The Assistant's Secret

by Emerald O'Brien

  Billy is what happens when you don’t play by Locke Industries rules.

  The man in the tarp is what happens when you don’t play by Tackman’s.

  Will I end up like Billy or in a tarp?

  What do I deserve?

  Andy’s arm wraps around me with his eyes still closed, and the extra warmth soothes me enough to close my eyes, but I see the bloody arm and hand again and the dirty t-shirt sleeve.

  I picture Carver and Danes carrying me in their tarp but squeeze my eyes shut so tight, I see explosions of light on the backs of my lids.

  In my next breath, I smell Andy’s hair gel and feel Maggie’s skin, so soft, beneath my fingertips once more.

  I’m home. I’m safe. I’m doing this for my family. I’m home now.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A Friend in Need

  I drive to work through New Gilford morning traffic on autopilot, and when a horn honks behind me, I jump, coming back to reality in the lane of the work parking lot, stopped in front of my spot.

  It’s like my mind won’t let my body go to work, like it knows I won’t fit into the slot—that I’ll never fit.

  I can’t stay at a company that makes me work for killers, but where else do I go? The police?

  Locke Industries will bury me in illegal activities, theirs and mine, with the paperwork they have on me. Just like Billy said. Like Cathrine confirmed with threats that weren’t even thinly veiled.

  The man behind me waves his hand away from me, telling me to go.

  Go where?

  Not the police. Not Tackman’s. Never again.

  Back into the brutal arms of the ones who own me to complete my journey to my complicit end.

  I turn into the slot, and the man flips me the bird as he speeds past.

  I can’t tell Maggie what’s going on, and there’s no one else to turn to, except…

  I jump out of my car and stride toward the Locke Industries HQ, aware that I’ve chosen to enter the burning building instead of running from it, for the value inside.

  I haven’t asked for help for anything since I was a child, for fear of becoming dependent on people who never follow through, reliant on those who can’t be trusted, and pitied for my weakness.

  But this is different.

  This is Katie.

  She’s stuck her neck out for me already, trying to warn me, and I didn’t listen. She already knows my situation, or almost knows, and I need her for the rest. I need her help to escape. She listened when no one else did.

  My heels click against the sidewalk pavement as I approach Philip.

  He opens the door for me with a puzzled look. “No coffee? Have we quit caffeine?”

  Coffee. Right. I’ve never missed a morning with it.

  “Have to go back for it,” I mutter, slipping past him into the building, past the front desk to the elevator.

  I press the arrow with my finger for the first time since the first day of my internship. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, lamb to the slaughter. The doors open, and I enter, pressing the number two button. Just before they close, Elena steps in, Orrick and Iris’s temporary assistant. She nods to me, and I nod back, keeping my eyes on the doors.

  The elevator’s going to stop at the wrong floor for me. I have no reason to be on the second floor, and if it gets back to Orrick or Cathrine, they’ll suspect I’m up to something. Am I being too paranoid?

  The doors open on the second floor, and I freeze, glancing at Elena through the mirrored walls from my peripheral. She’s staring at me.

  “Oh,” I mutter, “I must have pressed the wrong button.”

  She gives me a polite smile and presses the seventh floor for me. She knows my place. It’s good I didn’t get out.

  I release a deflated, “thanks,” and go back to staring at the door.

  It dings, and I step off as she remains on, as I suspected. The doors close behind me, and I press the button, waiting, hoping no one comes up and wonders where I’m going. It’s so out of routine for me, but would anyone else know that? Does anyone care, or are they good little lemmings, following the company motto? Mind your own business.

  The doors open, and Rob walks through and nods to me. I nod back and enter the elevator again. He doesn’t hesitate, just keeps walking down the hall, and I tap the number two button several times as the doors close again.

  There will be people on that floor who see me. What will I say? I should have waited until after work, but I can’t. I can’t be here and pretend I didn’t see a body.

  I’m here to see Katie.

  She left something in my car the other night when I picked her up from The Twisted Olive.

  I was her DD.

  The doors ding open to an empty hallway, and I step off, trying to remember which room she works from.

  I take each step cautiously as a door opens.

  Keep going.

  An older man walks out into the hall and frowns at me as I pass.

  Will he stop me? Ask why I’m here?

  As I turn around, he pops back into one of the many monitoring rooms.

  She said near the end of the hallway, but she never gave me a room number.

  I’ll call her.

  I call her phone, but it goes to voicemail. Straight away.

  Is she forwarding her calls, or is her phone off? They probably make them turn their phones off for confidentiality.

  I reach the last five doors on each side of the hallway. Room thirty-three. I think that’s what she said. I knock and the door opens with a small, blonde girl peering out from the glowing blue darkness behind her, squinting into the hallway light.

  “I’m looking for Katie,” I say naturally. “Which room can I find her in?”

  “Room thirty-five. I’m sorry, who are you?”

  “I work here.” I put enough vigor and confidence in my voice that I practically ask who are you? right along with it, just the way most of my colleagues would answer the question.

  She slips back into her room, and I continue down the hall and knock on Katie’s door.

  When she pops her head out, her eyes bulge. “Jo? What are you doing here?”

  “We have to talk.”

  She shakes her head and leans in close. “I told you, not here.”

  “It can’t wait.”

  “Jo.”

  “I need your help,” I hiss.

  She studies my face for a moment before smiling. “Oh,” she says loudly, “no problem, I have it here.”

  She walks into the dark room, and I follow behind her. As the door closes, she turns back to me with wall-to-wall monitors behind her.

  “You can’t do this!” she hisses. “They’ve got cameras in the hallways.”

  “Not in here?”

  “I don’t think so, unless they have someone monitoring the monitors… and I wouldn’t put it past them…”

  “It’s bad, Katie,” I whisper with tears in my eyes, and her stare softens. “I saw a dead body at my client’s house.” The words send chills across my arms and back, and the queasy feeling I fought so hard against this morning returns.

  “What?” she asks, shock in her voice.

  “But you, you said you see this all the time. Bad things.” I tuck my hair behind my ears, away from my hot face, as my voice shakes. “You’ve seen this kind of thing before, right?”

  She shakes her head. “Not personally, no. Billy saw...something.”

  “You’ve never seen a murder?”

  When she shakes her head, tears spill down my cheeks. “Katie, I don’t know what to do. I’m trapped.”

  She grabs my arms and squeezes them until I give her eye contact. “You have to pull it together. You can’t let them see you upset. You can’t let them see weakness. They’re like natural predators, and they’ll prey on it. You can’t do what Billy did. You can’t run and tell—there’s no one to tell.”

  “What do I do?”

  Katie shakes her head. “You have to go.”

  “What?”


  She lets me go and leans against her chair. “We can’t talk here. Meet me at my apartment tonight after dark.”

  I nod, wiping the tears from my eyes. “I never meant for this to happen. You tried to warn me.”

  “Why did you do it, Jo? Why did you want to stay after what I told you? No amount of money’s worth this.”

  I could tell her they never suggested firing me.

  That Orrick and Cathrine both seemed keen on keeping me, so there wasn’t an easy way out, but that’s a lie. I could have stood up for myself in those meetings. Agreed that I’d made a big mistake and admitted I wasn’t right for the job.

  I could tell her the truth, that I’m being both blackmailed and paid to stay silent.

  She’s gone out of her way for me, been a true friend, and it’s what I owe her. The truth.

  “My sister... She’s been to rehab, and I paid the bill. I’m in so much debt, Katie, it’s crazy, and I need to get out from under it. I can’t breathe sometimes thinking about it, and this was my way out.”

  She stares at me for a moment before shaking her head, not out of pity or anger, but fear. “You have to go.”

  “But you’ll help me?”

  She nods. “I think I have a plan.”

  “You do?” My lungs fill with air and shudder as I release the deep breath.

  “There’s only one way for you to get out, now, unscathed. My place. Make sure you’re not followed.”

  I nod and reach for the door handle.

  “Wait.” She digs through her purse and pulls out her iPod, handing it to me. “This is why you came. To get your iPod back. I’ll get it tonight.”

  I nod, grabbing it, and slip out the door.

  I need to stay calm, as normal as possible for the day, and then tonight, we can make a plan.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Apartment

  I dash from my car, parked by the curb on the street in front of Katie’s apartment building, and rush through the front doors. As I reach the elevator, I turn around to make sure no one is behind me, following me, and when I’m satisfied, I climb six flights of stairs to the third floor.

  As I walk down the empty hall, the weight of my footsteps echoes through the floor until I stop, reaching Katie’s apartment. I knock on the cool metal door and wait, clutching my purse strap over my shoulder.

  She has a plan. It’s the only thing that’s gotten me through the day. We’ll work this out together.

  My phone vibrates in my purse, and I pull it out.

  Maggie sent a message. Went grocery shopping. Spaghetti for dinner. When will you be home?

  Back late, I type, eat without me.

  I shove the phone back in my purse and knock on the door again. When I step away, I notice the corner of a white paper under the door.

  I bend and grab it, a blank white envelope, as my phone rings, probably Maggie again. I don’t need to be made to feel guilty about not coming home to have a family dinner right now.

  I knock on the door again, ready to hand Katie her mail, and my phone vibrates. Another text. I open it, and it’s a text from a number I don’t recognize.

  Security issue. Danes will pick you up out front of your place in fifteen.

  Tackman.

  He doesn’t need to leave his name and is smart not to.

  Danes is at my place? Of course, they know everything about me, and it’s not a question but a demand.

  And the service is part of the contract. How did he get here so fast? Wouldn’t it be quicker for me to just leave now?

  Is there a real security issue, or do they somehow know what I saw?

  If I go, I’m on my own there again, trapped.

  If I don’t, Cathrine will unleash her threats on me—ruin me.

  If it’s a legitimate security concern, why haven’t they called the guards? I’d get a notification about that. I check the text again. Fifteen minutes. It’ll take me that long to get to my place.

  I tap Katie’s name in my phone, and it rings with no answer. She’s not home.

  I type her a text, Where are you? I’m at your place, but I have to go. Call me, please.

  She knows how important this is to me… Did I miss her, or has she not come home yet?

  I don’t have time. Danes will be waiting at my apartment soon. He could be there now. Going back to Tackman’s could be the worst decision I’ve made yet.

  I type to Katie once again. If you don’t hear from me, I’m going to 111 Concession 3, Copperfield.

  At least if it’s the wrong decision, she’ll know what happened. Maggie and Andy will need closure, and she’ll find a way to give it to them, even if it’s not the truth.

  I send the text and walk back down the hallway to the stairwell before I realize the white envelope is still in my hand. I push the door open with my back and peek inside the envelope.

  So sorry I missed our date, Jo.

  It’s for me. An explanation.

  I stop on the stairwell landing and scan the letter.

  The craziest thing happened today.

  After I saw you, John called and proposed!

  You were right, I just had to be patient.

  3 years was a long time to wait, but it finally happened.

  Things happen for a reason, and this was my time.

  Hope you can understand about the rush. You know how

  Excited I am about moving to Vancouver.

  Now I can be with my fiancé and grow our life together.

  My hope is that you know I’m

  Over the moon happy for you in your new position.

  Very proud to have known you, Jo. I wish you the best.

  Even if you hate me for leaving, I’ll understand.

  I flip the note over, but there’s nothing on the back.

  This has to be a joke. I can barely breathe, my chest tight with betrayal as I read the letter once more, tears pooling in my eyes and the words blurring.

  But I didn’t need to read it again. I read it right the first time.

  She thinks she’s done all she can do for me, all she cares to do for me, and she’s leaving me to deal with the mess on my own. The first person I confide my trouble in, and she’s gone.

  I rush down the staircase and out of the building to my car. The cold night air nips at my wet cheeks and nose until I get in.

  No one will be here for me. The runaway train isn’t stopping, so I either fling myself off and accept the consequences, or ride it until it crashes.

  I reach my apartment, and the black truck, maybe even the one they put the dead body in the back of, is parked at my curb. I can see Dane’s outline from behind the tinted windows, and he rolls it down as I approach.

  “You got Tackman’s message?” I try to read his stoic expression as I nod. “Let’s go.”

  I round the front of the cab and open the door, staring up at him before climbing in. The smell of new leather fills the space before I can even shut the door, and I can barely breathe.

  “Can I open the window?”

  “Sure.” He shifts into drive. As it buzzes down, cars whiz past us, and he waits for an opening to merge onto the road.

  I want to be back in the apartment with Maggie and Andy, eating spaghetti, and listening to Andy talk about his day. But I have no choice anymore.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Tackman will let you know,” he says, taking the opportunity of the gap in cars to drive forward. “What’s that about?” He nods to the paper in my hand.

  Katie’s note.

  I shake my head and hold it away from his prying eyes, reading it again.

  How could she have moved in the middle of my crisis? How did it happen so fast? It can’t be a coincidence it happened the same day I confronted her in her monitoring dock.

  Did they see and get rid of her?

  No, this is her writing.

  Did they make her leave this for me to read, to know I was alone—abandoned by the only person who might’ve been
able to help?

  She had a plan.

  I read the note once more as the wind from the window tousles my hair around my face.

  Did John finally propose? It was all she wanted—her chance to escape, and of course it would be more important to her than mine. I never told her she had to be patient about waiting for the proposal, though, and I don’t see how she could say what she did in earnest. Over the moon about my promotion?

  I’ve only known her just shy of three years, and they were together for almost five…

  I scan over the note again. Is there a hidden message meant for me? I focus on just the first letters of each line.

  S

  T

  A

  Y

  3

  T

  H

  E

  N

  M

  O

  V

  E

  Stay for three years, and then move? Three months?

  That’s her plan.

  She’s telling me to be patient, stay, and then move.

  It’s like she wasn’t listening at all. I don’t know if I’ll survive the night, never mind three months or three years, and what would I have to see in that time? What would I be made to do? What would I become comfortable doing?

  The thought, the cold wind, or both give me chills, and I roll the window back up.

  “Good. I was getting cold,” Danes grumbles.

  We’re silent on the highway, but as he exits, he makes a different turn than I usually do.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Tackman’s.”

  “I don’t usually go this way.”

  “I prefer the backroads. Better scenery.”

  So, we’re not in a rush, whatever this security issue is.

  This sounds more like a set up than a security issue, and I wish I could grab the handle and jump out of the truck, but I’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere, looking guilty for no reason if they don’t know what I saw.

  Danes turns on the radio to a hip-hop station, and he hums to the bass line, filling the silence between us once more—and he’s tone deaf. I can’t take the waiting or listening to this.