part. But honestly, Reed, you kind of telegraphed it. The way you suddenly started gushing about me, about how much you cared for me and how I meant more to you than PPI—come on. It was so transparent. I could see straight through it.”
Tammy’s grin grew, a glimmer of admiration flickering in her eyes. “But here’s the thing—you still managed to impress me. Even while I saw what you were doing, I couldn’t help but respect the way you went about it. You were bold, decisive, and you took a calculated risk. That’s not something everyone can do. And that move? It told me everything I needed to know.”
She paused, her tone softening. “It was right then and there that I decided you were the one. You were the person who could bring Barry Cox down. I mean, you had the skills, sure—the brains, the ability to think on your feet. But more than that, you had heart. You weren’t just playing the game for yourself. Even back then, I could tell you genuinely cared—about doing what was right, about people. And that’s what made you different.”
Tammy’s voice grew quieter, her gaze steady. “After that, I started keeping a closer eye on you—on everything you did on Pro4uM. Every message, every move you made. I wanted to see if you’d slip up, if there was any crack in your armor. But you didn’t, Reed. You were solid, dependable, and relentless. And I knew—I just knew—you were the only one who could take on Barry and actually win.”
Reed leaned back slightly, still listening intently to every word she said. Tammy pressed on, her voice urgent. “So, when that job to photograph Secretary Kessler came up, it felt like fate—like the stars had aligned. I knew I could tweak your orders just enough to slip the Marcus code into the mix. The beauty of it was in its simplicity. To you, it was just another routine assignment. But that sequence buried in the shoot? It wasn’t just numbers—it was Marcus’s lifeline, a message meant for Kessler. Knowing their connection, I trusted Kessler would recognize it and act accordingly.
“But I also knew Barry wouldn’t make it easy. He’d already planted Kranch and Carter to pull your strings, steering you exactly where he wanted. That’s where I stepped in. I guided you in the background—nudging you to see their value, to trust them. And you did. You didn’t just follow the mission; you turned it into something bigger. You brought them into the fold and made them allies when Barry expected them to be your enemies.”
She paused, her smile fading. “Grimes, though... that was pure luck. I didn’t see him coming. But you? You handled him brilliantly. You turned him against Barry. I knew you’d handle whatever Barry threw at you—and you did, just like I knew you would.” Her voice softened. “But Reed, I’m so sorry I sent you the Code late. I feel like I almost got you killed.” She looked away, regret in her eyes. “In my defense, though... by then, I was hoping you’d put two and two together and realize you’d had the Code all along.”
Her tone darkened. “When Vienna fell apart, I thought I’d made a mistake. I wondered if I’d put too much faith in you, if I’d underestimated Barry. Him pulling that gun hidden in the lens—it was a curveball I didn’t anticipate. I mean, who thinks to turn a piece of photography equipment into a weapon? It was brilliant in the most terrifying way, and for a moment, I thought everything had crumbled.”
She paused, the memory clearly weighing on her. “But then SYNC happened. Unbelievable, I couldn’t have scripted it better myself! Reed, you outdid yourself. You didn’t just survive—you dismantled his empire on a public stage, in front of the entire industry, and even the world no less. Watching it all unfold, it felt... perfect, like justice served on a silver platter. I wish I could’ve been in the audience, front row, to see his face live.”
Tammy leaned back in her chair, a flicker of frustration crossing her face. “But Barry being Barry, he found a way out. Again. It’s infuriating, isn’t it? Just when you think you’ve got him, he slips through the cracks. The man’s like smoke—intangible, impossible to pin down. But even then, I knew you had shaken him. That public humiliation wasn’t something he could brush off. You forced him into a corner, Reed, and that was a victory all on its own.”
She smiled slyly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What you didn’t realize, Reed, is that I wasn’t just sending youmessages. Oh no, Barry was getting cryptic messages too—carefully designed to keep him off balance. You were playing the game out in the open, but I was playing him from the shadows. Every time he thought he had the upper hand, I’d drop a seed of doubt.”
Tammy leaned forward, her grin widening. “Watching him squirm, knowing he was constantly second-guessing himself, it was like poetic justice.”
Her tone turned darker, satisfaction creeping in. “Barry couldn’t trust anyone. Every operative, every ally—he saw betrayal in every corner. He was so paranoid, he probably thought the walls had eyes. And let me tell you, Reed, for a man like Barry, doubt is a poison. I just kept feeding him more of it.”
Reed stared at her, stunned.
She let her expression soften slightly. “He thought he was the architect of the game. But he was just another pawn. And I wanted him to feel it—to feel the shadows closing in, the walls caving. Because that’s what he’d done to Marcus, to so many others. It was justice, Reed, even if it wasn’t perfect.”
Tammy took a sip of her tea. “And then Seth was killed. Dovere came into the picture. It felt like we were back at square one. But by then, you weren’t just a player in the game. You were the one making the moves. You were running circles around Barry, and he didn’t even realize it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous as I was watching you navigate those final days. And the way you handled Dovere...” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Reed, you did the impossible. You turned a career bad guy into a good guy.”
She leaned back, her hands resting on the kitten in her lap. “And that’s the story, Reed. Every cryptic message, every subtle nudge—it was me. Guiding you, helping you, because I knew you were the only one who could finish what Marcus started. So, what do you think? Any questions?”
Reed stared at her, his jaw wide open, trying to process the avalanche of revelations she’d just unloaded. He had to consciously close his mouth, feeling a little ridiculous as he did so. Finally, he managed, “Tammy, I have to ask... Are you a PPI agent? I mean, were you working for them all this time?”
Tammy burst into laughter, a genuine, carefree sound that felt completely at odds with the gravity of their conversation. She shook her head, wiping a tear of amusement from the corner of her eye. “Reed, seriously? Of course I’m a member of the Professional Photographers Institute! Aren’t you?” Her grin widened, playful and knowing, and she even added a wink for good measure.
Reed rolled his eyes, groaning. “You know what I mean, Tammy. Don’t dodge the question.”
Her expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious, though the humor lingered in her eyes. “Alright, fine,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Years and years ago—long before the likes of Barry Cox or even Luc Hudson—the PPI stuck its nose into Pro4uM.com. They thought they were so clever. To them, I was just some ditzy internet admin, stuck reading code and banning trolls. They had no idea who they were dealing with.”
Reed raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “So you knew, even then?”
“Oh, I knew,” Tammy said, her tone sharper now. “I knew exactly what they were trying to do. They thought they were controlling things, monitoring every thread, every conversation, every encrypted post. And sure, I let it happen. I let them think they were in charge, that they were using me and my platform as a tool. But all the while, I was watching them. Monitoring their movements, their messages, their people. I had access to things they didn’t even realize I could see.”
Reed taped his fingers on the table, his voice low. “So, what does that make you? A double agent? A rogue operative?”
Tammy shrugged, her lips curling into a faint smile as one eyebrow lifted. “Let’s just say... I’m nobody’s operative. I’m nobody’s pawn. I never worked for PPI, not officially. But probably, no one—and I mean no one—knows as much as I do about the backdoor dealings, the encrypted messages, and the shadowy plans they thought they were hiding so well. I’ve seen it all, Reed. Every dark little secret, every coded betrayal.”
She paused, her voice softening, the confidence in her tone faltering ever so slightly. “But I’ll admit, Barry had me fooled, too. He was so good at disguising his intent—those cryptic messages that seemed like everyday photography chatter. I missed so much. He used the Pro4uM like a playground, and I didn’t catch it until... until Marcus.” Her voice caught, the unspoken weight of Marcus’s fate hanging heavily in the air. She cleared her throat, forcing her composure back. “It wasn’t until after everything with him that I started piecing it together. Barry was always one step ahead, always hiding in plain sight. And that’s what made him so dangerous.”
Reed’s brow furrowed, the weight of her words sinking in. “So you’re saying—”
“I’m saying,” Tammy interrupted, “there are now exactly two people in this world who know what’s really been going on with the Pro4uM and PPI. You... and me.”
She leaned forward, her voice gaining a razor-sharp edge. “Now, Reed, I need to ask you something. Can we keep this little secret about Pro4uM and PPI between us? Just you and me. No one else.”
Reed hesitated, feeling the weight of what she was asking. Her words hung in the air—a challenge wrapped in trust, daring him to answer. He understood why she was asking, but he couldn’t help thinking about everyone on his team who had wrestled with the same questions. Then again... was this really such a big ask? How many other secrets—far more dangerous—would he be taking to his grave? This was nothing by comparison. So, he nodded, and at the same time, said softly, “Of course.”
As Scarlett approaches with Reed’s coffee, a small kitten perched delicately on her arm, she pauses at the table with a knowing smile. Her bright red hair glints in the warm café light, catching Reed’s attention. “Tammy tells me you’re not a fan of cats,” Scarlett says softly, setting the steaming cup of black coffee in front of him. Her tone carries a gentle challenge, her smile almost playful. “But this kitten’s different. Just try it—right under her chin. She’ll win you over.”
Reed hesitates, his hand hovering awkwardly above the tiny creature. The kitten blinked up at him, wide-eyed and impossibly innocent. He glances at Tammy, who raises an amused eyebrow, daring him without words. With a faint sigh and a slight shake of his head, Reed gives in. Slowly, he reaches out and scratches under the kitten’s chin as Scarlett suggested.
To his surprise, the kitten responds immediately, tilting its tiny head up, eyes half-closing in bliss. A deep, rumbling purr vibrates from the small body, filling the space between them with an unexpected warmth. The kitten nestles into Reed’s hand, its soft fur brushing his fingers as it curls trustingly into his palm.
Scarlett chuckles lightly, the sound as warm as the ambiance of the café. “Told you,” she says with a wink, before walking away, leaving the kitten and Reed to their moment.
Reed stares down at the small creature, now completely relaxed in his hand, and feels something he can’t quite name. Tammy leans in her chair, watching him with just a bit of a smile, as though she had orchestrated this small moment of peace.
Reed shakes his head, his expression softening. The tension in his shoulders began to melt away as he sinks back into his chair, absently stroking the kitten’s fur. “You know,” he says quietly, breaking the comfortable silence, “I’ve never been a cat person. But... this?” He gestures slightly with his free hand, coffee steaming on the table in front of him, the kitten nestled contentedly in his lap. “Sitting here, drinking coffee, petting a kitten—it’s... nice. Normal.”
Tammy nods, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Normal’s good, Reed. After everything, you deserve a little of it.”
The moment lingers. The kitten purrs softly in Reed’s hand, its rhythmic vibration soothing. Around them, the faint hum of café chatter and the gentle clink of dishes being cleared blend into an ambiance Reed hasn’t felt in years—calm, peace, and relief. He isn’t calculating his next move or watching shadows in the corners of the room. The weight of months—years—of paranoia and survival begins to lift as he exhales deeply.
Tammy tilts her head slightly. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? After all the chaos, the cryptic messages, the gun-lens in Vienna, and Barry’s grand performance at SYNC... it all ends here. Coffee, kittens, and quiet.”
Reed smirks faintly, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face as he scratches the kitten once more. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s almost poetic.”
Tammy grins, lifting her own cup to her lips. “Normal suits you, Reed,” she says warmly. “Maybe you should try it more often.”
Reed doesn’t reply immediately. He just looks down at the kitten, its tiny body curled trustingly in his palm.
Reed suddenly looks forward, like a memory just hit him, his curiosity piqued. “Alright, Tammy, here’s one for you. How in the world did you pull off the message at the golf course in Cabo? ‘Keep moving to the light.’ That was… eerie. It felt like you were inside my head.”
Tammy smirked, her fingers idly playing with the kitten nestled in her lap. She took a sip of her tea, her eyes drifting momentarily to her open laptop. “You guys think you’re so smart,” she began, her tone teasing but laced with knowing. “Meeting at different times, never staying in the same hotel, thinking you’re untraceable. But Reed, the second I saw you’d secured a ticket to Cabo, I knew. Puerto Los Cabos Golf Club. It wasn’t rocket science. When we were dating, you must’ve raved about that course at least five times. ‘Best greens in Mexico,’ you said. ‘Unbeatable view of the Sea of Cortez.’ It was like clockwork—obvious to anyone paying attention.”
Reed tilted his head, with a faint grin. “Alright, fair point. But how’d you know the exact time and place? You couldn’t have tracked us in real-time.”
Tammy chuckled, the sound light and confident. “Oh, Reed. You underestimate the power of old-fashioned intuition—and a little local ingenuity. When I pieced it together, I figured you’d hit the course your first morning there. Routine, right? That’s when I reached out to a contact. You’d be surprised what a crisp $100 bill can buy you in Cabo.”
She leaned back, her grin widening as she let the memory settle between them. “A local caddy owed me a favor. He put me in touch with a young boy from the town who did odd jobs at the Golf Course. I told him to hang around and hand the note to the Golf Pro as soon as he saw the first gringo who looked like he had more on his mind than his golf swing. And voilà—message delivered. What can I say? It pays to have good friends.”
Reed shook his head, equal parts impressed and bemused. “Unbelievable. So, you were basically orchestrating the entire thing from a distance?”
Tammy’s smile softened. “I wouldn’t say the whole thing, but yeah, I had my moments. You had enough on your plate, Reed. I just… nudged things along when I could. Like in Cabo. Sometimes it’s the little breadcrumbs that keep you moving forward.”
The kitten stretched lazily in her lap, its soft purr filling the momentary silence. Tammy glanced at Reed, her expression encouraging. “Come on, Reed. I know you’ve got more questions. Let’s hear them.”
Reed rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his mind racing with all the cryptic encounters and seemingly impossible moments from the past year. He took a deep breath and leaned forward again. “Alright, Tammy. Let’s keep going. Here’s one.”
Reed’s coffee was cooling in front of him, the steam has stopped rising. He looked Tammy straight in the eye, his voice low and serious. “Do you think Barry is dead?”
Tammy tilted her head, considering the question. A faint frown crossed her face as she spoke. “I want to think so, Reed. After everything he’s done, after the chaos he’s caused, I want to believe it’s finally over. Knowing Barry the way I do… he was sneaky, manipulative, and dangerously cunning. He had these uncanny abilities. And he was so dedicated to his legacy—it was almost pathological.”
She paused, her gaze distant as she sifted through her memories. “But faking a helicopter crash? Surviving something like that, just to orchestrate a grand escape and sell the illusion of his death? That’s... ambitious, even for Barry. I mean, the logistics alone—how do you ensure it all looks convincing? The wreckage, the timing, the silence afterward. It’s not impossible, but it would take an extraordinary amount of planning. Even for Barry, it feels… improbable.”
Reed studied her, noting the hesitation in her voice. “So you think he’s gone?”
Tammy sighed, “I think so. I really do. But then again…” She hesitated, her words trailing off as she glanced at Reed, her eyes sharp with unease. “If you were to tell me he’s alive—if you had proof or even just a gut feeling—I wouldn’t be shocked. That’s the thing with Barry. He was a master of the unexpected. Just when you thought you had him cornered, he’d flip the script.”
Tammy continued. “The thing is, Reed, people like Barry don’t just disappear. They either burn out spectacularly or they go underground so completely that they might as well be dead. And Barry? He was too proud to just vanish. So yea, I’m going with dead.”
The kitten purred softly, its small, warm body nestled against Tammy’s arm. But Reed’s mind was miles away, racing through every encounter, every move Barry had made. Tammy’s revelations were starting to uproot the seeds of doubt that had been planted deep in his mind, loosening their hold with each passing moment.
Tammy then said, “We can’t chase ghosts forever, Reed. At some point, we have to believe it’s over. Maybe it’s not about Barry anymore. Maybe it’s about moving forward.”
Reed nodded slowly, but the doubt slightly lingered, an ever-present shadow in the back of his mind.
Reed let his fingers rest lightly on the coffee cup. He glanced at Tammy, her expression warm and relaxed.
He exhaled, “You know, I’m sure I have a ton more questions. About everything—Barry, PPI, the Pro4uM, all of it.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “But right now? I can’t think of a single one. And honestly? I don’t think I want to.”
Tammy let a playful grin form. “Is this you taking a break, Reed? I didn’t think you knew how to stop chasing answers.”
He chuckled softly, a rare sound. “Maybe I’m learning.” He hesitated, then added with a playful wink, “But just in case I do think of something later, can I buy you dinner tonight? I think I kinda owe you.”
Tammy’s grin widened, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and something deeper—relief, perhaps, or a quiet acknowledgment of how far they’d both come. Or maybe, Reed thought, she just had a thing for prematurely graying, middle-aged, average-looking guys. “YES,” she said, drawing out the word, her tone teasing and warm. “I thought you’d never ask!”
Reed stood, reaching for his jacket, the faintest trace of his usual sharpness returning. “Dinner, then. But don’t think I’m letting you order the most expensive thing on the menu just because you saved my life. Twice.” He winked again playfully.
As they walked toward the door, the evening air greeted them with a gentle breeze. Reed couldn’t help but feel that, for once, the world seemed... still. And maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something normal—whatever that meant.
