The Assistant: A gripping psychological thriller with a nerve-shredding ending

by Cathryn Grant

  “What who would think of what?” Hank said.

  Laura spun around. Her elbow banged against the counter. The sound of cartilage crackling was loud, as if she’d stepped on a piece of glass. Laura and Hank stared at each other.

  “I didn’t hear you open the door,” Laura said. She looked at Vanessa. She lowered her chin. Her thin, sharp nose cast a faint pointed shadow beneath her nostrils.

  “Gossiping?” Hank folded his arms.

  Laura straightened. She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I was hoping to see you. I wanted to let you know that—”

  “Whose reputation are you worried about?”

  “It’s not important,” Laura said.

  “It sounded important. In fact, it almost sounded threatening.”

  Laura laughed. “You misinterpreted me.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Hank’s lips formed a barely noticeable smile. Perhaps he was having fun too, but it was a more dangerous game for him. It seemed unprofessional of him to bait Laura like this. Although, really, Laura had baited herself. If she wanted to move up, she shouldn’t be standing around gossiping. Especially right outside the VP’s door. It was her own fault.

  “I’m sure you two have things to discuss. I’ll get going.” Laura stepped around him. Hank moved to block her way.

  “I think you were talking about me, and I want to know why.”

  Laura folded her arms across her chest, mirroring his stance. “Just forget about it. I misspoke. I’m a little stressed out—there’s a guy that’s been stalking me at the track where I run.”

  “Someone you know?” Vanessa said.

  “I’ve never seen him before. Although I am worried it’s someone I knew in the past but don’t recognize. He runs really close to me and he says things. At first, I thought he was hitting on me, but now he’s really scaring me.” Her eyes were glassy. She blinked slowly.

  “Did you contact the police?” Hank said.

  “What would I tell them?”

  “That someone’s stalking you.”

  Laura nodded. “I should.”

  “Why haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know if they’d believe me.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “It’s hard to explain.” Laura shivered, almost violently, but something about the way the trembling moved through her body gave the impression she was putting it on, or exaggerating it.

  “Then it can’t be that bad,” Vanessa said. “You’re imagining it.”

  Laura jerked her head to face Vanessa. “I am not imagining it. The guy is a creep. He has this long thin red beard and he never blinks.” Her voice got louder. “He doesn’t wear socks and he runs like—”

  “He doesn’t wear socks?” Vanessa laughed. She put her hand to her mouth in mock horror.

  Laura’s gaze was brittle. “You haven’t seen him. He’s scary and he runs so close to me I can hardly breathe. If I speed up or slow down, he changes his speed to match mine.”

  “If he’s giving you that much trouble, you should definitely call the police. Or find another place to run. Has he followed you home?” Hank asked.

  “I’m not changing where I run. He’s not going to dictate my life. He’s a loser and he…some days I’ve been afraid he’s going to kill me.”

  “Really?” Vanessa said.

  “He’s very disturbing. He’s fixated on me. And to answer your other question, no, he hasn’t followed me home. That I’m aware of.”

  “If you think he’s a threat, call the police,” Hank said.

  “Absolutely. I should do that. I’ll let you two alone now.” Laura stretched her lips into a tight smile.

  The man Laura had seen, if he even existed outside Laura’s head, wasn’t going to kill her, not in a public place, in a quiet suburban city. Laura’s manipulation of the conversation away from Hank’s questions was laughably obvious. Did she really think they, especially Hank, were that stupid? If the man was threatening her, if she was honestly frightened, Laura would have already called the police.

  When Laura was gone, Hank leaned on the counter. “What was that about?”

  “That rumor I mentioned.”

  He walked around the corner and sat on the credenza behind her desk, his legs extended. “You need to ignore it.”

  She forced herself not to look away, not to hint at her guilt that she may have fueled the rumor. Hank might not like that she’d said those things.

  “I think anyone who knows me knows there’s nothing to it,” Hank said.

  She didn’t like sitting here with her back to the hallway. Did Hank know how quickly his staff sometimes popped around the corner? Without warning, she’d look up to see someone standing there. Especially at lunchtime, when they thought they could grab a chocolate kiss unobserved. She hoped he had his eye on the space between her cube and his office, if he was so convinced the rumor would die a natural death, being caught talking about it wouldn’t help.

  His attitude did nothing but prove how insulated someone at his level was. Nothing died a natural death. Quite the opposite—gossip lived forever. Stories took on legendary proportions—Remember the manager who had an affair with a VP and when he dumped her, she had a breakdown? And that woman was not an admin, she was halfway up the ladder, someone with lots of potential, turned into a weepy mess by loving the wrong man at the wrong time.

  It had happened before Vanessa worked at Avalon and people still talked about it.

  “You know that, right?” Hank said. “That I’d never come on to you?”

  Did he honestly have no recollection of the hotel room, of his mouth on her, of his hands on her body? Had he forgotten the commanding whisper that she belonged to him?

  Maybe he remembered it as a dream. That would make him eager, too eager, to have her confirm what he was saying. He wanted reassurance it had been a dream because it was so vivid, he wasn’t quite sure.

  Her skin was suddenly warmer. She hoped the blood wasn’t spreading a red tinge across her face, telling him something completely confusing. She wished they were in his office, the door closed, able to yield to the thrill of talking about forbidden subjects. His face was composed, but she could see the pulse in his neck, throbbing as he waited for her to ease his fears.

  She didn’t want to lie, but was it a lie? He was speaking of the future. “Yes, I know.”

  “Good.” He lifted his hands off the credenza and rubbed his palms together. There were red indentations in his flesh from the pressure of the metal cabinet. “Can you get some sandwiches for us? The usual. And chips.” He reached into his front pocket and pulled out a money clip. He was the only man she knew who used a money clip. He removed a twenty and handed it to her. “And a soda.”

  “Sure.” She took the cash. It was warm from the heat of his leg.

  He stood and went back into his office and closed the door.

  BILL’S DELI WAS in a strip mall two blocks from the Avalon campus. The strip mall was also home to a sushi place, a pizzeria, and a chain sandwich shop, along with a Baskin Robbins and a Starbucks. Most Avalon employees seemed to prefer sushi or pizza. Vanessa rarely saw anyone in the deli.

  Standing at the counter, she ordered ham and cheddar cheese for both of them, Hank’s on rye bread, hers on sliced sourdough. In front of the register was a rack of candy. The first shelf held Hershey’s chocolate bars.

  Without warning, she was overcome by desire for some chocolate. It was possible she missed the chocolate kisses as much as the others did. Hank might like a chocolate bar. He hadn’t said anything about the missing candy dish, but he was in the habit of eating one almost every day. Sometimes he grabbed several pieces of chocolate and took them back to his office.

  The twenty was probably going to be consumed by the sandwiches and chips. She reached into her purse for her wallet. The zipper was rough on her fingers. She pulled her hand out of her purse.

  It would be fun to take the candy bar. A thrill she’d never enjoyed�
��taking something this close to work, and with the sandwich maker only a few feet away. The girl’s back was turned. Her head was bent over the wood cutting board, the white of her neck bright, as her blue dyed hair fell away on either side. She was placing cheese on top of the meat. There was plenty of time.

  Vanessa glanced over her left shoulder. The deli was still empty. Mini blinds covered the windows, so it wasn’t as if someone passing by would notice. She put her hand on the shelf, touched the smooth brown wrapper. Just one, for her. Hank would have asked for candy if he’d wanted it.

  The sandwich maker turned. “Pickles?”

  Vanessa took her hand away from the candy. “Yes. I said, everything but onions.”

  The girl turned back. The phone rang. It was clamorous, too loud for the small space. The sound made Vanessa’s ears ache.

  The girl wiped her hands on a towel and grabbed the handset off the base. “Hello? I mean, Bill’s Deli.” It was annoying that the girl ignored the task in front of her for someone who had no previous claim on her attention. Hank requested the deli run because he was short on time. The girl should have finished what she was doing, first. Instead, she was now repeating an order to make sure she had it right.

  Vanessa touched the candy bars. Plain or almond? She took a plain one and dropped it into the waiting mouth of her purse. The girl was still talking. She could take another, for Hank, or just for spite, but taking the first one had gone well. It was better not to push her luck.

  The girl finished the phone order and returned to arranging sliced tomatoes. She cut the sandwiches, wrapped them in paper, and shoved them into the waiting bag containing the Pepsi cans. She placed the chips on top. She handed the bag to Vanessa, took the cash, and handed back the change.

  Vanessa turned. Laura stood just inside the door.

  “Oh, hi.” Vanessa walked to the door. “Excuse me.”

  “Sure, no problem.” Laura moved to the side.

  “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Laura smiled.

  Vanessa pushed her hip against the panic bar and went out.

  Driving back to the office, she felt sick to her stomach. By the time she’d climbed the stairs to the second floor, she was nearly hyperventilating. She walked down the hallway, trying to steady her breathing.

  If Laura had seen, she would have said something right on the spot, wouldn’t she?

  14

  Laura

  LAURA WOKE AT 3:30 in the morning. It had been several days since her grilling by Hank and she’d heard nothing about scheduling additional interviews. The waiting was exhausting. During the day, she sat at her desk, refreshing her email every three or four minutes. It was impossible to work on the slides for the spring product launch because she couldn’t help wondering…hoping…knowing, they’d no longer be her responsibility.

  The incident outside Hank’s office last Friday had been a minor rough spot. By now, Hank would have forgotten all about overhearing her gossip. If anything did come of it, she could leverage what she’d seen at the deli. Part of her wanted to use what she’d witnessed to get another meeting with Hank, but that would be a waste of good information. For now, it was nice that Vanessa knew Laura knew, or at least worried about how much Laura had seen.

  It was a good feeling, imagining Vanessa cowering in fear for Laura to expose what she’d done. Of course, revealing that Vanessa was a thief would be Laura’s word against Vanessa’s, but no matter what, she had a psychological advantage. If Vanessa was scared, that was enough.

  She tossed off the blankets. Getting up this early was insane, but there was no other way to avoid encountering the monster. It might need to become a new habit. She could go to bed earlier, run in the darkest hours of the night, and work before the world woke up.

  None of her neighbors’ lights were on when she stepped outside. She walked softly down the stairs and along the path to the sidewalk. The ground and trees smelled wet. It hadn’t rained for several hours, but thick, low clouds blotted out the stars.

  The flashlight app on her phone lit the sidewalk, splashing onto the toes of her running shoes. No squirrels raced along the strip alongside the sidewalk, no crows hopped down the center of the street, grabbing bits of food that had been dropped out of car windows during the night. Of the houses she passed on her way to the high school, only a single one had lights glowing behind closed drapes. The only sound was her shoes tapping the concrete.

  The bushes just inside the fence were sopping wet. When she emerged on the opposite side, her face was damp and her hair and the cuffs of her hoodie were wet. Why didn’t the groundskeepers prune them? Someone could slip fighting the tangle of branches, skidding on the muck underneath. She walked across the grass, stretched her calves and quadriceps, and started a slow jog. The only sounds were her breath and thudding feet. She couldn’t hold the phone to light the space in front of her, but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the track stretched before her flat and empty.

  She ran six laps. As she neared the top of the oval to begin her seventh, she heard his wet, thick breath. A second pair of shoes hit the ground with an uneven tempo, a discordant backbeat to her own rhythm.

  She felt like screaming. She wanted to stop, turn suddenly, and punch him in the mouth before he saw what was coming. How had he known she would be out this early? He was following her! He must live across from the high school, rarely sleeping, watching out his window, waiting for her to pass by.

  “Out early today,” he said.

  “Get the fuck away from me.”

  “Such nasty language for a sophisticated girl like you.”

  “I’m calling the police if you don’t quit stalking me.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I will.” She slowed and pulled out her phone.

  “I know exactly who you are.”

  “I’ve never met you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  With her other hand, she yanked her hood more tightly around her face. She tugged the cord to tie it, but one end slipped out of her fingers and the entire thing slithered out of the casing. She shoved it into her pocket.

  “You think you’re so smart, so much better than everyone else.”

  Laura smirked. She didn’t think those things, she knew them. “What are you even doing here?”

  “Running.”

  “We support this school and the track with our property taxes. It doesn’t belong to anyone who happens to wander by.”

  “See. That’s the problem. Why do you assume I don’t live around here?”

  “Whatever. I told you to get away from me.”

  “Yet you didn’t call the police. Because you know it’s a public place and you don’t get to decide who uses it.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “You’re going down.”

  She laughed. “What does that mean?”

  “You think you’re on top of the world. Well, so was I. Four very short years ago. I had a nice house. I had a family. A career. And then, poof. Laid off. Too old to find work in my field.”

  “If you’re any good at your job, there’s no such thing as too old.” It was partially true. To a point, maybe. If you were an engineer. Maybe. Unless they could offer a lower salary to someone with more recent credentials. And if you weren’t an engineer…MBA grads were a dime a dozen.

  “It can all disappear like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “I know that,” she said. Her voice trembled as tears worked their way down her throat.

  “I frighten you because you know you could become me. How easily you could become me.”

  She was encouraging him, allowing him to continue talking by not doing something more aggressive to be rid of him. Her anxiety enticed him. He felt it and it made him think he was in control. He’d tapped into something desperate inside of her, something that compelled her to prove they were nothing alike. It shouldn’t matter what he thought. It didn’t matter. But she couldn
’t stop arguing. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Another lie.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Listen to that language. I really am upsetting you.”

  He’d moved closer, the sleeve of his sweatshirt brushed against hers. She poked her elbow out, stabbing his forearm, but didn’t succeed in pushing him away.

  “You think you’re hot shit. You think you have it all under control, but you are so wrong. The tide turns, and suddenly you’re a candidate for a layoff. There’s nothing remarkable about what you do. It becomes apparent you don’t have the right connections. You thought the VP had your back, but he’s putting all his focus on saving that other guy. No one is watching out for you. All those years of work, all those high ratings, all those weekends and nights when you thought they couldn’t live without you, because they were frantically emailing you and texting you and making you feel important, and so you gave up your whole life for them. It all disappears like someone flushed a toilet. Whoosh.”

  “People who get laid off find other jobs.”

  “Wrong again. In the past. Now, less is more. They find they don’t need as many people as they thought they did. And they sure as hell don’t need people over forty.”

  “I’m not forty.”

  He laughed. “Not today.” He laughed harder. His laughter turned to shrieks. He bent over, gasping for air.

  Not only was he charting her running habits, somehow, he was watching her thoughts. It was like a sci-fi film—he had a futuristic smart camera in her bedroom and it recorded her last thought before sleep, stayed on all night, capturing her dreams. And her nightmares.

  Now, he owned her because he knew everything about her.

  He’d described her life perfectly. Her skin prickled with sweat. Her nerves trembled so that she wanted to slap at her legs and arms to quiet them. She thought of Vanessa slapping at phantom ants.

  She broke into a sprint. She didn’t look forty. Not at all. How could he know? Was he one of those people who was good at guessing, who fed you lines and read your responses? Her words had been too defensive, bitter-sounding. He picked up on her fears. That was all. He didn’t know a damn thing.