Imploded Lives E-Book

David P. Warren

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

When two masked men take a busy Los Angeles bank in broad daylight, police, SWAT and the media cover every visible angle of the bank. Despite hundreds of eyes on the bank, nearly a million dollars - and the robbers themselves - vanish without a trace.

LAPD detectives Stacey Gray and Jeff Butler begin to investigate the logic-defying case with no clues and little evidence. Soon, life-changing secrets are exposed and their worlds turn upside down. 

Who are the robbers - and where is the money?

Leseprobe

Imploded Lives

The Invisible Robbery and the Human Fallout

David P. Warren

Copyright (C) 2018 David P. Warren

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Acknowledgment of fine work and many thanks to my incredible editing and insight team:

Nancy J. Warren Melanie Sue Prisuta Jan Hernandez

Part 1: The Hostages

Chapter One – Paul Mason and Brian Gallagher

March 14, 2018Twenty-Eight Days Before

Brian Gallagher stood at the open door to Paul Mason's office looking around to assure that the lights in the surrounding offices had been turned off, and the occupants were no longer lingering. The building was dark and empty as far as the eye could see. He looked back at Paul and said, “So, are we going through with this?”

“I'm not talking here. Let's go outside and take a walk.”

The two men took the elevator down to the ground floor, staying silent throughout the ride. There was no one else in the elevator and very few people seemed to inhabit the building. They signed out at the guard desk and slid their personal access cards through the reader at 9:20 p.m. They walked outside to the street to find that the almost perpetual Los Angeles rush hour was slowing and the traffic was about as light as it was going to get. There was a slight drizzle, noteworthy because any rain was rare in Los Angeles. As they walked down the street toward Mulligan's Brewery, Paul Mason ran a hand through his short black hair and said, “I don't know, man. It is a big risk.” Paul was six foot, two inches and slender, with the body of a rider in the Tour de France. He wore wire-rimmed glasses over penetrating blue eyes. Brian was two inches shorter and muscular, his regular workouts keeping his body almost as fit as it had been when he played linebacker at Stanford. His brown hair was longer than Paul's, and matched a well-trimmed beard that showed little gray.

Brian shook his head. “We've been planning this for three months. I thought you got past the hesitation.”

Paul replied, “Yeah, but this is a big fucking deal. This is not just career ending, it is prison time.” He shook his head. “And we agreed that unless we were all on board, we kill this plan, right?”

“We did and I agree that we need to be fully committed. So if you're not, we need to walk away from this project now,” Brian said. “We've already put countless hours into this project and if we're still not committed, we never will be,” Brian added, sounding frustrated.

Paul sat down on a bench outside the watering hole. “Look, we know that they will figure out what happened. That's a given. There will be some lag time before they catch on, but after that, they will start tracking everyone who could have pulled it off and I keep thinking that could somehow lead back to us. That's when I start thinking that maybe we should walk away.”

Brian nodded. “I get it, man, I do. And at some point we might be among the suspects, but how do they get back to us? They won't be able to prove anything.”

Paul shook his head. “I don't know. This is like betting your future at the crap table.”

“Déjà vu. We have had this conversation. And if you want to, we walk away. But if not, let's commit. Role the bones, man.”

“Don't you have any second thoughts? I mean, we both have kids under ten. Don't you get nervous that you just might leave Alison and the kids to do a long prison sentence? That's the part that unnerves me. I believe in what we are doing, but I don't want to leave Ann to spend time in a cage with nothing to do but replay my regrets.”

“I get it,” Brian said. He smiled. “Like I said, we can walk if you want, Paul. I'm not in if you're not, so it all ends here if you choose. What keeps me in is the thought of what a couple of guys might be able to accomplish in terms of the immediate results, and the message we get to send. And if we do it right, maybe no one learns who sent the message. I just think…”

At that moment, Brian's phone rang. He hit a button and said, “Brian Gallagher.” After a moment, Brian said, “Pretty timely call. I was just talking to Paul about the project.” He paused and then asked, “What's the news?” There were a few more moments of silence and then Brian said, “Okay. See you tomorrow night.”

Paul said, “I take it he's in?”

“Yep, he's in.”

“I guess I'm not surprised,” Paul replied. “He's almost as outraged by all this as you are and he's single.”

“And you're not as outraged as we are?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, I am.” He thought for a moment and then added, “I'm just not convinced that three guys can fix this.”

“We can't fix it, but that's not the plan. What we can do is send the message that they are vulnerable, too.”

Paul furrowed his brow. “Do you ever have visions of the FBI surrounding your house and dragging you away in cuffs? Have you considered that part of the downside? I mean, if we get caught, we are totally fucked. We will likely know some of the people in on the arrest.”

“Yeah, but it'll be a heck of a book when you get paroled.” He grinned and then added, “Of course, you won't be able to make any money on it because of the conviction, but we know a number of good causes ready for donations.”

“Funny stuff,” Paul said, shaking his head. “And I guess I'll always have you to keep me amused.”

“Exactly, but more importantly, we are not going to get caught. We have this honed to perfection, man. It's beautiful.”

They stood up and walked into Mulligan's. They selected a twelve-dollar beer from one hundred and fifty on tap and then found a table in the back of the bar. They looked around at the tired figures in suits that populated the bar. Lawyers, politicians, lobbyists and investors, all capping the day at the watering hole. Some planned to persuade Congress to change laws for the benefit of corporate clients, while others worked on transactions to make them richer, while still others tried to find a way to escape a deal gone bad. There were big players here, but none of them dealing on the scale of what Paul and Brian were contemplating. There was an extended silence while they looked around at this world of behind the scenes business. After a time, Paul looked at Brian and said, “Okay, I'm in. Let's roll the bones, my friend.”

Brian grinned and gave a satisfied nod. “I think we can make a difference.”

Chapter Two – Linda Caldwell

Twenty-Four Days Before

Linda Caldwell yelled up the stairs, “Come down for dinner you guys.”

“Just a minute, mom,” said a twelve-year-old voice from one of the bedrooms. “I just have one more life.”

“We only get one life and we don't delay it or our dinner based on video games. Let's go.”

“Okay, be right there.”

The front door opened and Brad stepped inside. “Hi, sweetheart,” he offered. “How was your day?”

She wiped at her brow and then shook her head. “Chasing kids all day. I feel like I've been trying to move frogs across a football field in an open wheelbarrow. I'm hoping we can do dinner, but apparently Jason can't emerge until he uses up one more life.”

“Sorry, honey, sounds like a tough day. I'll chase these guys.”

“Give me some lips before you disappear up those stairs, never to be seen or heard from again—I think that's what happens to people who go up there.”

“I've heard that. Maybe we should tie a rope around my waist and you can hang on to one end.”

“Hey, guys, time to come down for dinner,” Brad said. Jason came racing out of the first door and started down the stairs two at a time. He wore a T-shirt and blue jeans with countless pockets. His hair was uncombed. Brad met him half way and hugged him. “Hi, buddy. What's new?”

“Not much. What's for dinner?”

“Liver salad and cod liver oil dressing.” Brad said, walking to the top of the stairs and pulling off his tie. “That hair of yours seen a comb lately? You look like you were dragged backwards through a hedge. And where's Matt?” he asked the disappearing boy below.

The answer was screamed back. “He's putting the lip lock on Claire at the back door.”

Brad thought that Matt was too young to be lip-locking anyone. He had just turned fifteen and he had another year before he was allowed to date.

Brad changed into jeans and went downstairs to the kitchen as Matt came in from the back porch. Brad grabbed silverware as Linda put chicken stir-fry onto plates.

“Hi, buddy,” he said to Matt.

“Hey, Dad.”

“You and Claire spending a lot of time together these days?”

“Mom was just all over me about that. No big deal.”

“Looks serious to us when you're kissing on the porch.”

Jason walked into the room and Matt glared at him. “Jason, you little jerk. Quit spying on me.”

Jason shrugged and sat down. “You do your thing on the porch, people are going to see it, he said, and then added, “We got any hot sauce?”

Linda put the plates on the table and sat down. She grinned widely at Brad. “The news is in,” she said.

“You got it?” he asked with wide eyes.

“Yep. I fly to Vegas in three weeks to be installed as the new Vice President of Human Resources.” She grinned widely.

“That is so good, honey. Congratulations!” He took her hand. “I'm going to open a bottle of wine and we are going to celebrate.”

She nodded. “You know, it feels good just to get the nod above all of the other applicants. There were some impressive characters applying.”

“Not as impressive as you. And that's my objective opinion,” Brad replied with a smile.

“Can you get more time away from the office to keep an eye on these guys during the four days I'm there in meetings?” she asked.

“You can count on it.”

Matt shook his head. “We don't need watching,” he said emphatically.

“Yeah,” Jason added, taking a big bite of the stir-fry. Hot sauce rolled down his chin and onto his shirt.

“Nice going, nerd,” Matt offered, shaking his head.

Brad looked at Linda and smiled widely. “That is so awesome.”

She grinned, basking in the moment.

“Should we come watch?” he asked.

“It's an announcement, not a coronation.” She laughed and added, “Thank you for the thought, but it will be fifteen minutes of announcement and then off to four days of meetings.”

“Okay, but you've worked up to this for eight years and it is a big deal.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” She came around the table and kissed him.

“Please,” Matt responded, “I'm eating.”

Linda gave him a sideways look. “Seems like you should be the last one to complain about kissing these days. You've been trying out, what does your brother call it?–your lip lock on Claire.”

“Mom, stop,” Matt said, fighting embarrassment.

Linda kissed Brad again. “Thanks for being so supportive,” she said.

“I only wish we could all be there to see the promotion.” He looked at Matt and Jason. “Mom kicked butt, right guys?”

“Yep,” Jason said. “She is awesome!”

“How about you Matt?” Brad asked. “You have something to add?”

“If an HR executive is in everybody else's business, she's probably pretty good at it.”

Brad frowned. “That wasn't nice.”

“Relax, Dad, just kidding.”

“It didn't sound like a joke.”

Matt was a little fidgety, having painted himself into a corner. “Yeah, yeah. I know she's really good at what she does.” He put down his fork. “Can I be excused?”

“What's your plan for tonight?” Linda asked.

“Going to study at Claire's.” Linda and Brad both looked at him and waited. “Relax, both her parents are home.”

“Okay,” Linda said, “be home at 9:00.”

“Going to study Claire you mean. More lip lock,” Jason said grinning.

“Shut up, you little twerp.”

“None of that kind of talk or you'll both be grounded.”

Matt shook his head. “Why does he have to be such an asshole?”

Linda snarled, “We don't talk like that around here. Next time you spit out something like that you can tell Claire you're unavailable for the next week.”

“Okay, I'm sorry,” Matt said. “He's just such a…”

“Quit while you're ahead, Matt,” Brad directed.

He nodded and walked toward the door.

“You're forgetting your homework,” Brad yelled in his direction. Matt grabbed his backpack from the living room and headed out the front door.

“Can I be excused, too?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. And you don't need to stir it up all the time, young man,” Linda replied.

“Me?” Jason said indignantly. “I'm just stating facts.”

“Well, stop stating facts that are your brother's business and you'll get along much better.”

“All right. Can I go?”

“I said yeah,” Linda responded. “Go, before I change my mind.”

As he ran up the stairs Linda and Brad looked at one another and laughed. “This is how parenting is supposed to work, right?” she asked.

“Beats me. I'm faking it, just like you are.”

“Want to do dishes?” he asked.

“No. You?”

“No.” He paused. “Want to have sex?”

She smiled and said, “Yeah, in the kitchen or in the car?”

“In any room we can keep kids out of. The downstairs bathroom's free.”

“I'm in,” she said, smiling, “anywhere they can't find us or call us.”

Chapter Three – Kevin Roper

Nineteen Days Before

At 10:30 a.m., the phone rang and Kevin Roper hit a button and said, “Roper.”

“Hi, Mr. Roper. Ashley Gibbons here.”

“Hi, Ashley.”

“Mr. Eaton and the executive board would like to meet with you now if you can be available.”

“What's the status of the negotiation?” Roper asked.

“The Veritable team has been left in the conference room pending our discussion with you. Mr. Eaton instructed me to keep them there until he meets with you. How soon can you be here?”

Roper considered and said, “I can be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Great,” Gibbons said. “We will leave word downstairs that you are to be taken to the Chairman's suite as soon as you check in.”

“Fine. On my way,” Roper said and hung up. He sat back in his seat and grinned. This was going to be interesting. He ran a hand through his short, black hair, and pushed his glasses back on his nose. He looked part accountant and part professor—handsome in a nerdy kind of way. His appearance was Clark Kent meets Chris Isaak. At thirty-seven, he had already discovered success in an independent and entrepreneurial way.

Roper grabbed the file he needed for the meeting. He turned off the playlist as Asia's “Holy War” was beginning and looked around the office. It occurred to him that the corporate battles he inhabited were “Holy Wars” in their own way, with big stakes and corporate careers on the line. He grabbed his jacket from the hanger behind the door and raced through the unoccupied reception suite to the bank of elevators. He loved his office because he made it just what he wanted it to be. Inside the double glass doors was a large, well-furnished and uninhabited reception suite, two conference rooms each having three computers on long conference tables, and Roper's private office, complete with fireplace. The reception suite was simply a large room he passed through coming and going, with two desks and no occupants. It was simply a buffer between him and the outside world. He had plenty of space in what had once been an executive condo, and he had no need for employees. Besides, if employees knew what he did, they would put him, and potentially themselves, at risk. So what Roper did, he did alone. After one try at marriage that lasted only a year, he was unattached at age thirty-nine. His life was as he had designed it. He was free to date, to have fun and to work eighty hours a week without guilt.

Roper made his way downtown and parked in a reserved space under the building. He walked into the massive three-story lobby of the latest glass and steel monolith on Fifth Street in downtown Los Angeles, the upper fourteen floors of which were occupied by Bryant International. As he walked toward the desk, a uniformed security officer and a man in a suit stood next to the security desk ready to greet him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Roper,” the young man greeted, extending a hand. “I'm Mike Sanchez, Mr. Eaton's assistant.”

“Mr. Sanchez,” Roper responded, shaking the hand.

“If you'll follow me, sir. I'll take you to the private elevator that is waiting.”

Roper followed the man down a corridor and around a corner to where a woman waited by a large gold and glass elevator.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Cole,” Roper said, greeting the woman.

“Hi, Mr. Roper,” the thirtyish brunette said softly. “They are waiting for you.” They climbed into the elevator and the woman turned a key and pushed the button at the top, which simply said 'Penthouse.' They rode silently for the twenty-five seconds it took to climb fifty- three floors. As they stepped out of the elevator, Ms. Cole said, “Let's take the short cut.” He gestured that she should lead the way and then followed her through double doors of smoky glass. They turned down a narrow corridor and walked to an unmarked door at its end. A code box and card reader were mounted beside the door. She ran a card through the card reader and then punched a series of numbers into a code box. She lifted the handle and they were in a back corner of Jack Eaton's private reception area. Roper followed her past three desks and into a conference room with a massive oak table that would have seated forty people. The room was currently occupied by seven people, a couple of whom Roper had met. The rest were strangers to him.

From the end of the table a man in his late fifties, with white hair swept back, stood to greet him. As he smiled, Jack Eaton greeted him, “Kevin, thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure,” Roper said.

“Please, come down and sit here,” Eaton said, gesturing to a chair that awaited him adjacent to Eaton's.

Roper shook Eaton's hand and sat down. The faces around the room regarded him with anticipation, waiting silently for Eaton to lead the conversation.

Eaton swung his chair to face Kevin directly. He smiled and said, “So, it looks like you've done it again. Tell me what you've got.”

Roper opened his file, pulled out a couple of documents, and laid them in front of him. He said, “Your team let me know that during your negotiations Veritable stated that its subsidiary, Monarch Industries, no longer had issues with potential liability for the way it has been disposing of its two controversial solvents, right?”

“Affirmative,” Eaton said. “That's what they represented and we haven't found anything to the contrary.”

“Well,” Roper said grinning, “you will. They are not exactly being forthright with you.” He handed Eaton the first of the documents in front of him. “This is the notice to Monarch Industries that a full government investigation is now underway. It is dated two weeks ago.” He handed the document to Eaton and waited.

Eaton shook his head as he read. “Those bastards,” he muttered.

“And there is one more important document,” Roper said, passing the second document. “Here is an email from legal counsel at Monarch advising executives that this investigation will be extensive and is likely to consume several months to a year. Note that the addressees include top execs at Veritable as well as Monarch, so it will be hard for them to suggest that they were unaware of these developments.”

Eaton silently reviewed the document and then said, “Holy shit. Two of the addressees on this email are in the conference room down the hall right now.” He looked to the elegant looking woman on his left. “Theresa, can your team put together an analysis of costs, including PR, staffing costs, fines and corrective actions costs.”

“You got it, Jack,” the woman said, taking the documents and walking toward the door.

As Theresa walked out, Ms. Cole appeared at the door. “The visitors are inquiring about how much longer they need to wait,” she said.

Eaton smiled. “I'd like to say until hell freezes over, but just send in sandwiches and tell them we will be with them as soon as possible. Thank them for their patience.”

Ms. Cole nodded, spun and moved out of the room.

“Any questions?” Eaton asked the other executives in the room.

There was a moment of silence, and then a bald man sitting five seats from Roper responded. “Kevin, I'm Bob Timmons. My question is, how sure are we about the information you've provided?”

“Mr. Timmons, I would say as close to one hundred percent as you can be about anything. I mean, these are documents that Veritable and Monarch created.”

“Any other questions?” Eaton posed.

“Yes,” said a thin man with hair only above his ears and large dark-rimmed glasses, “I have a question. How did you get this information?”

Roper glanced at Eaton, who looked angry. Roper just grinned. “Well, sir, I'm a researcher. Finding out things is what researchers do. Like reporters, I can't give up sources or my sources dry up.”

Eaton, perturbed by the last question said, “Okay, enough questions.” He looked at Roper and said, “I know I've offered this before, but if you ever change your mind, I'd love to have you come work for me. I will make you a hell of a deal.”

Roper smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Eaton, and if I ever decided to join an organization, it would likely be yours, but I am content right now.”

“Well keep us in mind and keep doing good work for us.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Roper said as he stood up. He waved to the room and then turned back to Eaton. “Let me know how this comes out, will you. I'd love to know if the Veritable deal is remade, and if so, what I've helped you save. And don't worry, your savings won't affect my price structure.”

Eaton said, “We will. And don't forget, I want you here full time. Think about a package that might persuade you to join us.”

“Thanks,” Roper said and headed out of the room thinking that this had been a pretty good day so far. Not only was he being courted by one more Fortune 500 company, he had made a hundred and fifty thousand dollars for about three weeks of work.

Roper had several other projects underway, and when he checked his phone found that a new corporate client had called during the meeting to tell him that they had some work they needed on a priority basis. The first time a client called, they always had the notion that they could call him today and he could do the work tomorrow. They were shocked to learn that he considered every assignment for one to two weeks before he would tell them if he would take it. It made no sense to them and he gave them no explanation. Without payment, he spent days evaluating how the assignment could be done, as well as the risk posed by the project. That analysis was critical. Kevin's work would be regarded by many as corporate espionage. It was a fascinating niche and there was no shortage of work, but he had to stay cautious. Not just cautious, but also invisible. If he was exposed, he never knew how far his corporate targets might go to get even. They might come after him through law enforcement or even more directly, as they also had the ability to work in the shadows. Every action creates an equal and opposite reaction. Newton's laws of physics were in play in the corporate world, and when your actions cost a company millions, that reaction could be quiet warfare.

Roper returned the call and began his initial inquiry. “Is this Joseph Barry?”

“Yes.”

“Kevin Roper returning your call. First, how did you get to me?” If there was no good answer to this question, the conversation went no further.

“We were referred by Michael Jefferies.”

“Okay. What assistance do you need?”

“We need to know if our technology has been stolen. Can you assist?”

“Maybe. I need more information. Can we meet tomorrow?”

“Earlier the better,” Barry said.

“How about 8:00 a.m.?

“That works. Tudor Tower, 53rd Floor. Someone will meet you in the lobby.”

“Please have materials available to show me the technology and the reasons you suspect it was stolen, Mr. Barry.”

“Done. See you then.”

As Roper hung up, he had the familiar feeling of excitement that came from operating on the edge. The excitement of the work and the fear of detection created an addictive high like no other.

Chapter Four – Chris Morgan

Thirteen Days Before

Chris Morgan was five feet six and had always been thin. His thick rimmed glasses completed the weak and nerdy image that had chased him for as long as he could remember. He had struggled with being bullied at school and he was socially nervous and clumsy. The world never seemed to go his way. But, maybe all that was about to change. He wanted the Operations Director job so badly he could taste it. With a new baby on the way, his third, he couldn't hope to survive on a teller's wage; not even on a senior teller's wage. The Operations Director position would change all that, almost doubling his earnings, and after eight years, he felt sure he had the inside track.

Branch Manager, Hank Mercer, had a way of keeping distant, but Chris knew that was just his management style. Chris would be a part of management in the near future and he couldn't wait. The most exciting part of it would be rushing home to tell Connie that he got the promotion and everything would be all right. Their money worries would be a thing of the past. They could buy a new cradle for the baby and new clothes for all of the kids. Maybe they could even find money for a deposit on a house. It would all be within reach.

At 6:00 p.m., when the last of the tellers had gone for the day, Chris spent some time reviewing the revisions to the cash ordering policies that had just been distributed. He wanted to learn it all, so that he knew all banking operations inside the branch. At 6:30 p.m. he got ready to leave. He stopped at Hank Mercer's office door and said goodbye on his way out. Mercer barely looked up as he mumbled good night. He was distant and cold, even for Mercer. If it had been anyone else, Chris would have been concerned that there was something wrong, but, this was Mercer being Mercer.

As Chris turned and walked toward the door, Mercer called out, “Just a minute, Chris.”

Chris returned to Mercer's office door.

“Sit down for a minute,” Mercer said in harsh tones. When Chris took a seat in one of two visitor chairs, Mercer said, “We have a problem, Chris.”

“Really? What is it?”

“We received a complaint about you violating bank policy.”

Chris sat back in shock. He had no idea what this might be. “What do you mean?” he managed to say after a brief pause.

“There has been a harassment complaint against you. We are going to have to put you on leave while we investigate the matter,” Mercer said.

Chris was in shock and feeling panic rise up. “What am I accused of? And who is accusing me?”

Mercer said, “That will come out in the investigation.”

Chris took a moment and then said, “Hank, I didn't do anything wrong. I have another baby coming and I can't afford to be off work right now.”

“I'm sorry Chris, but that's the way we have to do it. I don't get a choice in the matter.”

Chris felt like he had been kicked in the gut. He mumbled, “Okay,” and then he stood up to leave.

“The investigator will be contacting you next week and set up a time to interview you. You will be told what the accusations are and have the opportunity to respond to them.”

Chris sat there in stunned silence. Mercer repeated, “I'm sorry, Chris, I have no choice.”

It was like an out-of-body experience. This just couldn't be happening to him. “Okay,” Chris managed to say again as he walked from the room. He felt weak in the knees, like he might just collapse under his own weight. Driving home, Chris tried desperately to figure out what he might have done to offend anyone at work. He liked his coworkers and tried to help them learn. As long as he could remember he had been the “go to guy” for tellers with questions. His stomach was churning and he felt a sense of helplessness. He began to cry as he thought about having to tell Connie that he had been suspended. To make it worse, he would earn no money for the next several days while this investigation happened, at a time when they needed every dollar. It was all so sudden and so unfair.

Chapter Five – Josie Everett and Don Silver

Ten Days Before

The calendar said it was almost the beginning of spring, but Des Moines was still winter cold. The latest storm left the roads difficult to travel and a number of communities without power. Josie Everett looked at her husband, Tom, who was still in bed, and then turned and walked to the kitchen without speaking. When she had been a prom queen and he had been a football star, they were a match made in high school heaven. But after twelve years of marriage, forever had become harder to see. Tom was in and out of construction jobs with the demand and the weather. Over the years they had both grown in different ways and they slowly had grown apart. She had studied accounting, and to her way of thinking, he had studied nothing but football and craft beer. There was a distance between them that was hard to navigate. When he wanted sex, her first reaction was to resist. She would tell him that she had a headache or there were other things she had to get done, but he knew the truth. Her desire for him had waned with the growing distance between them.

Josie grabbed a travel cup and some coffee and carefully drove the fifteen miles she commuted to work, but it was hard going in the harsh weather, with cars randomly strewn across and beside the road like pieces arbitrarily left on a game board. She parked in her usual spot and walked into the building. She proceeded to the restroom and checked herself. She was satisfied with what she saw. Her large breasts were always noticed first, and guys had been staring at them since junior high. She had a good figure that she maintained by intermittent jogging and random periods of starvation. She had considered one of the newer, short haircuts that had become popular, but she wasn't there yet. Her long black hair was attractive, and the contrast to her penetrating, dark green eyes still drew stares and smiles. Her high cheek bones and small nose completed an image of elegance and intelligence. Josie would celebrate her thirty-fifth birthday next week and had decided she wanted big changes in her life. She walked back to her office and checked email, responding to several before turning her attention to the documents awaiting her attention and analysis.

At 10:30 a.m., Josie walked down the corridor from her small office to her boss's larger one. She entered and closed the door behind her. He was surrounded by documents as the office was slow to make the turn to paperless. Don Silver was forty and graying at the temples. He was a white-collar guy who was handsome in a Marlboro Man kind of way. He looked up from his laptop and asked, “Any word on my meeting with Encore?”

“Yep. It's all set for Thursday during the L.A. trip.”

“Good news, thanks. What about the pitch to Winston Marble?”

“Waiting to hear back from them,” she said. “If I don't hear today, I'll call them again.”

“Great,” he said and smiled warmly at her.

Josie walked to the door and twisted the lock on the handle. She turned and faced him and then reached under her skirt to slide her panties down to the ground. She stepped out of the panties and walked over to him. She smiled and then reached down and rubbed him over his pants. She got an immediate response. She undid his belt, and pulled his pants down, and then straddled his lap and slid him into her. She began to move, at first slowly and then more rapidly. When the chair began to squeak loudly, they stood and she leaned over the desk. He entered her from behind and tried hard to remain silent so they couldn't be heard by the community of workers not far from the office door. She smiled as he came with deep thrusts and held her tightly. She felt warm all over. It was just the way lovemaking was supposed to feel.

They stood and got dressed.

“Wow,” he said, “that was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she said, “it was.”

He smiled and took her hand. “I can hardly wait to have you all to myself for four days in Los Angeles,” he said.

“It will be wonderful,” she said.

“Where does Tom think you are going?” he asked.

“He thinks I'm visiting my sister in Minneapolis,” she said.

“Your sister will cover for you?”

“Yeah, although she doesn't like it. What about your wife? Is she suspicious about us?”

He shook his head and then said, “No, I don't think that she has any clue at all. She doesn't behave like she is concerned when your name is mentioned.”

She ran a hand through his hair and kissed him softly. “Obviously she should be, though.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied.

She combed her hair and straightened her blouse and skirt, and then she emerged from Don's office back into the world of work. She was suppressing a smile and had concerns that an after-sex glow might be seen on her face. No one should look like they just got laid on a busy day in an office, so she made herself ponder her lengthy to-do list. She felt a flash of guilt about Tom, realizing that at some point there were decisions to be made there; decisions she had been deferring for some time. She still cared about him and a breakup would be hard, but maybe not as hard as staying together when the love was slowly leaking out like air from a punctured tire. Those hard realities brought her back down in a hurry and she was instantly back in work-mode.

Chapter Six – Kelly Parson

Eight Days Before

Kelly Parson finished her lunch-time workout and showered. She dressed quickly and returned to the hospital, donned her blue scrubs and headed down to radiology. Kelly looked younger than her thirty-eight years and kept herself in good shape. Her gorgeous hazel eyes were usually the first thing people noticed when they met her, and those eyes were set afire by her soft blonde hair. She had delicate features and the kind of a smile that made people like her right away. She was smart and witty, and drawn to people with a good sense of humor—people who didn't take themselves too seriously.

She had a full schedule this afternoon, including consults with two physicians to review MRI's. She had been a physician in the nuclear medicine department at Cedars-Sanai in Los Angeles for five years and had never been happier in her professional life. She was well regarded for her expertise and her manner. She also made enough money to do whatever she wanted to do—which would have been nice but for the fact that she didn't have time to do much of anything.

Work was rewarding, but her private life was, as she characterized it, non-existent and her opportunities for correction bleak. Kelly had tried web-dating, just lunch dating, blind dates set up by her friends, and none of it worked. To the contrary, the thought of going out with another of these unattractive strangers was more than she could take. The supply of self-absorbed, uninspired, inarticulate or just plain boring men out there was inexhaustible. Some of them wanted to talk about past relationships, while others wanted to tell her about their skills in sports, at work or in bed. These dates were so hard to endure, and typically, she could hardly wait to say goodbye to the guy at the end of the date. They never seemed to notice her lack of enthusiasm and clock watching.

There had been a guy she loved in college—really loved. But everyone told them they were too young and somehow, they both let it get away as they chased other dreams. They went away to different universities for post-graduate work after receiving their Bachelor's degrees and lost the future they might have built together; a possible future she let herself contemplate only occasionally. When she got to medical school, where there was hardly time to sleep, let alone build a relationship.

After working as a practicing physician for nine years, the relationship she wanted to find seemed further away than ever. Any free time was hard to come by, and Kelly would rather spend that time listening to a podcast or reading a book than interviewing another random guy who wanted to get laid and get back to football.

During the afternoon, Kelly met with other physicians to consult on interpretations of scans for a liver cirrhosis patient and a hepatitis patient. She spent the remainder of the afternoon training newer practitioners in analysis of CT scans and MRI's. She interviewed an applicant for a radiologist position at the end of the day and made her way home at about 8:00 p.m. She fed her tuxedo cat, Poco, who everyone thought was named after the band. It was actually a short form of Hippocrates—a little nerdy, but she liked it. Kelly made dinner and cleaned up around the condo. Then, she climbed into bed with a book, and Poco took his position, purring beside her. As she settled in for the night, she found herself wishing that there was someone other than a cat next to her to share the day's events and to kiss goodnight. All in good time she told herself. Love would find her if that was supposed to happen, even if she had no time to look for it.

Chapter Seven – Chris Morgan

Five Days Before

Chris Morgan had been at home and constantly worried for five days before they called him to schedule a time for him to meet with the investigator. When he first told her what had happened, Connie had just looked at him, silently appraising, conveying that he had let the family down without saying a word. He had assured her that he had done nothing wrong and everything would be all right. She nodded, but he was not sure that she believed him.

Since the day he had been suspended, Chris had been obsessing about what was going on. Was someone out to get him? And how would they pay the rent and buy food this month? They had nothing in the bank and nowhere to go for money. They had borrowed from her parents and owed plenty already. He was feeling trapped and had far too much time on his hands, most of which was spent replaying the suspension and trying to determine what policy he had allegedly broken.