Malicious Pursuit

by KG MacGregor

  They’d been dating for about six months when Ruth made her first real mistake. She got pregnant. Though she’d been pretty faithful with her diaphragm, the doctor had told her it would be more effective if her partner used condoms as well, and Skip wasn’t about to do that. After all, he’d argued, he wasn’t the one at risk of getting knocked up.

  So there she was, ten weeks along with a boyfriend who was furious, parents who were inconsolable, and a will to have her baby and raise it, no matter what anybody said or thought. The only other person who seemed to like the idea was Skip’s father, Roland Drummond, Sr., for whom Skip was named. It was time, Roland thought, for Skip to settle down if he was to be entrusted with more responsibility at the store. A wife and a child on the way just might do that, he thought, and he encouraged the couple to take the step. To sweeten the pot, he offered his son a raise and a manager’s post at the store, all conditional on his becoming a family man.

  Accepting a proposal that had been coerced in the first place was Ruth’s second mistake. Even as they sat in the car after they agreed to go through with it, there was no joy, no anticipation, no resolve. Instead, there was just a shared sense of resignation that they had both lost control of their lives.

  The little girl shifted in the seat beside her, bringing Ruth back to the present. Almost an hour had passed since she’d pulled onto the highway, and she was making pretty good time. She’d spent a lot of hours mired in her past, but that was all going to change soon. Skip Drummond and his cold, overbearing parents wouldn’t be part of their lives anymore. For that matter, neither would her own parents, but Ruth couldn’t bring herself to care about that. All she needed was this precious child beside her.

  Living with Skip had been difficult right from the beginning. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t feel his resentment about the trap his father had laid for his life. But everything that bothered Ruth about her new role of wife vanished when Jessie Riane Drummond was born. Being a mother was simply the greatest thing she’d ever done. For the first time in her life, Ruth really liked herself. She was proud of the way she took care of her daughter, and excited about spending time with other young mothers and learning the best ways to do things. Best of all, she was starting to feel like the events of the last year and a half — getting pregnant and getting married — weren’t at all the trap she thought they’d be. Skip liked showing Jessie off to his family and friends, and he carried her proudly everywhere they went. He didn’t seem to want much to do with home tasks, but Ruth wrote that off to Skip being the typical husband her friends had described.

  It wasn’t until Jessie started teething that Ruth really started to understand how Skip felt about their daughter.

  "Will you shut her the fuck up!"

  Ruth practically leapt out of bed to go see about Jessie in the night. Picking the child up from her crib, she shushed her to calm her down. It always comforted the baby to be held, even if her mouth still hurt.

  Skip was growing increasingly agitated by Jessie’s everyday behavior, none of which was out of the ordinary for a ten-month-old. He complained about her crying, he hated having baby things in every room, and he even ridiculed her in her high chair for having baby food on her chin and hands. Not that Jessie could understand his cruel words, but it hurt Ruth badly to hear her husband speak to their daughter that way, and she asked him to stop. Mature guy that he was, he stopped interacting with her altogether, except when others were around.

  "Why can’t you get it through your head that she’s a baby? She can’t help the things she does any more than you could when you were a year old." she screamed one night when he’d gotten angry about Jessie pulling some magazines off the coffee table.

  "Because I never wanted a baby, and I’ve got news for you, Ruth. I never wanted you either."

  "Then why did you get married, Skip? Why didn’t you just let me have Jessie all by myself? You think I needed you? I’ve got a little news for you too. I didn’t, and I still don’t." Ruth was past hurt. She was hopping mad. "And neither does Jessie!"

  That was the first time she had seriously threatened to leave her husband, and looking back, Ruth wished she’d just done it that night. Jessie was only a year old, way too much trouble for a single father to deal with, especially one with little or no interest in the welfare of his child. It would have been an easy parting, and not walking then was what Ruth thought of as her third big mistake.

  Instead, she’d hung around for another year, taking the insults and watching her husband go out alone at night. She didn’t care if he wanted to go screw somebody else. She was long past wanting to have sex with him.

  And then one night, everything changed forever when Ruth ran into the kitchen to find Skip towering over a screaming Jessie, his hand raised high and coming down hard on her backside. Ruth screamed too, and wedged herself between them to take the angry blows.

  That night, she locked herself and Jessie in the child’s room. The next day, she packed up everything that wasn’t Skip’s and returned to her parents’ home with her daughter. They were none too thrilled to see her, and blamed her headstrong ways for bringing this on herself. The way Roy and Mildred saw it, Skip wouldn’t feel the need to lash out like that if she were stricter with Jessie; and if she didn’t provoke her husband with her sassy mouth.

  Ruth stayed two weeks with her parents, quickly growing tired of the constant berating. When she found a small furnished house for rent, she called the landlord and made arrangements to move in right away. She and Jessie lived there for almost a year. It was the happiest time Ruth had ever known.

  Her fourth big mistake was underestimating the impact her leaving would have on the community gossipmongers, and the subsequent reflection on Drummond Appliances. Roland Drummond was not going to have his son’s standing in the community harmed by the vicious lies Ruth was telling about how Skip had beaten them both in a fit of rage. Skip had told his father a completely different story, and Roland was insistent that his son do something to squelch these rumors.

  Ruth filed for divorce, seeking permanent custody of Jessie, and asking the court that Skip be allowed visitation only under close supervision. She doubted he’d ever want to see Jessie at all, but she’d insisted on the minimum recommended amount of child support so that her daughter would have some of the things growing up that she’d been denied.

  And her fifth and biggest mistake of all was thinking that her storefront lawyer could handle the divorce transaction. She’d expected her ex-husband’s objections to be about the financial settlement and she was prepared to make concessions to end this miserable stage of her life. She was totally blindsided when he stood to ask for full custody of their daughter, attacking her fitness as a parent.

  "She’s got problems of her own, your honor. Serious problems."

  "What kind of problems?"

  "Well, sometimes I’d come home from work at night and poor little Jessie hadn’t had a bite to eat all day. She’d be wearing dirty diapers and still be in her pajamas. I’d bathe her and put her in fresh clothes. I was worried she’d get sick being dirty and soiled all the time. It got better after Ruth went back to work, because she had to clean her up to take her to day care. She wanted people to think she was such a great mother, but it wasn’t like that at all at home."

  "That’s not true!" Ruth was incredulous at the pack of lies pouring out of Skip’s mouth.

  "You will control yourself, young lady, or I will hold you in contempt of this court. You’ve already had your chance to speak," Judge Howard admonished from the bench.

  The biggest blow, though, came when Roy Ferguson stood and told the judge that he believed Jessie would be better off in her father’s care. Ruth had always been uncontrollable, he said, and he feared that his granddaughter would be neglected or allowed to run wild and do whatever she pleased.

  Her father’s testimony had sealed her fate, and without even asking her to answer Skip’s charges, Judge Howard granted the divorce an
d awarded full custody of Jessie to a father that couldn’t stand her. Ruth was allowed two hours of visitation every other weekend, but only in the presence of a social worker.

  When three-year-old Jessie was ripped screaming from her that day, Ruth felt as though her very heart had been cut out. And the triumphant look on Skip’s face boiled her blood. In that moment, she understood completely why some women simply killed their husbands in their sleep.

  In no time at all, the social worker assigned to oversee their visits saw the truth about Jessie Drummond and her mom, and she argued to have visitation extended to two full weekends a month, with the restrictions loosened to "monitored" rather than "supervised." Those weekends had become Ruth’s only lifeline.

  From one of Skip’s cousins, Ruth learned a little about her daughter’s life with the Drummonds. Jessie spent most days with her paternal grandmother, a stern woman who resented having to care for a small child all day. From what Ruth could gather, the little girl was confined to a single room for most of the day, and rarely allowed to play outside. In the evenings, she usually played alone in her room while her father watched television. Skip hated having to stay home so much, but his dad convinced him that it would look bad for him to be out when people around town knew that his daughter depended on him so much.

  What a crock!

  Ruth pushed the thoughts of Skip out of her head again. He wasn’t going to be part of their lives anymore. Tonight, she’d taken the biggest risk of her life, kidnapping her own daughter and running away with no intention of setting foot in Madison, Maine ever again. And so far, everything was coming together just as she’d planned it.

  Last Monday, she’d driven to Augusta after work to have a look at the Taurus, a 1989 model that she’d seen in the Auto Trader as for sale by owner. She’d taken out the $3,400 from her savings account, and managed to buy the car for only $2,000 on the stipulation that she could pick it up on Thursday. So last night, she’d taken a bus back to Augusta and gotten a cab to the man’s house, getting home late and packing it with practically everything she owned before parking it around the corner.

  After settling her bills and selling the Saturn, Ruth now had about $7,500 in cash. That would have to last her and Jessie until she got a job and got back on her feet.

  The weary driver turned her attentions back to the road signs. It was almost midnight and she was sixty miles from Waterford, Connecticut. She needed to start looking for a gas station, and cup of coffee would really hit the spot.

  CHAPTER 4

  "SO WHO’S YOUR new girlfriend?" Elena teased as her ex-lover came into the kitchen to pour another soda. Spencer wasn’t much of a drinker.

  "Her name is Kaitlyn."

  "Kaitlyn! That sounds so pre-teen."

  "She says she’s twenty. What do you think?" Spencer had locked eyes with the young woman as soon as she walked in the door. Hanging out mostly in the kitchen, she was on hand when Kaitlyn came in for her first drink, and they’d had the chance to meet. Throughout the evening, Spencer circulated, helping to keep things picked up so Elena wouldn’t have a mess the next morning. But after each pass through the house, she would return to the pretty brown-eyed blonde for more flirting.

  "Yeah, I’d say it’s possible. But I’d check her ID if I were you," she joked. "Hell, even if she is that old, thirteen years is a pretty big age difference."

  "Well, if I was looking to get married or something, I’d be inclined to agree."

  "Oh, I see. So you have something a little more frivolous in mind?"

  Spencer grinned mischievously. "Maybe."

  "Think you’ll need any technical advice?" That jibe was in reference to Spencer’s earlier remark.

  "No, I think it’ll come back to me," she smirked, sauntering out of the room with exaggerated cockiness.

  Fifteen minutes later, Spencer retrieved her helmet from the floor of the hall closet. Bidding her host goodnight with a knowing grin, she walked out to find the young woman waiting at the foot of the steps.

  "Should I just follow you?" Kaitlyn had her keys out already. "I really don’t want to leave my car here overnight."

  "Sure. My bike’s right here. I’ll pull out and wait." Spencer leaned forward for their second kiss. The first one had come on the back porch, and it clearly signaled where the rest of their evening was headed.

  As she watched the cute blonde disappear down the sidewalk, her cell phone jingled in the left breast pocket of her denim jacket, bringing an immediate smile. It was probably Elena calling to tell her not to do anything she wouldn’t do, which meant she could do anything she wanted.

  But it was Henry.

  "Hey, what’s up?" She hadn’t given Margadon a second thought since she’d left.

  "Spence, you’re not going to believe this!" he said excitedly. "You’ve gotta come look."

  "No way! I’m about to get laid." She had no secrets from her longtime friend. "What’d you find?"

  "Somebody’s fucked with it, alright, just like you said. It’s backing out the cytokines."

  "What do you mean backing out? How?" She’d never heard Henry this agitated.

  "It’s in the global. It bumps the number for the report, but then it takes it back out in a hidden field. And the cost, too."

  "You’re not making any sense, pal. We looked at the global. There wasn’t anything wrong with it."

  "It’s not calling ours, though! It’s a whole different one, Spence."

  "Whoa, that can’t be right. How would it do that?"

  "Look, you have to come see it. I already called James. He’s on the way in."

  "You called James?" It had to be serious for Henry to actually call their boss.

  "This is a big fucking deal! Somebody’s fucking with the formula for Kryfex, and it looks like they’re skimming the books."

  Just then, a set of headlights pulled up behind the motorcycle and stopped. Spencer looked at her watch. It was almost midnight. So much for servicing her libido, she thought miserably. She might be able to make another date with Kaitlyn, but that would require an actual date, and that wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind with the young blonde.

  "Okay, I’ll be there in about half an hour. Prop the back door open, will ya?"

  * * *

  Spencer doubted seriously that Margadon would appreciate her sacrifice tonight, but as Henry had said, it sounded like a pretty big fucking deal, and she and her partner were right in the middle of it. A half hour after the call, she swiped her card at the automatic security gate at the company’s headquarters, entered the parking lot and jumped the curb to park the big bike on the sidewalk by the fire escape. As promised, Henry had slid a piece of paper between the door latch and the cutout so she wouldn’t have to walk all the way around to the main entrance. Employees had gotten no fewer than half a dozen notices warning them against this practice, but everyone thought it was silly. Even with the fire escape open, the building was still secure, since a key was needed to access each floor.

  When she exited the stairwell onto the third floor, the programmer stopped in confusion. Except for the emergency lighting and red exit signs, the entire floor was dark, including the glass office on the other side that she shared with Henry. Spencer walked around the hallway that surrounded the cubicles in the center of the large room. Over the top of the cubicle walls, she could see two people in her office, but couldn’t imagine why they were standing there talking to each other in such hushed tones, and in the dark, no less.

  She was seconds from calling out to them when she realized that neither was Henry. Stopping in her tracks, she listened to what sounded like a frantic conversation.

  "Can’t you just delete it?"

  "This is our code," James explained. "We need this for things to work. I don’t know how he found it, but I have to move it off his doc list."

  "Well, do it!" the stranger ordered impatiently.

  Spencer stepped closer to the office and peered through the window to see what they were doing.
To her horror, she saw Henry lying on his side at their feet; his red eyes open in a blank stare, a power cord knotted around his neck. A wave of nausea gripped her as the reality of the awful scene sunk in. Henry was dead.

  Shaking violently, Spencer stepped back from the window, tiptoeing backwards down the hall toward the fire escape.

  "We need to get this cleaned up," the stranger’s voice said.

  When she rounded the corner and ducked below the level of the cubicles, Spencer just missed being seen by the mysterious man as he stepped out into the center area.

  "I’ll have this fixed in a minute," James said. "What are we going to do with him?" As he asked the question, the controller turned to face his accomplice, just in time to see the door to the fire escape open and close behind him. "Somebody’s here!"

  When she reached the stairwell, Spencer picked up her pace, still careful not to make any noise. Halfway down, she heard the door above her open.

  "Hold it right there!"

  No fucking way! No longer concerned about the noise, she raced down the final flight, flinging open the door and pulling her helmet into place. In mere seconds, she had the bike in gear, tearing toward the guard gate to escape her pursuer.

  As she reached the lot, a black sedan came out of nowhere to block her exit.

  Thank god, she thought, her headlight shining on the US Government license plate on the front of the car. Someone had already called the feds. Relaxing at once at what she assumed would be a friendly face, Spencer started to remove her helmet when she saw the figure from the fire escape emerge and continue toward where she sat on her bike.

  Something wasn’t right. The man from upstairs was undeterred by the presence of this federal vehicle. And he and James had just killed Henry.

  Spencer looked nervously from the car to the man walking toward her, and back to the car. No, this wasn’t right at all. Suddenly terrified, she gunned her engine and squealed around the car and across the parking lot, jumping another curb to tear across an open field to the gated entry. But the gate was closed, and the only way to open it was to swipe her card and wait. There wouldn’t be time for that, as the black sedan had turned and was closing in from behind.