Matthew Mather's Compendium

by Matthew Mather

  Squirming, Jin tried to get up, but the man held her down, wrapping his arms around her. Two others stormed into the bedroom and kicked in the bathroom door.

  A fourth man entered the apartment door slowly, pulling a syringe from one of his pants pockets. Jin’s eyes went wide as she watched him hold it up and squirt liquid from its tip. She tried to scream, but the man restraining her had his hand clamped firmly over her mouth. The fourth man grabbed her arm and stuck the needle into it, plunging the contents of the syringe into her veins.

  Her vision swam. The last thing she knew was white-hot terror as nausea overcame her and blackness descended.

  AUGUST 18th

  Thursday

  11

  District Courthouse

  New York City

  Jake almost cried when he found Elle sitting behind his lawyer in the courtroom. The judge set a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar bail, but Jake was released the moment he was shuffled back into the holding cell.

  He hadn’t thought she’d post bail for him.

  Not that fast.

  Not for something like this.

  Released into her custody by the court, he followed her down the rickety wooden wheelchair ramp in front of the building.

  “Can I get a hotdog?” Jake asked stupidly when they passed a street vendor. He was starving, having barely eaten in the past day, but Elle didn’t turn, didn’t respond in any way. She walked ahead of him until she found a taxi.

  Once seated in the back of the cab, Jake slid closed the plastic divider between the passenger compartment and the front seat. He turned to his wife. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  After being arrested, he used his first call on his lawyer; the second, to leave a message for Elle. He’d tried her three more times with no luck, and she hadn’t called him back.

  Elle stared out of her window, keeping her distance. He tried to reach for her hand, but she shrugged him off, clenching her jaw. “What were you doing at Bluebridge?” she asked. “They said you tried to attack Vidal Viegas. You’re lucky he didn’t press more charges.” She looked away.

  The cab accelerated and passed Canal Street. Jake looked out the window at the street vendors selling fake Gucci bags and Rolex watches.

  “The woman who accused me,” Jake said, “Susie, my assistant, you met her at the cocktail party last Christmas—I was about to fire her.” Susie’s accusation was totally fabricated and inexplicable. “Maybe this whole thing at Atlas has her scared and she needs money. I don’t know.”

  “Like last time?” Elle stared hard out the opposite window.

  “I’m sorry, Elle, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t touch her. I swear.”

  “The prosecutors for the Atlas case told you to stay in New York.” Elle glared straight ahead, not looking at Jake, but not looking away either. “What possessed you to go to Stamford?”

  Buildings and faces slid by outside the taxi window. “I think the executives at Bluebridge were involved in Sean’s death.”

  “What happened to Sean was an accident,” Elle said, still staring away from him when the taxi reached 52nd street to begin winding its way cross-town. “An accident, Jake. I read the police report. You read it, too.”

  Her face softened and she turned to him.

  “I am truly sorry, Jake, I know how much he meant to you.” A tear spilled down her cheek. “But I can’t do this again. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can’t do this again.”

  ▲▼▲

  “Get out of my way!” Jake yelled, pushing back the reporters and cameras.

  Someone must have tipped them off about his release. A trader in the middle of the Atlas scandal, arrested for sexual assault and attacking Vidal Viegas—one of the richest hedge fund managers in the world—before a fundraiser for the leading presidential candidate. It was the hottest news item of the day.

  “Sorry Mr. O’Connell.” Their doorman, Karl, tried to shield Elle and get them inside.

  A reporter shoved his way into Jake’s face. “Mr. O’Connell, why were you at Bluebridge?”

  “No comment.” Jake shoved back and ducked through the front door to their building.

  Karl closed it behind them, yelling, “I’ll do my best to keep them out, Mr. O’Connell.”

  Inside wasn’t much better. Since their apartment was on the first floor, it was right in front of the pack of paparazzi. Even with the blinds and curtains closed, Jake felt them buzzing outside like a high-voltage transmission line.

  He threw his suit jacket onto the kitchen table. He’d slept in it.

  “Elle, you’ve got to believe me. Somebody is setting me up. They must know about the dropped sexual harassment charge from a few years back and—” He stopped midsentence. “What the hell is he doing here?”

  Jake’s brother was sitting on their couch. Anna snuggled up beside him, watching cartoons on their giant flat screen TV. Eamon smiled at Jake. “Nice to see you, too.”

  Esmeralda, their housecleaner, appeared from the bedroom down the hallway. “Do you need me anymore, Mrs. O’Connell?”

  “No, thank you, Esmeralda. I really appreciate you coming on such short notice.”

  “No problem, Mrs. O’Connell.” Esmeralda smiled thinly at Jake. “Glad you are home, Mr. O’Connell.” She picked up her purse and jacket from the table. “Goodbye, Anna.” She blew her a kiss.

  Elle waited until Esmeralda closed the door behind herself.

  “What’s your brother doing here?” She threw her arms in the air. “You got thrown in jail, so I figured it might help to have someone around who knew a thing or two about it. Do you think I have any idea how to raise bail?”

  Jake blinked twice. “I, uh, I hadn’t thought about it. I was so happy to see you.”

  “You can thank him for getting you out.” Elle pointed at Eamon. “I would have let you rot in there for a few more days, but Eamon insisted on getting you out.” Her lips trembled. “I had to put our home up as collateral.” Turning, she stormed down the hallway toward their bedroom. “Anyway, you can use the company.”

  Jake said nothing. Exhaled. Time for damage control.

  “Thanks for getting me out, Eamon,” he said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

  “No problem. You okay?”

  “More or less,” Jake replied, but he felt like his life was spinning ever further out of control.

  Could Susie, his assistant, have really cooked up this scam for money? True, she knew Atlas was a mess…and she undoubtedly knew he was on the verge of firing her. Still, it seemed out of character for her to concoct a scheme like this.

  Jake took a few steps into the living room, dodging stuffed toys and Lego sculptures to sit down next to his daughter, Anna, her eyes still glued to the TV.

  “Daddy,” she squeaked as he sat, finally peeling her attention away from the movie. She wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you,” she said, looking up into his eyes.

  “I missed you too.”

  She had her mother’s almond eyes. Jake’s mouth. There was an ache inside him, sitting here beside his soon-to-be-six-year-old daughter in the wake of a day he’d missed completely. Anna was the most perfect and beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he felt, acutely, the loss of a thousand precious moments with this little person who would grow up sooner than he could imagine.

  Did she know where her dad had been? Shame and fear snaked through Jake’s gut, but Anna’s eyes betrayed nothing. Leaning down, he kissed her forehead.

  She scrunched up her face, said, “Yuck, Daddy,” then squirmed free to return her attention to her cartoon.

  Jake glanced around the apartment. Something was out of place. The luggage stacked by the door.

  “Elle? What’s with all the bags?” He stood.

  “I told you I’m not doing this again.” Elle appeared through their bedroom door, scarves and shoes in hand. “I’m bringing Anna with me to my sister’s in Hoboken.�
�� She swept past him and stuffed the items into one of the bags by the door.

  Jake felt his face flush. “I didn’t do this, Elle. My assistant is setting me up, either she wants money or something else. Donovan said Bluebridge framed him. Maybe he was right.”

  Elle threw the last shoe she was holding toward an open bag, and it bounced off against the wall and skidded across the floor. “Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So you expect me to take your word for it like I did last time?” She reached for a piece of paper on the entrance table, waved it in the air.

  “I went ahead and checked your phone records. You called this girl, Susie, late at night, over and over.” Wiping away tears, she gritted her teeth. “What do you have to say about that?”

  “What? Let me see that.” Jake never called Susie outside of work hours. “Honey, you have to believe me.”

  “Again?” She held the accusatory paper in front of her like a shield. “The meaning of life is happiness, right Jake? Isn’t that what you told me when you asked me to marry you? You promised we would romp around the world like two kids in a playground, spreading our love. Well, you’re spreading your love, all right.”

  Jake felt Anna gripping his wrist like a vice. He looked down into her frightened eyes, filled with tiny tears. Jake and Elle never fought in front of her. “Elle, can we talk in our room?” Jake asked, lowering his voice.

  “Anna and I are leaving this…this circus, and that’s final.” She waved one hand toward the windows, toward the media buzzing outside.

  “You can’t split our family up, Elle, please.”

  Elle took two steps toward Jake and shoved a finger in his face. “You are the one splitting this family up. I don’t need all this money you’re chasing. I don’t need”—she jabbed her finger toward the front windows—“this.”

  “I didn’t do this,” Jake pleaded, his voice barely more than a whisper.

  “I thought I knew you, but you are like your dad.” Elle’s voice was steadier now, but harder. “You said you hated how your father gambled, yet here you are, doing the same thing with stocks. You hated how he conned people, yet look at you—you see rules and laws as guidelines, not mandates. Ethics only matter if you get caught, right? Isn’t that what you said about your dad?” She sighed. “Go look in the mirror, Jake.”

  “Please, Elle,” Jake begged.

  “Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over, and expecting different results. That’s another of your favorite expressions. I’m through with doing the same thing.”

  Elle took another step toward him, and he half-expected a slap in the face, but instead she knelt down and picked up Anna. “Come on, we’re going to Auntie Julia’s,” she whispered to their daughter.

  Jake wanted to get up and block the door, pull Anna away from her, but he watched as his wife got up and walked out the door. She left the offending telephone record on the dining table.

  It would be better—safer—for her to be at her sister’s, and for Anna to be away from the pack of reporters outside. It was the right thing to do, at least for now, and he didn’t want to upset Elle more than he already had. Let her calm down. He could talk to her later in the day.

  Karl, the doorman, came in through the door to collect her bags. He nodded apologetically to Jake before leaving with them. Jake nodded back.

  “What was she talking about? Did something like this happen before?” Eamon asked as the door closed.

  Jake stared at the door. “Years ago, before I started at Atlas, a girl at the bar I was managing filed a sexual harassment lawsuit against me.” He grabbed the telephone record from the table and looked at it, shaking his head. The calls to Susie were on there, but he didn’t make them. It was a set up.

  “You never told me that.”

  “We haven’t exactly been close, have we?”

  Eamon paused. “Did you do it? Back then?”

  Jake’s cellphone buzzed and he pulled it out, expecting a message from Elle. But it was from that Joseph Barbara guy, the client from Atlas that Donovan had told him to ignore. He clicked his phone off and put it back in his pocket.

  “No. I didn’t,” Jake replied. “I was going to fire her for stealing from the petty cash. She pre-empted me.”

  “Seems like a big coincidence, Jake. What happened?”

  “The owner settled out of court. Didn’t want the bad press.”

  “You know the media is going to find out.”

  Jake nodded. “Whoever is setting me up, they knew how bad it would look.” He swore under his breath. “I don’t blame Elle for leaving. Goddamn it.”

  Someone knocked at the door. Jake swung around. It has to be Elle. He jumped at the door and pulled it open. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m going to—”

  But it wasn’t Elle.

  “Mr. O’Connell,” said a man in a dark suit. He flashed a badge at Jake, ‘FBI’ stenciled in large block letters next to it in the wallet. “I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Special Agent Tolliver.”

  Jake glanced behind him. No sign of Elle. “What do you want?”

  “I’ve become involved in the Atlas investigation, but we’re also investigating Bluebridge.”

  A tingle in Jake’s spine. “Why?”

  “I work outside of the regular channels, Mr. O’Connell. A special investigative branch. We’ve noticed some unusual activity at Bluebridge. I’m not investigating you, but I was hoping you might be able to tell me a bit more about your visit there? What made you—”

  “He’s got nothing to say.” Eamon pulled the door fully open and put an arm in front of Jake. “Unless you want to haul him in, he’s got nothing to say.”

  Agent Tolliver glanced at Eamon, then looked back at Jake and pulled a card from his wallet. “If you ever change your mind, here’s my number.” He handed it to Jake. “Think about it.”

  Eamon shook his head, but Jake took the card anyway. “Thanks,” he mumbled as Eamon gave Agent Tolliver the finger, then slammed the door in his face.

  “Why did you do that?” Jake felt an electric jolt of anger toward his brother. This FBI agent could be important. “Bluebridge might be framing Donovan and me. Maybe this guy can help.”

  Eamon let him finish. “First of all, they never help you. That’s the first rule. And second, how the hell do you even know who that is?”

  Jake flashed the card. “We can look him up. And his badge looked real to me.”

  “So you’re an expert?” Eamon shook his head.

  “I wanted to tell him how empty Bluebridge was when I ran in there. It seemed strange.”

  Jake inspected the card. Embossed. Deep blue insignia with gold leaf patterned onto the FBI crest.

  Looked legit.

  “Whatever’s going on, Jake, we have to figure it out ourselves. This Henry Montrose guy who owns Bluebridge, he’s a heavy dude. We gotta be careful. We don’t know what Sean got himself wrapped up in.”

  Jake frowned. “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

  “I’m getting you out of here, Jake. You might not like me, but I’m still your big brother. Family is family. Come on, I’m going to sneak you out the back entrance. I got my car there.”

  Jake shook his head. “I’m out on bail. I can’t leave New York.”

  “We’re not going to leave New York.”

  “No?”

  Eamon grinned. “At least not New York State. I’m taking you home, up to Schenectady.”

  “What are we going to do there?”

  Leaving the city seemed like a bad idea. It would put more physical distance than there already was between Jake and his family, and if Elle found out he left the city again…

  “I got connections up there.” Eamon pointed at himself and then at Jake. “We got connections up there. And besides, Anna called me. She wants to see you.”

  “Anna called you?” Jake tried to understand what his brother was saying. “
My little girl called you? But she was just here. How did she—”

  “Not Anna.” Eamon put a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “I mean Anna.”

  12

  Schenectady

  Upper New York State

  The front door swung open before Jake even rang the bell.

  Anna opened it. Auntie Anna, he still called her in his head.

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried, wrapping her arms around him before he could say or do anything. Tears streamed down her face.

  Jake didn’t resist. He put his arms around her as well.

  She felt tiny.

  Frail.

  They stood like that in the doorway, half in and half out of the rain falling outside. Clenching his teeth, Jake waited for his own tears, but none came. He gripped her tighter just the same. It was the first time he saw anyone cry about Sean’s death.

  Rocking back and forth, they slowly released each other. She wiped away her tears, took his jacket and hung it up in the entrance closet. Holding his hand, she led him inside.

  “It’s so nice to see you, Jake.” Anna smiled, leading him to sit down on the floral-print couch in front of the big bay window that looked out onto the street. She rubbed her eyes. “You’re looking well.”

  “It’s nice to see you, too.” Jake sat next to her, still holding her hand. A plate of cookies was on the walnut-veneer coffee table in front of them. Oreos. His favorite. “You’re looking great.”

  The statement felt awkward. Forced.

  “How’s the project coming along?” Jake tried to steer the conversation away from himself.

  She must have seen Jake in the news, implicated in the Atlas financial scandal, arrested on rape charges. It was as embarrassing as it was frightening. He was supposed to be the local kid that made good. Now he was sure he was the talk of the town—that O’Connell kid, the apple sure doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

  Anna sighed. “We had to move the office here, upstairs.”