by D. D. Ayres
At eighteen Shay moved out and changed her name legally to one that she hoped would allow her, and her mother, to outrun the past.
Only she hadn’t. The past was still ruling her life.
Shay leaned her forehead against the wheel. The joy of the morning had dried up and blown away. She wanted back that rare and precious feeling of happiness in the worst way. The impulse to reach for her phone and call James was strong. He’d given her his number in case of emergency. Didn’t this qualify?
Her reach stuttered to a stop just short of her purse. James was new in her life. This might be the one thing too many, even for him. Or perhaps he would come back to Raleigh and confront Eric. He was a police officer. If he assaulted a civilian he’d be in more trouble than the average person. It could ruin his career, his life.
Shay felt the familiar glowing coals of rage kindle to life inside her. It wasn’t a new feeling. Yet this time the fury felt more focused. She wasn’t a helpless fourteen-year-old. She’d come through that, and a lot more since. She knew exactly who her enemy was, and why.
She’d let Eric’s rat-bastard bullying and abuse go on for too long. She’d told him it was over but he refused to accept that.
Eric had made it clear he thought he was calling the shots. The phone calls, now the damage to her car. He was playing mind games with her. And it was escalating. Only a fool would think he would stop now.
But this time she wasn’t going to ask for help. She wasn’t going to be the cause of any more destroyed lives, except maybe her own. She just needed to think through the plan forming in her mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Shay let out a long breath as the elevator doors closed on the top floor of Halifax Bank. She had just lit a match to her reputation, and possibly her job future. Shay smiled at her metallic reflection in the doors. It felt glorious.
She’d been waiting in his outer office when. Cadwallader Jones, president of the bank, arrived this morning. She had expected to wait hours to see him but he ushered her right in.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Appleton?”
Shay lifted her chin, her cheeks burning as she made eye contact with the man into whose hands she was about to place her future. “I’m here to report systemic sexual harassment by one of your employees. And, I suspect, misuse of Halifax Bank funds.”
Cadwallader Jones blinked behind his glasses. “You should take a seat, Ms. Appleton. Do you mind if I record our conversation?”
Shay hesitated only a second. She was about to tell the truth. It couldn’t hurt her more than the lies Eric meant to spread.
He called in his secretary.
In the beginning, Cadwallader Jones listened to her with a neutral expression, neither commenting nor reacting. But she noticed a slight tightening of his mouth as she told him about Eric courting her a year ago. There was a banking policy against interpersonal relations between upper management and employees who reported to them. The story of their illicit trip to the Caymans on the company’s dime briefly widened his eyes. As she ticked off their other travels, financed by the bank or bank customers, his eyes narrowed to slits. Then she moved on to the sexual harassment charge.
She stopped far short of her explicit confession to James, but offered some telling details of Eric’s harassment that finally led her to call the police the night of their breakup. She told him of Eric’s refusal to accept their breakup, including his attempts to bring her back into his control by finagling a job here at the bank a second time.
As she talked, she glimpsed a sheen of sweat rising beneath the pale strands of Cadwallader Jones’s thinning hair.
By the time she finished with Eric’s attempt to rape her in the conference room down the hall the day before, the secretary was no longer taking notes but simply staring at her. Finally, she reported the threats Eric had made against her employer if she told anyone about his actions yesterday.
When she was done, Cadwallader Jones steepled his fingers, elbows locked by his sides, and asked her three questions.
“Can you corroborate your statements?”
“Do you understand the seriousness of what you have revealed, because some of it could be considered criminal?”
“What do you expect in return for your reportage?”
She answered without hesitation.
Yes, she pulled from her purse itineraries of their trips, with ticket information for the flights with Eric, and even receipts for some of the gifts he’d bought. But he need not take only her word for it. “Ask Doris Butler. I overheard her say last week that I’m not the first woman Mr. Coates has taken on his trips.
“And yes, I understand I have implicated Mr. Coates, and possibly myself, in what could be criminal offenses. But I did not understand that what Eric was doing was illegal until recently. He always said the trips were our little secret, so other employees wouldn’t be jealous. But last night when I pulled out the paperwork I’d kept I noticed Eric never paid for a single thing. It was always charged to this bank, or a customer. I never handled or took any funds from the bank, or Eric.
“Finally, I don’t want Logital Solutions to suffer for my actions. I take full responsibility. I do want the harassment to stop and for everyone to know what an asshole Eric Coates is. And, though you didn’t ask, it’s important for me to say it. I didn’t know Mr. Coates had a fiancée. Poor woman.”
“Amen,” the secretary murmured under her breath.
* * *
The elevator doors whooshed open onto the main floor. Ahead of Shay three men were trying to wedge a twenty-foot live Christmas tree through the double doors of the lobby. There was already a stand erected for it in the center of the marble floor. It smelled heavenly of deep woods growth and the tarry turpentine that reminded her of the holidays. It would be lit Thanksgiving week, she had been informed in the Monday-morning bulletin. She wouldn’t be around to see it.
She took her seat and picked up her earphones. Only then did she glance at the clock. It was 10:17 A.M. Cadwallader Jones had directed her to resume her job until further notice. How long would it take until others knew what she’d done?
It did not take long.
At twenty minutes to eleven, Doris Butler, Eric’s executive assistant, came up to Shay’s desk, clutching a cardboard box of belongings. Her face bore a hectic complexion of anger barely contained. “Spreading lies that cost me my job. How dare you!”
Shay looked up slowly in answer to the angry whisper. “You covered for your boss, didn’t you? You made all his arrangements. Knew what was going on. I only told the truth.”
“Shut up! You, you just shut your vicious mouth!” Doris raised her hand as if to deliver a blow.
Shay stood up, narrowing her eyes. “You touch me and I’ll take you to the floor.”
The older woman’s eyes widened and she began to back away. She turned, her shoulders hunched as if expecting a blow from behind, and hurried toward the exit.
Laughter gurgled up out of her that Shay couldn’t completely still with the hand she pressed to her lips. She was close to seriously losing it. There was nothing remotely funny about what she’d done, or what might happen to her as a result.
You won’t get away with this. Eric will see to that.
Shay sat down, fear trickling in behind her amusement. What had she set in motion?
Exactly nineteen minutes later, Eric burst out of the elevator.
He came straight toward her, nearly knocking over one of the men who was gauging whether the Christmas tree was straight in its stand.
“Excuse me. I need to put you on hold for a moment.” Not waiting for a reply from her customer, Shay pushed the hold button and rose to her feet just as Eric reached her.
His eyes were half crazy with rage. His lips were bloodless. He came right up to her, skirting the desk until they were a foot apart.
“You calculating little slut!” His voice was low but his eyes were bloodshot with the strain of containing his rage. “You’re trying to
fuck me over. I won’t let that happen.”
Shay flinched with every word. It was as awful as if she had not tried to prepare herself for his reaction. She grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands to steady herself.
“You should have listened to me when I said we were over. You gave me no choice.”
His eyes widened way past pissed off. For a second she thought he would, unlike Doris, actually try to strike her. But then he seemed to realize where he was. He was a senior bank official. Customers were watching, even if they couldn’t hear the exchange.
“You think you’ve won? You have no idea of the size of the shitstorm that’s about to dump on you. Cadwallader Jones and my father are fraternity brothers. I fucked up bad, but that isn’t how it’s going to end. I won’t be bested by a little bitch with a GED and secrets that make her cry at night. I will find a way to destroy you.”
Shay blinked back the insult. “Fuck off, Eric.”
He leaned in but Shay refused to back up. “This isn’t over,” he breathed in her ear. And then he swung away and left through the main doors.
Shay sat down hard, her breath coming in little gasps.
Doris’s threat hadn’t moved her. But the anger in Eric’s voice had chilled her in a way no sweater could insulate against.
DIE CUNT.
The crude, ugly words carved into her car door seemed etched in her mind.
Did his latest threat mean he would ratchet up the harassment? No, he couldn’t afford to be caught doing that now that she’d gone public with his treatment of her. Even if he didn’t totally believe her side of it, Cadwallader Jones would be bound to look into the story she’d told him this morning. She only had to ride out the storm. The lightning and thunder couldn’t touch her now because she’d taken shelter in the truth.
It took a few more seconds for the stares of the customers in the lobby to penetrate her awareness. Eric was gone, blown through the exit like an expensively clothed tornado. Every person in the lobby was staring at her.
For an instant the world swooped down to pinpoint size, a prick of light in a black field.
She was sixteen, in the bleachers. Everyone was laughing …
And then the scope of her vision widened again, the room brighter than before.
She was twenty-six years old. In a bank building where she worked. Everyone who wanted to judge her for standing up for herself could go straight to hell.
Shay sat back down, picked up her earphones, and pushed the answer button on the next call.
Ten minutes later, Cadwallader Jones came into the lobby with one of the bank’s security personnel. Together they watched as she gathered her things, picked up her purse, and then escorted her to the door.
* * *
“I don’t know what to say, Shay.”
Perry Deshezer stared at his employee as if a whole new being had emerged through her skin.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me. What I did was unprofessional and unethical. But Eric put me through hell this last year. I couldn’t let him get away with it anymore.”
Perry rubbed his bald head absently. “I’ve known for some time you weren’t happy but I, none of us, ever guessed the cause. Why didn’t you say something?”
She shrugged. “At first I thought it was all my fault. Later, I didn’t think anyone would believe me.”
“What will you do now? Do you think Mr. Cadwallader Jones will press the issue with you?”
“The last thing he said to me was that my services, professional and otherwise, were no longer required. And that he hoped I would find other opportunities for employment soon. I hope that means he plans to take care of things himself.”
Perry raised his brows. “In that case, it’s my turn.”
Shay bit her lip. She knew what was coming. That’s why she’d come here instead of going home to sulk. “I’m fired.”
“That’s not even remotely on my mind. I think what you did was a brave thing. I wish you had told me what was going on sooner. I’d have backed you up, Shay.”
That snapped her head up.
Perry was smiling. “You’re one of my most reliable people. That phrase should sound familiar to you. I respect your opinion and your word. Sexual harassment is covered in our agreement with our customers. I’ll have something to say if Halifax Bank tries to screw us out of business, or talks against us to any of their business partners. To my way of thinking, they can’t afford the bad publicity associated with a problem like Eric Coates. They may cover this up, to keep feathers from being ruffled among their investors. But Eric’s future there is gone. And I don’t mind going to the mat for a good cause. If they don’t take appropriate action, Logital Solutions will go public with our side.”
Shay tilted her head, gratitude warring with anxiety over that word “public.” “You don’t have to do that for me. Eric will leave me alone now. He’s got problems of his own to deal with.”
Perry wagged his finger. “I’m very disappointed in you. I’d do that for any of my employees. I just happen to like you particularly well. A customer tried to extort sexual favors from one of my employees. I can’t allow that. But, quite frankly, I think you need to stay in-house until we know what’s going to happen. I need a person to work the Logital Solution’s reception desk. It’s a full-time position, and the pay is about the same.”
“Thank you.”
“Go home, get some rest. Then we’ll see you in the morning.”
Shay nodded.
Perry’s reaction was better than she could possibly have hoped for. He believed her. Just as James had. Maybe after being so accustomed to hard knocks, she had been missing the thumbs-up and helping hands around her. All she had had to do was stand up for herself.
When she reached the parking lot she saw that the wind had torn an edge of the map away from the tape. It flapped back, revealing the scratched D and I and part of the E. She retaped it before driving away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
On day four of his retraining, James had decoy duty. After three intense days of class work and technique workshops, he and Bogart had already passed the agility, area-search, and building-search tests. This morning Bogart got to rest while his handler did some of the work. After dark, they would be tested on the night obstacle course.
Dressed in a well-padded bite suit that made him look like the Pillsbury Doughboy’s blue brother, James lumbered across the grass to get ready for the next attack.
The dog, a bitch, came at him at full speed from thirty feet away.
A spurt of adrenaline gave James suspect-alert status as he turned to run.
The dog’s lunge knocked him back a step and he turned with the impact to deflect the direct force of the hit.
He took the full-mouth bite high on the inside of the upper arm, shouting, “Fuck! Fuck this shit!” He hit at the dog but without a lot of force.
The shouts and slaps were intended to intimidate, the kind of frightened, angry responses the dog could expect from a real suspect high on drugs. If the dog flinched and released then there was a problem.
The dog growled deep in her throat but did not relax her bite.
He dragged her along in the grass, hind legs on the ground as she tugged hard to try to bring him down. Then suddenly he planted his feet and used his arm to swing the dog up off the ground, the bite the only thing holding her to the suit. He grabbed her under the belly and heaved her hind legs first over his shoulder as he continued to slowly spin around. Well trained, she growled louder, escalating as her prey did, fully engaged in getting and maintaining control.
Officer Matt Spurlock came up to claim his dog. When he had attached the leash, he gave the command to release.
James nodded in approval. “Good work. She’s tenacious.”
Matt grinned. “Yeah. My wife says I tend to bring that out in females.”
James leaned forward, placing his hands on his thighs as he caught his breath.
Fully protected by a bite suit, he w
asn’t getting beat up or abused, but he was getting exhausted. The incredible force of a K-9’s grab-and-hold was nothing to take for granted. His shoulders and thighs ached from taking the repeated attacks from sixty-five- to ninety-five-pound dogs. He needed his full concentration or, even in his cushioned bite suit, he could be injured.
To truly understand the power and commitment to purpose of a K-9 there was no better way than to suit up and experience it firsthand. He didn’t do it often but each time he came away with a new respect and admiration for these wonderful creatures.
A hand landed hard on his shoulder. “Good work, Cannon. You’re done for the day. Anyway, there’s someone looking for you.”
James straightened and looked back in the direction his trainer pointed. Near the entrance to the training hut a deputy sheriff stood waiting. His first thought was Shay. He took off at a sprint toward the visitor. Well, a lumber. Sprinting was impossible in his suit.
James held out his hand when he got close. “I’m James Cannon. What’s up, Deputy?”
“Howdy, Mr. Cannon.” After he shook James’s hand, he pulled out an envelope. “I got something with your name on it. Looks important.”
James recognized a summons when he saw one. “Shit.”
The deputy smiled. “Have a nice day.”
* * *
“What the hell do you think you’re playing at, Jaylynn?” James palmed his cell as he eyed the locker room where he’d gone to change out of his decoy suit to make certain he was not being overheard.
“Hello, Jimmy.” Jaylynn’s voice was all cane-sugar sweet. “I’m hanging up now. My attorney says I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
“You can talk to me over the phone or you can talk to me in person. You decide.”
There was a pause. “What do you want?”
“What are you trying to do by suing Shay Appleton?”
“I’m trying to keep my career from being derailed.”
“You did that all by yourself.”
He thought he heard her yawn. “Did you really think I was going to stand by and let you ruin my career? Over a dog? I’m not stupid, James. I sought legal counsel. My attorney advised me to not wait for charges to be filed against me but to take an aggressive approach.”
