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

by Cathryn Grant

  When she was dressed in jeans, sturdy ankle boots, a turtleneck shirt, and a jacket, she shoved her phone into her pocket and went out. Without a purse and the burden of wallet and keys and all that other crap in addition to her laptop bag, she felt light and nimble, eager to start the day.

  She hurried down the wood stairs. There were more important things to work on than worrying about a dead guy who looked like he’d been ready to keel over anyway. A guy who was mentally disturbed and a huge drain on society. No one would even notice the empty space he’d left in the world.

  In the restaurant, a sea of empty tables covered in red cloths, set with white napkins and flatware, spread out before her.

  The only occupied table was in the back corner near the window facing the main building. Hank and Vanessa were seated there. Vanessa’s hair looked redder than normal—bright and brassy in contrast to the dark red of the tablecloths. Her elbows rested on the edge of the table and she leaned forward, all that hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back so that her black sweater was hardly visible.

  Hank sat with his shoulders back, chin lifted. Because his arms were straight, his hands, palms down on his thighs, he gave the impression his chair was too far from the table, untouched by the intensity that hummed around Vanessa. Neither one was aware of Laura’s presence, their heads immobilized, looking at each other, or maybe looking past each other, on Hank’s part. Outside, the fog pressed close to the glass, leaving a thin film of moisture. The staff seemed to have intuited the couple’s need to be alone, because there wasn’t a server, or even a runner with a pot of coffee, anywhere in sight.

  Minutes ticked past. Vanessa spoke. If Laura inched her way into the room, they’d catch the movement, but standing in the doorway wasn’t accomplishing anything. There was a small amount of pleasure knowing they weren’t aware of her presence, knowing they’d be startled when they did see her, wondering what she’d seen. If she stood here long enough, Vanessa might touch Hank’s arm. He’d pull his chair closer to the table and relax his posture.

  Watching them proved she’d been right. She didn’t need corroboration. No one believed her rumor because they didn’t want to open their eyes. She was absolutely not projecting her own feelings! That was simply a diversion on Vanessa’s part, trying to move attention off of herself. There was something between those two that was not a business relationship.

  It was possible they weren’t even aware of it. Maybe they’d never actually done it, but they both wanted to. There was no other reason to be sneaking into the restaurant in a failed attempt to be alone before the sun was fully up. Burning desire wiped out all their self-preserving caution.

  Now that Laura thought about it, the contrived seating arrangement at dinner the night before had been nothing but an attempt to cover up their relationship, deliberately not sitting together, and putting Laura in a position where she wouldn’t catch Hank constantly turning his head, unable to stop looking at Vanessa. Even now, his gaze was locked onto her.

  Laura walked quickly toward their table. When she was seven or eight feet away, Hank turned. Laura grinned. “Hi, you two. Sorry to break things up—”

  “You’re not breaking up anything. We haven’t ordered yet,” Hank said. “Pull up a chair.”

  She admired how smooth he was, as if he’d had those words in his front pocket, ready at a moment’s notice. “Actually, I’m just going to get a coffee and go for a walk.”

  “You should eat,” Hank said. “We have a long day ahead.”

  “I’ll grab some yogurt later. How often do I get to walk in the woods? I don’t want to waste a minute sitting inside. And I don’t want to interrupt you.”

  “Then why are you?” Vanessa pushed her hair over her shoulders. No matter what she did with it, her hair framed her face in looping, tangled curls that gave her a look of yearning.

  Laura’s heart beat faster. She was sure of it now—she’d walked in on something. It was difficult to read, but it was as tangible as the fog clinging to the trees. “I just said that to be polite. A little respect would be nice.” Laura glared at the side of Vanessa’s head, waiting for her to turn and show she realized she’d made a mistake in front of her boss.

  “Respect is hard to come by,” Hank said. He sipped his coffee. He put down the cup and turned to look out the window.

  “I suppose, but it’s part of the package when you’re an exec,” Laura said.

  He looked at her and laughed, loud and hard. “Is that what you think? People may respect you to your face, but the higher you go, the more they criticize you behind your back.”

  He looked genuinely amused. Had Vanessa told him about the rumor? If she had, it was further proof their relationship was very intimate. Laura smiled. “Well, I just wanted to say hi.” She turned and walked past the doorway to a small serving station. A woman was filling pitchers with cream. Laura ordered black coffee to go.

  When the server returned, Laura took the cup and went outside without looking back at Hank and Vanessa. She’d seen enough. There was no doubt the reason her promotion had been pushed to the side was because Hank was not focused on running the business. It was entirely possible that Vanessa wanted to keep Laura away from him because they’d been found out. He might have even told her to do just that.

  But if Vanessa had half a brain, she’d remember she’d been caught stealing that candy bar. All Laura had to do was figure out how to leverage that little mistake. A girl who stole a three-dollar piece of candy possessed a broken moral compass.

  Of course, the same thing could be said about a woman who’d beaten a man to death. But had she really? She wasn’t excessively strong. Sure, she lifted weights, but there was no way her strength was comparable to a man’s. There’d been something wrong with that guy—in his head and his body. He hadn’t even fought back. He’d wanted to die, might have already been on the verge of death. All she’d done was help him over.

  It wasn’t murder by any stretch of the imagination. In some ways, it proved her ability to take care of herself. If she hadn’t beaten him up, he would have shot her. She couldn’t let the reversal of their roles, her brutality, erase how terrifying he’d been. Her gut had informed her he was planning to hurt her badly, irrevocably. She’d done nothing but defend herself.

  She would never admit it to anyone, but there was a growing flicker of pride every time she remembered that moment. There weren’t many people in the world, especially women, who could claim they were capable of killing someone. Of taking the ultimate step to protect themselves. She hadn’t let him intimidate her or turn her into a statistic—another female victim of violence.

  She went back to her cottage and studied the list of teams and the room locations. Brent was two buildings over on the first floor. She finished her coffee and got a bottle of water out of the mini refrigerator. She hurried back down the stairs and took the path to his cottage. The fog was lifting and there were spots of sun on the pavement. The pine needles covering the ground alongside the path already smelled dry, the scent clean and comforting. She needed to get out of the suburbs more often. In her twenties, she’d spent a lot of time kayaking and hiking. When had she drifted away from all of that? The same way she’d forgotten the part of herself that loved riding horses. Having a well-balanced life was important. She needed to get more physical, needed to get back to running, for sure, and those other things as well. She really should look into getting a horse and finding a place to board it. Riding every weekend would make her a completely new person.

  She knocked on Brent’s door.

  He opened the door quickly, as if he’d seen her coming. He was dressed but his feet were bare.

  “Can I come in? I really need to talk to you,” she said.

  “Yeah, you kind of effed up last night.”

  “What do you mean? Are you going to let me in?”

  He stepped back and walked to the armchair facing the window. He sat down. She went in, closed the door, and sat on the love
seat across from him. “Why did you say that? Dinner was great.”

  He laughed. “You acted like a lunatic.”

  “I did not.”

  “If you can’t see that, you’re in trouble.”

  She twisted the cap off her water bottle and took a sip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I need to ask you a favor.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You need to get Hank away from Vanessa and beat some sense into him.”

  “Is that right?”

  “You need to sell me. Get him to move on the job and stop wasting time talking to a bunch of people who aren’t half as qualified as I am. He knows I can do it, he knows I’m the best candidate. I think he’s just worried he isn’t doing his due diligence. That, and he’s obsessed with Vanessa. He’s not paying attention to running the business.”

  “You have it all figured out.”

  “So you’ll talk to him?”

  “I can’t.”

  “What do you mean you can’t?”

  “After last night.”

  “All I did was equalize things. You can’t stick all the women at one table. What were they thinking?”

  “All the women were not at one table. You’re half-blind to what’s going on around you.”

  “Most of them.”

  He stood. “I need to get something to eat.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  He shrugged. He went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of socks. While he put on his socks and shoes, she sipped water. He stood and put on his jacket.

  Outside, the fog had almost completely evaporated, only a few small puffs hung in the air.

  “You owe me,” Laura said.

  “How so?”

  “I supported you when you were trying to get promoted.”

  “You’ve been a good friend. And I appreciate it,” he said.

  “Been?”

  They emerged from the wooded area, crossed the two-lane road, and walked up the path leading to the restaurant. At the bottom of the steps, Brent stopped. He turned, but didn’t look at her. She followed his gaze, out across the crisscross of paths, toward the hotel, gleaming white in the sunshine.

  “Just tell me you’ll talk to him about me. Okay?”

  “Sure. Okay. I’ll talk to him. But no promises.”

  “You need to sell me.”

  “I said I’d talk to him.”

  She led the way up the steps and into the restaurant. Hank and Vanessa’s table was empty. The room smelled of bacon and cinnamon. She’d have a full breakfast, after all. The chances for that were rare, and the pine-scented air had made her hungrier than she’d realized.

  21

  Vanessa

  SITTING AT HER desk, enclosed by the walls of her cube, was disorienting after three days in Napa Valley. The cube felt foreign yet familiar, as if she’d occupied it in a long-ago part of her life, and was now returning to that past. How could so many things change in so few days—less than a hundred hours?

  She tried to concentrate on tracking expenses from the offsite, proud of her efficiency in taking care of everything immediately. She was capturing the expenses in a spreadsheet, writing the justifications while it was fresh in her mind. When the credit card statements were ready, she would be too.

  Hank’s door was closed. She had no idea what he was doing. No one was in there with him, and he wasn’t on the phone. Possibly he was cleaning out email in preparation for his departure from Avalon.

  She still found it difficult to believe he’d accepted a position at another company. Her face had been numb, her eyes flat and unfocused during that breakfast meeting in Napa, knowing that in two weeks, a void would open at the center of her working life. She’d asked if he would take her with him to the new company, but he said there was an admin already in place. Once he was settled, he would let her know if anything could be worked out.

  It turned out that all of this had been in process for nearly three months. It should be satisfying, an honor, almost, that he’d trusted her with the information, since he hadn’t offered his formal resignation yet. Was he stalling? Maybe he didn’t really want to resign. Of course. No wonder he hadn’t told anyone else. There was still time. She laughed softly.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Vanessa looked up at the sound of Laura’s voice, grating and entitled. The sharpness of Laura’s nose and cheekbones, her thin form with its wiry muscles, gave the impression that all the flesh had been sucked out of her.

  “Nothing.”

  “You were laughing. It’s disturbing to come around the corner and see someone sitting alone, laughing.”

  “How do you think it is to be working on a project and have someone start talking to you without announcing her presence and excusing herself for the interruption?”

  Laura folded her arms.

  “What do you need?” Vanessa put her hands under her hair and lifted it over her left shoulder. She twisted it into a wavy coil, so it wound down the front of her arm.

  Laura’s lips parted slightly. She seemed to be staring at Vanessa’s breasts. The effort of raising her arms might have rearranged the neckline of her sweater. She waited for Laura to make a rude comment, but Laura remained silent, her mouth gradually closing until her lips were a colorless pinch of skin. “As I’ve said before, women need to stick together.”

  “Is that why you didn’t want to sit with me and Janelle at the offsite dinner?”

  “That wasn’t it at all.”

  “Then what was it?”

  Laura moved closer and leaned on the counter, resting her chin on the heel of her hand. “You can’t put women in a female ghetto.”

  “It was random.”

  “Ha! Random that three of the seven females ended up at the same table? That’s naïve.”

  “What do you want from me, Laura?”

  “I wanted to invite you out for a glass of wine after work,” Laura said.

  “Really?” Just last week, Vanessa would have laughed and sent Laura on her way. But now, her future was not very clear. Of course she hoped Hank would find a spot for her once he was settled, but she couldn’t count on that. She shouldn’t count on that. Maybe she did need a network of sorts.

  “Are you free after work?” Laura said.

  “Sure. Why not.”

  “My treat.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “No, but I think I owe you.”

  “Why?”

  “I know I was a little rude at the offsite. Walking away like that.”

  Vanessa touched her coffee mug. She ran her finger around the lip. This didn’t feel like just another way of loitering, waiting and hoping to see Hank. Laura hadn’t even glanced at his door. “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” Vanessa said.

  “At 5:30?”

  “Sure.”

  “What about your meeting with Hank?” Laura said.

  “I’ll tell him I need to get going. It’s no problem.” There wasn’t any reason to meet with Hank now. Just a bit of gossip, keeping up his routine, but he wasn’t actively pushing to get much done. She picked up her mug.

  “Time for espresso?” Laura said.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  So now they were going to be best friends? Vanessa smiled to herself. Clearly Laura wanted something from her, but Vanessa needed allies, and Laura would do, for now.

  THE BAR LAURA chose was part of a restaurant located on a narrow street in downtown Palo Alto. The building was an old Spanish-style house designated a historical landmark. In the summer, patrons ate in the central courtyard, or along the open railing on the second floor above the courtyard, feeling as if they were enjoying a balmy Mediterranean city, surrounded by adobe walls and tile floors. The bar didn’t have quite as much charm. It was a bar, with an oversized TV and a somewhat nondescript counter. Along one wall was a row of regular tables, and near the front windows were three high-top tables with stools. Sitting on them me
ant perching your feet on a rail as if you were a large bird. It was impossible to look attractive pitched forward, straining your legs to maintain your position.

  Laura chose the table nearest the side wall. Vanessa climbed onto her stool. They ordered two glasses of Chardonnay and a plate of fried calamari. When the wine arrived, Laura lifted her glass, clicked it too hard against Vanessa’s, and said, “To the superior sex.”

  “Superior?” Vanessa took a sip of cool, crisp wine. “I thought men and women were equal.”

  “That’s what we let them think.” Laura laughed, a loud, almost thunderous sound. “But really, we’re stronger, don’t you think? We have better endurance, we’re more well-rounded, we don’t suppress our emotions. We live longer, we create life…”

  Vanessa smiled. “Well, you and I haven’t created any lives.”

  “True, but the possibility is there.”

  “Why does anyone have to be superior?”

  “That’s why they try to keep us down. They’re scared of us, because they know we are…superior.” Laura took a large swallow of wine.

  “You make it sound like a war.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “That’s how it sounds.”

  “I’m just saying men go out of their way to make sure they keep the power. And they act like they’re physically stronger, but really, they’re not.”

  “Every man I know is a lot stronger than I am.” Vanessa picked up a piece of calamari, dipped it in the sauce, and bit off a small piece. It was very tasty. She took another small bite.

  “See, they’ve brainwashed us into thinking that. Most of the movies are made by men, showing men dominating women…fighting…killing. It’s all a great big show.”

  Vanessa laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I could never beat a man in a fight. And I don’t want to.”

  “Don’t you want to feel strong? To be able to go where you want, when you want, without being told you’re putting yourself in danger?”