The Shutdown List
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About this ebook
People are disappearing. Anita may be next.
Anita's life was shattered when her adult son was killed in a fire two years earlier. Now her husband has disappeared after leading a protest by climate activists, and she learns she is also in danger. She cuts her electronic ties and begins a perilous search for her husband, despite their rocky marriage, unaware he has kept a crucial secret from her.
Twists and turns, corruption, and betrayal abound in this fast-paced, conspiracy thriller. Anita must fight to stay alive while the stakes keep growing higher.
"This gripping environmental thriller...deftly intertwines personal tragedy with the high-stakes world of contemporary climate activism, the stakes both intimate and global." Booklife Review, Editor's Pick.
Sharon Dukett
Sharon Dukett is an award-winning author who was previously a computer programmer, project manager, and deputy director in state government. She and her husband live in central Connecticut in a house he built that overlooks the Connecticut River—the house where they raised their family. She loves reading memoir and fiction from a variety of backgrounds—to learn how others feel, experience life, and deal with their struggles.
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The Shutdown List - Sharon Dukett
Prologue
California
Glass shattered over Steven’s living room floor when a baseball bat hit his window, followed by a firebomb hurled through the opening. The bottle smashed into the first of three computer servers Steven had recently brought home from the data center to keep safe. In milliseconds, flames engulfed all the servers, the surrounding furniture, and spewed clouds of black smoke.
Steven’s pulse soared as he grabbed his laptop and dove for the floor, devastated that the download hadn’t completed. All the work was lost. Everything.
He scurried toward the patio screen door on hands and knees, inhaling fumes, coughing, and gasping for air. Smoky fog blinded him. He pulled his T-shirt over his face to filter the air, abandoning the laptop in his confusion. Sparks scattered across his path, stinging his skin. The ugly smell of burning hair reached his nose before he felt the flames.
As he fought to survive, that last text he’d received taunted him:
Shut it down, Scarecrow, or I’ll throw you a little fire.
Chapter One
Washington, D.C. Two Years Later
Anita Forester rode on the Red Line train into Washington, D.C., staring at her husband Julian’s reflection in the rain-streaked window. He hunched over his phone, his forehead wrinkled with a pained expression she recognized, while she herself endured a familiar ache in her gut. She longed to reach out to Julian, but knew it was pointless. The silence of their broken marriage was impenetrable with the memory of their dead son sitting between them.
Today’s trip was the first outing they’d shared following their son Steven’s death in a wildfire two years earlier—if she could even call it an outing. To her, it was more like attending a memorial service. The somber journey was anything but pleasant.
We should go together. He would want us both to be there,
Julian had said days before, in a rare moment of speaking with her. Anita imagined he was right about attending the demonstration, so she agreed to join him despite the apathy overwhelming her since Steven’s death. This demonstration was something she cared about. She knew doing nothing had consequences, but she was exhausted: the kind of exhaustion that hovered around her like a shroud.
Now, on the train, a memory of Steven gnawed inside her chest—riding with him into Washington, D.C. to a different protest three years earlier, when he was twenty-six. She’d been proud of his drive and determination to make a difference. Watching Steven, Anita had believed the future held promise. Instead, her future had brought her pain so pervasive, that shutting down her emotions was the only way she could cope with it.
The phone buzzed in her purse announcing a text message from her best friend Stacey, who was joining them:
Across from the Peace Monument facing the Capitol. Text when you arrive.
If anyone could improve her day, it was Stacey. Anita slipped the phone into her jacket pocket and zipped it shut, thankful for the distraction.
Tenleytown-AU,
the stop for American University lit up on the display in the front of their car, signaling the next station. Julian rose from his seat and moved into the aisle.
I’m meeting friends at A.U.,
he said. I’ll see you down at the mall about one o’clock.
Anita furrowed her brow, confused. What? I don’t understand. You said we were going together.
Stacey’s there. You’ll be fine. We’ll be there soon.
Julian reached into his pocket and thrust a folded piece of paper at her. Bewildered, Anita took it.
If anything happens to me, these email addresses might help. But be cautious.
She was stunned as her mind raced over this sudden disclosure of potential danger. What are you talking about? What might happen to you?
He frowned and turned away as the metro slowed to a stop.
Julian, talk to me. What’s going on?
He ignored her and stepped off the train.
Damn you, Julian,
she muttered, vacillating between wanting to follow him and knowing he’d be mad if she did. He’d never introduced her to his friends at American University or invited her to join them. Although it hurt, she’d accepted that he had this other life without her.
The doors shut. Her eyes tracked his thick, graying head of hair until he met up with a Black man in a dark jacket, a bushy beard trimmed around his cheeks. They exchanged a few words before turning to stare at her through the window. Anita scrutinized his face, hoping she might recognize this stranger, but didn’t. He nodded as they spoke. The train pulled away as they rushed from the station, Julian moving as nimbly as he did thirty years ago when they’d first married.
Angry that he was keeping her in the dark about his activities today, she balled up the paper and clenched it in her fist. The possibility of him being in danger was far too important to not tell her until now.
Recent memories of their stark conversations offered no clues about today’s plans. Part of her wished he would get in trouble. He deserved it.
No. That’s not right, she chastised herself, flushing from a tinge of guilt. Maybe he was a jerk for leaving her out of his life, but she’d feel terrible if he was in jeopardy.
Her fist loosened. Smoothing out the crumpled paper, she read the list of cryptic emails containing no clear names, recognizing none. This time she folded it and slipped it into a zippered compartment in her handbag to keep it safe.
Whatever Julian was up to, she hoped she wouldn’t need to resort to this list.
*
Anita!
Stacy’s voice sparked a rush of joy as she turned to greet her. Strands of Stacey’s dark hair dripped from beneath her hood when she leaned in for a quick hug, their soaked jackets sticking together when they separated.
I’m so sick of this weather.
Stacey’s eyes darted about. Where’s Julian?
Something weird is going on with him.
Anita explained about his sudden departure from the train and the email list. I don’t know why he didn’t meet his friends here.
I thought you said he wanted you to come here with him?
He did.
Holding back tears of disappointment, Anita locked eyes with Stacey, who pinched her lips together. Why do I even bother trying?
Stacey gave her a sympathetic shrug. Maybe when he gets here, he’ll explain. Let’s go find the speakers. I’m not sure who they have coming today.
Heavy wind and rain caused Anita to pull the straps of her hood tighter.
Stacey nudged her in the direction that the others were walking. A small crowd of about a thousand people had gathered despite the storm. Some carried signs, but far fewer participants attended than the last time Anita had come with Steven when tens of thousands showed up. Today, there probably were not even enough to make the news. Occasionally, someone’s eyes met hers as they walked, giving a quick nod, and she returned the acknowledgment. Capitol Police spread out along the sidewalk, behind the barriers in front of the Capitol steps and scanned the gathering from beneath hooded ponchos.
I’m surprised so few people are here,
Anita said. Was this well advertised? I haven’t been paying attention.
Didn’t see anything on social media. Maybe the weather scared people away. But I’m glad you finally came today. You need to get out more.
Anita nearly smiled at the phrase Stacey had often used over the last year. Get out more.
What she meant was get out at all. Beyond grocery shopping, visiting Stacey’s house, and a forced trip to the gym twice a week, Anita seldom ventured anywhere. Julian was gone all the time between his professorship at Gettysburg College and the group of friends he congregated with around American University. Not even work occupied Anita. Three years earlier, she’d sold the technology consulting firm she’d spent years building into a successful enterprise.
They hung their heads against the driving rain as they fell in with the crowd walking toward the Capitol, all cloaked in foul weather gear. The wind and rain dulled the sounds of their voices.
By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you about something.
Stacey leaned in close. One of the other teachers in my school can’t find her daughter. Turns out, she was arrested during a protest last month, but when her mother contacted the police to find her, she wasn’t there. They said she was given a warning and released. But her daughter never came home.
Anita’s stomach churned from a familiar anguish she’d experienced herself. That’s scary. Were they close?
Very. Her daughter isn’t the type to take off and not tell her mother. She even filed a missing person’s report. Nothing.
Swallowing as her stomach acids threatened to revolt, Anita relived the day when she’d learned of Steven’s death. Horrified by the news as the fires had spread through his area, she had tracked the websites showing those who’d checked in safe and never found his name, called him over and over until his phone rolled into voice mail. Now she bit down hard on her inner cheek until she tasted blood, attempting to stop herself from sinking into a dark place.
You okay?
Stacey asked after a minute. That was stupid of me. I wasn’t thinking.
Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.
Anita licked the inside of her mouth, soothing the hurt spot she’d bitten.
The sky darkened and tiny hail fell. A groan rose around her. People huddled together, pulling their hoods forward. Anita checked her watch. It was 1:15. Had she missed Julian’s call? Stopping and turning her back to the wind, she fished her phone from her jacket and shielded it from the hail. No missed calls. No texts. Julian was late. And he was never late. Her jaw clenched tight enough to break a tooth.
When she looked up, Stacey was no longer next to her. Those nearby all looked alike, a maze of black hooded jackets. People jostled her as they pushed by, their arms and shoulders bumping against her as they surged toward the Capitol building, but no Stacey. Her pulse raced. How stupid she’d been not to tell her she was stopping.
A cheer rose from the crowd, and Anita flinched. She pivoted toward the building and witnessed two hooded figures leap a barrier, sprinting up the steps of the Capitol as the police raced toward them. Before they reached the top, they turned and unfurled a massive flag above their heads, struggling against the weather to hold it open. It was an Earth Day flag. On the dark background of space was the giant blue marble photo of Earth taken during an Apollo space mission.
What are those fools thinking? They’re going to get arrested, Anita thought.
Hundreds of hands pointed phones at the action. People chanted, "STOP THE LIES. NO MORE OIL." As the police converged on the rebels, they pushed off their hoods, exposing their faces to the cameras and thrusting fists into the air.
Anita gasped. One of them was Julian.
She forced her way between those blocking her path to the stairs. One person yelled at her, and another pulled on her slick jacket, but she wrenched it away. At the barricades, she watched helplessly as police dragged Julian across the stairs while he wrestled against them. One of them tased him. His body stiffened, then went limp before they hauled him over to a van and shoved him inside.
Julian,
she screamed, horrified.
Another officer spotted her and jogged down the steps toward her. Before he got close, someone’s hand grabbed her upper arm and yanked her back into the crowd, dragging her behind a wall. It was the Black man with the bushy beard whom Julian had met and walked away with at the Tenleytown station.
He leaned in near her face. Run! Don’t follow him. It’s dangerous.
That’s my husband. Why did he do that?
Her fear left her breathless. Do you know . . . why he . . .
I know who you are. He asked me to watch for you and give you these.
He pushed a set of keys into Anita’s hand. The blood rushed to her head as she recognized they were Julian’s set for their EV, his key fob and house keys attached to a plastic Gettysburg PA souvenir key chain. The car was plugged in and parked in the lot at the Rockville station where they had boarded the train today. He’d driven, but she had her own keys in her handbag.
Why? Who are you?
He shook his head. I’ve got to go. He left you five thousand dollars in his laptop bag in your front closet. Take it and hide. They’ll come after you, too. Leave.
He gripped her shoulders and turned her toward the road with a shove.
Before leaving, Anita stopped to ask him where they were taking Julian, but the man had vanished into the crowd.
Why would they come after me? I didn’t do anything.
The D.C. police van drove away. The risk of deadly side effects from Tasers caused her stomach to twist with worry.
The rain continued pounding on her until she sheltered beneath a group of tree branches hanging over the wall. She located the number of a nearby police station and inquired about her husband.
What’s his name and date of birth?
the clerk asked.
Anita told him. After a long wait, he spoke again.
He’s not in our system yet. Protestors from the Capitol are usually given a summons with a court date and released. Wait until you hear from him. He’ll have a chance to call if he’s arrested. It can take a couple of hours.
He was tased. Will they take him to the hospital?
Yeah, if he was injured. Call back in a few hours if you don’t hear anything.
What hospital?
But he’d already hung up before answering.
Anita cringed at the thought of waiting for hours. Jitters prevented her from standing still as the rain falling through the tree leaves soaked her. She phoned Stacey. No answer. Then Julian, and he didn’t answer either. Her grip on the car keys hurt her hand, reminding her of the man’s warning to run.
Chapter Two
The Train
The image of Julian being tased replayed in Anita’s mind. Panic rippled through her as she visualized his body going limp before being placed into the van. Her jaw tightened, her head throbbed, and her breaths came faster and faster. Please don’t be dead. Please. Closing her eyes, she focused on deep breathing, ignoring the odor of mildew on wet jackets surrounding her on the crowded red line train. Counting each breath, three counts in, five counts out, her breaths began to slow. She’d become adept at this over the last couple of years. Following a few cycles, she was able to concentrate again.
Since this man with the bushy beard had met up with Julian when he left the train, and handed her Julian’s car keys, she believed he was telling the truth. He said to hide. From whom?
A few stops later, the crowd dwindled, and she took a seat. She retrieved her phone to search for lawyers in the DC area, wondering what kind Julian might need. Was this a criminal act? Or one of constitutional rights? Her lawyer handled her business dealings, but nothing like this.
Several missed call notifications from Stacey popped up. Damn. Anita’s ringer was shut off. As she prepared to call back, her phone rang displaying Julian’s number. Thank God. Her pulse ratcheted up. Oh my God, where are you?
Hello, Mrs. Forester.
She didn’t recognize the man’s voice. This is not Julian, but I have his phone. I need to ask you some questions about your husband’s activities.
Anita cupped her hand over her mouth and the phone, using hushed tones to prevent the other passengers from hearing. Is this the police? I’ve been waiting for his call. Is he okay?
I’m a private investigator whose client has requested I speak with you. I’m not at liberty to answer your questions. I apologize.
Her chest tightened.
Who can answer my questions? Where did you get his phone?
Let me begin. Who helped him plan that exhibition today?
I have no idea. I didn’t know anything about it.
Who are you trying to protect?
No one.
Her face wrinkled in confusion. Why can’t you tell me where my husband is? I need to talk to him. I have a right to.
As I said, I’m not at liberty to answer your questions. Let’s continue. Who are his close friends and associates?
I don’t know. We don’t talk. Why don’t you look at his phone and see who he calls?
Then tell me, who are your close friends and associates?
None of your business. What kind of scam is this? Are you looking for money?
She wanted to scream at this man, scream at anybody. Holding in her anger caused her head to pound.
I can assure you, this is no scam and has nothing to do with money. You can answer these questions on the phone or come here and answer them.
Where is here? If you have my husband, I’ll go there. But I’m bringing my lawyer.
Only you are allowed to come. We’ll pick you up. I see you are heading north right now. Red line? We’ll have someone meet you at the next stop.
Her breathing accelerated. They were tracking her. Who had those capabilities? And so quickly? From the work her consulting company had provided, Anita knew intelligence agencies did, but they identified themselves. The words of the man on the mall came back: They’ll come after you, too. Whom had Julian become involved with?
She disconnected the call and tried the police again. This time, they had a different answer. He was given a summons to appear in court in two weeks and released about a half-hour ago.
A tingle ran up her arms. She powered off her phone hoping no one could trace her. The police didn’t have him, and now she had no way to reach him—wherever he was—since this mystery man had his phone. He left you five thousand dollars in his laptop bag. Take it and hide. There was one way for her to verify this was true. Get the laptop bag. If it held five thousand dollars, she would hide.
But she didn’t know where to go, or if these people would continue to track her. Using credit cards was out of the question. Financial transactions were like dropping breadcrumbs for those who might trace your movements.
Suddenly she remembered the email list Julian had given her and pulled it from her handbag. This time she turned it over and found writing on the back in smudged pencil.
Howard Street Bed and Breakfast - Newport, Rhode Island.
Maybe this was a place she should go for help. Unless this was some old paper Julian had used. Even if that was the case, it was still a place to hide. They knew no one in Rhode Island, so no one would look for her there.
At least I have a destination. She stuffed the list back into her bag.
At the next stop, Anita kept her head down, turning her face away from the open door in case anyone was searching for her. Her arms trembled while people boarded, wondering who might approach her. To steady her nerves, she jammed her fists into her pockets and squeezed them close to her body. A girl who looked like a college student got on and sat next to her. Setting her backpack between her feet, the girl put her phone in her pocket and opened a book. Once the train took off, Anita unclenched her fist and gazed around at the other passengers. No one was paying her any attention. Her breathing slowed. Several minutes later, Anita was calm enough to speak to the girl beside her.
Would you mind if I borrowed your phone to call a friend? My battery died, and she’s supposed to pick me up from my stop.
Lying went against her ethics, which she was forced to overlook.
The girl hesitated, shrugged, and handed it to her. Don’t go anywhere with it.
Stacey had been her best friend since college in Washington. She’d memorized her number years ago. As it rang, Anita worried she might not answer an unknown number, then heaved a grateful sigh when she did.
Stacey, I . . .
she began.
Holy shit!
Stacey said. I can’t believe I lost you, and Julian shows up acting like he’s Abbie Hoffman. I looked for you and couldn’t find you anywhere. Why didn’t you answer when I called?
My ringer was shut off. I can’t remember why. There was this man with his keys . . . the police took him but released him . . . now some creepy guy has his phone. May even have Julian.
You’re not making any sense. Are you okay?
No. Not at all. I can’t explain right now but I need your help. Can you round up some things from the house and meet me in the parking lot of the Middle School?
She dropped her voice. I’m so scared.
Don’t worry. I still have your key. I’ll bring what you need. I should beat you home, assuming the roads are clear. The weather’s still rough.
The college girl sitting next to Anita was looking sideways at her now. Anita turned away and whispered into the phone.
"There’s five thousand dollars in cash in a laptop bag in the front hallway closet. Bring the laptop, too. Throw it all in a suitcase with some clothes.
Why the hell do you have five thousand dollars in cash sitting around?
Julian left it for me. I’ll explain when I see you.
I can’t wait to hear this one.
At the end of the call, Anita handed the phone back to the girl who stuffed it into her backpack before getting up to move to another seat. Anita couldn’t blame her for not wanting to sit next to a panicky woman who sounded paranoid.
At her stop in Rockville, she pulled the waterproof case off her phone and dropped it into a sewer drain.
Chapter Three
Newport
Stacey jumped out of her car where she was waiting in the Gettysburg Middle School teachers’ parking lot and slid into Anita’s front passenger’s seat, I brought everything I could think of and it’s all in your suitcase.
Was the money where I said?
Yep. Just like you told me. I didn’t count it, but it looks like a lot. What’s going on?
A lump formed in Anita’s throat when she heard the money was there. This stranger had told her the truth. For the past couple of hours, she had pored over the possibilities of why Julian had put himself at such risk, and what might have happened to him. He was a history professor in a stable, tenured position, a man not prone to extreme actions. Skiing was his most daring activity. Since their son’s death, he’d changed, and was now spending all his free time with those people from American University. Where he’d once loved to share deep intellectual discussions, he now shut her down with sarcasm or shut her out with silence. Silence at least allowed Anita’s wounds to scab over. Now, in her car with Stacey, anger bubbled up, causing her to squeeze the steering wheel until her finger joints cried uncle.
I thought we were going to stand around in protest like everyone else. Instead, Julian shows up and practically begs to be hauled away! Why?
Anita told Stacey about the man with the keys and the call from Julian’s phone.
This is flipping me out.
Stacey’s eyes widened. It’s almost like he knew this would happen.
Like he planned it.
Anita slammed her palm on the steering wheel and broke into tears, then collapsed into Stacey’s arms, while her friend rubbed her back. She’d come to rely on her through these dark times, on Stacey’s ability to rescue her when she began slipping underwater. Now Anita had to leave and abandon contact with the only person keeping her afloat.
When she was able to stop crying, she pulled away from Stacey’s embrace.
It’s bad enough we barely talk anymore.
Anita fished the paper out of her jacket pocket and held it up. But he has the nerve to give me this list. And without any explanation, like it’s my responsibility to save him from his stupidity. I think he just wanted me there as a witness. He didn’t care about us going together.
Anger was