Where Lies End
by
Ruth Davidson
Where Lies End
Copyright © 2009 Ruth Davidson. All rights reserved.
Cover Image by Pexels from Pixabay
To Julie and Ann…
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter One
The dull ring of her phone cut through Diane Benson’s sleep-filled mind, rhythmically pulling her from an exhausted slumber. She moaned softly as she rolled over and propped herself on one elbow, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. The numbers on the illuminated screen expanded before slowly coming into focus. Five-thirty. Why in the world would her boss be calling her at five-thirty in the morning? She fumbled with her phone for a moment before finding the right button.
“Hello,” she managed somewhat hoarsely, slowly recovering her equilibrium. She shook her head to clear it, brushing away a few stray strands of hair that fell against her cheek.
“Where were you last night?”
The demanding tone of her uptight boss caused Diane’s brows to crinkle in discouragement. She sat up in bed, pulling the warm covers tightly around her as she fought the insatiable desire to slip back under them and fall asleep. “I was working on the Pierson story. If you recall, you wanted it finished since I won’t be coming in today.”
“That’s why I phoned this early,” came Carl Randall’s persistent, unrelenting voice. “I didn’t want to miss you. I need you to cover a story that just came up.”
Diane sighed heavily. “Carl, please. I can’t cover a story today. I’ve promised my grandfather two weeks running I’d help him and…”
“I’ve got to have you, Diane, or I wouldn’t have called this early. This is urgent.”
Diane shook her head at the intensity of her boss’s tone. When did anything occur that was not a crisis in his line of thinking? As executive editor of the region’s only newspaper, he pounced on every event—large or small, significant or insignificant—with overzealous energy. “Can’t Shayne or Liz cover it?”
“Shayne’s still vacationing and Liz came down with the flu last night. You’re the only one available. I’d like you to get a jump on it this morning.”
Diane let out a frustrated breath as she leaned back against her thick pillows. “Is there any way you’d consider covering it? I really need some time off.” She didn’t usually use such a direct approach on her employer but her grandfather had already phoned several times during the past week, feeling neglected. He needed her company as much as he needed her help.
Carl’s breathing became strained, coming in a swift, noticeable stream over the phone. “Not with deadlines. I need your help and I need your help today. You either come through in these tight spots or I’m going to have to find someone who will.”
“Carl, please. Let’s not start this again,” Diane pleaded tiredly. “You know I’m doing my best.”
“And you will continue to do so if you want to work for me—which entails covering stories when I need you to.”
Diane reined in an angry response, forcing herself to stop the bitter words that leapt to her tongue. This wasn’t the first time they’d had the same argument and Carl always resorted to threats if he didn’t get his way, threats which had already culminated in the firing of two of her co-workers.
Carl obviously mistook Diane’s abrupt silence for acquiescence for he continued with hardly a pause, “Get over to the offices of Embleton Enterprises as soon as you can this morning. Someone phoned in last night. It seems the late John Embleton’s son—Rick Embleton or whatever his name is—has returned to take over his father’s business.”
The news stopped Diane cold.
“There’s a big story in there somewhere. Rumors are he’s giving one of the longest-standing employees an early retirement, a covert way of firing him, I believe. The guy he’s laying off is his father’s general manager, one of the men instrumental in building the business—a J. D. Keaton, if I remember correctly. It’s creating quite a stir at the R & J. I’d like you to find out what’s going on.”
Diane could not say a word. Her hand trembled slightly, echoing the tremors that had erupted somewhere inside her heart.
“See if you can get into Rick Embleton’s office this morning and find out what he’s up to. Try to speak with the employee getting laid off, too. Dig up what information you can from both sides. It’ll be hot news, whatever it is.”
“Wait,” Diane countered, her throat dry and constricted. “Wait. I can’t cover this story.”
“Don’t start with the time off bit because you know I’ll...”
“It’s not that,” Diane cut back, biting her lip. How could she explain this to her boss? “I knew Rick Embleton. We knew each other. Personally.”
“You’ve been acquainted with plenty of people we’ve done stories about.”
“This was different,” Diane quickly explained, her voice ragged and tremulous. “Rick and I dated seriously and we…well, we didn’t part on good terms. We haven’t seen each other since then.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carl said, his response devoid of emotion. “He’s been gone for three years.”
Three and a half, Diane thought suddenly.
“I see no reason why you can’t follow through on this,” Carl continued. “We need this story and we need it today. Get on it as soon as possible. I don’t want to hear you’ve let me down.” The phone clicked off, leaving Diane abruptly alone in the uncaring blackness surrounding her. She sat in bed for a moment, bewildered and uncertain, before she slowly, with trembling fingers, slipped her phone back on the nightstand. Rick had come back. He had returned.
Why? Why did you have to come back now? Diane silently questioned his image as she slowly, mechanically, lifted off the covers and sank her toes into the soft carpet beneath her bed. She had finally begun to be happy again, to put her life back together once more.
Diane carefully boosted herself off the mattress and padded over to her small bathroom. Face it, she confronted herself. You knew he was coming back. You knew you’d have to see him again. You knew after his father died he’d be back.
But not this soon, she thought as she walked over to glance at her sleep-laden features in the mirror. She wasn’t ready. She had wanted to have her career better established, her own home, possibly a husband—to show him she didn’t need him. She didn’t need him. After three and a half years, she had finally begun to see that. But why did he have to come back now?
Diane stared at her reflection—her shoulder-length, wavy brown hair tumbling every which way about her head, her large, hazel eyes, covered with thick black lashes and partly dulled by a haunted expression, her expressive lips, eternally pulled into a half-out. Outwardly she’d changed, but not much. Inwardly—that was a different story. A major catharsis, she thought wryly. She’d changed from an inexperienced, naïve young woman into a woman left on her own to rebuild the shattered pieces of her life.
Diane had wondered again and again why Rick’s leaving had been such an overwhelming upheaval. They’d never been officially engaged. They hadn’t needed a formal engagement. There was an unspoken commitment between them, one that would last forever. Or so she’d thought.
She’d gone over the days before he left again and again in her mind—re-working, wondering, questioning, trying to find the turning point. What had happened? What had gone wrong? She didn’t know. Rick had literally turned from caring to hating almost overn
ight. He’d never taken the time to talk to her about what had happened or what had changed. He’d never said anything. He’d only left. Left, that is, after managing to rip her heart into tiny shreds. The woman had been beautiful and Diane had seen them together. Rick had wanted her to; she knew that.
What Diane couldn’t understand—even now, after she could think about it without the deep, aching hurt—was why. He had loved her yet he hadn’t cared enough to talk to her about what had happened or what had changed. She had tried again and again to see him before he left—the unanswered calls, the texts, the long hours of waiting outside his office—but he had refused to work it out or speak to her. He had left a few days later. Their promising, one-year relationship had been destroyed in a measly forty-eight hour period.
Now he was back. Possibly only long enough to collect his father’s long worked for inheritance and squander it, Diane surmised, if he was involved in such distasteful acts as letting the company’s general manager go without conscience. She briefly wondered what Rick was like now. Married? A swanky business man?
Diane quickly showered before she began getting ready for the day. She wondered for a moment if Rick still knew she lived in town. It didn’t matter if he did. She wouldn’t move, even if his presence—temporary or not—caused an upheaval. At least she wasn’t still working for his father’s company. Thank goodness she had quit that job only a few months after Rick had left. She could never, ever work there with Rick Embleton as her boss. As for now…
Diane toweled her damp hair, fluffed her fingers through it and then picked up the blow dryer and began blowing the naturally-waved curls dry. As for now, she’d have to face him. Or possibly get released from her job. She held the blow dryer still in her hand and stared at it in distraction a moment. Should she refuse to do the story? Was her presence on the staff secure enough without bowing to her boss’s unfair demands? She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully as she finished drying her hair. No. Carl did depend on her expertise but he would quickly fire her if she openly challenged him after his earlier threats.
It all came down to one thing, she acknowledged. Could she handle seeing Rick again and remain intact? Was refusing to interview him worth the risk of losing her job? Diane walked back to her room and sank onto her bed, emotionally exhausted. It seemed funny how after all this time, Rick still had the capacity to tie her insides into those familiar, heart-wrenching knots. Little did he realize the power he still wielded over her. She sat on her bed, anxious and uncertain, as she agonized over her dilemma.
After several long, nerve-wracking minutes, Diane let out a deep, escaping sigh, lifting up her chin in determination. Rick had been the reason for destroying her life and happiness once and she certainly could not let him be the reason for disrupting it again. She had come a long, long way in three and a half years. And if she had to face him eventually, why not be the aggressor instead of risking a chance meeting on the street, in a store, a restaurant? He couldn’t hurt her again, not if she didn’t let him.
Her mind was made up. She squared her shoulders as she stood and stepped toward her closet. She chose a sleek, tailored suit and then quickly dressed. Armor for battle, she thought as she straightened the collar of her blouse and placed her jacket securely over it. Formal dress wasn’t the usual menu, even for interviews, but Rick would see—in more ways than one—that the twenty-two-year-old he had left over three years ago had become a woman who had learned to take care of herself.
Taking care of herself, however, seemed a whole different matter less than an hour later as Diane stood in the early May sun facing the glittering office building of R & J Enterprises. The breeze felt warm and lifted her hair from a damp forehead. She clenched her purse tightly by her side as she continued along the walkway, her heels clicking in a sharp staccato on the cement beneath her. Only an inward will stronger and deeper than her fluttering pulse carried her legs in through the sliding glass doors and across the padded carpet to the reception area.
It hadn’t changed much since the time she had worked as office help during the year she had met and dated Rick. Even the thin, sharp-noised assistant who had worked for Rick’s father down through the years—Mrs. Mills, if she remembered the name correctly—kept her constant vigil at the front desk. The assistant watched Diane with indifference as Diane neared her desk. “May I help you?” she asked in a crisp greeting, tearing her slightly graying head away from her work, her colorless gray eyes hidden behind two oval lenses. A noticeable glimmer of recognition suddenly passed over her features but the reaction was quickly replaced by her earlier bland expression.
“I’d like to see Rick Embleton, please,” Diane said, relieved that the woman chose not to mention their past association.
Mrs. Mills stalled. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember making an appointment for him this morning.”
“I don’t have an appointment,” Diane said. “I’m a reporter. I was hoping Mr. Embleton might spare a few moments to speak to me.”
The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid he won’t be able to see you this morning. Mr. Embleton is extremely busy and he isn’t seeing anyone today. If you’ll excuse me.” She quickly returned to her work.
Diane didn’t move. “Would you at least inform Mr. Embleton that I’m here? I have several matters I need to question him about and…”
“I’m sorry,” the assistant replied, her tone terse. “As I said before, he won’t be able to see you. You’ll have to come another time when you’ve made appropriate arrangements.”
Diane looked over at the woman in frustration. “I’m not certain how Mr. Embleton would react to bad press at this point in his career but I’m fairly confident a man in his position has some concern about public image. If I don’t get the opportunity to speak to Mr. Embleton, I’ll have to run a story full of conjecture about his recent return and his plans for the R & J. I’m convinced, at this point, that he won’t like what I have to say.”
“Need I make myself any more clear?” Mrs. Mills said, standing from her chair. She almost bristled with perturbation. “Mr. Embleton is busy. He will not be seeing anyone today. Please find your way out of this building before I have security escort you out. Good day.” With that, she sat back down in her chair, her fingers nearly flying over her keyboard as she resumed her work.
Diane stood a moment at the front desk before she stepped away, eyeing the assistant with open resentment. What right did Mrs. Mills have to turn her away without even announcing her presence? Why the open, undeserved hostility? She must realize Rick Embleton would have at least some concern about his public image.
Despite Mrs. Mills’ recent tirade, the assistant already seemed unaware of Diane’s presence. Diane inwardly sighed, readjusting her purse as she began walking toward the exit. Had she made the trip over in vain after all the courage it had taken to get there?
Diane suddenly slowed, glancing carefully behind her. The assistant was not watching her. She hesitated in uncertainty, moving over toward a less conspicuous spot near the front entry. Would she ever summon the fortitude to come back and face Rick again? It might be best to see him now. She knew her way around the office, didn’t she?
Before she lost her gumption, Diane abruptly pivoted, stepping toward the hallway which used to house Rick’s father’s suite. She mentally braced herself as she began walking toward it. She had to take the chance Rick would be there and talk to him today. A confrontation could not be put off any longer—for her sake. As she neared the large entryway to the office, her earlier confidence began waning. The door had been propped open; she heard the light rustling of papers inside. Rick must surely be there.
Diane stepped quietly toward the entranceway of the huge, ornate room decorated professionally in a myriad of greens and browns. She could see the top-to-bottom windows that looked out over the dark brown hills and cliffs outside, hills which contrasted beautifully with the light blue-green of the evergreens in the foreground, a scene remembered vividly from the cou
ntless hours she’d spent there. She gulped uneasily at the remembrance.
It seemed Diane could hear her heartbeat resounding down the long corridor and into the deep recesses of the room as she first entered. She had pictured a day like this for so long, in so many different ways, wondering what it would be like seeing him again and wondering what his reaction to her would be.
Rick was inside. Diane caught sight of him as he stood, his back against her, his head bent intently over the filing cabinet in the rear. His dark brown hair, perpetually sun-bleached to a golden brown on top, had been cut shorter than she remembered and rested above the white collar of his shirt. But the broad shoulders, tapered to a narrow waist, the tall, athletic frame, more at home on the lake waterskiing than in the office—they were his. It was him. She felt the familiar involuntary tightening of her throat until she became startled by a sharp voice near her ear. “I’m sorry, Mr. Embleton. She slipped by me when I wasn’t looking. I knew you were busy,” Mrs. Mills said, eyeing Diane with open disgust. “I don’t know who in the world she thinks she is barging in here like this. I warned her about security.”
Rick turned quizzically toward them but stopped dead still when his dark brown eyes first met Diane’s. In that instant, in that one fraction of a second when he recognized her, his gaze bore through her with a searching intensity she had never before seen or remembered. The impact of his look left Diane almost breathless. She could only watch as Rick’s dark brows furrowed and deepened. He didn’t move. Diane stared back, her eyes drawn to the strong contours of his face, the deep, narrow cleft in his left cheek—handsome lines etched deep into her memory.
“You’ll have to leave. Immediately,” the assistant confronted Diane. “I’ll see that security escorts her out, Mr. Embleton.”
“It’s all right,” Rick said, his deep voice calm and subdued. He seemed in control but Diane could sense the tautness about his tone and features. He brought himself quickly out of his reverie, grabbed several files out of the cabinet and then threw them on the lacquered desk in front of him. “I’ll see her for a few minutes.”
Where Lies End Page 1