Part One of Whit Jasper series "Indigo"

Indigo
Part One

“I am so damned tired of applying for jobs.” Whitney grumbles to her cat, Alistair as she shuts off her computer. Whitney Jasper, Whit for short, newly laid off office employee and experienced grumbler, takes a sip of her Coke Zero. “I don’t even know what the heck I want to do,” she reveals to Alistair, who in turn looks bored with her human drama. As long as he keeps getting his Fancy Feast, Alistair could not care less Whitney thought. I really do not want to go work in another office, Whit proclaimed in her head. She has had enough of the office drama queens and gossip pools. Whitney just never quite fit in at any of the offices she worked at in the past. Six weeks into a lay off and no bites on the job search fishing pole. What am I going to do, Whit asked herself. Unemployment benefits, thankfully would last another 8 months.
Whit had stopped checking her cell phone for messages from potential employers. The habit was really getting to the OCD point. Sighing, Whit grabs her spring sweater, glances in the mirror at her petite frame, grey eyes and blond hair, pets Alistair on the head, and heads out the door to the Coffee Klatch on the town square. The day was mildly warm with a slight breeze. The square was all done up with geraniums for the upcoming festival next month. One thing Whit had to admit, there were two times a year that made Midnight, Georgia the most beautiful place on earth. Fall in Midnight was so crisp and tawny that it could rival New England autumns. Spring in Midnight brought the most beautiful flowers to bloom. The annual Geranium Festival, held every May, in Midnight’s town square, was attended by everyone in the county.
The Coffee Klatch door cowbell rang as Whit opened it and smelled the aromatic mixture of coffee and cinnamon. Inhaling deeply, Whit took her usual stool at the coffee counter. “Hey Whit!” Ria, the morning waitress called out. “How’s the job hunt going?” Whit groaned and showed Ria a thumbs down sign with her hand. “Don’t worry darling, something will come along.” Whit nodded and ordered a cinnamon bear claw from the employee behind the counter. Randall Long, retired postal worker and unofficial town historian was holding court with his fellow retirees down the coffee bar. “Randall, what are you going on about over there?” Ria demanded. Randall turned his retired eyes to Ria and said “The whopper I caught out at Moon Pond today, that fish was as big as my leg.” Groans of disbelief drifted to Whit’s ears. Before Randall could go on with his tall tale, the cowbell on the door sounded and three twenty somethings walked into the “Klatch”. Midnighters were rather shy around strangers; so Randall did not continue his story. The new group consisted of three people, two guys and a girl. They were all dressed in broken in jeans, graphic t-shirts and sneakers. The girl had a nose ring in her left nostril, a small stud. Ria stepped up to the table the threesome had chosen and asked if she could get them anything. The stud girl ordered water and the two guys ordered sodas. Whit could not help being curious about the three strangers.
Midnight was not off the interstate so the town did not see a lot of unfamiliar traffic. Trying not to be obvious, Whit looked at the group from her peripheral vision. It was not the best mode of covert observation but it would have to do for now. Stud girl had red hair cut into a chin length bob. Her eyes were such a dark brown that the hue made her face seem pale. Visibly uncomfortable with her current surroundings, she sat with her arms folded across her stomach. The two guys at the table seemed more relaxed than Stud girl. The first had short dirty blonde hair; he lounged in his chair to the point where the back of his head was resting on the top of the chair back. The other one had his reddish-brown head bent reading the menu. His hair was longer on top and the length cut above his collar. Ria returned to take their order, Whit overhead them all ordering chicken club sandwiches. Twenty minutes later, Whit decided she better head out for the day’s job hunt before it got too late. Paying for her drink, she grabbed her sweater and began to walk past the table where the strangers were sitting. As she passed, the red haired guy looked up at her. Whit stopped breathing. His eyes were deep brown and Whit felt that they could see into her soul. Whit hurried out of the Klatch without glancing back.
The coolness of the library was a welcome relief to Whit after scurrying around town most of the morning looking for help wanted signs in windows. Whit had removed the Jane Austen collection from the shelf and found her place in Northanger Abbey. Yes, she could just check it out but that would mean reading it in her miniscule apartment, leaving her little reason to get out. With her IPod ear buds pouring soothing classical music into her ears, Whit was quickly absorbed in the gothic tale. After about ten minutes, the song ended and Whit shut off the device to concentrate more on the story. She left her ear buds in her ears. This was comfort thing for Whit. People seldom tried to talk to you if you had a pair of buds in your ears. They assumed you had music going and could not hear them.
The doorbells jingled. Whit did not care to look to see who had entered the library. There was some hushed whispering from the direction of the circulation desk and then the clicking shut of the archive room door. Whit read undisturbed for the next hour. The door to the archive room reopened and then shut again. Whit waited to hear the jingle of the doorbells signaling that she was once again the only person in the library, but the confirmation did not come. Instead, Whit felt as if someone was standing in front of her waiting for her to look up. When she did, the redhead guy from the Klatch was standing on the opposite side of the table from where Whit was sitting. If he had been looking at her he was not now. He was perusing some New Age books on the shelf on that side of the table. Whit heard the archive room door open again and Stud girl joined him at the shelf. “I checked the archive back to the day the oldest Kirk child was born, nothing,” she stated with annoyance. “There are no announcements of births or anything like that.” Whit kept her head down over her book but did not read. She was listening to their conversation. She turned a page every few minutes so they would not catch on to her eavesdropping. “Maybe they were all born at home,” the guy suggested. The girl shrugged and they both walked back to the archive room, closing the door again.
The Kirks, Whit, though to herself, why would they want to know about them? The family, described as reclusive at best, did not come into town at all. The two children were home schooled by the mother. Whit assumed that they got all their groceries and other needs in the next town over, Kill Devil Hills. She never saw them around Midnight. Whit’s, friend Lana, worked at the local Health Department office and he told Whit once that the Kirks brought the kids in once a year for immunization shots. Other than that, there was no interaction between the family and the residents of Midnight. Why would these three from out of town be curious about the Kirks? Whit began to gather her things together. Alistair was at home, it was Fancy Feast time and Whit had to get home to feed him. Waiving to Loretta, the librarian, Whit opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine.
As she walked along the square, Whit once again ran job possibilities through her head. What was left, she thought. I have checked everywhere. As she passed, the Midnight Express office, the town newspaper, Whit stopped. She had not checked there. Dolan, the editor and only reporter was a common face around Midnight. Why not, Whit thought. Everything else has led to nothing. Dolan was typing up a storm when Whit entered the small office. “Whitney!” he exclaimed when he saw her. “How ARE you doing?” Whit smiled. “Okay, I guess,” she replied. “Job hunt not going as expected?” Dolan asked. “Not really, there is just nothing available right now.” Whit revealed. Dolan looked thoughtfully at her for a moment. Whit felt a surge of hope rise in her chest. “Well, maybe there is something you can do around here,” Dolan offered. “Of course the pay is not that great,” he continued. Whit shook her head at that comment. “Whatever you had would be fine,” she said. Dolan stood up from his desk and walked over to stand in front of her. “Come in tomorrow, we will find something for you to do around here.” Whit threw her arms around him. Dolan, not expecting such a display of emotion, chuckled and patted Whit’s back.
Whit had trouble sleeping that night due to the excitement that she felt about her new job. She did not know what Dolan had in mind but she hoped it might lead to a reporter position later. Whit’s secret desire was to be a reporter for a newspaper. Awake before her alarm went off, Whit showered, dressed and ate in record time. Alistair, still asleep on top of the TV, did not stir once, as Whit got ready for her first day. Traffic on the square was as heavy as one could expect for a town like Midnight. As she walked across the street from her apartment building, Whit waived to the old timers who drank their coffee outside of the Feed and Seed Stop.
Dolan, dressed in wrinkled khakis and a plaid button up shirt, smiled when Whit entered the newspaper office. “Ready for your first day?” he asked. “Definitely,” Whit replied. Dolan waived for Whit to follow him down the steps into the basement area of the office. “Down here are some old editions and files that need organizing and some need to be thrown away,” Dolan began. “Your first job is to sort through all this mess organize it somehow and catalog it for me so I will know what I have down here. “ Whit nodded and was glad she had worn jeans. Dolan disappeared up the stairs and Whit got to work. The first box Whit looked into contained photos of the Geranium Festival of years past. Whit decided it would be best to put all photos in one area of the basement. She found a Sharpie marker and wrote “Geranium Photos” on the outside of the box.
Whit had been sorting and organizing for about an hour when she heard Dolan talking to someone above. Needing a break anyway, Whit climbed the stairs. Hearing the conversation before she was visible to the participants, Whit stopped in her tracks. “I don’t really keep too much on town residents.” She heard Dolan state. “So you have nothing on the Kirks at all?” a female voice asked. Whit did not have to wonder at all, to whom Dolan was speaking. “I know for certain that I do not have any archives on that family.” Dolan retorted. “Out of curiosity”, Dolan began, “why are you interested in the Kirks?” A noticeable moment of silence followed the question. “We work for an attorney’s office who is handling the estate of a deceased relative and the Kirks are beneficiaries of the will,” a male voice offered. “Ahh,” Dolan replied. “Well, sorry I could not be of more help,” Dolan said, although to Whit he did not sound remorseful at all. “Why don’t you just go out to their place on Ragged Rock Road?” Dolan suggested. “We will try that, thank you,” a different male voice, answered. The next sound was the door to the office opening and closing in departure of the visitors.

Whit decided not to make her presence know, so she went to the bathroom in the back of the store. After her break, Whit decided it was time to tackle the dark reaches of the basement and headed for the back right corner. Cardboard boxes were stacked in neat towers. Whit grabbed the first one she saw off the nearest stack. Inside she found old engagement announcement and obituaries for a decade ago. Goodness, she thought, does Dolan keep everything? The next three boxes were much of the same. The fourth box she pulled out was a bit heavier than the others had been. Whit heaved it to the floor and opened the top to start sorting. Whit came across a police report first. Reading, Whit saw the date at the top, January 3, 2004. Whit began reading.
Officer on scene: Whitmore
Complaint: Disturbance of the peace
Complainant: Thelma Hughes
Address: 332 Ragged Rock Road
Statement of Complainant below:
I don’t usually get involved with the business of other people but I am having trouble keeping this one to myself. I was walking down Ragged Rock the other morning and had just started to pass the Kirk place when that boy, the four year old ran out the front door of the house. He was carrying on about a toy truck that apparently his younger sister had taken from him because there she sat, in the front yard, with a toy truck, rolling it back and forth in front of her. The boy, Drake, I think they call him, looked at his sister and the next thing I knew that truck was flyin’ through the air towards the boy and it landed as pretty as you please right in his hands. Now, that girl had not moved an inch so I know she did not throw the toy and even if she had, she could not have thrown it as far as it went. The girl stood up and glared at her brother. All of the sudden some loose gravel flew up off the ground and landed all over that boy. What was I seeing? I could not believe it. The mother comes out, sees me and high tails those kids back in the house.
Follow-up of call: Officer on scene went to the door of the Kirk house and tried to get someone to respond to his knocking. No one came to the door. Office left his card and left the scene.
Whit re-read the report. She laid it aside and returned to digging through the box. The next document was a copy of a birth certificate from the county hospital. The name on the certificate was Drake Kirk, born November 9, 2000 to Alan and Harper Kirk at their home on Ragged Rock Road. The guy from the group had been right. The kids had been born at home. The girl’s birth certificate followed, her name was Rayna Kirk. Her birthday was October 4, 2002. The boy is nine now and the girl is seven, Whit thought. Next, Whit uncovered some public school records for Drake. So, they had sent at least the boy to school at one point. Whit opened the envelope that said Welford County School District on the outside. Whit learned that Drake was once enrolled in the elementary school in town for kindergarten. Whit sifted through the documents, there were a few conduct citations from his teacher, a copy of a note sent home to his parents requesting a conference and his grade report. Whit read the grade report, Drake had gotten all very satisfactory in all the subjects, why all the conduct citations and why the request for a meeting? Whit switched to the conduct reports, almost all of the citations were for throwing objects in class. The last piece of paper in the stack was a notice of expulsion from the township.
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kirk:
The school board for Midnight Township has decided that your son, Drake Kirk, will not be allowed to return to school in this district. Your son had been a constant disruption to the other students in his class. Furthermore, he does not respond to traditional methods of discipline. Please do not feel as if we are unconcerned with your son’s welfare and education. We recommend that Drake attend the behavior modification program at Kill Devil Hills Alternative School. This program has been effective in helping other students modify their behavior in the classroom setting.
Sincerely,
The Midnight Township School Board
Wow! Whit thought, expelled at six years old, it had to be a record. Whit found nothing of further interest in the box. Why would Dolan tell those people that he had nothing on the Kirks when he had this box in the basement? Maybe he forgot he had the box. Stashed in the farthest corner of the basement, the box would be easy to forget. Whit knew that the only person who could answer that question was upstairs. Whit decided not to bring it up now with Dolan, instead she took the documents and put them in her bag. She would read the rest at home. For the rest of the afternoon, Whit cataloged and organized the piles of papers in the basement. At four o’clock she decided it was time to leave. Trudging up the stairs, Whit felt grimy from the dust on the boxes. Dolan looked up from his computer when she appeared in the front of the office. “Done for the day?” he asked. “Yeah, I will be back tomorrow or the next day to finish up,” Whit replied. Dolan paid her for the day and locked the door behind her as she left.
The afternoon sun was streaming through the old oaks on the square as Whit headed for the Klatch for an after work soda. As she rounded the corner, she ran smack into someone. Her purse spilled onto the sidewalk. “Oh, no!” a male voice exclaimed. “I am so sorry.” “It’s okay,” Whit reassured the owner of the voice as she bent to pick up the contents of her purse. She looked to see who she had run into and her breath caught. It was the guy from the library. Those brown eyes, searching her face for something. “Let me help you get your stuff, at least,” he said. Whit could only nod. He reached for the stack of Kirk papers and caught a glance of what was on them. He stared at them for a split second and handed them to Whit. Quickly gathering the rest of the purse contents, Whit stood up and thanked him for helping her. Desperate to flee the scene before she made a complete idiot of herself, Whit smiled and stepped around the guy. “Um, wait,” his voice had a note of urgency. Whit turned to look at him. He was about six feet tall. He was even more handsome up close. His brown eyes were by far his best feature. His auburn hair fell over his forehead in a careless sort of way. He ran his hand through his hair in what looked like a nervous gesture. I am making him nervous, Whit thought. “Were you going to the Koffee Klatch?” he asked. Whit nodded. Don’t be an idiot!! she said to herself. “Would you mind if I joined you?” he inquired. “Uh, sure,” Whit answered. “My name is Aaron,” he offered. “Whit.” Aaron nodded. Together they set off for the Koffee Klatch.
Once seated in a booth in the back, Whit got the nerve to start a conversation. “What brings you to Midnight?” she asked. “Research,” was his only reply. “What kind of research?” Whit pressed. “Just some stuff for college.” Whit nodded. Aaron looked around as if he was looking for someone. “Where are your friends?” Whit asked, wondering herself. “Edyn, the red haired girl, is my twin sister; she is back at the hotel. Patrick, my cousin, is at the library again doing some fact checking. “Oh,” was all Whit could say. “How long have you lived here?” Aaron asked. “My whole life,” Whit replied. “Do you have family here?” Whit shook her head. “My parents died when I was thirteen, I was raised by my grandmother, who died last year.” “Oh, I’m sorry,” Aaron, offered. Whit shook her head to show it was okay. Aaron stared at her for a long moment, took a deep breath and said, “I could not help but see the papers in your purse when it was dumped on the sidewalk. The papers about the Kirks?” he said, as if reminding Whit what the papers concerned. “Okay,” Whit replied. Aaron fidgeted for a minute. “What kind of research are you doing?” Whit asked again. Well, it is complicated,” he stated. “Why are you so curious about the Kirks?” Whit pressed. “How long have the Kirks lived here?” Aaron asked instead of answering her question. “I guess about nine or ten years,” Whit estimated. “Have you ever talked to them?” Aaron pressed on. “No,” Whit stated. Aaron nodded. “Do you live close by?” he asked. “Just across the square on the Overlook,” Whit revealed. “Can I have a look at those papers?” he questioned. “If you tell me why you want to know so much about the Kirks,” Whit countered. Aaron took a deep breath and bit his lower lip as if in thought. “Have you ever heard of Indigo children?” Whit shook her head. “We think that the Kirks children are Indigo children.” Aaron stated. “What are Indigo children?” Whit inquired. “That is a long story, too long and too private for here.” Aaron stated. “Can we meet tomorrow at your place?”