Innocence

i n n o c e n c e
chapter one
Here was the family:
The father, David, a sarcastically gentle problem-solver puzzle-lover; his wife and the mother, Elizabeth, a pretty-faced, lovingly-stern, carefully-sympathetic listener; their children, the oldest, charismatic, all-American Connor; the dark, introspective, trouble-making Jacob; the peaceful, earnest Elias.
And here was their world:
A private, innocent, peaceful existence in an upper-middle-class town, inhabited rarely by negativity, often by exuberant opportunity. A quiet life of brown lunch bags and football games and report cards and vacation time. A calm life of sick days and solemnity and pillow fights and family movies seldom seen to credits.
And here, belatedly prevalent, was their story.
Serenity Falls, North Carolina
He was sixteen and good looking with his father's brown hair and mother's blue eyes. He was quarterback of his high school's football team��not bad for a sophomore kid from a perfect oasis of a town in North Carolina. He was dating a girl by the name of Caity Taylor who was both a cheerleader and a soccer player.
His name was Connor Callahan; oldest of the three Callaway boys and thus far voted Most Likely to Succeed.
At the moment he stood by the window in his bedroom, tapping his feet impatiently as he waited for Caity to pick up her phone��Finally the call went through and he felt the familiar burst of excitement as she answered.
"Hello?"
"Caity, hey," Connor determinedly steered his voice to being deep and mature. "How did your cheerleading competition go?"
"Horrible!"
Connor sighed sympathetically. "Really? I bet you were great-,"
"-Apparently not!" She sounded close to tears. "Melinda was supposed to be the top of the tower, but then Jessica landed on her ankle wrong and I almost tripped doing my back handspring. And the judges only gave us a seven. A seven!"
Connor thought she was cute when she was angry, but he didn't like to see her upset. "I'm sorry you didn't do as well as you wanted to," he said genuinely.
"And I mean it's not like we didn't practice! Like, yesterday Melinda did everything perfectly but today she, like, couldn't do anything right! And I don't know why I didn't do my back handspring well. I always do my back handspring well!"
Connor was just about to agree with her when somebody called out something on her end and she hastily spoke.
"I gotta go, Connor," she said apologetically. "I'll talk to you tomorrow!"
"Okay-," he began, but she'd already hung up the phone.
He was rather disappointed as he snapped the cell off, but this sudden loss of conversation fled his mind as he heard a racket start outside of his door. Impatience already raising in him Connor crossed his room and yanked it open, not at all surprised when he saw his two brothers outside.
Little Elias, eight-years-old and exceedingly adorable, was pouting as he crossed his arms stubbornly. In his hand he held a baseball glove and in his brown eyes Connor could see tears starting to form.
Opposite of him and standing with his fists clenched and wiry frame absorbed by his favorite black sweatshirt Jake. Darker than his brothers with his father's hair and eyes, Jake was wearing his trademark scowl and whipped his head around to glare at his older brother. His dark blue eyes, almost black, glittered with intensity.
"He said he would play catch yesterday with me but now he says he doesn't want to but HE SAID HE WOULD!" Elias shouted, voice thick with conviction, tears flooding his eyes. His face crinkled and he looked at Connor, crushed.
Jake let out a furious groan. "He's lying!" he protested angrily, kicking at the ground with a socked foot and shooting venomous glares at his younger brother as though ready to strike.
Elias started to cry harder and ran over to Connor, burying his face in his big brother's side and heaving great sniffs. Connor hugged him back comfortingly and rounded on Jake irately.
"What is your problem?" he demanded furiously. Jake gaped at him in utter outrage. "He just wants to play catch with you, man! He's not asking for the moon!"
"I don't have time-,"
"-Oh, please?" Connor snorted, voice cool and sarcastic. Jake's icy glare hardened, his fists clenching dangerously. "It's a Saturday, Jake. You stupid math equations can wait."
Connor's statements had struck a deep nerve with Jake��as they had been intended to. The middle boy's eyes had gone stony and narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak and Connor couldn't resist throwing in another jab as Elias whimpered.
"Why do you always have to be such an ass all the time, man?" Connor groaned. Jake's gaze traveled up to the ceiling, and he clenched his jaw. "Cool it, okay?" Connor lowered his voice, trying to smooth things out. "And next time don't tell him you'll play with him tomorrow, and then refuse to the next day."
"I didn't!" Jake shouted, shaking his head and glaring at the ceiling. "Why do you always believe him and not me?"
Connor rolled his eyes. "Gee," he said sarcastically. "I wonder why."
Jake's tear-drop eyes narrowed even further and he kicked at the ground angrily. "I hate you," he said to Connor viciously, storming past him and into his own room. The door slammed shut as he disappeared behind it.
Connor furrowed his brow and Elias sniffed loudly. Jake would shout messages of hatred all the time towards his parents or those he didn't particularly adore, but still. Elias turned a wide-eyed gaze to his big brother. "Does he really?" he asked in a small voice, looking genuinely concerned.
"Nah," said Connor reassuringly, messing up his baby brother's hair affectionately. "He's just angry." He spoke the words in a ######## calm, trying to suppress the anger he felt towards his other brother. Elias looked sadly at the ball in his hand and Connor smiled. "Come on," he said encouragingly. "Bet I can beat you at a game of catch!"
Elias beamed, completely forgetting about what had just transpired. "Betcha can't!" he challenged. "Race you to the deck!"
La Jolla, California
Damian Morris woke up to the sound of teenagers laughing outside his room. Damian groaned as the light shining through the porch window blinded him for a few seconds. He glanced at the clock as he slowly got out of bed. 8:30. God forbid he sleep in after doing a late night job. Damian took a long hot shower and gulped down a cup of coffee he had left sitting out the previous morning. It was cold, stale, and bitter and took all of Damian's willpower to swallow. The downside of his occupation. Damian phoned room service, his mouth already watering at the thought of this hotel's breakfast.
"Hola, Mr. Findlay," greeted the woman at the front desk.
"Good morning. The usual breakfast, please." There was a short pause. Either the woman was entering something into her computer or she was trying to remember what Damian had ordered for breakfast the past eight days.
"Ci, Se?or Findlay. Eggs Benedict, bacon, yogurt, and coffee, very black." Yep, it was the latter.
"Gracias," replied Damian, smiling.
"Denada. Have a good morning." Damian hung up. Now it was time for business. Damian had a short window of opportunity to inform his employer the job was done. He also needed to make travel arrangements. The body would soon be discovered. Damian took out his laptop and accessed his personal files. His employers usually communicated with him through instant messaging and email. Damian had plenty of firewalls protecting him from the annoying eye of the FBI. Instantly his employer sent him a message.
Is everything taken care of?
Damian had to smile. This had been a good job.
Completely.
There was a short pause.
Thank you. The money will be deposited.
Damian smiled. The best part of the job.
Has an escape route been arranged?
Damian waited patiently as the employer responded.
Yes. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning at eight. I have a new job if you want it. Damian raised an eyebrow. A new job already? Those corrupt FBI agents do not know how to take care of their problems.
Sure. Who's the grease stain?
There was a long pause. Damian started to get a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was not going to be a typical job.
Nothing like that. Family living in North Carolina. Dad used to be a fed. We thought he was dead. We were wrong.
Damian sighed and leaned forward. Family jobs were hard. In the states, they were damn near impossible. But Damian hadn't had a good challenge in awhile. He smiled as he sent his reply.
Where do I go?
The reply was succinct, bitterly clear as it blinked innocently on the screen.
[b]Serenity Falls, North Carolina. Last name is Callahan.
t o b e c o n t i n u e d