Pandora's Box

by Camilla Porter

  My phone buzzes as the doors open and I dig through my purse but it stops ringing before I find it. As I throw it back in and look up I see a dark-skinned woman, with hair just like Elena's, turn the corner down the hallway, and as I go to call to her the receptionist at the front desk calls me to get my attention.

  "Excuse me, ma'am. How can I help you?" A pleasant, cherub woman in her mid-fifties with long brown hair pulled into a tight bun and maroon rimmed grandma glasses complete with a chain that hangs loosely around her fat neck sits at a small desk pressed up against the wall. She wears a bright red skirt suit with a white blouse and a bright red and yellow silk scarf tied around her neck.

  "That woman that just went down the hall? Who was she?" I ask turning to face her.

  "You mean Isabella Newman? She's the CEO of this company."

  "Oh," I say squinting my eyes in the direction that she went. "She looked like someone I knew."

  "Is that who you were looking for?"

  "No, I'm sorry. No. My name is Samantha Morrison, and I'm here to see Jerome Marx."

  "Yes! Miss Morrison! He's' been expecting you! Well, not today but he knew you'd be coming. Um, he stepped out for lunch about 45 minutes ago. He usually takes about an hour so he should be back soon. But I'm not sure: would you like to wait or maybe come back about one?"

  I look at my watch and it's about 12:47 and I have no place to be so I tell her I'll just wait. She escorts me into the back where his office is located and brings me in and has me sit in the seat across from his desk.

  I cross my legs and fidget with my hands as I'm not really sure what I should be doing while I wait. I look around and take in my surroundings: a fairly large office painted dark grey with two small windows on one wall and a large picture window on the other which looked out to the front of the building and at a park across the street. I continued to look around noting the large oak desk, the deep dark brown leather computer chair, the bookshelves full of licenses and degrees and pictures and books that meant absolutely nothing to me, and the black steel filing cabinets. Glancing at my watch I wasn't sure if I could sit here another 10 minutes. I felt myself being literally bored to tears. Sitting and waiting was definitely not my thing.

  I stand up and pace back in forth in front of the desk while I continue to look around, this time at his desk which is littered with various files and paperwork. A MacBook Surface sits in one corner of the desk and it's in sleep mode. I also notice that it sits on several more files and suddenly the name on one that is about three deep catches my eye: Elena Roberts.

  "Shit," I mutter as I eyeball it and contemplate pulling it out.

  I lean my head out the door and notice that the receptionist is happily eating a sandwich and watching a show that is making her laugh and not paying any attention to what is going on around her. I slide back into the office and move the laptop over which causes it to turn on.

  "Fuck," I hiss. But it's too late now as I take the file from the middle of the pile and open it.

  Invoices. Mostly receipts for different amounts paid. Nothing specifying what she was paid for but the amounts were definitely staggering: three thousand, six thousand, ten thousand and there were well over thirty receipts there. If I were to venture a guess they totaled well over one hundred thousand if not more. I lay as many as will fit on the desk and hurriedly click a picture of as many as I can with my phone.

  Suddenly I hear the elevator door ding and I hear the receptionist greet Mr. Marx.

  "Shit, shit, shit" I curse as I begin hurriedly collecting the receipts as carefully as possible and then slip the file back into the pile and place the computer back on top of it.

  I feel myself begin to sweat as I hear them make small talk and I watch the screen of his laptop hoping to God it goes back to sleep before he comes in.

  Fuck, this was such a gamble knowing it could be set to however long he wanted.

  I hear a male voice note that he is going to check in with a Savannah Gamble but when the receptionist notes that I am here he quickly changes his plans.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I hear him approaching and I feel myself starting to panic. What do I do?

  I see that the laptop is still on so I do the only thing I can think of as soon as he walks in I pretend to trip while I'm getting up and push the desk back.

  "Oh my God, excuse me! I'm so clumsy! Pardon me," I apologize.

  "It's okay Miss Morrison! I've been waiting so long for you to come here that you could knock everything off my desk and it would be fine," he smiles at me and I try to stop my eyes from squinting at such an odd comment.

  Jerome Marx is in his mid-fifties with grey hair that looks like he is growing it out and the beginnings of a beard. He is wearing a black and grey Armani suit which he chooses to wear without a tie and the cost of the suit does not quite match the atmosphere of the building. He puts his hand out to me and I shake it firmly, and there's something about him that seems familiar but I can't quite place it. Like I've seen him before and my cop instincts kick into overdrive but I'm drawing a blank.

  "And why have you been waiting for me?" I ask curiously.

  "I'm assuming that Isaac left you a flash drive or else how did you get here?" he smirks.

  "He did, but he wasn't very specific other than to say that you can help me."

  "And I can. Did you bring the laptop?"

  "Maybe. But first I'd like you to answer some questions for me."

  He looks at me, and I find it quite odd that he hasn't stopped smiling since he walked into the office. Maybe he's just a happy guy? But somehow I doubt it.

  "Fair enough, Miss Morrison" he agrees as he walks around his desk and sits down. Putting his elbows on the desk, he leans forward and folds his hands as he says, "fire away."

  I start with Isaac and he tells me the exact same story that Elena told me: he was their best hacker. He went after a big dollar payday and didn't like what he found and that's probably what got him killed.

  Then I ask him about Elena and for the first time since I met him he stops smiling and I see a flicker of what looks like anger, maybe hatred, reflect in his eyes.

  "Miss Roberts, you mean?"

  "Yes. Elena Roberts."

  "Miss Roberts is one of the best hackers out there. Almost as good as Isaac. But her hacking involves the more... nefarious types."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Look, are you and Miss Roberts close?"

  "Yes. No. I mean we..."

  "Well, that's something you should figure out Miss Morrison. And if you are close I would highly recommend severing those ties as soon as possible. Those who get close to her tend to... disappear. She and Isaac were working on a similar hack right before he died. I have a hard time believing that was a coincidence."

  "Are you saying that she was involved in his death?"

  "I'm not saying anything at all other than you can draw your own conclusions. Now if you would excuse me for a minute I need to speak to my partner," he says as he gets up and walks out into the hallway. I look to see who is meeting but all I see is the back of their head.

  I lean my head back and sigh as I try to wrap my head around what Marx has just told me: implying that Elena may have been responsible for Isaac's death? I didn't know her that well. I could admit that. But she never gave any indication that she could be responsible for such a thing. So either she was being set up or she was the absolute best manipulator in the world.

  I honestly had no idea what to believe anymore. But something told me that this guy wasn't one hundred percent on the up and up.

  I can hear two men in the hallway talking in low voices and suddenly their voices rise, and I can recognize the voice of the second man.

  No. It couldn't be. Could it?

  "We'll talk about this later Timothy. Now go pull that file that I asked you to."

  Fuck. My heart starts to racing and I my insides start shaking. Was that the same Timothy that took Travis and assaulted Elena's mother? S
hit.

  I feel the color drain from my face as Jerome comes back into the room, but I do my best to keep myself together.

  "What's the matter, Miss Morrison? You look like you've seen a ghost," he smirks at me.

  "Well," I start, my voice quivering, "you just told me that the woman I've been seeing might have been responsible for my son's father's death. Wouldn't that make you a little pale Mr. Marx?"

  I swallow hard and take a deep breath to try and calm myself down as I wipe my sweaty palms on the sides of my pants.

  "Well, I suppose so. That's a lot to take in that's for sure. Now if you don't have any other questions we can get started on that laptop."

  "Oh yes. Absolutely," I say trying to control my anxiousness.

  I reach down towards my bag and something in me tells me not to give him the laptop. Just then my phone buzzes and a text pops up:

  Hey Morrison, Franklin here. That cigarette you wanted me to run prints on came back to a Timothy Carraway. Other than a few parking tickets he's pretty clean. Hope this helps.

  "Oh shit," I say as I fumble around in my bag dropping my phone back down.

  "What it is?"

  "I grabbed the wrong bag. This one has my work laptop in it." I laugh nervously and I hope he doesn't catch it.

  "That's okay. I can just come back with you to get it." He looks at me and his grey eyes stare at me icily. Suddenly I feel very uncomfortable.

  "I have to pick up my son at my mother's. I can always come back tomorrow."

  "I don't think you understand how important this is Miss Morrison. The sooner we get that file the sooner this can be over."

  "Well, you've waited this long Mr. Marx. What's one more day?" I ask standing up.

  He stares at me still but I lock eyes with him and refuse to look away and I see that he knows he won't win this one.

  "Very we'll Miss Morrison," he says as he stands up and starts to walk me out. "I hope Travis is well." And his words send an icy chill through my veins.

  I look at him and he just smiles and laughs lightly. "Isaac talked a lot about him. He cared very much for you both," he reassures. "Same time tomorrow Miss Morrison?"

  "Yes, Mr. Marx. It was nice to meet you," I say turning and shaking his hand.

  "Likewise. I would walk you out but I have a board meeting that started about five minutes ago so my apologies."

  I look at him skeptically because he had just offered to come with me to get the laptop but now he was in a hurry to get to a board meeting. I decide not to pursue it and instead just make my way towards the hallway.

  "No problem. I'll see myself out."

  I take the elevator to the ground floor and notice they the car I thought was Elena's is now gone. And as I approach my own car I notice that the back window has been broken out and that both of my front tires have been slashed.

  Unlocking the car I look around but nothing is missing not even the change or dollar bills from the console which I find extremely odd.

  "What the fuck?" I mutter as I dig my phone out of my purse and call the station to have an officer come take a report and then I call Triple A.

  When I'm done with that I decide to text Elena. Isaac told me not to trust anyone and I don't, including this guy Marx. But I need to know.

  Sam: Hey, are you busy? Can you pick me up at 9078 Long Beach Terrace? I ran into a bit of car trouble.

  Elena: Never too busy for you. But it will be about twenty minutes. Is that okay?

  Sam: Yeah. I have to wait for a cruiser and Triple-A anyway.

  Elena: Jesus! Are you okay?

  Sam: Yes I'm fine. But my car not so much.

  Elena: Okay. Sit tight. I'll be there soon.

  I put my phone in my pocket and pace back and forth next to the car for a little while. Finally, I can't take it anymore and I decide I can't wait to see her to ask her this question. I need to know.

  Sam: One more thing Elena, I never got to ask you after the incident with Travis and your mother but I need to know: who is Timothy?

  --

  Officers Reyes and Fontaine show up and take the report on my truck and they too think it's odd that nothing was stolen. I try not to let my mind wander but I can't help to think of seeing a car that was similar to Elena's and someone that looked like her in the building. But why would she break my window and slash my tires? What did she have to gain by that? Or was she looking for something?

  Shut up, Morrison, my brain tells me. You don't know it was her. But all evidence points to her. If you would think with your head and not with your pussy for one minute you would see that.

  But I don't want to. So I just stop thinking.

  As my brothers in blue finish taking the report, she pulls up in a space a few cars down and smiles at me. A real, genuine, happy to see me smile, and I can't help but feel my insides tingle. Somehow she still manages to have that effect on me and it was pissing me off. She never did answer my text message but I figured she probably wanted to talk about it in person.

  As Triple-A pulls my car up onto the lift I walk over to her car and slide in the passenger seat.

  "Hey," she says still smiling.

  "Hey," I return back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Elena

  How do I explain this to her without her hating me? I rack my brain as she walks over to my car and slides in the passenger seat. She is so beautiful she just takes my breath away and I can't help but smile and wish it didn't have to be this way. Why couldn't I have met her in another time, another place?

  Hey, is all I can manage and I decide to tell her just as much as she asks.

  "You asked me who Timothy is..."

  She turns herself to face me and we lock eyes.

  "I used to work for Timothy. Here actually. It's a sister company of Upton Sinclair's run by..."

  "Isabella Newman," she says.

  "Yes. How did you know that?"

  "Because I saw her earlier. Well the back of her. And she looked just like you."

  "I get that a lot. But she and I are nothing alike beyond a physical resemblance. Anyway he was in charge of finance here and his numbers didn't always add up and there were companies that were using P.O. Boxes and had no main address. And then when I mentioned that I was let go."

  "So you were fired?"

  "I was told that management was restructuring. If they had fired me they knew I would have had a lawsuit."

  "You know Elena, I am trying to believe you. I really am. It's just..."

  "What? Have I ever been anything less than honest with you? Why would I only tell you half the story? I didn't have to tell you anything! Are you really going to believe them over..."

  "What?" she interrupts. "Someone I barely know vs. someone I hardly know? I mean really Elena, what do I know about you? And why should I believe you?"

  I look away from her and just stare out over the steering wheel. "And why should you believe them? Isaac?" I scoff. If she only knew. "You know what? Just get out of my car. I'll call you an Uber. Shit, I'll even pay for it. I've been through so much over the last week that I don't need this. I really fucking don't."

  I stare at her not believing that she had the audacity to throw me out of the car like this.

  “You know what? Fuck you,” I sigh as I get out of the car.

  But no sooner do I close the door then he is in my face pointing a gun at me.

  “Hello, Elena. Why don’t you get your pretty little ass back inside that car for me?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam

  No sooner does the car door slam close when it opens again, and Elena slides into the passenger seat with her head down.

  "What? What now??" I start to say loudly, but then I hear the back door open and feel cold metal pressed against my neck. I move my hand to grab my gun, but he presses the muzzle deeper into my skin.

  “I don’t think so. Hand it over,” he says as I take the gun and hand it back to him. “I believe you two have something that I need.�
�

  "Timothy, what the hell do you want?," Elena asks as he puts his hand on her shoulder from the backseat.

  "Oh, I think you know what I want. Our boss trusted you to complete a certain task and since you've failed he's sent me to finish the job."

  "What do you mean? I still had time left!"

  "Well, he felt blondie's snatch was too much of a distraction for you and didn't think you'd get it done so that's where I come in. Now let's have the laptop."

  "I don't have it," I say as I feel him press the gun harder into my neck. "It's not here, It's at my house."

  He looks at me and then he looks at her mulling over whether or not I am telling the truth. And finally, after a long silence, he just says, "Drive."

  "Now listen blondie, you are going to take your cuffs that I am sure that you have either on you or somewhere in this car, and you are going to cuff your right wrist to her left wrist and then you're going to hand me the key. No funny business. No funny moves. You try anything? I will shoot you. I need curly locks over here alive. I don't need you. Got it?"

  "Got it," I say.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Elena

  She reaches behind her and takes the cuffs out of her back pocket, slipping one of the bracelets around her wrist. I hold out my hand to try to make it easier for her and she looks at me like I offered her a hand grenade. Carefully she slips the cuff around my wrist and I feel like she is doing everything in her power not to touch me. I can't say that I blame her. I really fucked things up to the point that I'm not sure recovery is possible. When she is done I simply nod at her but she gives me nothing back as she moves over as far away as possible. And then we sit in silence the rest of the way there.

  It takes us about twenty minutes to get to her house, and she parks in her driveway in the back. She grabs her bag and as we move to get out she grabs my arm and mouths "follow my lead" and I nod at her. He gets out first and opens the door as we slide out awkwardly cuffed together.