Complementing Morgan Pt. 01

Derek was only part way through the story, explaining how he couldn't escape from his office because of the wardrobe when one of the officers that had gone inside radioed back. "We got a body in here. Third floor staircase, big guy in a suit. That your intruder?"

"Body? He's dead?" Derek asked.

The larger of the two officers with Derek put a large hand on his shoulder while letting his other hand drift down towards his weapon. "Yeah. I think we need to move this back to the station."

"Wait," Derek protested, "If he died on the staircase, check the security cameras." Derek had a lot of expensive equipment in his workshop and his home was relatively remote, so he had purchased a sophisticated security system. There were security cameras on the staircase, the hallways, the workshop and at each exit.

Per Derek's instructions, the police recovered the data from the security cameras, although they brought him back to the station anyway. They tried to grill Derek on what had happened, but he insisted on seeing the security footage before he would say anything more.

The security camera video made it abundantly clear that Derek had not been responsible for Kevin's demise. Kevin could be seen running down the hallway at top speed towards the staircase. There was a small silver cylinder about a foot across and four inches high in front of the stairs which slowly started to move out of Kevin's way as he approached. The cylinder didn't move fast enough. Kevin ran straight into it, tripped, and fell down the stairs on top of the knife he was carrying.

Kevin was killed by a Roomba. Technically, it was one of the Lil' Sucker brand robotic vacuum cleaners that Derek used to keep the third floor clean. Most people, however, still called vacuums like this one "Roombas" after the original brand name of models with this design, before the patents expired.

The cops still wanted answers to their questions, but the tone shifted after that.

The two officers that brought him in asked him to explain what had happened again, then left the room to confer. One of them returned accompanied by a new man, a big gruff cop with a handlebar mustache who introduced himself as Sergeant Jones.

"So, do you really have a factory in your house?" the newcomer asked.

Derek informed him that yes, he did have a miniature robo-factory in his home, that he used it to design, build and sell furniture.

"Well, in this job you hear about something new every day." The sergeant said. "Now, let me get this straight, you and Kevin Rollins— his name really was Kevin Rollins by the way, in case you were wondering. That's what it says on his driver's license. You and Mr. Rollins were arguing over this woman, Morgan Heller. When you refused to give up the key to her Complement he attacked you. That sound about right?"

"He only attacked me after he found out about the drive," Derek corrected him. "There were copies of financial data on it, and that seemed to spook him. He attacked me and demanded the other copies of the data."

"That's the part I'm having trouble with," said the sergeant. "I checked on what you told us about that drive. We got a package from you with a copy a few days ago, with a message that it had money on it. We passed it on to the insurance investigators for Konnor, and they said there either wasn't anything interesting on it, or it was encrypted with another password they didn't have. Either way, it's worthless."

"Tell them to take another look at the stuff they thought was irrelevant, that financial data—"

"No," Jones interrupted him. "Here's what I think. I think you're a bit fixated on that drive. Then, along comes Kevin Rollins, angry that his girlfriend picked you over him. I believe you when you say you mention the drive to him before he starts attacking you, but, no, I don't think that's why he attacked you."

"But Kevin said—"

"Stop. Just stop." Sergeant Jones said. "I see what you're trying to do, and I'm not buying it. I understand you want to believe your girlfriend is innocent, but you're not helping by making up wild stories about how one of her coworkers attacked you over data on this drive. That drive has no money on it, and no data that is going to magically change your girlfriend's situation. That case is closed."

Innocent. The facts that he hadn't had time to process lined up in his mind.

Kevin had laughed off the idea that the drive contained money, but seemed very concerned about that financial data. Morgan wanted that same data. Kevin didn't want to see that data, had never demanded the password for the drive, just destroyed it. Morgan had readily given him the password for the financial data and encouraged him to share it with the police.

Maybe Morgan and Kevin had been working together, and he had double crossed her. The data might implicate both of them, and this was her way of getting revenge for the double cross. Then why didn't she say that when he found the drive? Point a finger right off the bat, and the police would be more likely to look there. Morgan was already convicted, the police already had the drive at that point, so she had nothing to lose.

Maybe Derek had been right initially, and Kevin just wanted to blackmail the location of the money out of Morgan. Maybe he had just been playing along, waiting to attack him when his attention was elsewhere. If that were true, why did Kevin take an interest in the drive at all? Kevin demanded to know where the other copies were. Twice.

There was only one explanation that made sense of all the facts. Kevin, or at least the people Kevin was working for, framed Morgan. The drive contained data that she believed might exonerate her, but she didn't know exactly what to expect from it, couldn't pinpoint where to look.

Why hadn't she just told him that? He would have— No, he absolutely would not have believed her, that's why.

He remembered how he had considered punishing her, when he thought she was using him. What would have happened if Kevin had never shown up on his doorstep?

"I see I've given you a lot to think over." Sergeant Jones said. "All I need from you is to sign this statement." He slid a paper across the table for Derek to read. "These are your exact words as you described the situation to us. We have merely transcribed them and removed the parts about the encrypted drive, and the data on it, because that makes you sound a bit unhinged. There's nothing here that you didn't say."

"I don't really care if I sound unhin—" Derek began, but the Sergeant cut him off again.

"Let me rephrase. I'm removing the parts about the encrypted drive, because you can't prove any of it, and I don't believe it. There is no audio recording of your conversation with Kevin Rollins, is there? Your security system only records video. It was just you and a dead man. There's an obvious motive for what happened that has nothing to do with the drive. Case closed. Both cases, are closed. Don't make my job difficult, huh?"

The sergeant clearly wasn't budging. If the cops refused to investigate, what could he do? "I'll tell you what," Derek said. "I'll sign the statement as-is, if you give me the name and contact information for the insurance investigator for Konnor Interactive you said now has the drive."

The big cop grunted, left briefly, and returned with a name, a number and an email address. "Your turn," he said, pushing the tablet with the statement back across the table.

Derek pulled out his mobile, pressed it to the scan-pad on the side of the tablet, and confirmed his signature with his thumb. There was a beep, and he put away the mobile, handing the tablet back to the sergeant.

Jones waved at the door. "You're free to go, but you'll need to find a hotel tonight. The law says we need to cleanup the blood. Count yourself lucky on that too, but the way. It used to be they made you pay to have a special cleanup crew do it, now we take care of it. The cleanup crew should be done with your house by tomorrow morning, say ten A.M."

The police drove him back to his car, still parked outside his home, and reminded him not to go back inside until the following morning.

That night, in an unfamiliar hotel room, he went over the facts in his head again and again. He worried that he was missing something, that he wanted Morgan to be innocent and was merely trying to convince himself of what he wanted to believe. However, no matter how many ways he approached that problem, he kept coming back to the same conclusion. Morgan had been framed by Kevin, or some group Kevin was working with.

He couldn't fall sleep, so he found pen and paper and composed a letter to Morgan. He had typed his previous letters, and this was the first time he had put an actual pen to paper in years.

He apologized for accusing her of lying, reassured her that he believed she was innocent, had been framed.

Derek recounted his encounter with Kevin Rollins, describing their conversation in detail but left out the details of the chase other than how it ended, with Kevin accidentally falling on his knife. Derek didn't like discussing his wealth and therefore omitted anything that might suggest the size of his house.

He knew it was rather hypocritical. He wanted to know who Morgan was, but he was keeping a huge part of his own life from her. After Lydia, though, he got into the habit of concealing what he had. That was probably a major reason Morgan was the only woman since Lydia who had agreed to a second date. Those women had all probably assumed he was some deadbeat fritter. Still, he preferred to err on the side of caution.

Unlike in the past, though, he had a frightening degree of control over his relationship with Morgan. He should tell her. He would tell her. Just . . . not yet.

It was one in the morning when he finally signed his name to the letter. There were no envelopes or stamps in the hotel and it was late, so he would have to wait until he got back home the next day to put it in the mail.

When he returned home, the first thing he did was check on where Kevin had died. A huge chunk of the third floor staircase was gone where the cleaners had removed the body and the stairs that had been contaminated with blood. A few crude boards were nailed across the gap so no one would accidentally walk out into open space, but the only way up to the third floor that remained was the elevator.

After noting the damage to the stairs, Derek found an envelope and stamps to mail his letter to Morgan. After dispatching his delivery drone, he noticed that a letter with a return address in Marysville had been delivered to him that morning. A letter from Morgan.

He opened the envelope to find a several sheets of paper completely covered on both sides with Morgan's handwriting. In places the words were written neatly within the ruled lines of the paper, but in others they were written four or five lines high in thick block letters. Here they were scrawled in the margin, there they were wedged in the tiny space between two other lines . There were some places where Morgan had pressed her pencil so hard that the paper had ripped.

The same four words were repeated hundreds, maybe thousands of times: "I need to come."

— 04 — Morgan —

"I know you're probably nervous," the doctor said. "So, first of all, I want to assure you there won't be any pain. We aren't barbarians here."

The doctor was petite with shoulder-length dark, curly hair and a figure that was almost completely hidden under her heavy, white coat. She gave Morgan what was likely intended as a friendly smile, and pulled on a fresh pair of latex gloves.

Naked and immobilized on the hard, steel OBGYN table, Morgan was not reassured. She always hated putting her legs in the stirrups every time she went in for her yearly checkup. She was even more uncomfortable with having them cuffed there against her will by the Ohio Department of Rehabilitation and Correction.

The exam room was utterly institutional, with white walls and a light gray tile floor. The counter-tops were dark gray and the large cabinet in the corner was a dull, metallic gray. A black computer terminal sat on the counter, facing away from her. Other than her own naked body, there was no hint of color.

About fifteen minutes ago, a nurse had come in and carefully shaved her bald below the waist, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable. Something about the nurse's blonde hair and face-shape reminded Morgan of Lorelei. That somehow made her horrifying predicament even more unpleasant.

Morgan was also given a lozenge which resembled a cough drop and tasted of peppermint. The nurse explained that it was a sedative that would calm her down for the procedure. She was told to roll it around in her mouth, letting it slowly dissolve, that it would be more effective if released slowly into her system over the course of a few minutes.

The sedative might have relaxed her a little bit, but even now the only words that came to mind were obscenities. Swearing at the doctor who was going to push a piece of sharp metal into her crotch seemed like a really bad idea. For once, she kept her mouth shut.

"Second thing," the doctor continued, cheerfully holding up two fingers, "I want you to know I don't work for the prison. I get my paycheck from Complementing You Incorporated, and it's my job to keep you safe and healthy."

Morgan had intended to stay quiet, but at that point she couldn't help herself. "Complementing You? Is that supposed to be some sort of joke?"

"Oh, no, not at all. That's what it says on the corporate charter, and on my paychecks. Too over the top, you think? I can put you in touch with our marketing department when we're done here, they take all customer feedback very seriously."

It was surprising how sincere the doctor sounded when she delivered that line. How exactly was Morgan supposed to respond to mockery while naked and restrained? She just glared.

The doctor seemed unfazed, she was still all smiles. "Anyway, don't think of me like the guards and other prison staff. I know, they're always mean and angry. They're like that around me too, and I'm the doctor. I'm not one of them, I'm here to keep you healthy and happy."

"I don't mean to burst your bubble, doctor, but you're not doing a very good job of making me happy."

Morgan was trying to work out just what was going on with this doctor. Did she get off on messing with the inmates heads? Or was she talking this way because she was one of the bleeding-hearts, like Lorelei, who always needed to believe, to pretend if necessary, that they were doing the right thing?

"Where are my manners? I never introduced myself. I'm Doctor Angela Farrell. Everyone is so formal here, it's just unpleasant if you ask me. Call me Angela or Doctor Angela if you must. By the way, do you prefer Morgan or Ms. Heller?"

"I'm not going to be happy either way," Morgan replied, trying to keep the seething anger out of her voice.

"Hmm." Angela said. "Do you know how many inmates in this prison developed UTIs last year? Zero. The same goes for a wide array of other infections and STDs. In case you didn't realize, that's unheard of in a women's correctional facility. The Complement doesn't just control your cycle, it protects your health. Imagine yourself with a bad infection and ask yourself: is that what I want?"

"I think I'd prefer to take my chances," Morgan said.

"Oh Morgan," Angela was still smiling but there was just a hint of disapproval in her tone. "Look where you ended up when you were making your own decisions. Now you'll just have to listen to someone with better judgment."

The doctor didn't give Morgan a chance to respond. Instead, Angela turned quickly, and walked over to the cabinet. She pulled out a small vial, then returned to where Morgan was restrained.

"The first thing we're going to do is numb you up down here," she ran a gloved finger between Morgan's legs. "Don't worry, it's just a topical anesthetic. It will take effect in five to ten minutes and then wear off within an hour."

The doctor opened the vial and began to slowly spread the cool, thick liquid over Morgan's most intimate region. It felt almost like lube, slippery and stimulating. The sensation was intense, far too intense to be pleasurable at first. There had been little warning, and the doctor moved immediately to Morgan's clit, her thumb moving in small forceful circles.

The doctor moved lower, rubbing more of the fluid into her labia. After a few moments arousal stirred within her, the sensation becoming less overwhelming and more pleasurable. She was nowhere near climax, but her surprisingly rapid response to the doctor's touch under these circumstances embarrassed her. It served as a testament to how sexually frustrated she'd been these last few weeks.

Morgan squirmed with pleasure as the doctor pushed her fingers inside her, spreading the fluid deep into her body. Her hips thrust upwards against the restraints in an attempt to get more friction with the doctor's fingers.

"Oh, were you enjoying that?" Angela asked as she pulled her hand away. "You're an eager one aren't you?"

Morgan said nothing, embarrassed. She was terrified of what was coming next.

Angela walked back over to the cabinet and pulled out a plain, white cardboard box, about four inches on each side. She set the box down on the counter to Morgan's left, next to a computer terminal. The doctor stared at the monitor for a moment, which faced away from Morgan. For the first time since Angela walked into the room, she frowned.

Angela pulled her mobile from a pocket of her coat and focused intently on it, jabbing and swiping with her fingers for half a minute before putting it away. She seemed confused rather than upset. "I need to check on something. I'll be right back."

The small box that sat on the counter seemed so plain, so unassuming, yet it filled Morgan with dread. She didn't know for sure, but it seemed likely that ordinary-looking box held the Complement meant for her.

The doctor returned a few minutes later carrying another cardboard box, the same size as the first. Her confused expression had given way to one of surprise. The new box was silver, and where the white box was unmarked, Morgan's last name was clearly printed in bold black letters on the silver one. The doctor picked up the white box and returned it to the cupboard.

"You and Derek Simon, are you two married?" The doctor asked. "Kept your maiden name, maybe?"

"What? No." The question caught Morgan completely off guard.

"But you were living together for a while? Never got around to making it official?"

"Not really," Morgan replied. This was, no doubt, the doctor's way of reminding her how fragile her relationship was.

"Oh. Is he wealthy, then?" Angela persisted.

"I don't think so. Why?"

"I've only seen this once before. The focus, that's the metal part of the Complement," The doctor explained. "The focus is usually made of ordinary surgical steel. However, our company offers an option, a very expensive option I might add, to embed a gemstone into the focus. The idea is that it adds a personalized touch. Derek Simon took advantage of this option, and, well, see for yourself."

The doctor opened the silver box and removed a thin, transparent tube. Inside the tube was a metal needle, less than half the length of a sewing needle but twice as thick. One end was sharpened to a point, while the other flared outward. A brilliant blue stone was mounted on the larger, flared end. Morgan didn't know anything about gems, but from the blue color she assumed it was a sapphire — a very large, very beautiful sapphire.

This was what they were going to force into her body. The stone was beautiful but the purpose of this thing was terrifying. No man had ever bought her a precious gem before, let alone one this large, and it was attached to an abomination. How had he afforded it on the salary of a delivery man? Why did he do it? Did this mean there was still a chance he cared enough to forgive her now, after he found the drive?