The Broken Road (The Broken Series)

by Ruff, K. S.

  I opened the driver side door, my eyes raking over the interior of the jeep. “My stereo’s fine.” I looked at Al. “Wouldn’t that be the first thing someone would steal?” I paused as I dug through the glove box. “My vehicle registration is gone. Some of my CDs are missing. That’s it.”

  Al’s eyebrows furrowed. “I think we should call the police.”

  “Me too,” I reluctantly agreed.

  Al smiled reassuringly as he eased me toward my apartment. “I’ll stay until they get here.”

  “Thanks, Al. I’d like that.” I was trying to be brave about it, but I didn’t want to be by myself when someone had just broken into my vehicle, especially if that someone was Michael or Tom.

  Al and I walked Cade while we waited for the police to arrive. Al stayed until the police finished taking my statement. Then he said good night with a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

  I really enjoyed my date with Al, but I was disappointed the evening had ended on such a sour note. I couldn’t shake the feeling that the break-in was more serious than it seemed. I was concerned that the person who took my vehicle registration now knew which apartment I lived in. I was hoping it was a perfect stranger. For some reason, that seemed better than the alternative. I was still fretting over the incident when I tucked Cade under my arm and padded off to bed.

  * * * * * *

  I took a couple of days off work so I could go skiing at Big Sky and Bridger Bowl before the snow melted off the mountains entirely. It was early March. Only a handful of people were wearing jackets, and the snowboarders were carving up the mountains in shorts.

  Charlie sent me to a leadership training in Kalispell shortly after I returned from the ski trip. Kimme was supposed to join Justin and me for the training, but she came down with a stomach bug and had to stay home. Justin and I drove up together, but we got into a huge fight the second night of the training. I ended up calling Kimme in tears. I wanted to bail on the training, but Kimme encouraged me to stay through the third day so I could at least earn my certificate. I was so angry with Justin that I paid for my own rental car so I wouldn’t have to ride back home in the same car with him.

  I did everything I could to avoid Justin when I returned home. I holed up in my office, avoided his office, and drummed up excuses for skipping out on staff meetings. I also had to give up the gym, since he regularly worked out during the lunch hour and after work. Thankfully, the days were getting longer, the temperatures were hovering in the mid-sixties, and most of the snow had melted off Mount Helena. I was thrilled when I could finally start hiking again.

  The fellowship application still niggled at the back of my brain every once in a while, but I tried not to think about it. Instead, I plugged away at my list of things to do for law school and buried myself in work.

  * * * * * *

  “SAVE ME NOW.” I scribbled those three desperate words on a piece of paper, then held it up. I was waiting for Charlie to notice it from his office across the hall. He was stuck on the same conference call I was on, only he was shooting his Nerf gun at the ceiling and watching the bullets drop. I eyed him enviously. I wish I had a Nerf Gun. I wouldn’t be shooting it at the ceiling, though. I’d be shooting it at my head.

  Why did talking to the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services always have to be so painful? Of course, it wasn’t like I was really talking. The staff at CMS never let us get a word in edgewise. This annoyed me to no end. If they allowed us an opportunity to speak, they might gain a better understanding of the challenges facing low income elderly people. I sat and contemplated the problems surrounding federal bureaucracy instead of listening to the voice droning in my ear. That’s precisely what I’d do if I landed that fellowship, I thought. I’d enlighten the feds about the issues facing the elderly in rural areas.

  Ann popped her head into my office. “Kri, you need to answer your other line.”

  I rolled my eyes and pointed at the phone. “C-M-S,” I mouthed as my eyes slid to the phone to make sure I was still on mute.

  She scowled at me. “Put them on hold. The John Heinz Foundation is on the other line.”

  The phone hit my desk just before my jaw did.

  “Hurry!” she exclaimed excitedly.

  I scrambled to pick up the phone. I hit the hold button, then pushed the button for Line 2. Taking a deep breath, I answered, “Senior and Long Term Care, Kristine speaking.” My eyes sought Ann’s, but she was already gone. Charlie, however, was staring straight at me with a huge shit-eating grin on his face.

  He scribbled on a piece of paper with a black Sharpie pen. Then he held the sign up for me to read.

  I TOLD YOU SO.

  Charlie set the sign back down. He propped his feet up on his desk and reclined back in his chair with a smug look on his face.

  I shot him the stink eye.

  The phone call took less than three minutes, just long enough to schedule a phone interview. If I did well in the phone interview, the foundation would fly me to DC to interview in person. As soon as the call ended, I buried my head in my hands, completely oblivious to the call still holding on Line 1.

  * * * * * *

  An hour later, I was pulled over on the side of the road, pounding my head against the steering wheel. My jeep had stalled in traffic, and now I couldn’t get it to move. What the heck? I picked up my cell phone to call Dan. “Dan, are you busy?”

  “Never too busy for you, sweetheart. What’s up?”

  I stared at the darkening sky. God, I wish someone would just clone this guy. Like seriously mass produce him and sell him at Wal-Mart. Well, maybe not Wal-Mart. That would be insulting. Maybe at Dick’s Sports or Sears… in the tool section. Better yet, they should sell him in the tool section and the women’s section, so women were sure to find him. What girl didn’t need a Dan?

  “Krissy?” Dan asked, snapping my thoughts back into place.

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m stranded near the corner of Sanders and Broadway. My jeep’s not working. The engine’s running but it won’t move when I put it in drive or reverse. Do you have time to come take a look at it?”

  “I’ll be right there.” Dan disconnected the call without saying goodbye.

  Within minutes, I heard the deep rumble of Dan’s bike. I should have been surprised to see Dan on his bike in early March, but I wasn’t. A warm chinook wind had ushered in unseasonably warm weather, and we were all itching to be done with winter.

  Dan had always been one to go against the grain, so he shunned the stereotypical Harley most Vietnam Vets preferred to ride. I watched in my rear view mirror as he eased his black Honda Shadow behind me. He removed his helmet, kicked the stand down with his heel, and sidled up to my jeep. He was wearing faded blue jeans, black combat boots, and a black POW MIA bomber jacket, which was covered in patches. His unruly blond hair, deliberate steps, and lithe form always carried a hint of danger. He reminded me of a mountain lion... lethal but with an easy grace. Dan leaned against my open window and smiled. “Hi-ya, darlin’. You okay?”

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat as my eyes welled with tears.

  Dan sighed sympathetically. “Oh, Krissy. Lock up and grab your keys.” He handed me Kimme’s candy apple red helmet, which I couldn’t help but notice was the same color she wore on her nails most days. Let’s take your keys over to my friend Rick’s shop. He’ll come back for the jeep. He’ll take good care of you. I promise.” Dan’s promise was as good as gold. As one of the youngest men to serve in Vietnam, he was a bit broken but a hero in every sense of the word.

  As I tugged Kimme’s helmet on and slid behind Dan on the bike, I wondered who was going to take care of me if I moved to DC. Dan was like my knight in shining armor. Well, if I were being completely honest, Dan wasn’t exactly my knight in shining armor. He was Kimme’s knight in shining armor, but she was really good about sharing him with me. I tried not to abuse the privilege too much. But it was nice to know someone cared and was willing to help when I was blindsid
ed by those rare damsel-in-distress moments.

  As Dan pulled away from the curb, he wrapped my arms around his chest and patted my hand. I couldn’t be sure whether it was the impending interview, my jeep breaking down, or having to be rescued by Dan yet again, but I suddenly found myself overwhelmed with tears.

  * * * * * *

  Kimme was supposed to pick me up for work the next morning. Dan showed up instead. Tension rolled off him in waves when I greeted him at the door.

  My eyes widened when I got a good look at his face. “Dan… are you okay?” He did not look okay.

  “I will be after I kill the MF who messed with your jeep,” Dan gritted through clenched teeth.

  “What do you mean ‘messed with my jeep?’” I threw finger quotes around the last four words.

  “I mean ‘messed with your jeep.’ Someone drilled holes in your transmission pan so all of the fluid would leak out. Someone wanted you stranded.” Dan’s hands were fisting and unfisting. He looked like he was about ready to blow a gasket.

  My eyes traveled from his fists to his face as his words sank in. “Oh, God. I think I’m going to…” I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom. I heaved into the toilet, then sat and contemplated the cleanliness of the tile on my bathroom floor while I gathered the energy to push myself back onto my feet. I brushed my teeth and splashed cold water on my face before returning to the living room.

  Dan was pacing restlessly across the living room floor. He stilled when I entered the room. “Who was it Krissy? Garcia or Campbell?” He always referred to Michael and Tom by their last names. I wondered if that was a military thing.

  I swallowed. Hard. “God, I don’t know, Dan. I don’t think Tom knows where I live. Michael does, but Michael doesn’t strike me as the type who can operate a screwdriver, let alone drill holes in my transmission. Tom is a mechanic… a transmission mechanic.”

  My heart tripped, then slammed into my chest. My eyes met Dan’s. “Oh, God. What if Tom has finally found me? What if he knows where I live? He threatened to kill me when I left.” I didn’t doubt he would... not for one minute. I glanced around my apartment frantically. What if he broke into my apartment?

  A determined look settled over Dan’s face. “Pack your shit, Krissy. You’re moving back in with us.”

  “Dan, I can’t keep…” I choked down a sob. I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

  “You can and you will. This isn’t optional. Go. Pack.” Dan snatched Cade from the couch and strode determinedly out the front door.

  I pulled the suitcase from the back of the closet and loaded it up with a random assortment of clothes. I grabbed my makeup, perfume, and toothbrush from the bathroom, then hauled my suitcase to the living room. I dropped onto my hands and knees so I could dig Cade’s ball out from under the couch.

  Dan was on the phone talking to Charlie. “I’ll have her there in an hour, but you talk to security and make sure everyone in that building knows about this. I don’t want Garcia or Campbell anywhere near that place; and I want security walking her in and out of that building.” He paused, eying me closely. “I don’t want her so much as taking a pee without an escort.”

  My fingers tightened around the blue racquetball. I rose to my feet and narrowed my eyes at Dan, weighing whether to argue that last point.

  Dan scowled as he widened his stance.

  I huffed out a breath as I shoved the racquetball into my suitcase. I reined in my retort as I handed the suitcase to Dan. There was no arguing with that look.

  Chapter 2 – When you believe

  I was working through my fourth cup of coffee, pen rapping against my desk, right heel tapping against the floor. My eyes flitted to the clock. Ten twenty-eight… two minutes until my interview. I gave myself a quick attitude check. Morbid curiosity, tempered with a healthy dose of impending doom. Probably not the best attitude going in. My heart was already pounding against my chest.

  The phone buzzed on my desk, snapping my frayed nerves back into place. It was now or never. Do or die. Taking a deep breath, I answered, “Senior and Long Term Care, Kristine speaking….”

  I was only ten minutes into the interview when I heard a commotion in the hallway. I glanced up to find my colleagues running, not walking, past my door. I craned my neck to peer down the hall. My attention slid back to the phone when I noticed the line had suddenly grown quiet. “I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?” I cringed. That’s going to leave a good impression.

  I swiveled my chair so that my back was facing the door and the interior windows, so I could focus on the call. One of the interviewers, Julianne, repeated the question. “Kristine, what type of legislation would you want to work on if you were granted the fellowship position and why?”

  Oh, that’s an easy one. I took a deep breath and answered. “I would like to work on getting the Older American’s Act reauthorized. There are key services that are desperately needed by low income elderly, which will be compromised if the Act isn’t reauthorized. I would also like to work on legislation that would allow for early buy-in to Medicare. There are too many people over the age of 50 being denied insurance coverage who aren’t old enough to qualify for Medicare. Insurance companies are cherry picking and denying coverage due to preexisting conditions. Many of these people are simultaneously being squeezed out of their jobs and losing employer sponsored health coverage. They are being replaced by a younger, cheaper workforce. They have no way to access health coverage, and they are just one health crisis away from complete poverty.”

  I paused briefly to consider additional pieces of legislation.

  Charlie’s voice rolled over me. “We have one hour to evacuate Sun Haven, Kri. The power lines feeding that facility were downed in that snowstorm last night, and their generator just broke. We need all hands on deck. Now.”

  I turned in my chair. Charlie was gone. His last sentence echoed down the hall.

  I hastily explained the situation and offered my apologies to the interview team. Then I grabbed my legal pad and ran to the conference room. I wasn’t even sure I had hung up the phone. An evacuation. All those people. In one hour. How are we going to pull this off?

  * * * * * *

  There were so many moving pieces and everything happened so quickly that I wasn’t quite sure how we did it, but we did. We evacuated one hundred and sixty-five nursing home residents in one hour. It was an unbelievable accomplishment.

  I had just settled back in at my desk when Kimme sashayed into my office. She dumped a pile of chocolate on my desk as she settled into the chair across from me. Not just any chocolate, Ghirardelli’s dark with sea salt and caramel. My favorite. “So, how’d it go?”

  “The interview?” I asked, not quite sure what she was referring to. Kimme had a bad habit of starting discussions somewhere in the middle of the conversation.

  Kimme tore into a chocolate square. “Well, yeah, what else?”

  I shrugged. “Good, I think. We were cut short because of the evacuation. I tried to sound half-way intelligent when I answered their questions, but I was a bit distracted. They didn’t want to reschedule, so I guess they felt like they had enough information to make a decision about me.”

  “What are you going to do about Justin?” Kimme asked in a soft, sympathetic tone.

  I glanced nervously toward the door. I lowered my voice as my eyes met Kimme’s. “I don’t know what to do, Kimme. What he did was unforgivable. I don’t want to be anywhere near that guy, and Charlie wants me to work with him on the benchmarks for next year.” Suddenly, the chocolate scattered across my desk didn’t look so appealing.

  Kimme’s eyes widened. “You haven’t told Charlie?”

  “No… and no way am I telling him. What Justin did was seriously messed up, but I don’t want him to get fired for it. I just have to find a way to work with him.” That was easier said than done. Every time I was around Justin I had to fight the urge to throw up.

  Kimme scowled as she leaned forward i
n her chair. “I think the guy should get fired for what he did at that leadership training. He pinned you to the wall, shoved his hands under your shirt, and squeezed your breasts. The guy’s a creep.”

  “Kimme, we were in the gym working out after the training… not in the actual meeting when he did it… so it’s not like we were at work. And you know he’ll deny it. It’s going to boil down to a ‘he said/she said,’ and I’m going to end up looking like a liar or something far worse.” Making my accusations public was about as appealing as shoving my face in a meat grinder. I thought Justin was my friend. We worked out at the gym together for months. I went hiking with him and his wife. I trusted him.

  Kimme crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. “Well, technically, I think you were at work. You were out of town, holed up in a hotel with the guy for the leadership training. You were working out in the hotel weight room. You wouldn’t have even been there if it hadn’t been for work.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think it works like that, Kimme. I think management would say it happened outside of work. Look, Justin insists I’m reading too much into this. He claims he was only rough housing and trying to tickle me. He said he thinks of me as his little sister. He claims he isn’t the least bit attracted to me, and he assured me that he’s happily married. I don’t think it’s going to happen again. I just need to move past this so I can work with him again.”

  Kimme rolled her eyes. “That’s sick. I’d hate to be his little sister if that’s the way he treats her. I still think you should tell Charlie. I overheard Betty and a few other people in the office talking about how rude you’re being to Justin. They have no clue why. You could end up being the one who gets in trouble. Besides, what if he does it to someone else?”

  Before I could answer her question, my computer beeped, signaling a message in my inbox. I glanced briefly at the screen to make sure it wasn’t something important. “Oh, great… a message from Michael.”