Beneath the Surface

Chapter 2

"I know the company experienced some setbacks in my absence, and I intend to face them squarely."

A rustling murmur of agreement grumbled around the room.

The more the words flowed out of him-in a urgency he did not expect-the more Jeremy got into his vision for Caldwell Enterprises.

He spoke of innovation and revitalization, about returning the company to former glory.

But as he did, the shadows of that day out on the ocean danced in corners of his mind: memories of that day out on the ocean-of chaos and terror, of faces of his friends swallowed by waves.

Jeremy cleared such thoughts from his mind and refocused on the present. It was high time he learned better control and proved himself worthy of such a legacy.

The meeting dragged on, the voice meshing into a cacophony of corporate mantras and disbursement of profits and losses with projections.

But the whole time, something gnawed at him-a sense that he was being watched, that darknesses waited just beyond the bright light spilling from the conference room.

Finally, the meeting adjourned, Jeremy relieved yet unsettled. The board members filed out, and Lawson approached him.

"You did well, Jeremy. The company needs strong leadership, and it seems you're ready to provide that."

"Thank you," Jeremy said, though doubt chewed at him. "I'll do whatever it takes to honor my parents' legacy."

"Good. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish."

Lawson's gaze lingered a little longer on him, it felt, searching for something inexpressible beneath his confident mask.

When the room had left him to utter privacy, Jeremy leaned back into his chair and exhaled. The pressure had begun to ease, but he knew this was only just the beginning.

He stood and walked into the office he had used as a child; his name still was on the door.

He paused, and memories came flooding in: late nights with spreadsheets, laughter down the hallways, the warmth of family wrapped around him. Inside, he went to the window and stared out to the ocean in the distance.

The waves rhythmically crashed upon the shore, a reminder of the chaos that lay beneath their beauty.

But even in that sorrow, there was something-a need to rebuild, to find some new purpose.

Then his phone buzzed, snatching him out of the reverie. He looked down at the screen and noticed a message from an unknown number.

Curiosity piqued, he opened it; immediately, his heart was pounding. "We need to talk about what really happened that day.

Meet me at the old pier. Midnight." A chill ran down his spine. The message felt ominous.

A soft ticking from the wall clock in Jeremy's office echoed through the silence that enveloped him.

The message weighed heavy in the air, its implications curling like fog into the room from the ocean.

He glared at the screen, words echoing in his mind and drowning the faint noise of busy San Diego streets below.

"We need to talk about what really happened that day. Meet me at the old pier. Midnight."

His heart was racing as instinct wrestled with instinct. He had lived with ghosts of the past for far too long, and now an unknown specter beckoned him into the dark. The day everything he loved had been snatched away in an instant, he had tried so hard for so many years to forget.

Who could possibly know the truth? Who would have the audacity to pull him back into that abyss?

Jeremy looked out his office window; the moon was high and full, casting a silver beam across the waves.

He watched the silhouetted profile of the old pier against the night sky, the worn and dilapidated wooden planks-worn out, a ghost of its former self.

And a feeling of foreboding washed over him, but he knew he couldn't ignore the message.

He had to confront the shadows. He stepped out of the office, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallways of Caldwell Enterprises-the familiar surroundings foreign, menacing.

He reached the elevator and jabbed at the button with insistence; the steel doors closed with a hollow thud in front of him. The ride felt down, floor by interminable floor, dropping into the pit of anxiety.

Outside, the salty breeze hit him, swirling around him like some restless spirit. He drew his jacket closer and glanced at the timepiece on his wrist-11:30 PM.

Time was slipping away, and this primal urge inside him told him to rush. The drive to the old pier was short but dragged due to the anticipation and dread welling up inside his stomach.

The streets were all but deserted, the streetlights casting an eerie glow on everything.

The headlights of his car danced across the cracked pavement as he made his way down the familiar route, memories tumbling forth.

Endless afternoons spent fishing with his dad at the same pier mutated into endless laughs of friends in salt air.

Now it was haunted, a place of sorrow. He parked the SUV a way off from the pier and left the engine running as he stepped out.

The air was full of tension; the sound of waves hitting the wooden supports reverberated through the night air like the beating of a heart.

He could hear the thin cry of a gull-the only living thing in this graveyard of memories.

With every step to the pier, the moonlight would light up the creaky planks below his feet and send its echo back into the stillness.

He reached the edge of the pier, where the moonlight played upon the water, casting an otherworldly glow.

"Hello? " he yelled out aloud against the silence.

The sound felt weak, swallowed by the night. Further into the darkness, he went a step in, strained to see if someone was there, while his heart was pounding inside his chest.

Whipped through his hair, the wind carried the scent of the sea and the whispers of the past with it.

Time stretched to eternity as he waited; every sound amplified the feeling of dread coiling in his gut.

He peered into the dark, the pier seeming to twist and bend as the moonlight flickered.

"Is anybody there?" he tried again,

this time his voice louder, with a tinge of fear mixed with determination. Then he heard it-a rustling sound, like scuffling footsteps behind him. He spun around, his breath quickening, adrenaline surging.

"Show yourself! " he shouted,

fists clenched, ready to battle whatever was behind the shadows. From behind one pile of old fishing nets stepped a figure, into the moonlight.

Jeremy's heart dropped as recognition washed over him-Jake. A friend from his childhood, the last he had expected to find.

But Jake looked different; his face haggard, eyes circled, his every movement taut with nervous energy. "Jeremy," Jake said, his voice shaking slightly. "You came."

"What the hell is this? " Jeremy shot back, anger rising like a tide.

"You send me some kind of cryptic message to meet you here in the dead of night?

Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? ""I know," Jake replied, his eyes darting to the sides as if expecting someone to emerge from the darkness.