Some great, some small.
If the way I love you
Seems different...
Wait a little while.
In my time I’m turning
To what I’ll become,
The other side of changing
Is turn around and run
I’ve made some changes,
Some great, some small.
If the way I love you
Seems different...
Wait a little while.
There were storm clouds building in the west, a dark front moving in above the trees. We were driving back to my townhouse after a successful but tiring Thanksgiving celebration―a first for me, which might account for my fatigue.
They say even positive experiences can produce stress and I had to admit my arms and legs felt heavy as lead.
But we settled a few things. We both loved the Flamborough house, and I especially liked its proximity to the Bruce Trail and the Niagara Escarpment.
And of course, the biggest thing of all―I proposed to Autumn and we actually discussed starting a family. No wonder I felt overwhelmed and weary. Excessive stimulation can be draining.
But was I happy? Definitely, and although worn out, I felt totally at peace.
As we approached the house I spotted Gillian's stealth vehicle parked at the curb. I couldn't help but experience a sense of dread because she would only be there to update us on some new development with our stalker.
"Oh, oh," Autumn moaned, no doubt feeling what I did.
I tried to assuage her fears. "It may be good news. Love. Perhaps this will be finally over."
"When have things ever been easy with us?" she sighed.
"Well, the course of true love never runs smooth," I said sarcastically.
"Yeah, funny....ha, ha," she frowned, "But we might as well hear what she has to say."
Gillian waved to us as we drove up and followed us into the house.
She sensed we were tired and got right to the point.
"As you might guess, this is an update. It's actually a break in the case. It turns out Mace Cowan, your stalker, was telling the truth. He didn't know who hired him on the dark web, but thanks to our excellent cyber team we tracked down the IP addresses and traced them back to the university."
I whistled softly in surprise. "Are you saying someone on the faculty hired this hood?"
Gillian nodded, "not just somebody, but the head of the Funding Committee--Warren McQuade."
My jaw dropped in shock. "Are you absolutely certain it was Warren?" I croaked in disbelief.
"There's absolutely no doubt. We got a warrant and searched his home and office and uncovered enough evidence that at this point he's under arrest."
My head was spinning. It was too much for meto take in all at once."
"So, are you saying the investigation is over?" asked Autumn.
Gillian shook her head. "No, Warren is the middle man who hired Mace Cowan but there was a second partyWarren reported to and that person is the ring leader."
"Who is it?" I asked, my voice hoarse with emotion.
"That's what we're trying to find out. Warren is withholding that information trying to make a deal for a reduced sentence, but it's only a matter of time."
"I can't believe Warren would stoop to such criminal tactics, " I hissed in anger.
Gillian smiled bleakly. "You'd be surprised what people will do for money. Obviously, someone saw Student Voices as a threat and was willing to pay to eliminate it."
"But to betray a colleague---that's despicable," growled.
"Don't worry, we'll catch the leader behind this and he'll do time in prison."
After Gillian left, Autumn and I were curled up on the couch, sipping rum hot chocolate and watching spidery rays of lighting spread across the sky.
She was talking in drowsy tones, staring into the fire. "I feel so safe and protected, here with you--this is our haven from all the madness outside."
"It feels primeval," replied, "primitive man huddled in caves safe from storms outside. But it's not the elements or wild beasts that threaten us, it's our own kind wielding physical threats and modern technology against us. It's what Hamlet said about evil--it's miching mallecho - skulking mischief, and that's what we have to defend against."
Autumn shivered with fear and pressed her body against mine seeking warmth and protection.
The storm raged outside as if the heavens themselves were roaring displeasure at our plight.