But Not For Me. Annette Broadrick
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Rachel leaned forward in her chair. “I know this comes as a shock to you, Brad, and I’m sorry if my being away is going to inconvenience you. After seriously considering all of my options, I believe my getting away for a while will be best for all concerned.”
She wasn’t kidding.
He swallowed hard, hanging on to his control so that he didn’t pound the desk and bellow at her. Not that she hadn’t witnessed some of that behavior over the years, but it had never been aimed at her. Desolation swept over him at the idea that Rachel could so casually walk away from the business she had helped to create.
“Do I have any say in your decision or is it already written in stone?” he asked mildly. Only his clenched hands resting on the desk gave away his agitation. If she happened to notice.
Rachel sighed and looked toward the window for a long moment before turning back to him. “I haven’t wanted to bother you with any of this,” she finally said.
“Too late. I’m bothered. Now, what the hell is going on, Rachel?”
She leaned back in her chair and gave him a level stare. “Would it help if I told you it is personal and has nothing to do with the business?”
“I’m glad to hear it. Now tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re going to be difficult about this, aren’t you?” she asked, frowning.
He leaned forward. “You have no idea how difficult I’m going to be if you don’t start explaining—now—what has happened.” He enunciated each word with utmost precision.
Rachel sat up, clasping her hands tightly on the desk. “A few weeks ago I found an anonymous note in my apartment building mailbox. I’d never had anything like that happen to me before.”
“What did it say?”
“I don’t remember exactly. It was signed ‘Your Secret Admirer.’ The notes didn’t bother me at first—”
“Notes? You received more than one?”
She nodded. “They arrived every week or so and said things like ‘I’m so glad I know you…I want to spend time with you’…that sort of thing. As time passed the notes became more…more…personal.” She flushed. “They stated how much the writer wanted to hold me, kiss me…and…um…”
Brad could see she was uncomfortable discussing the matter with him.
“I threw the notes away as soon as I found them. I tried to ignore them because I knew there was nothing I could do. The police said the same thing.”
Brad froze. “The police?”
“Yes. That’s where I’ve been this morning…talking with the police.”
Brad didn’t like what he was hearing. She’d been receiving anonymous notes that had caused her to report them to the police and had never mentioned them to him. He wondered why? Did she truly see him as no more than her boss?
“What happened that made you go to the police?”
She bit her bottom lip and he realized she was trembling. “I arrived home late last night and immediately went to bed. This morning I took my shower and dressed as I usually do. When I went to my dresser to pick out a pair of earrings, I noticed there was a folded note lying on top of the dresser. I don’t know how long it had been there.”
Brad almost came out of his chair in outrage but knew he had to hang on to his temper until she told him the details. It took real effort for him to remain calm while he listened to her.
“At first I thought it was from my cleaning lady—she’d been there the day before—but she generally leaves a message by the kitchen phone. When I opened it, I saw it was signed ‘Your Secret Admirer.’”
Rachel had been looking at her hands during her recital. Now she looked up at him. She looked terrified. She struggled to sound calm as she said, “Whoever this is was inside my apartment either yesterday or last night. I immediately called my cleaning lady, but she said she hadn’t seen anyone. As I told the police, whoever wrote it could have placed it there while I was asleep for all I know.” She covered her eyes for a moment, then went on. “I panicked when I saw the note. For a moment I even imagined he was still there, lurking in my closet, but then I remembered I would have seen him when I got dressed. All I knew was I had to get out of the apartment. So I went to the police.”
Brad went back to her earlier statement. “They told you there is nothing they can do?”
“Basically. After waiting for over an hour to speak to someone, I told the man on duty what happened. He listened, asked questions and typed up the report. I gave him the note I’d found, the only one I’d kept. He asked if I’d recently broken up with a boyfriend who might have a key to my place! I was upset by the suggestion. I told him no, of course. He said that even though the note suggested someone had unlawfully entered my apartment, they didn’t have the manpower to check out this kind of complaint. He suggested I might want to leave town for a while.”
“This is why you intend to take a leave of absence?”
She nodded. “I don’t think I can sleep there again, knowing that someone can get into the apartment without my knowledge. I thought I’d take some time off and decide what to do. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed working here, but until I’ve come up with some kind of resolution for this matter, I don’t think I’d be much use to the company.”
Now it was Brad’s turn to panic. There was no way he was going to let her walk out of here and go who knows where. He’d be worried sick about her. What if the guy followed her? She still wouldn’t be safe.
Thinking furiously, Brad said, “I can certainly understand your concerns, Rachel,” he began. “I believe if we sit down together and assess what has happened, we can—” The intercom interrupted him.
Not bothering to hide his irritation at the interruption, he punched the button and growled, “Yes?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” were Janelle’s first words. “Carl is on line three and says he needs to talk to you now. What would you like me to tell him?”
“I’ll take it,” he said with resignation. Business continued despite the bombshell Rachel had dropped on him.
Hitting the button for the speakerphone, he said, “Hey, buddy, how’s it going?”
“I’m ready to turn in my resignation on this one, Brad. I’ve just about had it!”
Brad glanced at Rachel. “There seems to be a lot of that going around these days. What’s up?”
“Thomas Crossland’s wife turned up at the site two weeks ago and has taken responsibility for overseeing the construction of their home. She’s made it clear that she is not pleased with what’s being done. Today she informed me that she wanted an immediate meeting with you—on-site, mind you—for a full explanation of why we continue to ignore her many suggestions to improve her home.”
“Where’s