The P.U.R.E. (11 page)

“Doug’s in my apartment!” My hysteria sprang from equal parts panic and fury.

Jon ran over, picked up my phone and grimaced. “Stay here.” He tossed the phone to the sofa and raced out his front door.

I took a moment to recover, but when I did, I decided not to stay behind. I was ready to wring the son-of-a-bitch’s neck

The three blocks to my apartment took forever, and I cursed Jon for insisting on driving me to his place.

As I climbed the stairs, my front door stood wide open. One reluctant step at a time, I crept inside.

“Jon?”

No answer, and no sound.

The chaotic site bore no resemblance to my apartment. Fear crept in and took anger’s place. What if I had been home when he broke in?

“Jon?” I called again.

The hairs on my neck and arms stood up until a wave of panic compelled me to turn and flee. I crashed straight into the hard wall of a man standing in my doorway. A scream burst from me.

“Gayle. Gayle! It’s okay. It’s just me.” Jon held me by the shoulders. He ducked lower and made eye contact.

When my panic subsided, I pulled away, somewhat embarrassed by my scream-queen scene. “Did you go inside? The door was open.”

“I did, but it was already open when I got here. You did lock it behind you when you left, right?”

“Yes. I’m sure I did.”

“I checked around inside, then went running around the building in case he was lying in wait. I didn’t see him or his car, so I came back to lock up for you. Have you been in your bedroom or bathroom, Gayle?”

“No. I only got as far as the living room before I had to get out.”

“I told you to stay at my apartment. What if he’d been waiting for you to come home?”

“I want to see what he’s done.” I turned and walked inside.

“Prepare yourself. He trashed every room and wrote all kinds of profanity on your bathroom mirror and walls.”

I nodded and took in the living room first. The sofa cushions lay strewn about. My ancient TV had been kicked in, and my phone was off the hook, emitting an obnoxious alarm.

The contents of my briefcase were scattered over the sofa and coffee table, but my laptop escaped unharmed in the padded pocket.

In the kitchen, milk and Diet Coke coated the floor. Flour, sugar, coffee and cereal formed a second layer and covered the counters. The intruder had thrown raw eggs against the walls and refrigerator.

I moved to my bedroom and gasped. All my dresser drawers were removed and their contents scattered throughout. Underwear and bras dangled from my ceiling fan and from doorknobs.

Condoms lay everywhere—some in the packages, some not.

My battery-operated boyfriend lay in the middle of my disheveled bed. Its disarray would be blamed on my intruder. How ridiculous to be more ashamed I’d not made up my bed than at the sight of my most intimate possessions on casual display.

The bathroom shower curtain had been pulled down off the rod, some hooks snapped off while others were still intact with torn bits of plastic dangling from them. My makeup had been used to create a neo-impressionistic landscape across all four walls. Ribbons of shampoo streaked every surface. Most chilling of all were the words he had written in lipstick and eye pencil. He’d used every derogatory noun his limited imagination had been able to conjure to describe a woman, plus a few choice adjectives to modify them.

I moved to my walk-in closet. Snippets of Jon’s conversation with the Police drifted in from the living room as I continued my inspection. Doug had taken the vacuum cleaner bag out and ripped it open, strewing dust and debris all over my clothes. The expensive Brooks Brothers suit I had worn hours earlier lay in a mutilated heap on the floor, a carving knife nearby. I picked up what used to be the skirt, and my hand touched something wet and sticky. I turned the garment over and noticed a whitish substance smeared on the back.
Semen?
I ran back into the bathroom where I washed my hands once, twice, and a third time before I threw up in the sink.

He’d done a lot in the hour plus I’d been at Jon’s. What scared me most was not only did he know where I lived, but he knew when to break in. To do so much so quickly, he had to have been watching me.

For how long?

Was he still watching, and was he planning a return visit?

15

I had no doubt Doug vandalized my apartment. None whatsoever.

The police took my statement, dusted for prints, and snapped a few photos. They also took the DNA sample the intruder left behind before they wrapped up their visit with a disheartening “we’ll do what we can, but …”

With no signs of forced entry, the intruder either had a key, or I’d left the door unlocked. Doug could have lifted my house key from my purse and run a quick errand to make a copy. No one would have noticed his absence for all the coming and going everyone did in the audit room.

The grandstanding had to be his way of scaring me into reconsidering the harassment complaint I’d filed against him. His tactics backfired because I was even more resolute in my decision.

I was no longer afraid, but out for revenge.

I refused to spend the night at Jon’s apartment despite his pleas. I also refused to let him sleep on my couch as my sentry. He called me stubborn and foolish, but a life lived in fear wasn’t worth a damn, and I was too young to live in a velvet cage.

The night passed without any further drama other than I got next to no sleep and nicked my hand on the butcher’s knife I slipped between the mattresses.

• • •

By mutual agreement, neither Jon nor I said anything about the event of the previous evening. Consequently, only Jon knew why I was foul-tempered. I even snapped at him a few times, though I immediately apologized. My mood wasn’t helped any by Doug’s smirks. He didn’t say anything to incriminate himself, but every look, every criticism, and every word he uttered reeked of “I’ve got you where I want you, and you can’t do a damned thing to stop me.”

His presence also triggered unwelcome visions of him jacking off in my closet, touching my underwear and fondling my toys. Every time those thoughts invaded my head, my skin crawled as if covered in a layer of filth. I tucked my new house key into a skirt pocket that buttoned and patted it every so often to reassure myself.

“Gayle, the files will be in the office by nine tonight, ready for you to prepare the referencer’s aid.” Doug arranged his features into guileless consideration. “Don’t come in any earlier unless you feel like wasting your time or keeping me company.”

“Same thing,” I sniped. “Nine? Why so late?”

“Because I have to work late on the files, and that’s how long it’s gonna take. Like I said, it’s better to have all the files at your fingertips before you start. The process’ll go faster if you wait ’til I’m finished before you start.”

“Nine it is then.” I sighed.

Scarlett shook the head she bowed over her work and tsk’d.

For lunch, Doug and Tony decided a visit to Hooters would be a “titillating” way to spend their last lunch at Aphrodite. Jon agreed to go with them. I didn’t say anything; he already knew my position on that particular eatery.

He did pull me aside, however, and tell me he was only going to ferret out Doug’s alibi for the previous night. I gave him my blessing and teased him about ‘taking one for the team’ before he left. He flashed a panicked smile, no doubt recalling the last time he’d been a team player on my behalf.

That meant I had Scarlett to myself. My curiosity about the inventory and rollback was killing me, so I suggested she and I go out for lunch as well. No one had mentioned the results of the second count thus far as Doug did all the test work himself, claiming Bob had insisted the most senior team member evaluate the results. Luckily for me, Scarlett agreed to go. I expected she wanted to grill me about Sandy’s call.

• • •

I handed my menu to the waiter and leaned close to Scarlett. “Have you had a chance to peek at any of Doug’s inventory work?”

“No. He’s been very secretive about the whole topic.”

“Why do you suppose he’s been acting that way?”

“I assume it has something to do with Kenneth’s murder and the suspicions raised because he was Aphrodite’s CFO,” she said with a shrug.

“Maybe. But we’re on the team too. Why would he keep us in the dark?”

“No idea.”

“I’m getting all the files tonight, so I’m going to review his findings.” I grabbed a handful of sweetener packets and made a tiny fortress out of them.

“Don’t be surprised if he withholds those pages from you.”

I flicked my finger at my sugar castle, toppling the fortress.

“My turn now. Obviously, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Sandy, who I assume was Sandy Gomez from HR. Are you filing a sexual harassment complaint against Doug?”

“I’m not supposed to talk about it, but if you wanted to speculate, I might not be able to stop my head from bobbing up or down or shaking from side to side.”

“Are you filing a complaint?”

I nodded.

“Had you previously reported Doug to Bob or Marilyn?”

I nodded again.

“Do you really expect anything to happen?”

I paused and sighed loudly. I gave the answer I willed to be true by nodding, my face set in a mask of determination.

“Good luck, then, because you’re going to need it.”

We finished up our lunch and returned before the guys did. I’d yearned to discuss the Dalrymple shares with her, but Bob had gagged me on that too. Instead, I decided to take another look at the documents I discovered on Jayna’s desk and copied.

I had stuffed all the papers Doug scattered throughout my living room back into my briefcase.

The pages were helter-skelter, out of order, upside down and flipped over. After sorting through all of them, none of the copies I wanted to read were in my briefcase.

My stomach dropped as I considered the possibility Doug had taken them. Why would he have bothered to sift through the contents of my briefcase during his rampage? Why not take all the pages or my entire briefcase? Who knew I had them?

Jon was the only one who knew for sure. Bob knew I had seen them, but he didn’t know I had made copies.

Bob could have told Doug.

The Hooters trio entered shortly after I gave up my search and resumed my work. The guys were all in high spirits, even Jon, the faint scent of alcohol accompanying them.

“Hey, ladies. We’re back.” Tony started giggling like a girl. “Did you miss us?”

Scarlett said, “Now why would we miss your sorry white butts?”

I smiled at her jab.

Undeterred by Scarlett’s put-down, Tony continued. “We had the most delectable breasts for lunch, didn’t we Doug?” He giggled again and turned to the guys. Doug snickered too. Jon shook his head.

“You three better calm down.” Scarlett said. “Y’all are acting like you’ve been drinking.”

A huge no-no.
I was glad she had taken charge of curbing their irreverent enthusiasm.

Jon nodded at me when Doug wasn’t looking, confirming the alcohol consumption. I figured that was my cue to leave and wrap up loose ends with Jayna. I stood and grabbed my notebook and pencil. Doug tracked my movements but didn’t interfere.

Jayna wasn’t in her office. None of her staff who sat in the cubicles nearby were present either. Without considering the consequences of being caught, I slipped inside and opened up her top file drawer.

The files I wanted were at the front, where I had seen her place them a few days prior.

Bless Jayna for her constancy and unwitting assistance.

I darted back out, found the most remote copy machine I could and quickly fed all the pages through. A blue file folder I’d snagged hid my copies and Jayna’s files. If I ran into anyone, my theft would not be obvious. Good thinking on my part because when I returned to Jayna’s office, she was back at her desk. I was left with the challenge of returning the files when no one would catch me and before Jayna missed them.

I entered her office and conducted my interview—mostly wrap-up questions we had to ask. They were rather pointless because the likelihood of any of them being answered ‘yes’ was microscopic.

My favorite was, “Are you aware of any unrecorded transactions?” If the interviewee answered with integrity, the correct answer was ‘no’. She either wasn’t aware of the transactions, or she wouldn’t have allowed them to go unrecorded. If she lacked integrity, she’d lie and also say ‘no’. Kind of a ‘duh’ question designed to catch stupid white collar criminals or allow disgruntled employees to stir up trouble at the eleventh hour; they were the only ones who’d answer ‘yes’.

With the interview complete, I chit-chatted with her staff, said my goodbyes, and thanked them for all their help during our audit. I stole glances at Jayna’s office between questions and comments, but she seemed doggedly determined to stay put.

After five minutes, I gave up and headed back to the audit room, my contraband tucked under my arm. I made a brief pit stop in the break room and plotted alternatives while the soda machine processed and spit out my selection.

A fire alarm mounted on the wall next to the doorway gave me an unorthodox idea. I checked the hallway for possible witnesses, shattered the alarm glass and pulled. The shrieks hurt my ears as all the other alarms throughout the Aphrodite offices went off too. I fled the break room and ran back to Jayna’s office in time to catch the staff grumbling as they filed outside.

I fell into step with Nicky as she headed for the exit. “Is this a fire drill?” I asked.

“Probably. They drill us about every six months. The safety committee is so anal. I didn’t think it had been that long since the last one. Ugh, whatever. We’re supposed to go to the parking lot.” She pointed to the exit and continued on her path.

I waited until Jayna passed before I hurried back to her area, slipped inside her office and returned the files.

Running to catch up with the rest, I found the audit team assembled on the far side of the parking lot, waiting for the “all’s clear”.

Nicky had Jon corralled by the time I stepped outside. He lifted his chin as I approached. I waved but detoured toward Jayna’s staff, chatting with the payroll clerk about her new puppy.