Temptation's Prisoners E-Book

David P. Warren

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

Beschreibung

The temptation of wealth and lust can be a persuasive lure into a dangerous game.

When gambler Adam Mason begins to embezzle from his legal clients and his adulterous wife Christine becomes tangled in blackmail and murder, they both find themselves targeted from all sides. Adam’s finances are spiraling out of control and a mistake embroils Christine in a deadly twist, the walls closing in on them both.

The threat of exposure looms as a mysterious investor, a determined ex-lover, and the FBI all have their targets set in relentless pursuit. With plans unraveling for both, can they manage to stay out of prison – or even survive?

Leseprobe

TEMPTATION’S PRISONERS

DAVID P. WARREN

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

2. Three months later--September 27

3. Three months earlier--June 18

4. June 22

5. June 26

Chapter 6

7. July 9

8. July 10

Chapter 9

10. July 13

11. July 16

12. July 17

Chapter 13

14. July 20

Chapter 15

16. July 26

17. August 9

18. August 20

19. August 21

20. August 28

21. September 3

22. September 17

23. September 26

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

30. October 22

31. October 25

32. December 10, 6:30 p.m.

33. December 15

34. April 30, 12:30 p.m.

35. June 5, 12:30 p.m.

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2019 David P. Warren

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by CoverMint

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.

“There is a charm about the forbidden that makes it unspeakably desirable.”

― Mark Twain

“I can resist anything except temptation.”

― Oscar Wilde

ONE

JUNE 16

Paul Braddock walked into Adam Mason’s office at 6:30 p.m. and immediately noticed that his partner wore a troubled expression. At six feet, two inches tall, Paul was ruggedly handsome. He had brown hair, a well-trimmed beard with occasional gray strands beginning to appear, and discerning blue eyes. “You okay?” Paul asked, sitting down in one of the visitor chairs across Adam’s desk.

“Yeah, just the weight of the work ahead,” he replied. “I have a lot to do.”

Paul looked at him questioningly. “We always have a lot to do. Since when did that become a problem?”

“I’ll be okay,” Adam replied, obviously not wanting to say anything more. Adam was five-eleven and just a little overweight. He had black hair, and his eyes were a warm brown. Adam's round face made him look younger than his age and harmless—the nice guy everyone wants to meet.

Paul furrowed his brow and asked, “You sure everything is all right?”

Adam slowly nodded. “I think it will be.”

Paul knew his partner well enough to know that there was an unspoken problem. He asked, “You and Chris doing all right?”

“Yeah, although we don’t see each other much these days. Between my crazy schedule

here and her counseling practice, we pass each other in the hallway on the way to or from something. Other than that, I think we’re okay.”

“How about you and Beth? You figure out how to make all the demands work?”

“Yep. So far,” Paul replied with a grin. “I know what you mean about the schedules. If I want to see Beth on a weekend, I usually have to visit an open house, but aside from that, we’re good.”

Adam smirked, and asked, “You guys ever have sex in an open house?”

Paul grinned, widely. “I have good memories and nothing to say.”

The law firm of Braddock and Mason had emerged, or escaped, depending on your perspective, from one of the mega law firms that did everything. Dearborn and Carter boasted six hundred and fifty lawyers working under the same banner and who were, for the most part, complete strangers. After six and seven years in the trenches, respectively, Paul Braddock and Adam Mason wanted to leave the mega-firm behind to start their own practice. Paul was an employment litigator, defending major corporations and insurance companies against claims of harassment, discrimination, whistle-blowing, and wrongful termination. His goal was to switch teams and represent the employees whose lives were damaged by harassment, discrimination or retaliation. Adam was a lawyer and an MBA, who worked as a Finance, Banking and Investment specialist, ready to manage portfolios for the benefit of his own firm. Paul and Adam hit it off and started having coffee together five years into their tenure. They found commonality in their ability not to take themselves too seriously, and the desire to work for their own benefit.

Fourteen months ago, they gave their notice and Braddock and Mason opened on the fifteenth floor of a Wilshire Blvd high rise that was glass, steel, fifty stories, and just like a hundred others in Los Angeles. They still worked long hours, but now it was for their own benefit. In the last four months, Paul had settled a couple of contingency cases and Adam had taken on four new wealth management and investment clients. He had also been asked to set up the Walker Family Trust, and upon completion, was given the assignment of managing the thirty million dollars and sixteen properties it contained. After almost fourteen months in operation, they were making slightly more than they had been at Dearborn. It appeared that they had achieved the control of their lives that they so desperately wanted. They were in charge of their own future and the possibilities were endless. Illusions can take so many forms.

TWO

THREE MONTHS LATER--SEPTEMBER 27

Paul walked down the stairs carrying his suitcase. He picked up his briefcase from the dining room table and walked towards the front door. Beth came from the kitchen and met him in the entryway. He put his bags down and threw his arms around her. Beth gave him a tender kiss and looked at him with worried eyes. “This is where it all begins,” she said. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

He nodded and replied, “I don’t want to leave you in case this all goes wrong.” He took a deep breath and said, “Please be careful. We all have to find a way through this and we won’t even know if everyone makes it for the next few days.”

She held him close, not wanting to let go; not wanting any of this. After a time, she slowly pulled back and asked, “Can we do this? Can we live on the run from people we can’t even identify?” She took a deep breath.

“We’re going to make it,” he said softly, trying his best to sound confident.

She nodded and asked, “How many will be watching your presentation to the employment lawyers tomorrow?”

“There will be a couple of hundred lawyers, a number of HR people and a few insurance people trying to pick up a few tidbits before they go gambling or partying.” He paused and added, “Plus anyone who is there for other reasons.”

“So, you’ll have a lot of eyes on you,” she said. “That’s the good news.”

“I should be safe in a crowd,” he agreed. “Then I’ll disappear from the convention Sunday morning, so I don’t think I’ll sleep much tomorrow night.”

“I get it,” she said. “I don’t think that I’ll sleep from the moment you walk out that door.”

He reflected and then said, “Do you have everything you need for your transition?”

She nodded. Her liquid, brown eyes shone brightly as she said, “I’ll miss you.” Her dark hair framed a soft smile as he moved in closer and kissed her one more time.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he replied. She reached down and rubbed his pants below his belt. “Not fair,” he said. “I have to leave now. Besides, I can’t think when you do that.”

“Yes you can,” she replied grinning. “It’s just a matter of what you are thinking about.” She paused and then added, “Or maybe what you’re thinking with.”

“You and I are going to be back in bed in about two minutes if you keep doing that,” he whispered. “That might be a good way to forget all this craziness.”

“Something to remember me by until I see you again.” She gave him a hug and then said, “Promise me that you’ll see me again. I know that we can’t control everything that will happen, but promise me anyway.”

Paul smiled and said, “I promise.” He picked up his bags and she opened the door for him. He stepped outside and then looked back at her. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He nervously walked out into the early morning sunshine. After eight years of marriage, he was happier than he ever thought possible. The mess they were caught up in threatened everything and this life he loved was now hanging by a thread. He made a show of looking confident and happy as he walked to his car like it was just one more beautiful fall day; maintaining the illusion just a little longer. But it was all about to happen, and everything he valued could be lost. Maybe they would both be dead within the next few days. All he could do was play his part and hope the plan worked. In a matter of hours, he would be in Las Vegas, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation for the California lawyers traveling there to gather up fun and wisdom at the convention. His presentation had to be a successful distraction; a pretense to convince watchful eyes that he was living life as usual and not about to run.

September 28

At 3:00 p.m., Paul was introduced and took his position at the lectern to applause from the full house of casually dressed lawyers. Some of the audience looked on with enthusiasm, some with yellow pads poised to take notes, while still others were just biding their time until they could get to the crap tables.

“Greetings to all of you. How many of you conduct investigations either as employees of a corporation or as independently hired investigators?” Twenty percent of the audience raised their hands. “How many represent defendants in employment litigation?” Thirty percent of the attendees raised their hands. “And how many of you represent plaintiffs in employment litigation?” Another thirty percent acknowledged.

“Let me start by saying that legally adequate workplace investigations are critical to all of you. For those who do investigations, you don’t want to have your investigation found to be legally inadequate under California law, or it will not protect the company that hired you. If your investigation is the reason the company suffers a big verdict, you may find less demand for your work in the future.” There was relaxed laughter around the room. “You defense lawyers can rely on a legally sufficient investigation to defend claims of harassment, discrimination or retaliation, and if the investigation holds up, your client looks like a thorough and cautious employer who acted in accordance with the law. Pretty nice, right?” There was nodding around the room.

“And for you plaintiffs’ attorneys out there, if you can successfully attack the investigation as legally inadequate, there are multiple benefits. First, that investigation will not protect the employer from liability. Secondly, it gives you numerous talking points to the jury about all that was not done in accordance with the law; all the ways that the employer didn’t protect your client, but instead used an inadequate investigation to justify harassment, termination or retaliation.” Paul grinned and added, “You can see how that can make for a pretty compelling closing argument.”

Heads were nodding around the auditorium as he paused, noticing the smile of a gorgeous, blonde woman in the second row. Her big blue eyes smiled widely as she looked at him. Paul began to talk about cases that held investigations legally inadequate. He couldn’t help look back at those blue eyes. When he did, the blonde woman was looking back at him with a warm smile. He detailed controlling law for over an hour, using a PowerPoint presentation that addressed critical cases. Every few minutes, he was compelled to check in with those eyes. They were always watching and waiting. He asked himself if he was he imagining something that wasn’t there.

“The courts are holding that an investigation has to be prompt, thorough, and designed to get to the underlying truth of the complaints. Not just aimed at going through the motions and sweeping the problem under the rug. You can’t ignore critical evidence and you can’t fail to get evidence. If there are witnesses to the harassment or discrimination, you have to talk to all of them. If there are sources of documentary evidence, you need to check them out. Whatever you don’t explore and knew about or should have known about could be the smoking gun.” Faces were nodding around the room, and the blue eyes were smiling and inhabiting his thoughts. He continued, “If the employer’s investigation meets these requirements, the employer can be protected in making a good faith decision based on the investigation. If it doesn’t, the failures will come back to haunt. Thank you all so much for your time this afternoon and I hope this information has been helpful. I will stay around to answer any individual questions you might have.” There was applause throughout the auditorium as Paul looked around at the crowd and gave a wave to acknowledge their appreciation. He couldn’t help looking back to the second row, where those blue eyes awaited. It was all he could do to look away.

As the auditorium began to empty, a few people made their way to the front of the room to ask their individual questions, to comment on critical cases, or to commend him on his presentation. Three of the lawyers posed hypothetical questions based upon investigations underway in their firms. Two others asked for copies of trial briefs he had prepared on the topic of investigations. Three others seemed to want to chat about the topic generally. Thirty minutes had passed by the time he said farewell to the last of those with questions and comments. He looked around the room, but she was gone. The room was almost empty.

Paul packed his materials and walked towards the exit at the far end of the auditorium, where two big doors had been propped open. He felt a strange combination of relief and disappointment that the mystery woman was gone, but he knew it was definitely for the best. As he stepped outside the door, he saw her standing there, waiting for something. She walked over to him and said, “Nice presentation, Paul. I’m Amy Gardner.”

“Thank you, Amy Gardner,” he replied, feeling a little idiotic.

“Will you have a drink with me while we talk?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment. He needed a distraction of his own so that he didn’t have to think about what lay ahead. He gave her a smile and said, “Yeah, okay.”

They walked into the Mandalay complex and towards one of many lounges. It was a well-decorated place with randomly placed tables surrounding a horseshoe-shaped bar. The lounge could seat about sixty but was currently occupied by a half dozen. They sat down at a table that gave them a view down onto the casino floor.

A woman appeared in shorts and a tee-shirt that said Mandalay. “What can I get you?” she asked. “You have good Pinot Noir?” Amy asked.

“We do. House Pinot is from the Napa Valley and very popular.”

“Perfect,” Amy replied.

“And what would you like?” the woman asked Paul.

“Sounds good to me,” Paul replied. “I’ll have the same.”

“Great,” she said. “I’ll bring them right out.”

As she moved away, Paul asked, “So, Amy Gardner, what do you do?”

“Like everyone else hanging around here this weekend, I’m a lawyer. I defend

employment cases, so I need to stay current on investigations.”

“Where is your office?” Paul asked.

“Westlake Village.”

“Nice area.”

“It really is. The offices are gorgeous, and it’s also a great place to live.” She took a final sip on her glass of wine and then waved the glass at the server, who nodded. New glasses promptly were delivered.

Paul took a sip from the new glass and then looked over at Amy to see her smiling.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, just thinking that this is a wonderful way to bring on the evening.”

“I agree,” Paul said. He reflected a moment and then added, “You really caught my attention during the program.”

“I noticed,” she said, with a wry grin. “How did I do that?”

“Those eyes and that smile,” he replied.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Good, because that is most definitely how it is intended.” She gave him that smile again.

He shook his head and said, “That’s what does it.”

“What does what?”

“That smile,” he said, “makes it hard to look away.” She smiled, and her eyes sparkled.

“Are you married?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes,” he replied, without elaboration. “How about you?”

“Divorced,” she said. Almost a year now.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

She nodded. “I am. I like the independence.”

They finished the second glass of wine, and then she said, “So, Paul Braddock, do you want to walk me to my room?”

He considered what that ambiguous request might mean for a moment, and without knowing said, “Sure.” His nervousness was growing as the time for his exit drew nearer, and this diversion seemed to help him cope.

He paid for the wine and they walked through the casino to the hotel and then to the North Tower elevators. They stood next to each other, silently looking out at the interior of the hotel as the elevator doors closed and it moved quickly upward. The backs of their hands touched, and neither pulled away. Paul didn’t know if he was simply accompanying Amy to her door, or if something more was happening. Were they going to sleep together? He had no idea, but for some reason, he wasn’t ruling it out. He had never cheated on Beth before and didn’t know why he was being pulled into this flirtation at the worst possible time. He should probably be feeling guilty for entertaining the thought of intimacy with this woman, and maybe he would later, but right now, there was only the comingling of fear and excitement.

When the elevator doors opened, they stepped out on the fourteenth floor and Amy turned left. “I’m in 1461,” she said, softly. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He wondered if that meant the walk to her door was all there was. Maybe he would say thanks for the shared wine and conversation, and never see her again. She looked at him with those bright eyes and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned towards her and she didn’t move away. He kissed her softly in the quiet hallway. She put her arms around his neck and pulled him to her and they disappeared into a long, passionate kiss, losing track of everything around them. Paul put his arm around Amy and they slowly walked towards her room. Now he knew what was going to happen and his thoughts were consumed with the passion that lay ahead. He leaned towards her and kissed her again, wanting to eliminate any doubt about his intent.

“Can you make it another five doors along this corridor before we start taking our clothes off?” she asked.

“Is waiting that long necessary?”

“Probably advisable. We could walk faster,” she responded. This time she initiated a kiss. It was long and lingering, sweet and delicious. “Wow,” he said, almost involuntarily. She grinned and grabbed his hand. They started to walk further down the hall. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. When she looked over at him, Paul gave her a sad smile and shook his head. He said, “I’m really sorry, but I can’t do this.”

“Why?” she asked. Before he answered she said, “Guilt?”

He nodded. “I’ve never cheated before and I just can’t.”

She smiled, and then said, “I get it. Your wife has a good man.”

“Thank you for understanding,” he replied.

She shook her head and smiled, adding, “But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

He laughed and replied, “I believe it, and I’ll probably torture myself over this decision.”

They walked slowly down the hall, the heat gone, now looking for the right words to allow them to part with good feelings and an amusing memory. With just a few feet to go, those thoughts disappeared and the whole world was turned upside down. The last door at the end of the corridor flew open and a man emerged holding an automatic rifle. He pointed and fired his silenced weapon down the hall in their direction, and Paul heard the whoosh of a spray of bullets, at least one of them passing close to his ear. Then the explosion of two more shots came from behind them. In the corridor behind Paul and Amy, two men in suits had emerged from the elevator and had handguns pointing at the man at the end of the hallway. They were suddenly caught in the crossfire.

A guest room door opened right next to Paul and Amy. Without thinking, Paul pushed Amy through the door and into someone’s room. That door was slammed closed after she entered, and Paul was left in the hallway. He threw himself down on the carpet as bullets whizzed overhead in both directions. The two suits behind him were seemingly overpowered by the automatic weapon fired from the end of the hall. The suits leaned against the wall and continued firing over his head, as they slowly retreated back towards the elevators. The man at the end of the hall continued to fire his weapon, stopping just long enough to look at Paul, point the weapon at him and wave him towards the room at the end of the hall. As Paul crawled the last thirty feet down the hallway, bullets ricocheted around him. With just a few feet to go, a bullet tore carpet beside his hand. He stayed close to the wall and moved as rapidly as he could without raising his head. Paul crawled into the room, where the man with the gun gestured to a chair and yelled, “Sit.” The man had jet black hair and wire-rimmed glasses over cold, hard eyes. He turned his attention back to the hallway and fired a few more rounds. When there was no more return fire, he stepped back into the room. Paul saw another man with an automatic weapon across the room. He was muscular, short-haired, and looked like he didn’t make friends easily.

“This is your partner’s room. So where the hell is he?” the muscular man asked, as the other man continued to gaze down the corridor in the direction of the two suits who had disappeared into the elevators.

“I don’t know,” Paul replied. He was coming for the convention, but I don’t know where he is.”

“You don’t want to fuck with us Braddock,” the cold eyes offered. “He checked into this room yesterday and didn’t show up all night. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Paul replied, apologetically. “I really don’t. I didn’t even know that this was his room.”

The gunman with the wire-rimmed glasses stepped back into the room and looked at the muscular man. “What are we going to do with this guy?” he posed, gesturing in Paul’s direction with his chin.

Paul sat silent and motionless until the muscular man said, “Give me your ID.”

Paul fumbled for his wallet and pulled out his California driver’s license. “Here,” he said, hastily passing the license.

“What do we do?” the gunman repeated.

“He’s not our assignment,” The muscular man replied unhappily. Shaking his head in Paul’s direction, he said, “You have the worst timing, man.”

“Do we let him go?” the gunman asked.

“I don’t think we can. I think we need to handle both of them.”

Paul said, “Please, guys, I don’t know anything and I don’t need to. Just let me leave and it’s like I was never here, okay?”

The muscular man walked towards the balcony and looked out to the street thirteen floors below. The taller man with the automatic weapon walked over to Paul and said, “I’m afraid that’s not going to work.”

Paul’s mind was racing. He didn’t have much time before these two guys made him take a step off the balcony, thirteen stories up. It occurred to him that they took his ID so that it would take longer to identify him after he hit the pavement; one more gambler who lost too much. He had to take a shot at getting out of this before it was too late. He waited for the man with the automatic to look in the direction of his partner, and then he stood and slammed his head into the gunman’s jaw. The man fell backward and Paul ran out the door and to the emergency stairway across the hall. He raced down the stairs, already hearing running footsteps above him. At each landing, the stairs reversed direction. As he turned the corner, he could hear bullets tearing at wood behind him. Running as fast as he could, he took two, and then three steps at a time. He saw a sign at the door that said ‘Sixth Floor.’ He raced past it and jumped for the next landing. As he made the next turn, the footsteps behind him were louder than before. They were gaining ground. He went even faster, fearing that one of the bullets would find him before he made the ground floor. As he flew down the next flight of stairs, he missed a step and fell to the landing. He felt a sharp pain in his ankle and wondered if this would be where he died. Gritting his teeth, Paul climbed to his feet and raced on, grimacing at the biting pain when he put weight on his left foot. He was limping, but still running, as he passed a sign that said, ‘Second Floor.’ Just one more floor to go, he told himself, you can do this. He ran faster and his ankle screamed beneath his weight. He opened the doorway to the first floor and found himself at the far end of the lobby.

Paul saw the elevator open on the other side of the huge lobby and the muscular man stepped out and searched all around. He could still hear the footfalls of the other man on the stairs behind him. Paul could not pass through the lobby to the street without confronting the man by the elevator. He made a one hundred eighty degree turn and took off down a hallway that said, ‘Employees only.” He opened the third door on his right and walked inside to find a young woman staring up at him from a desk.

“Are you okay, sir?” she asked, getting to her feet.

“No,” he replied. “I have to get out of here, please help me.”

She looked puzzled. “The lobby is right down the hall and it leads to the street,” she said, trying her best to be helpful.

“I can’t go out that way,” he replied. She stared at him without speaking. He saw that there was a slightly open window on the other side of the room. He limped over and raised the window, and then climbed onto the sill. He called back to her, “You never saw me.”

She nodded, mystified, as he jumped the short distance from the window sill to the grass below, landing on his good leg and rolling. Paul limped across the parking lot and made his way down a street of retail store windows. He turned into an alley that provided access to the rear of the stores for deliveries. He limped past a wooden structure that contained two big dumpster bins, and then he sat down against the wall behind that structure, hidden from the street. He took a series of deep breaths, grateful that he had made it out of there alive but not yet feeling safe. His head hurt from his use of it as a battering ram against the jaw of the man with the automatic weapon. His ankle was already swelling. He may not be able to stand for long, but at least he was alive. He sat down in an alley between stores, pulled out his cell phone and dialed. Once he got out of here without being spotted, everything would be all right.

“Yeah,” came the answer.

“Pick me up. It’s an emergency.”

“What happened?”

“You have to get me right away. They’re coming after me.” He looked around for some kind of a landmark. “I’m in an alley between a woman’s clothing store and a shoe store on Lake Parkway. Please hurry.” He sat in the alley nursing his throbbing ankle while he waited for his rescuer. As much as his ankle throbbed, he knew that if he took his shoe off it would never go back on again. He was starting to regain normal breathing when it occurred to him that the two gunmen still had his driver’s license.

THREE

THREE MONTHS EARLIER--JUNE 18

Christine Mason unlocked the office door and turned on the lights. She made her way through the waiting room and into her consultation room, where she spent hours each day listening to intimate struggles with relationships, addictions and psychological conditions that were complicated combinations of genetic and environmental circumstances. The room was decorated in light blues and whites, and at its center, there was a couch and two chairs in a conversation grouping around a glass coffee table. The focus of the room was the sitting area where she and clients attempted to discern what was at the heart of their conditions, concerns, and phobias. There were two paintings on the wall, one a still life featuring a glass of wine alongside grapes and the other was an impressionist painting of a harbor. She walked over to the coffee maker, listened to the gurgles as it spit out a single cup, and then made her way to her desk in the corner of the room. Chris began to review and respond to some of the emails received in the last fourteen hours. She checked her watch and saw that it was almost 9:00 a.m. Her first appointment of the day was a half-hour away, so she had a little time to make notes on recent sessions and review her mail.

Chris had delicate features and wore her blonde hair down. At age forty-one, she had youthful skin, and facial features reminiscent of Naomi Watts, which gave her a mid-thirties appearance. The male of the species found her attractive and always had. From days of middle school, the boys were always pursuing. As a psychologist, her good looks resulted in complications. She encountered transference with some frequency, as some of her patients, both men, and women, believed they were in love with her. Sometimes they worked past those concerns, other times not. In those circumstances, she would have to refer the patient to another therapist or progress became much more difficult and the patient’s feelings towards the therapist became part of the problem.

Chris took a moment to send an email to Adam, reminding him of their dinner commitment at 7:00 p.m. He would likely show up on time and be partially present, without enthusiasm. The way he carried himself most days. Something had happened, and after twelve years of marriage, Adam was perpetually distracted and becoming more and more withdrawn. He no longer worked at their relationship and it occurred to her more than once that he might be in love with someone else—or maybe just out of love with her. It had all happened so slowly that it had been imperceptible on a day to day basis. There had been no sudden change, but simply a gradual distancing; a wall built brick by brick. These days they were business partners, sharing a home and its financial burdens, exchanging mundane conversation without vulnerability on the few occasions when they were home at the same time, and sharing a few couples as friends. She had to admit that she had taken the path of least resistance and no longer tried hard to get beyond the barriers. Nowadays, she simply ignored their communication issues, finding it easier than trying to come to terms with what was really at the heart of it all. Her relationship was similar to those of people she counseled, except those people had reached out to her and were trying to find a better way. The irony was not lost on her.

Chris worked at her computer until there was a beep and the light came on next to her desk. Her 9:30 a.m. appointment, a brand new patient, was waiting in the lobby. She opened the door and greeted a handsome man who appeared to be in his mid-forties. He had dark hair, greying around the edges and a wrap-around beard. He was over six feet tall and solidly built.

“Good morning. You’re Jason Shepard?” Chris asked

“That’s right, and you’re Doctor Christine Adams, I trust,” he replied without smiling. Jason had intelligent, blue eyes and a serious expression.

“Please, come on in.” She stepped aside and he walked into the room, glanced around and looked at the conversation seating. “Have a seat,” she said, gesturing to the couch.

Shepard sat down and she sat in the chair directly across from him.

He looked at her momentarily, and then raised his arms in a gesture that said, ‘what now.’ She gave him a smile and asked, “Do you want coffee, tea or water?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” He paused and then said, “So how do we do this?”

“Well, this is really informal. We just have a conversation. Why don’t you begin by telling me why you came to see me?”

He nodded but said nothing as he gathered his thoughts. “Because those who know me best say I need to give this a try,” he said, evenly.

She nodded. “Do you know why they say that?” she asked, with a warm smile.

“Yes.” He took a deep breath, and then said, “My wife, Wendy, died almost two years ago and I have been depressed.”

“Have you thought about doing yourself harm?” She asked.

“No, I’m not about to do myself in, I just miss her so much,” he said softly.

“How did Wendy die? Are you okay to talk about that?”

He nodded and took a moment to either gather his thoughts or contain his emotions. “It was a home invasion. Intruders came into our house while I was traveling. They put a gun to her head and executed her. I got home the next afternoon and found her.” He shook his head and said, “That was almost two years ago and it feels like yesterday.”

“Did the authorities find the people who did it?”

He was quiet a moment, and then replied, “They haven’t been caught.”

Chris said, “I’m so very sorry, Jason.” After a moment, she asked, “Have you grieved her? I mean, cried and allowed the sorrow to come out?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I have. For a while, I just focused on my work for long hours but postponing the pain simply didn’t work. There are just so many reminders out there. I would see a face, hear a laugh or simply be reminded of one of a million moments we had together. Then I would come apart.”

“I know that it is all so hard, Jason.” She gave him a smile and then asked, “Tell me about Wendy,” she said. “What was she like?”

“She was smart and caring. She had a passion for everything she did, and the warmest smile you ever saw.” He allowed a smile as he reflected on what she meant to him. “I learned about what life could be from watching what came naturally to her. And for some reason, she was in love with me.” He blew out a breath to hold in emotion and then said, “She just lit up my world and the worlds of all who crossed her path.” He was silent a moment and then added, “I’ve always loved life, but I’m forty-four years old and I’m not excited about living the next forty-four without her.”

Chris nodded her understanding and then gave him a smile. “So, have you considered dating again at some point? Maybe trying to find someone else you care about?”

“No, but my friends keep thinking about it. They all want to set me up with people they know.”

“But you’re not ready for that yet?” she asked. He shook his head but remained quiet. “Are you thinking that dating would be some kind of a betrayal of your wife?”

He reflected, and then replied, “I don’t think so. I mean, intellectually I don’t feel that way. Emotionally, I don’t know for sure. That’s harder to figure out.” He shrugged and then added, “The truth is, I can’t possibly ever be that lucky again.”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking it slow,” she interjected. “It seems to me that you have good insight into your feelings and what you need.” She drew a breath and said, “One day, you will think of her and smile. In time, your thoughts will travel first to the special moments you shared, rather than the overwhelming sadness of the loss. Slowly, you have to acknowledge that she has moved forward, to whatever comes next when we leave here, and that you can’t go back. At some point, you will want to make room for someone else in your life, so that you can make more loving memories.” He nodded but said nothing. She added, “Wendy would want you to find happiness, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you would want if the roles were reversed, right?”

“That’s true,” he replied, and then added, “It’s just not enough.”

Chris considered that insightful response and then said, “Accepting that fact is a start. It doesn’t mean you can be ready tomorrow, it just means that you’re working on it. You will see the light in the world again one day.”

“I don’t know,” Jason replied. “I had no idea how different the world could look the moment I could no longer talk to her. I still see her in every corner of my life. There are places that come with memories of us. Restaurants, movies, and trails we hiked; all the places that were a part of us. Or someone will tell me about something she used to say, or the expression she gave, and I am suddenly overwhelmed. The nights are the hardest part. I keep busy during the day, but at night I’m alone, and it all hits me all over again.” He shook his head and then added, “And she is still everywhere I go. I see someone in a crowd that looks just like her from the back or from a distance. I chase that person until I’m convinced it’s not her, even though I know it couldn’t be. I just don’t know how someone can be in every corner of our lives, and then just gone from the planet.”

“I understand,” Chris replied. “It is truly daunting.” She thought for a moment and then asked, “Do you have religious or spiritual beliefs about what comes next? Sometimes that helps people make it through the darkest times.”

“I get that, doc. Do I call you doc?”

“Call me Chris, please.”

“Chris, I believe that there is something after this life and that we all have more to do in one form or another, and in some other place. I have no idea what it will be, or whether it has anything to do with traditional notions of Heaven, but I think we move to something else. I don’t think this life is all there is.”

“So, you believe that Wendy is at that place that comes next?”

“Yeah, she must be.”

“Do you talk to her?”

He nodded, pushing away a tear. “Sometimes I do.”

“What do you say to her?”

“A recollection. A place, a moment, a memory that I know she shares. And sometimes I thank her for the wonderful years that she shared with me. This woman could have spent her time with anyone, and I was lucky enough to have all those years with her. I thank her for loving me every day. I know that wasn’t always easy, but she never wavered. If I could only be with her for one more day, I would love to tell her everything she meant to me. All that has been in my heart since I lost her.” Tears filled his eyes as he finished speaking. He pushed another one away and said, “Sorry, it’s just so hard.”

Chris was moved by his words and almost ready to tear up herself. Listening to these sad stories is what she did for a living, but this one was really getting to her. She cleared her throat and said, “You know, Jason, I think she was really lucky, too. It’s clear how much you loved her.” She paused, but he remained quiet, so she asked, “Are you angry about her being taking from you?”

“Sometimes I’m angry at the people who did this, angry at God and angry at the universe. I’m also so sad, and it’s hard to see how the world gets any better.”

Chris regarded his responses as thoughtful and emotionally honest. She replied, “I know it can be hard to look beyond such sorrow. Maybe we can work together to help you.”

He nodded. He took a deep breath and said, “I haven’t shared all this with anyone before. It is…,” he paused a moment to gain control and then added, “Really difficult.”

“I suspect that you will be exhausted tonight. This kind of emotion takes a toll, but it is so good. You are doing good work, Jason.” He stayed quiet, so she decided to go in another direction. “What is your profession?”

“I am an investigator.”

“Really?” she asked. “Who do you work for?”

“I’m private these days. I do work for a couple of government agencies, prosecutors and other attorneys, and some of my work is corporate and individual hire.”

“Were you a cop?”

“Yeah. In the military I was a Special Agent with Army CID, doing criminal investigations, and then I was a detective with San Francisco P.D.”

“Why no longer with the P.D., if you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I guess I would say that I didn’t have enough freedom to choose what I wanted to work on. I like the niche I have now, and I like the ability to accept or reject cases. Now I really love my work. Some days it’s the pursuit of my work that keeps me going.”

Chris glanced at the clock and said, “I guess our time is up for today.”

Jason nodded, and then said, “So, you guys really say that, huh?”

“I guess we do,” she replied smiling. “Do you want to come back? I think maybe we can make progress to allow you to move forward with your life.”

He was quiet a moment and then said, “I think so. This was really difficult, so maybe it is a good thing.”

“How about next Thursday?”

He looked at the calendar on his phone. “Thursday is okay if we can do it early.”

“How about 8:00 a.m.?”

He nodded. “I think I’ll be here,” Jason said, with a forced grin.

“Our first goal is to give air to all the emotions that get stuffed way down deep. There will be plenty of time for your friends to encourage you to try a ‘just lunch’ or a ‘just coffee’ date or go out with their best friend. You’ll know when to give any of that a try.”

He looked painfully sad, and then he shook his head and said, “I miss her so damned much.”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m so sorry.” Chris told him.

Jason stood and walked to the door. He stopped and turned back to her, looking like he was about to speak. Instead, he choked back a tear, gave her a nod, and walked out.

FOUR

JUNE 22

Paul and Beth Braddock sat on their back deck, drinking morning coffee and watching a hummingbird hovering by flapping its invisible wings fifteen times per second. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, the day they typically took a couple of hours for themselves before heading to work to dig their way out of the backlog that never seemed to diminish. Beth’s black hair shone in the morning sun and fell across her shoulders to frame her delicate features.

“Something is on your mind,” Paul said, observing his wife’s distant look.

She nodded and replied, “Jane is going to sell the brokerage. That means I get a new boss who isn’t also a friend, and commission deals get remade by the new management. I mean, it could turn out okay, I just don’t know.”

“This is actually a big opportunity,” Paul said, leaning back in his chair. “Are the four other agents staying with the brokerage?”

“Yeah, I think they are.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “Wouldn’t you rather be a broker/owner than a broker/associate?” he asked, thoughtfully. “Let’s buy it.”

“What? The asking price is 1.6 million dollars.”

“We have $200,000 in savings and we finance the rest.”

“That’s our rainy day fund,” Beth replied.

“So if it rains, we’ll get a little soggy. In the meantime, this is going to be a dream come true for you.”

“Makes me more than a little nervous to think about investing all of our money,” she offered.

“I have a job and I think I’ll keep making money,” Paul replied with a shrug. “So, if it takes a while to get your new enterprise up and running, we should be able to keep eating.”

“Do you really think we could do this?”

“I have no doubt.” He smiled and added, “I also remember how you stood by me when I wanted to leave Dearborn and start Braddock and Mason. Now it’s my turn to support your dream.”

She leaned over and kissed him. “Have I told you lately that you are an amazing fellow?”

“I am, aren’t I?” he replied, grinning.

She shook her head and said, “I can’t believe it. I’ll call Jane and put in the offer, and then we’ll celebrate.”

“How would you like to celebrate?” he asked, grinning.

“How else—wine and nudity, of course.”

“Sounds perfect. Maybe we should start celebrating now and call Jane later,” he said with a smile.

June 24

Chris Mason pulled into her driveway at 7:30 p.m. She was exhausted after sessions with eight patients. She hit a button and the garage door opened, revealing Adam’s Infinity. She walked through the garage and into the house, making her way into the large kitchen. She dropped her purse on the granite countertop and walked towards the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse as she walked, anxious to change into something casual.

As she walked into the bedroom, she saw Adam putting clothing into a suitcase on the bed. “I didn’t know you had a trip this week,” she said, surprise in her voice.

“Yeah, I have a client meeting in Vegas.”

“The same client you met with when you went last week?”

“No, this is a potential new client.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning early. I may be back tomorrow night or I may need to stay one more day. How was your day?”

She nodded. “Pretty good, actually. Some good sessions, including a new patient who is a pretty impressive character.”

“This is the part where I want to know all about it, but you can’t tell me,” he replied.

“True, but I can tell you that he needs help and I think I can help him. That feels good.”

He nodded silently, distracted by the process of packing. She pulled her jeans on and selected a comfortable top. He was still staring into his closet when she left the room to see what she could put into a salad for dinner. She wondered whether there had been a time when Adam actually listened to what she had to say. She concluded that there had been, she just couldn’t remember when.

June 25

Adam’s plane landed at McCarren Airport in Las Vegas just after 9:00 a.m. He took an Uber to the Mandalay Bay Hotel and checked in, and then made his way up to his room on the twentieth floor. He momentarily stared out the window at the monolithic hotels set back from the strip; massive structures surrounded by a flat and uninhabited area of desert that could be the Sahara. He left his suitcase unopened on the bed and made his way to the elevators. Once on the ground floor, he walked away from the lobby area and into the casino. He made his way to the cashier’s cage. He liked early mornings because there weren’t too many people gambling. It was still quiet, with only a half dozen blackjack tables operating.

Adam stepped up to the cashier’s window and said good morning to a woman of fifty with curly hair and a serious expression. He handed her a check for fifty thousand dollars and said, “This is for my account.”

She checked her monitor and replied, “Yes, Mr. Bertrand, it has been added.”

“Let me have twenty thousand," he told the woman on the other side of the cage, handing her an identification card. She nodded and turned away a moment. She returned within a few moments and handed him two racks, each containing one hundred, hundred dollar chips.

“Here you are, Mr. Bertrand. If you’ll just sign this slip in the lower left, you are all set.”

Adam signed and picked up the chips. He made his way towards the six blackjack tables operating at this time in the morning and selected a fifty-dollar minimum bet table where the dealer waited alone. He put two one hundred dollar chips on each of two circles on the table in front of him.

The dealer said “Good morning, drawing an obligatory, “Hello,” from Adam, and then he began to deal. Adam drew a seventeen on one hand and an eleven on the other. The dealer had a four showing and Adam put out another two black chips and went down for double on the eleven hand. The dealer put a three on Adam’s eleven and Adam grimaced, now hoping the dealer would break. The dealer turned over his other card and it was a queen. He had to hit that fourteen and maybe Adam could win this hand yet. The next card was a two, and now the dealer had sixteen. He had to break, he just had to. Adam waited expectantly as the dealer put down a three, giving him nineteen, and then scooped up all six one hundred dollar chips. It was just the first hand, Adam told himself, and he would turn it around. One hour later, Adam was down seven thousand dollars and feeling the pressure. He couldn’t afford to lose this money. This was supposed to get him out of a hole. He had to turn this around, so he would have to dig deeper into the client money he brought along to make that happen.

A man of about fifty, with dark, focused eyes and silver-grey hair giving him an air of nobility, sat at a slot machine behind Adam. He didn’t play the machine or even look in its direction. He sipped coffee and spent his time studying Adam Mason, the way a predator studies its prey. He saw Adam’s enthusiasm when he arrived, he saw the slow movement of Adam’s chips in the wrong direction, he saw the desperation on Adam’s face, and he saw the opportunity he wanted.

Two men walked into the park in Thousand Oaks and looked around in animated fashion. Jason Shepard smiled as he saw them acting so furtively, and waved them over to the bench where he was seated. Eric Nelson was a tall man with a short beard and thoughtful eyes. Ian Miles was of average height, with a stern and serious countenance, and big eyes that surveyed his surroundings. Both worked for Global Precision Corporation, and both were extremely nervous and felt like they were operating over their heads. Eric was employed as a senior accountant and Ian was Controller for Global, both reporting to the CFO. The two men had seen some irregularities in accounting and brought them to the attention of the CFO. The response was a short, harsh statement that they were wrong. They were then told that to raise the issue again would be to hurt the company and damage their own careers.

Knowing that there was something wrong with the corporate numbers, and not wanting to be fired for discussing the matter further, they had contacted Jason to investigate three weeks ago. Jason said, “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” They shook hands and then the two men took a seat on the park bench on either side of Jason.

Ian looked at Jason nervously and said, “You don’t think anyone will figure out where we are and who you are, do you?”

“You work in downtown Los Angeles. We are in Thousand Oaks, some forty miles away.” He grinned and added, “Although, you are both looking around as if you just robbed the treasury.”

Nelson looked worried. “The company is serious about this topic. If there is any indication that we have pursued the issue any further, we will be fired in a heartbeat.”

“I understand,” Jason replied.

“On the phone, you said you had what we needed?” Miles asked.

“Yeah. My research is complete, and we have them.”

“We do?” Nelson asked. “How?”

“There are emails that flowed between the CEO and the CFO identifying changes to the financials to increase income and decrease expenses to the levels you complained about.”

“How did you get to them?” Nelson asked, looking shocked. “The system secures and encrypts email.”

“It’s the kind of research that I do,” Jason said, smiling.

“So, what do we do?” Miles asked.

“You do nothing that will draw attention to yourselves. Put your head down and work hard. The authorities will be knocking in a couple of days, and your CEO and CFO will be at the center of their investigation.” Jason reflected a moment and then said, “My investigation also shows that the third member of the top management team, Executive Vice President Victor Redmond, learned what they were doing recently, but was not involved himself. Do you have any reason to dispute that?”

“No,” Miles said, “I’ve worked with Victor a long time and I think he is an honest guy.”

Jason looked over at Nelson, who added, “I don’t know Victor as well as Ian does, but I agree. I consider him a man of integrity.”

Jason nodded, and then said, “Okay, go to work, and don’t forget to be surprised when law enforcement shows up.”

The men shook hands. “Thanks for your work on this,” Miles said. “I know that the information that will come out is going to hurt company value, but not as much as it would if it were allowed to continue.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Jason said. “At this point, the corporate financials can be fixed and the company will likely survive. If this continued and the fraud grew in size, the share price might never recover. You guys did the right thing, and protected your jobs at the same time.”

Miles and Nelson stood and walked back towards the parking lot. Jason grinned as he watched them looking around furtively, drawing attention to themselves by trying so hard to make sure no one was watching. Jason walked in the other direction, now ready to arrange for the shit to hit the corporate fan.

“Lombardi v. Mountain Digital Media,” Judge Stevens called out to the crowded courtroom, summoning counsel for the parties to be heard.

Paul walked to the counsel table and said, “Paul Braddock for the Plaintiff, Ms. Lombardi.”

“Marshall Wilson for Defendants, Mountain Digital and Stanton Bates, your Honor.”

“What do you want to do Mr. Braddock?” Judge Stevens asked, in a perfunctory manner. With thirty cases on his status conference calendar, he was resigned to doing what it took to keep them moving as quickly as possible.

“On behalf of Ms. Lombardi, we would like the matter set for trial, your Honor.”

“I take it you had no luck at mediation?” the judge asked, with disappointment in his voice.

“Correct, your Honor, no luck. But we will keep talking.”

“Mr. Wilson, you ready for trial?”

“As long as we set it after November 1, we will be fine, your Honor.”

“All right. Mr. Braddock, your estimate for trial is two weeks, correct?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

Judge Stevens looked at his monitor and said, “Trial is set for November 16 at 8:00 a.m. in this department. Readiness Conference is on November 9, at 8:30 a.m., also in this department. Please see that all trial and pre-trial documents are timely filed per local rules. Anything else, gentlemen?”

“No, your Honor,” Paul and Wilson both replied.

“Have a good day. The next case is Sanchez v. Parker.”

Paul drove back towards the office thinking of the preparation needed for the Lombardi trial. The jury instructions, trial brief, and exhibit books were all in the beginning phases of preparation, but there was a long way to go. Beyond that, the case was exciting. There were four co-worker witnesses to the sexual harassment, two of whom had already had their depositions taken and the depositions of the other two had been scheduled. The company’s investigator had never interviewed two of the four witnesses Jill had identified, and the defense was aware of that major flaw in their investigation. The upshot was that the investigation could be shown to be inadequate, and used to aid in the claims against the company rather than affording it any protection. There was the psychologist who would testify concerning the psychological injury Jill Lombardi suffered from over a year of harassment and being abruptly terminated when she filed a complaint. There was the harasser who denied everything after his own name and who would be thoroughly impeached as a liar, and there was an economist who would talk to the jury about the monetary losses Jill suffered as a result of her firing. Paul wished that the trial wasn’t almost five months away.

His phone rang and he hit a button on the wheel. “Hi, Beth.”

“We got it!” Beth replied, excitedly.

“Really? That’s amazing.”

“It is amazing. I still can’t believe it,” she said, in disbelief.

“So you are now officially going to be an ‘Owner/Broker.’

“Yeah, that’s right. Thank you so much for this Paul. This is beyond a dream for me. I’m still a little nervous about putting so much of what we have on the line to make this work, but it is incredibly exciting.”

“It’s definitely worth it,” he said. “No second thoughts here.”

“You are a wonderful husband,” she offered softly. “I am genuinely grateful.”

FIVE

JUNE 26

Jason Shepard sat