Love and Its Lies

Twenty - Keys

Aly wanted to wash her mouth a hundred times. She felt dirty, disgusted, horrified at what she’d seen. To be perfectly honest, she had been taking Danny’s warnings a little too lightly, but now she understood where his aggression was coming from.

Danny had shown her the pictures he had taken while—well, while she was busy making out with John. It was clear as day: Larry Burton, who died at 45 years old, did not die of an accident—and the pictures of transactions, CCTV stills, and police reports proved it.

“They covered it up,” Aly said, her voice barely audible as she scrolled back and forth two pictures of two different documents. One of them contained what really happened, but what was filed was the other that stated it was an accident.

“Oh, my god,” she said in disbelief, then repeated it again but with disgust this time.

“John—he had these… these were in the folder Mr. Clement handed him. It all makes more sense now,” she thought out loud. Then, as if something had just dawned on her, she turned to Danny, panic-stricken. “John had these!” she repeated in horror, “They said it’s the only copy and it was given to him. He…” but she couldn’t continue what she was going to say.

“He’s the one that caught Larry in his office, sneaking pictures to send to me,” Danny explained, blankly staring at the wall. “He was dead the next day.”

Aly set Danny’s phone aside and silently stewed in her own self-loathing, her head in her hands.

“Has the pedestal been broken?” Danny suddenly asked.

“The what?”

He turned to look at her with cold eyes. “The pedestal that you’ve put John Wendell on all these years. Has it broken now?” he asked. Danny was still angry and bitter, but he was a lot calmer now.

Aly raised her head and replied, “Of course,” as if it even needed to be questioned. “I still can’t believe it—that he’s actually capable of… this.”

She looked at Danny, who was sitting on the chair just a few feet away. With a solemn look on her face, she softly said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for having doubts, for being so stubborn, for—” she said in disgust, “for doing that with him. I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry.”

Danny stared at her for a second, as if measuring her sincerity. With a sigh, he turned back to his laptop to type and said, “It’s fine,” much to Aly’s surprise. She did not think he’d let her off the hook that fast.

“I acted too harshly as well, so I apologize for that. What’s done is done.” He glanced at her and said with regret, “I should’ve told you about Larry.”

“Why didn’t you?” Aly gently asked. “Were you close?”

Danny’s jaw clenched and his fingers stopped moving, and Aly could almost see the dark clouds that reigned over him. She thought he wouldn’t answer her—as he never did when the man's name was previously brought up—but he did. Quietly, he said, “He was a night security guard who blew the whistle on Barrington.”

That much, Aly figured out.

“He sent me the pictures I once showed you, because he had a feeling that something was wrong and he didn’t want to stand by it. He was a good man. A righteous man. He was only trying to do what he thought was right,” Danny said, and when he turned to look at Aly, his face transparently showed despair and regret. “I was the one who encouraged him to—to continue, to help me get a look of documents in John's office. I should've told him to leave it be and I’ll find a way myself. I shouldn’t have—”

Aly finally understood why Danny was always so adamant that she leave things alone—although she never really listened. Through all of his sarcasm and annoyance, he just didn’t want anyone else to be hurt. It had gotten a man killed, and he blamed himself for it.

Danny took a deep breath, and through gritted teeth, he continued, “John caught him sneaking around, and he was found dead the very next day. I was sure it wasn’t a coincidence, but I didn’t have anything to prove it.” He looked back at the screen and clenched both fists. “Until now.”

Aly stood up and placed Danny’s phone beside his laptop. She was reluctant at first, but she reached out to gently squeeze his shoulder and he let her.

“You feel responsible,” Aly said empathetically, “but you shouldn’t. He’s a grown man and he made his own decision.”

“I know,” Danny said, still looking down at his hands, “but I can’t help it. He had a lovely family. He was a beloved father, a good man.”

“And John clearly isn’t,” Aly said, and at that moment, something sparked in her brain. With a smile, she turned Danny to look up at her and held him by the shoulders. “I know what do,” she said.

This snapped Danny out of himself as he frowned up at her. “What?” he asked, confused as to why she was smiling so widely.

“I know what we should do!” she only repeated, then ran out the door.

Danny sat there, still puzzled, as he heard a door opening then slamming close a few seconds later. Aly walked back into the room with a crazy look on her face, and held out 4 keys towards him. He gave her a questioning look, but she only urged him to take it.

“Keys to John's house,” she said, making Danny’s eyes go wide.

“He gave you his key?” he asked in bewilderment, then as if to correct himself, “You stole his key?”

Danny stared at her as she walked around him to sit back down on the bed. “I stole it for a second,” she said, “then I made a copy of it.”

“How—When—”

“Remember that time I brought clay on our dinner with John?”

Of course, Danny remembered. He also recalled calling her out for bringing such a useless thing to a dinner.

“Well,” she continued, looking proud of herself, “I used it to take an impression of John’s keys while he was talking to someone on the phone. Good thing his keys were just in the bowl by the door—anyway I went to a locksmith and said I needed copies. He didn’t ask questions.”

Danny looked down at the keys then back at Aly with utter amazement. “That’s…”

“Genius, I know,” she said, winking at him.

“Four keys.”

“Yeah, I don’t know which is which, I just made copies of all to be sure. I wasn’t actually planning on using them.”

Danny raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe her.

“I really wasn’t!” she said defensively.

“One for the main door, the bathroom, the bedroom and his study,” Danny said thoughtfully, his eyes shining. “That must be it.”

Aly shrugged. “You can thank me later. I was thinking we should go to his house at night—”

“Not we,” Danny said in emphasis. “Don’t even think about it.”

She put her hands on her hips and shot back, “Whether you like it or not, Danny, we’re a team now. Also, those are my keys, so if you want to use them, you have no choice but to let me come with you.”

Danny narrowed his eyes at her and considered his choices for a second, looking down at the keys then back up at her. Aly put on her most angelic pleading face to convince him, until he finally said, with a shake of the head, “No. It’s too risky. I’ll just try to find a way.”

“Come on!” she wailed, getting up from the bed to squat next to Danny just to pull at his shoulder. “Come on, Danny! You know it yourself that having back-up is better than going alone! I know John’s every breath and routine. I now know what time he sleeps—and don’t even think about just going there at some random time in the dead of night. When he was tipsy, he told me what time he gets up to do work or exercises in the middle of the night.”

She looked up at him, very determined. “I know an aspect of his life better than you do. You need me. You need my keys,” she said. “I promise I’ll listen to everything you say—but, only during the mission.”

“Fine,” Danny agreed with a roll of his eyes.

Aly smiled and tugged at his arm one more time. “Really?”

“Fine,” he said again, handing her the keys, “before I change my mind.”

In her rejoice, Aly pinched both of his cheeks—which he did not appreciate—and exclaimed a triumphant, “Yes!” before starting to speak so fast about her ideas for breaking into John's house.

“We'll do it my way,” Danny said amidst her ramblings, giving her a look of warning. “We’ll go tomorrow night