Karen could muster was a slight nod of her head as she buried herself in his shoulder and wept.
But Harry’s intuition told him there was more to come, a lot more.
CHAPTER SIX
Jake’s drug-induced sleep was rudely disrupted the next morning by the jarring ring of the telephone. Daylight filtered through the skylight as he stirred on the couch, hoisting up on his elbows, adjusting his vision to a blinding morning sun. He rubbed his hands across his eyes, all the while listening to the persistent jangle.
He picked up the receiver. “Hello”, slurring the word. His throat felt like a wad of cotton was lodged precariously on the hump of his tongue. Blinking his eyelids up and down rapidly, he strived to make out the numbers on the clock ... 8:15 a.m.
“Jake, it’s Linda,” his secretary announced.
“What do you want?” he growled.
Oh, he’s in one of those moods. Jake had been up and down lately. Quite frankly she was getting fed up with his personality swings.
“I just had a call from a Ms. Logan Massey at First National Bank.”
His eyes shot open and he sat straight up on the couch. “The bank? What? What did she want?”
He heard concern in Linda’s voice, “She wants to discuss some of your clients’ accounts, Travis Morton for one. Didn’t he die recently?”
His eyes darted furtively around the room. Think, man! What can you tell her?
His brain tried to make sense out of what she had just said, desperately struggling to come up with a response, picturing Linda slumped over her desk, speaking in a low voice so as not to alert any of the other employees at the law firm. She probably had a pencil placed behind her ear, rubbing it back and forth across the tip as she spoke, an unnerving habit she had had for as long as he had known her.
“Jake”, she prodded, “She wants to know when you can meet with them.”
“Them . . . who’s them?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. She wants to know when you can meet with her and an auditor, named Scott Harris.”
Damn! Further warning bells went off at the mention of the word, ‘auditor’. Think! Think! I should have done something right away-like yesterday!
Now, he really needed to consider his next move. He knew Linda would cover for him if he asked, because she’d been protecting him for quite a while, making excuses, shielding him from all the anger and frustration over missed appointments she’d heard from everyone.
“Give me some time, Linda.”
“Time! Jake, you don’t have any more time. These people want to meet with you now!”
Mind racing, trying to formulate a plan, his first reaction was to escape, but he had no money. The bank would be monitoring the accounts.
It was about the missing money; it had to be! But, how did they find out? Jake drilled his fist into the couch cushion, wondering how much they already knew, questions swirled, panic closed in.
He had to come up with a way to stall. But he was so disoriented from the cocaine ingested last night, all he could manage was a mass of jumbled thoughts that didn’t make any sense or give any direction.
“I’m sick, Linda.” he finally blurted out. “I…I’ve been up all night.”
“You’re sick!”
“Tell them ... tell them to meet me tonight at 6:00 at my office. I should be feeling better by then,” he pleaded.
“Welllll...l’ll try my best…but can’t you meet with them earlier?”
“No, I can’t! Didn’t I tell you I’m sick!” he yelled into the phone.
“Okay, I guess.” Linda replied hurtfully.
With a tinge of guilt, “Listen, I’m sorry, but you have to do this for me. Just tell them I’ll be there at 6:00 sharp,” hanging up quickly without even a ‘goodbye’.
Linda held onto the phone, shaking her head in amazement. “That bastard!”
Disgusted, she dialed Ms. Massey back with the information to meet Jake tonight in his office.
Maybe all those rumors are true, she thought. Her face couldn’t hide the disappointment because she had had a crush on her boss for a long time. In the past she would have defended him, but a nagging doubt crept in now, leaving her unsure of her future.
When Linda first interviewed for the secretarial job, she was captivated with his good looks and charm. In the beginning she admired Jake’s ability to acquire new clients and impress the older, more established ones. Other secretaries hinted he was in line for a partnership. So caught up in the excitement, she didn’t notice the lapses and absences until much later when his client list began to dwindle. At first she tried to cover for him, justifying the missed appointments and never returned phone calls. She offered explanations when co-workers noticed his prolonged absences from the office. Her admiration eroding, she no longer ignored the obvious.
She knew something was dreadfully wrong. Linda rubbed the pencil back and forth across the tip of her ear.
Maybe I’d better start looking for another job, she thought, waiting for Logan to answer the phone.
* * * * *
The window at the end of the hall in front of the office reflected the brilliant oranges and reds of the setting sun. All was quiet as the door to the office stood closed, a lone fortress to the stream of humanity that had inhabited the building a short while ago, but now formed long trails of traffic leading to the suburbs.
Jake slumped over his desk, contemplating the visit he had just concluded with Logan Massey and the bank auditor. Deep crevices formed across his forehead as he recognized the inevitable.
He knew it wouldn’t last forever. The costly cocaine habit had finally caught up with him. For the last few years, he had fallen deeper and deeper into drug addiction until it consumed his life. He had dreaded the day he would be discovered for the thief he was and would have to pay for his crimes.
What can I do? Rubbing the crevices on his forehead, leaving visible red marks, it seemed as if he was trying to eradicate the criminal acts he was being accused of committing.
He always had the intention of paying the money back, but was never able to dig himself out of the horrible abyss. No more excuses or broken promises now; no more lying, stealing, cheating. The secret was out. Feeling powerless, all he could think was ‘I’m going to jail!’
Slowly, Jake slid his desk drawer open, reached in and grasped the hard, cold steel of his handgun, placing it gently on the desk beside the single white sheet of paper. He glanced down at his choices--the gun and the line of coke resting on the sheet of paper.
Drumming his fingers, he remembered
