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

by Cathryn Grant

  “I don’t go anywhere that makes me worry I’m in danger.”

  Laura took a long sip of wine, her lips pursed around the rim of the glass.

  The place was filling up. Only one empty table remained. Five or six guys Vanessa’s age clustered around the bar, their heads tipped back, staring up at the basketball game. She shifted in her chair so the flicker of the screen didn’t distract her. It felt as if Laura was headed somewhere with this line of conversation, but Vanessa couldn’t see where. It just felt like a trap, and she didn’t want to be tripped up by the noise, the rapidly emptying glass of wine, and the effort of keeping herself securely balanced on the chair.

  “I’m just saying it’s an act. They aren’t always that strong. And I can’t believe that in the twenty-first century, men essentially run the whole business world. How many executives are women? Maybe ten percent? And we’re more than fifty percent of the population. Isn’t that amazing, when you stop and think about it? It’s outrageous, actually.”

  Vanessa shifted her position again. She’d thought this would be relaxing, that Laura would unwind a little and be a bit more like a girl. Instead, she acted like she wanted to recruit Vanessa to an army of female warriors. Why did it have to be a competition? Vanessa loved men; she liked that they were strong and in charge. She didn’t want to be able to beat up a man. Who even thought that way? She sipped her wine.

  “Are you ready for another glass?” Laura said.

  “In a few minutes.” Vanessa slathered a calamari ring with sauce and popped the whole thing into her mouth. They were so good—the batter light and crispy, the calamari firm and sweet, and the sauce spicy, but not drowning the taste of the seafood.

  “I just don’t like feeling as if I don’t have any power. For example, the way Hank dangles this job over my head, making me beg for attention.”

  “He has other things on his mind.”

  “What other things?”

  Vanessa sipped her wine. “You know, the business. End of the quarter. Strategy sessions. Customer meetings.”

  “I know all that. But part of his job is staffing.”

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with women against men. It has to do with finding the right person.”

  “But what I’m saying is that nine times out of ten, the right person just happens to be a guy.”

  “There are more guys who went to college, and—”

  “Actually, that’s not true.”

  “Okay, well, more guys who make their career the top priority.”

  Laura lifted her hand and signaled the server.

  After two fresh glasses of wine were sitting near the center of the table, she said, “I just wish he’d make a decision and quit making me feel like he has all the power.”

  “In this case, he sort of does,” Vanessa said.

  “Is that what he told you?”

  “No.”

  “What were you two talking about when I saw you having breakfast in Napa? It was all very intense. I was standing there for ten minutes before you noticed me.”

  “I don’t remember talking about anything specific.”

  “The air almost smelled different, as if you two—”

  “If you’re going to start with that again, I’m leaving.”

  “I’m just being honest. It’s either that, or you were talking about me.”

  “Those are the only two choices? Really?” Vanessa laughed.

  “Why won’t you tell me? I’m not going to get you in trouble.”

  “I really don’t remember.”

  Laura smirked. She tried to turn the smirk into a smile, but ended up with her mouth twisted up on one side so she looked like she was indeed making an effort to get Vanessa into trouble. “As I’ve said before, you’re a very secretive person.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “I know you know things.”

  “Not everything is about you,” Vanessa said.

  “It must be very stressful. Having to keep so much information to yourself.”

  “Not really.”

  “Stress can make you do crazy things.”

  Vanessa wiped her finger down the side of the wineglass, removing the foggy sheen created by the chilled wine, leaving a clean stripe. She picked up the glass and took a sip. This was not a casual girls’ night out. Laura was after something. Had she seen Vanessa take the candy bar after all? She’d acted like it at the time, and now, it seemed that she’d hung on to that sliver of knowledge, biding her time, waiting until she could use it to force Vanessa into betraying Hank. “It’s not stressful. I find it easy to keep things to myself.”

  “Now that you say it, I can see that about you.” Laura smiled. Her teeth were perfectly straight, but longer than average, drawing more attention to themselves than they would have if they weren’t so thin, like bones, the teeth of a skeleton without the covering of pink, fleshy gums.

  Vanessa looked away. When she turned back, Laura was still grinning. Vanessa shivered at her expression. Laura looked unhinged.

  Without waiting for Vanessa to respond, Laura changed the conversation to their co-workers. Barely pausing for a breath, she ran down the strengths and weaknesses of every person on Hank’s staff. After a while, the server came by and asked if they wanted a third glass of wine.

  “No, thanks,” Vanessa said.

  “I think you should.” Laura turned her grin onto the server. “Two more glasses. And crab cakes.”

  Vanessa wanted to argue, she should be more firm, but it was Laura’s party. If Laura had seen the theft, it would be better to know about it. “I’m not sure I should drink three glasses and drive.”

  “We’ll drink it more slowly. And the crab cakes will absorb the alcohol. You’ll be fine.”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  “I do it all the time. It’s no problem. You just need to drive carefully, be hyper alert. Focus.”

  The server returned with two glasses of wine and let them know their food would be up soon. Vanessa ordered a bottle of sparkling water.

  “Sometimes secrets have a way of leaking out. You get caught off guard. People know things that you think they couldn’t possibly know.”

  “What are you talking about?” Vanessa said.

  “Just thinking out loud. Rambling a bit, I suppose. White wine does that to me.” Laura laughed. “We have to stick together. If someone asked you questions about me, you’d make sure not to make me look bad, right? Now that we’re friends?”

  Vanessa opened the sparkling water and poured it into the glass the server had provided. The ice crackled. She dropped in the lemon wedge and took several long sips. She couldn’t follow Laura’s train of thought. She wasn’t sure if this was about Laura witnessing the theft, more of her speculation, or an attempt to persuade Vanessa to influence Hank’s decision over the director position. “We’re friends?”

  “Of course we are. You’d only say good things about me, even if you weren’t sure what the questions were about. And I’d do the same for you, of course.”

  “Are you talking about the interview? I doubt Hank will ask for my input.”

  “I’m talking in general. Having each other’s backs.”

  “Then why did you spread rumors about me? How was that having my back?”

  “I wasn’t spreading rumors. I just asked Janelle if she’d heard anything. It wouldn’t be good if you and he were having sex. You can see that, can’t you?”

  “We’re not.”

  Laura glanced down at Vanessa’s diamond ring.

  Vanessa pushed away her empty wineglass and picked up the fresh one. She knew she should stop. It was not okay to drive, but she needed to find out what Laura wanted. She broke off a piece of crab cake, dipped it in rémoulade, and took a large bite.

  “Don’t act like you’re flawless,” Laura said. “I saw you steal that candy bar.”

  There it was. Next, she’d make a demand. Vanessa put her fork on the edge of the plate. She should drink mor
e water. She took a sip of wine instead.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Laura asked.

  “There’s nothing I can say.”

  “I think it’s clear that you owe me.”

  “What do I owe you? I can’t make Hank offer you the job.”

  “You can make Hank do whatever you want.”

  “No, I can’t. And why do you turn everything into sex? It’s not very professional.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Only when it’s obvious.”

  “It’s not obvious. That’s what I’m trying to say. You think you see something and there’s nothing there.”

  Laura grinned.

  “Why are you smiling?”

  “I’m not.”

  “There’s nothing between Hank and me,” Vanessa said. “You’re imagining it.”

  “I see how he looks at you.”

  “He doesn’t look at me any differently than any other girl.”

  “It’s okay to admit it. Men and women get thrown together in high-pressure work situations all day every day. Half of them have unhappy relationships with their partners, or no relationship at all, and it’s guaranteed there will be some attraction. Anyway I’ll keep your secret about the candy bar. But you have to promise you have my back.”

  “That’s a very generic promise,” Vanessa said.

  “Do you?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t be cute. Do you have my back?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You’d defend me, just like I’m defending you. And defending sometimes means keeping your mouth shut. Like if I needed you, or Hank, to say I came into work super early.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Never mind. Just promise you have my back. I don’t think you’d be employed at Avalon anymore if they knew you were a thief. And I wonder what your fiancé would think of that. So I have your back and you have mine.”

  “Fine. I have your back.” Vanessa finished the rest of the wine. She felt queasy and very uncertain about what she’d just promised.

  22

  Laura

  THE MOMENT SHE became conscious on Saturday morning, Laura decided she needed to join a gym. Immediately. She’d delayed far too long. Her body was screaming with rage, atrophying right before her eyes.

  She took a shower and studied herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Five months before her fortieth birthday was not the time to give up a lifelong pursuit of fitness. It was showing more every day. She wanted to turn away, but forced herself to keep looking. All the soft areas of flesh were looser, the skin like bread dough spilling over the sides of the bowl.

  After she covered herself with cotton bikini briefs and a spandex bra, navy blue leggings and a small white T-shirt, she looked good. Fantastic, really. But she couldn’t go another week without a solid cardio workout.

  She made coffee, drank two cups, ate a container of plain yogurt and an apple, and went to feed the fish. She waited impatiently for them to grab the lance fish off the feeding stick. It had been weeks since she’d sat in the chair and let their gracefully dancing bodies soothe her. Soon. Maybe tomorrow.

  Outside, the air was cold. It would have been tolerable if the sky was clear, but it was bathed in high white clouds, a wash of nothingness that made the trees look more barren, and covered everything with a dingy shadow. She slid her key into the deadbolt and snapped it to the right.

  “Oh, good, I wanted to talk to you.”

  Charlie’s voice reverberated through her arms, rendering her hand motionless. She tried to pull the key out of the lock, but the teeth had turned a fraction of an inch too far and it didn’t want to slide out easily. She jiggled it slightly and pulled it out. She turned to face Charlie.

  He wore red track pants with a white stripe down the outside of each leg. The waist sagged, allowing his T-shirt-covered belly to droop over the edge. He gave the pants a tug and stepped closer. There was a reflection on his glasses that prevented her from seeing his eyes. He’d always had an arrogant cast to his face. It was something midwestern, moral condescension not just in ethics, but also in his belief that he possessed a simpler, more solid view of life. As if people living on the West Coast were inherently superficial and lacking in scruples.

  “I’m heading out, what do you need?”

  “Are you going jogging?”

  “No.”

  He waited as if she’d left the sentence hanging and planned to say more. She smiled.

  “Well…I don’t need anything.” He tugged at the waist of his pants then folded his arms across his ribs, pressing them close, as if that would keep the pants from sliding to an awkward spot on his hips.

  “Then what’s up?”

  “The man who was killed at the track—”

  “What about him?”

  “Jenny and I were talking…you must have seen him. We think there’s a very good chance you saw his killer at some point, since you were there every single day, rain or shine. We let the police know you were there all the time. If they talk to you, they might be able to jog your memory. No pun intended.” He laughed. She stared at him. He laughed harder. “That’s not funny. Sorry,” he said.

  “Why would you tell them that? I said I never saw the guy.”

  “It’s not possible. You were there every day.”

  “How do you know?”

  “We hear you go out. You’re like clockwork. So much that we joked we didn’t need an alarm clock. Your feet on the stairs were enough.”

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m only making a point.”

  “You shouldn’t have spoken for me.”

  “Communities fall apart when people don’t watch out for their neighbors.”

  “He wasn’t a neighbor!”

  “Then you did see him?”

  “No. You said they hadn’t identified him, so I figured he wasn’t.”

  “Neighbor is a relative term. The only thing required for evil to prevail is for good men to do nothing.”

  Laura pressed her teeth together, forcing herself not to laugh at the idealistic view, trying to avoid blurting out anything unfortunate. “As I told you, I never saw the guy, and I never saw anyone who looked out of place. In fact, I hardly ever saw other people during the winter. It’s too cold and dark that early in the morning. Someone has to be very dedicated to go running at that time of day.”

  “Like you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why don’t you go running anymore?”

  “I guess knowing someone was killed spoiled it. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder.”

  “I’m glad you took our advice.”

  She smiled. Let him feel fatherly and protective. It didn’t matter to her if he was wrong, if he thought she needed looking out for. As long as he stopped thinking about the murder.

  “We worry about you,” he said.

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “A young woman shouldn’t be running around in the dark. That could have been you who was beat up and left to die.”

  “Not likely.” She took a few steps closer to the railing. “Something else must have been wrong with that guy. It’s not like it’s easy to beat someone to death.”

  “It’s easy to hurt a woman,” he said. “You should be more careful. Even in a quiet town like this. Especially since you don’t have a man to look after you.”

  She wanted to punch him. As if he believed he offered solid protection to Jenny? She didn’t need a man. She was sick and tired of that attitude. How could people still parrot archaic beliefs as if nothing had changed over the past sixty years? The same rage that surged in her when that awkward, creepy jogger spoke to her spilled into her throat. She couldn’t let it gain control. She needed to remain calm. Charlie could interfere all he wanted, but she had her story. There was nothing to worry about. She’d never seen the guy. She�
��d never seen anyone else. Who could prove otherwise?

  If the worst happened, and it turned out someone had seen her running in the dark, the monster close on her heels…if they somehow found that newbie runner, she’d turn to Vanessa. She was relieved she’d set that up after all. It would be easy for Vanessa to tell them Laura had been in the office early that day. Vanessa was scared. Laura had seen it all over her face. Vanessa would get Hank to back her up too, no matter what it took. It wasn’t that much of a stretch anyway. Laura was almost always one of the first into the office. Confirming she’d done the same the week of the killing would be a no-brainer. “I really wish you hadn’t said anything to the police.” She passed her keys to her right hand and put her left hand on the railing.

  “It’s your responsibility.”

  “I work long hours, I don’t need to get dragged into a dead-end investigation when I have nothing to offer.”

  “You don’t know that. This is the one thing I don’t like about Californians, or at least the Bay Area. No one wants to get involved. Everyone thinks they’re too busy.”

  “Well, we are.”

  “For what? Before you know it, you’ll be my age. You should slow down. You should think about what really matters in life.” He hoisted up his pants. He moved closer to where she stood, stepping sideways so he was at the center of the top step.

  There was room to move past him to descend the stairs, but she’d have to brush against him, possibly push him to one side. His body no longer seemed fit—frail was a more accurate description. Nothing but bone and a small strip of aging muscle held the elastic waistband of his pants in place. A gentle bump from her shoulder and he’d lose his balance. In the space of a breath, he’d tumble down the stairs, rolling shoulder over hip. She could hear the bones snapping, the grunt as the wind was knocked out of him, landing with a thud on the pavement below.

  Laura moved closer to the edge of the step. Charlie shuffled out of the way. “I have things to do,” she said. “You need to get in touch with whomever you spoke to and tell them you were mistaken.”

  “It’s your duty as a citizen to talk to them. You honestly can’t spare ten minutes for public service?”