Jeremy Finley - The Darkest Time of Night

I brushed an unruly curl from my face. “I risked everything to keep my family together, Steven. There’s nothing that could convince me to leave them now. Or ever.”

“I’m not asking you to leave them forever. But Lynn… what you’ve seen… the fact that you had some sort of communication… it’s essential we learn from you. And you from us. What the Corcillium has uncovered. What they know about the abductions—”

“I’m not leaving my family. Ever again.”

“If those letters were mine to give, you’d have them right now. But I don’t. Only the Corcillium has them.”

I breathed out slowly through my nose. “I get it. They entice me with the letters, show you just enough to whet my appetite, as a way to draw me in. Well, you will remind them that this is my land, and neither you nor any of your peers will ever step foot here again without my permission. So here are my terms: If you want to come to this site to study, you will only be given access when and if I deem it possible. I don’t know what you hope to find, but whatever you do, you will then report to me and answer my questions. All of my questions. You will share every single shred of information, regardless of how minute, about what may be implanted within us. And as a token of your appreciation, you will deliver all the letters from my father. It’s that simple. If you agree, you can pass your requests to come here through Barbara and I will reply with the appropriate times. There’s no negotiating on this.”

Steven managed a smile. “You still hold all the cards, Lynn. It’s why the government and the entire world is waiting on you to explain how you found William. What is it you said when you gave that statement to the reporters in Denver? ‘There is a vast government conspiracy, and I’m working to uncover the truth.’ No wonder the government still has Argentum shut down and closed off for ‘homeland security’ reasons. And all those people with missing loved ones are still rallying outside, protesting, demanding to know if the person they’ve been searching for is in there.”

My face softened. “I wish I could tell you that I saw your sister, even though I wouldn’t have begun to know what she looked like. The people who have called me, written me, asking if I saw their missing friend or relative—I can’t bear to tell them the truth.”

Steven hesitated. “The truth?”

“That if their loved one was once abducted and then returned, only to be contained in the government bases, they’re gone now. All those people were taken back into the ships that arrived above Argentum. What they intend to do with the people, I don’t know. But there is another stage, something else is coming. If your Corcillium has any information about what’s happened or may happen, I must be told.”

“I have to warn you, Lynn, that the Corcillium closely guards what it discovers. Of course, they want to share everything with the world, once they have all the proof they need. But they have concerns… about Tom. They can’t risk this information being leaked. All Tom has ever said publically is that he believes you, just before he withdrew from consideration for vice president. Would you intend to share everything with him? They don’t feel they can trust someone who still very much serves the government.”

“I trust my husband completely–” I paused and cocked my head slightly. “Your Corcillium doesn’t want some simple grandmother exposing the truth. They want to do it. They want the credit. You can tell them that I started discovering their secrets forty years ago. Sitting at that desk at midnight, unraveling how to read documents with so many words blacked out. You can remind them how quickly I figured out the rest.”

My hands joined at my waist. “Those are my terms, Steven. Tell your Corcillium that I am eager to learn of their findings. Ten minutes from now, I will remotely open the gate, and it will be your only moment to slip out.”

I nodded to him once and headed back to the gate.

“I know you’ve seen it, Lynn,” Steven called out after me. “The book that’s coming out. The Senator’s Wife , they’re calling it. It doesn’t seem fair to you. You shouldn’t be known as just a politician’s wife.”

There was half a mile of woods between the clearing and my house. The leaves obscured the view so entirely that I could see nothing. But I knew that beyond the trees, Brian, Greg, and Anne were inside, sitting around the kitchen table, waiting for me to start making a promised chocolate cake. That soon, Chris and Stella would arrive hungry for Friday night dinner. That Tom and Kate would be on the five o’clock flight from DC. That a little redheaded boy was leaning on the fence, waiting anxiously for his grandmother to return.

“It doesn’t matter what they call me,” I said, feeling the scattering of sunlight falling on my face as I walked towards my home. “I know who I am.”

You hold in your hands a dream thirty-four years in the making, and these are the people who made it happen: My agent at Donald Maass, Paul Stevens, whose editorial insight and constant support makes him a hero to me and to other aspiring writers. I am indebted to the incredible team at St. Martin’s Press: Pete Wolverton, who fought for this book, found the answers when I couldn’t, and ripped the Band-Aid off when necessary; Jennifer Donovan, whose attention to detail saved the day; Jen Enderlin, who was right all along about the title; Sophia Dembling, a copyediting savior; Ervin Serrano, who plucked an idea from my head and designed a cover I’ve waited my whole life for; Janna Dokos, Meryl Gross, Paul Hochman, Joe Brosnan, Kris Kam, and Omar Chapa, thank you for leaving your imprints on this book.

This is a book about the love of family: My mother-in-law, Linda Howerton, who inadvertently gave me the idea for this book, but truly inspired it based on her unwavering support for her family; my mother, Pam Finley, who would cross the stars for her sons and granddaughters; my brother Jason, for helping me talk through the specifics of alien technology; my late father, Dr. John Finley, and my father-in-law, Robert Howerton, whose actions allowed me to write about heroic grandfathers. A reader once asked me how I knew so much about the love of grandmothers, and the answer is the women who were mine: the late Freda Finley Stephens and Christine “Teeny” Blondi.

To my wife, Rebecca, who endured seventeen years of late night and early morning typing and was the first to put my name on the spine of a book. Because of you, because of Eve and Charlotte, I am able to write about unconditional love.

To my earliest supporters and readers: Karyn Esbrook, Bill Applegate, Janet Smith, Jayme Robinson, Anna Beth McKeown, Amy Goodhart Koepsell, and Michelle and Mary Ann Gaffney. Thanks for believing. To my literature and English teachers, from elementary school to college, for opening the door.

While this is a work of fiction, I relied heavily on the research of people who are seeking the truth about the mysteries around us: The Mutual UFO Network, The National Investigations Committee on Aerial Phenomena, and the Aerial Phenomena Research Organization. And to Whitley Strieber and Carl Sagan, for paving the way.

My heroes have always been writers, and I could fill a book with my gratitude to them. J. T. Ellison resides at the very top. If there is a patron saint of aspiring thriller writers, you are he.

To the person who is both friend and family, Todd Doughty, who never, ever, gave up, even when I threatened to. I am forever grateful.

JEREMY FINLEY’s investigative reporting has resulted in criminal convictions, hearings before the U.S. Congress, the payout of more than a million dollars to scam victims, and the discovery of missing girls. The recipient of more than sixteen Emmy and Edward R. Murrow Awards, he was also awarded a national certificate from Investigative Reporters and Editors. He is the chief investigative reporter for WSMV-TV in Nashville, Tennessee, where he lives with his wife and daughters. The Darkest Time of Night is his first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.