Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) (33 page)

Maybe she
could call Mars—the other one—in a few days and ask if Carlos and Maria had
returned safely. Only she didn’t know his number. The guard had confiscated her
cell phone. All the phones numbers in her life had disappeared, just like the
people.

Just as
well. I need a new start.

Step 1: Find a
sane boss of my own species.

Step 2: Keep
the relationship professional.

Step 3: Work
hard and stop getting arrested!

If she could
do these three simple things, she could recover from her current debacle and
move on with her life.

Carrie could
barely lift her legs to climb the steps into her house. Besides exhaustion from
her long walk, depression weighed heavy on her soul. However, on the good side,
her house showed no signs that a struggled had occurred. She opened the fridge
to place her food inside and discovered no room. Fruits and vegetables filled
every space available, while meats stuffed the freezer.

When someone
banged on her door, she jumped, hitting her head on the freezer door.

She had a
great desire to yell at the rude person. However, one glance through the
peephole at hard faces and black suits changed her mind.

The Russian
mafia has tracked me down!

She backed
away and picked up her cordless phone.

“911.”

“The Russian
Mafia’s at my door,” she whispered.

“Ma’am?”

“Russian
mafia,” she repeated and dropped to the floor as one of the men stared through
her bay window. “Two men are at my door and I think they plan to kill me.”

“Stay calm,
ma’am. Where are you in the house?”

“In the
kitchen.”

“Can you move
to someplace safe? Do you have a basement?”

Carrie
scurried downstairs to what used to be her basement. Now it looked like home
sweet home, Mexican style.

“I’m in the
basement,” she whispered and looked for some place to hide. She eyed the
basement door to the outside. “Should I try to escape out the basement door and
run for safety?”

“Hold on…
Ma’am, the police have arrived and the men at your door are FBI agents. So you
need to go upstairs and let them in.”

“FBI?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What do they
want? Is this about the bomb? Because filing cabinets aren’t bombs. I only
called ‘bomb’ to save lives.”

“I don’t know,
ma’am, but I’m sure they’ll explain once you let them in.”

“Okay,
thanks.” She hung up, hurried upstairs, and opened the door. While the men had looked
mean before, they looked doubly so now that a tall, handsome Denville policeman
stood in front of them.

“Miss Hanson?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Officer
Pete Grawehr and these gentlemen are Agent Troy and Kemper from the FBI. Can
you unlatch the screen door and let them in? They need to ask you some questions.”

“About what?”

“Just let us
in and we’ll tell you,” Agent Troy snapped.

She stared at
the nice cop. “Will you come in too?”

He smiled. “If
you want.”

“Yes.” In this
case, the more the merrier. They still could be Russian Mafia with fake FBI
credentials.

She motioned
them to her couch, but no one paid attention. They wandered off in different
directions like dogs off leash.

Carrie located
a soft drink from the refrigerator. She rarely drank colas, but right now a
sugar rush would definitely help. She’d just finished pouring the soda into her
glass when the nice Officer Grawehr returned. “Why did you think the agents
were Russian Mafia?”

She started to
explain about the chocolate drug fiasco but stopped. The story sounded insane
even to her.

“Their suits,”
she lied. “I saw a movie about the Russian mafia, and they wore similar suits.
And they had really mean faces.”

The officer
struggled not to laugh. Finally, with a rub of his chin, he got his humor under
control. “Well, I double-checked their credentials. They’re FBI agents.”

“Thank you. I
apologize for calling 911, but they scared me.”

“Miss Hanson,”
Agent Troy spoke from the dining room doorframe. “Do you have a child?”

“No.”

“Someone about
four-six, ‘cute as a button’?”

“No.” She
tilted her head wondering why they sought a child.

Officer Grawehr
cleared his throat and softly asked. “How tall are you, Miss Hanson?”

“Four-six.”

He looked
woefully at the agent, which only pissed the guy off more.

After a stare
down with nice officer Grawehr, Agent Troy focused his displeasure on her. “We
need you to sit at the table and answer our questions.”

Gripping her
soft drink, she hurried to the dining room and sat on the one chair with a
cushion. Remembering how long her prior interrogations had gone, she wanted the
cushion. These wood chairs became a literal pain in the ass after thirty
minutes of sitting.

Except for her
cola and a cushion for her butt, matters went much the same as her last
interrogation: repeated questions answered over and over again.

Finally, they
asked a new one.

“Do you know a
Mr. Trent Lancaster?”

“Yes, he’s my
boss…former boss. He fired me today.”

“Why?”

His question
rekindled her pain. “I don’t actually know why. He didn’t have the decency to
fire me in person. He had his lobby guard stop me and pass along the message.”

Agent Kemper
moved forward, like a dog on the scent. “Are you blackmailing him?”

“What? No!”
Why would they even think such a thing?

“Then why did
he transfer $80,000 to your account?”

She shook her
head. The FBI missed this one by a mile. “Last I checked, my bank account had
$323 in it.”

The agent
pulled a sheet of paper from his briefcase and pushed it in front of her. “Your
account received $80,000 from Trent Lancaster two hours ago. Why?”

“I don’t know.
Maybe he felt bad about firing me. Beneath all his bellowing, he’s really a
nice guy.”

Agent Troy
snorted. “That’s a lie.”

“He is! His
parents raised him badly then left him an obscene amount of money, which only
worsened matters, but deep down, he has a good character. I don’t know why he
did this. I don’t even know how he got my account number. He’s not exactly
computer savvy.”

“He paid me a
thousand dollars to steal the information needed,” Agent Troy said.

Carrie opened
her mouth, better judgment closed it, but then out came the words she’d tried
to repress. “Aren’t you supposed to solve crimes rather than commit them? I
realize you
can
get the information, but I’m pretty sure you aren’t
supposed to sell it to anyone who offers you a thousand dollars. If someone
bought Trent’s account I dread to think of how much they could steal.”

Agent Troy
stood and leaned on her table, towering over her like an angry lion. “We
participated in a sting, Miss Hanson. We only gave him your number once we
determined you had nothing in it to steal.”

“Okay, but for
the record, if I lost three hundred and twenty three dollars, it would affect
my life much more than if Trent lost a million. Since I got fired before my
Taiwan business trip could be reimbursed, I’m in serious financial—” She hit
her forehead with the palm of her hand and grimaced. “I know what the money’s
for! Trent…” She had to pause while tears threatened to burst forth again.
“Trent fired me, but he knew my trip to Taiwan had maxed out my credit cards.
So he wired me money to cover them.” She tried to dry her eyes with the sleeve
of her knit top, but it repelled water. “Okay, if I get a tissue?”

“Just be quick
about it,” Agent Troy grumbled.

After grabbing
the box of tissues, she returned to table. “He wouldn’t have a clue how much my
expenses were, so he sent more than enough, trusting me to return the excess.”

Agent Troy’s
glare darkened. “Are you serious?”

She nodded.
“Under all his bad behavior resides a really good man.”

“How much were
your expenses?

“My credit
cards have a total of $38,435 on them, but I won’t expense the outfits he made
me buy, since he let me shop at Macy’s, so it should be a little less. He may
have also intended to include my last paycheck in the amount, but he can’t do
that because I need taxes and stuff taken out properly. I’ll just have to wait
until he hires a new accountant to get my money.” She slammed her fist on the
table making all three men jump.

“I can’t even
dislike him when he fires me.”

Agent Troy
shook his head. “Well, I sure can. We’ve wasted a fucking week on this.”

“I guarantee
you, my week can top yours,” Carrie growled.

Agent Troy sorted
through his briefcase and slid a document over to her. “Well, mine will be
better when you sign this.”

“What is it?”
She squinted at the tiny print. God, who could possibly read this? The illegible
print reminded her of the ingredients label on foods containing partially-hydrogenated
oils. They made the print so small that the letters bled into each other, and
you only discovered what it said when your arteries clogged.

“Just a
document acknowledging Mr. Lancaster obtained access to your account without
your knowledge or permission.”

Little warning
bells went off in her head. She wished she had a lawyer on retainer, because
she needed some advice right now.

The image of
three starving people in an elevator eating eight bodies flashed in her mind.
She knew the number for Trent’s lawyer! She stood up. “I have to go to the
bathroom. I’ll take this as reading material.”

She retrieved
her magnifying glass and the wireless home phone before locking herself in the
bathroom.

When Mr.
Sedita came on the line, she gave her name and told him about the FBI agents in
her dining room. “They want me to sign a document.”

He interrupted
her. “You’re not my client.”

“No, but Trent
Lancaster is, and I’m worried the document they want me to sign will somehow
hurt him.”

Sedita let out
a long weary sigh then asked her to send him a copy.

“I can’t. I’m
hiding out in the bathroom. I do have a magnifying glass so I can read it.”

Mr. Sedita
stopped her after the first paragraph. “If you sign their complaint, they will
arrest your boss.”

“He fired me,
so he’s not my boss, but I promise not to sign it. Will they arrest me when I
refuse?”

The grumpy man
asked her a ton of questions then sighed. “In my opinion they should not arrest
you.”

“I hoped for a
bit more certainty.”

“If they do,
call me. I’ll take you on.”

She started to
tell him she didn’t have any money, but realized she could legitimately use
some of Trent’s wired money for this expense, since he damn well caused it.

“I will.”

She hung up,
opened the door, and discovered Agent Troy looming over her with a deadly glare.

Swallowing
hard, she spoke with certainty as she handed him the document. “I have spoken
to my lawyer, and I won’t sign this. May I show you to the door?”

“Thanks for
nothing, Miss Hanson. We’ll remember this if you ever pop up on our radar
again.” Agent Troy stormed out the door with Agent Kemper in tow.

Officer Grawehr
remained behind and spoke once they drove off. “Ma’am, you should speak to an
accountant before you spend any of the money wired to your account. You might
end up owing taxes if the government sees it as a gift.”

Carrie
groaned. “I will,” she promised, ignoring the fact she couldn’t afford an
accountant.

After a
discussion with her bank, for fifteen dollars, they agreed to wire the money
back to Trent.

She then wrote
her former boss an email. She decided to keep it professional, because she
wasn’t yet able to discuss his betrayal.

Dear Mr.
Lancaster,

I appreciate
your intention in wiring me money to cover my Taiwan expenses, and possibly my
last paycheck. However, I have returned the funds to avoid breaking federal
laws and being in trouble with the IRS. Please contact your lawyer to
understand the problem.

Despite having
fired me for reasons unknown, I am hopeful you will persevere in your attempt
to reimburse my Taiwan expenses.

However, my
check must come from your company account, upon receipt of my expense report,
which I am including in this email. You will need to print it out and sign it
at the bottom then give it to accounting to process.

I realize
that given the current state of the office it may take longer than I wish, but
we must do this correctly to comply with the law.

Carrie
intended to sign off, but she couldn’t. This wasn’t just her boss, this was her
best friend, whom she’d fallen in love with, and yesterday she’d been certain
he’d felt the same. She had to know what she did or didn’t do to destroy their
budding romance. She needed closure.

On a
personal note,

If it’s not
too much trouble, could you explain why you fired me? It will help me get on
with my life and forget this horrible week and today—the worst day of my life.

This week
has made me realize a great deal about myself, and most of it saddens me. I am
not as strong as I thought. I have a finite limit to how many horrid days I can
endure in a row. When I reach my limit, I don’t fight harder. I just give up.

When you
fired me, four days ago, I ran off, but then I apologized and I thought we’d
put it behind us. This time, I can’t apologize. This time I feel completely
betrayed by the person I trusted most. Now, at least, I know how you felt on
Tuesday. This should give you some satisfaction, since you often see yourself
as misunderstood and alone in the world.

I wish you
great success with your new employees.

Sincerely

Carrie.

She completed
and attached the expense report then sent it before she changed her mind.

Tired and sick
of this day, she went upstairs and fell into bed. With a pillow over her face to
block out her bright and cheery room, she tried to sleep at 6:30 p.m, something
she’d never done before in her entire life.