by Shannon Peel
“Charlie, Charlie, I am just concerned. Of course you are a valued member of our team and we don’t want you to go anywhere. You work more hours than any other lawyer here and your billable hours have always been impressive. It was unlike you to not be in top form, it was concern is all.”
I bet you old coot. You want me out. Well I’m not going anywhere. I brace my hands on the chair to rise and leave.
“Now for the reason I called you in.”
I let go of the chair and settle back in, there’s more. Great.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I just had a meeting today with our forensic accountant about one of my cases and he filled me in on what he’s been working on for us. The Granger file is yours correct?”
“Yes.”
“He told me that he suspected there was a company account that Mr. Granger neglected to tell us about in discovery.”
“Yes. Which is why my client hired him.”
“Have you read the report?”
“No. Not yet. I just received it and have set time aside this afternoon to review it and the psychological assessment.”
“It seems that some money was syphoned off into a couple off shore shell companies and has been since day one. This is going to cause a major tax problem for your client.”
“Why my client?”
“The shell companies are in her name. Are you sure it was him who was hiding money and not your client?”
“Why would she agree to the forensic audit if she was the one?”
“The accountant did say, off the record of course, that he suspects those funds may not be on the up and up.”
“Meaning?”
“Dirty money. You need to find out if your client signed anything or knew anything about where this money came from and how it was run through the company. There is a chance this money doesn’t technically belong to Mr. Granger or Mrs. Granger.”
“You’re talking about laundering. That’s beyond my expertise.”
“I know. That’s why I want you to work with Doug. This is his area of expertise.”
“Doug.” Oh great the day just keeps getting worse. “Isn’t there anyone else?”
“He’s the best. Why is there a problem?”
“No. No. Of course not. I can work with Doug. I will talk to my client, review the accountant’s report and then talk to Doug about the case.”
“Good. There is nothing in writing at this point. It’s all speculation and off the record, let’s keep it that way, until we know what this money is about.”
“Thank you.”
“You may go now.”
I make my way back to my office. Really. Doug? Fuck.
Rose
I’m home. Safe. Home is safe.
I never realized how safe I felt at home, until now.
I can hear the kids upstairs. They are safe inside these walls. If I could, I’d never let them outside. The world is filled with Craig’s and worse, Mansons, Dalmers, and Bundys. They are out there waiting to strike on vulnerable girls, like my daughters.
The stats don’t lie. Girls are vulnerable. They are harassed, raped, kidnapped, abused, exploited, and murdered. Why couldn’t I have had all boys?
I love my girls. I love them all. This world is just too dangerous for them.
I can’t stand still. Energy pulses through me and I need to move. I clean. I tidy. I do the laundry. I work. I’m vibrating, an uncomfortable feeling is overwhelming me.
“Kids.” I yell. “Kids.” I want to see them make sure they are safe. “Kids.”
“Ya mom?” Aiden, my sweet boy comes down.
“Go get your sisters. I want to talk to you guys.”
“Are there cookies?”
“Yes. I’ll give you all cookies.” He obeys.
“What’s up hun?” Gus asks me.
I hug him. I pull myself close into him. I feel safe. I am safe. We are safe.
“Seriously hun. What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”
Gus pulls away to look down into my face. I can see his concern for me and I pull him close again. Wrapped in his arms I am safe.
“Life. I guess. Today reminded me that the world isn’t safe.”
“It’s safe.”
“But –“
“Look. That guy’s an asshole, plenty of those around, but he isn’t dangerous. Just a bully.”
“Charlie was right about Sophie not staying here.” I say.
“Probably for the best. We don’t need to be inviting trouble in.”
“What’s this about trouble?” My dad asks.
“Oh just talking about how Charlie was right about Sophie not staying here.” I say.
“Well, Charlie knows about these things. Do you have any iced tea?”
“Here dad I’ll make you some.”
I fill the kettle and put it to boil. Best to keep busy. Doing things takes my mind off my problems and helps to settle my nerves. I wipe the counters, re-organize the items that are displayed on it for easier access. I grab my favourite glass pitcher, a couple tea bags, ice from the freezer and a frozen concentrated lemonade container.
If something happened to one of my girls. I’d be devastated. The world is a scary place. There was that teenager in the next town over who was raped. Did they ever catch the guy? I read somewhere that one in four women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime, or is that three in four? Oh my. This world is getting so dangerous. It’s not as safe as when I was a teenager. How can I keep my girls safe?
“Howard what time is it? Shouldn’t we be getting home?” My mom asks.
“Mom. When we were teenagers did you worry about us?”
“Of course dear. I still do. Every mother worries about their children.”
“No. I mean. Was it dangerous out there in the world?”
“Yes. It seems to have gotten worse. But there were still bad things happening when you were a teenager and when I was. I remember a couple of girls I went to school with were raped and murdered. It was a scary time until they finally caught the man, a drifter. Some thought he was innocent, but it never happened again.”
“How did you keep us safe?” I ask her.
“Prayer. Lots of prayer. Even with it though your sister was hurt.”
“Charlie was never hurt.”
“Not Charlie. Grace.”
“Grace? Nothing happened to Grace.”
“You remember.” I shake my head, I don’t know what she’s talking about. “In University. She was raped.”
“No she wasn’t. I’d have known if she was.”
“Sure you knew. I told you.” My mom says.
“You never told me anything of the sort. Mom I think you need to go talk to your doctor about your memory. You seem to be mixing up fiction with reality.”
“Rose.” My dad says. “Your mother is telling the truth. We didn’t talk about it. Didn’t want to upset you or your sisters by talking about it. It happened and that was it. She got over it and moved on.”
“I’d know if that happened to Grace.”
I would. Wouldn’t I? I was in high school when Grace was in University. I was home. Well, most of the time I was out with Gus or at the Fischers, but the rest of the time I was home. I’d know if something like that happened to my sister.
“Hey mom what do you want?” Alexis asks.
Isabella and Aiden follow her into the kitchen.
“I just want to spend time with my kids. Is that so terrible?” Silence. “Where’s Jessica?”
“She’s not here.” Aiden says.
“What do you mean not here?”
No one says anything. I scramble to the phone and dial her number. No answer. I dial again and no answer. Panic raises it’s ugly head deep down inside me and is gripping at my heart with both hands. Where is she?
“Did she came home from school?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” Aiden says. I look at the girls who shrug.
“Isabella, you go to school with her. You must have seen her.”
>
“No. I haven’t seen her for a couple days.”
“Days? What? You would have seen her this morning.”
I dial the phone again. No answer. I keep dialling.
“No. I think she left for school before I got up.” Isabella says.
“Last night? Gus can you text her?” He nods.
“I don’t think so.” Isabella shrugs.
“I know I saw her last night. She came down, got some food and went back up to her room.”
At least I think she did. I was so busy with getting everything out and cleaned up. The boys kept getting in the way. I try to picture Jessica getting a plate. Suddenly, I’m not so sure I did see her.
“If you say so mom.” Isabella said. “She probably just went to a friends house after school. I’ll text her.”
“Which friend? Joanna? Kariann? Jodie?”
“I don’t think she’s friends with them anymore.” Isabella said. “I haven’t seen her with them in school.”
“What?” I have no idea what to say. “Who is she hanging around with then?”
They all shrug. I grab the phone list and start calling all her friends. None have seen her and they confirm that they don’t really hang out anymore. This doesn’t make any sense. Where is my girl? Where is my sweet Jessica?
Suddenly, I see her, in my mind that is, she’s scared, beaten, and half naked. She’s being raped. No, she’s locked in some crazy man’s basement. No, she’s dead lying in a ditch where no one can find her. Images, thoughts, and fears race through my mind. What kind of mother doesn’t know where her kid is every minute of every day?
I try calling her again.
“Mom.” Alexis’ voice stops me. “Get a grip. It’s 5:00 she’ll be home soon. Stop acting like a drama queen. Jeezus.”
“Alexis.” My mother’s shocked voice. “Language young lady. Rose does she always swear like that?”
“Hun.” Gus hugs me. “I’ll go look for her. OK? Calm down. She’s fine. She’s probably at the library lost in a book. You know Jessica.”
The library. Right. The library. That’s probably where she is. Of course that’s where my good, quiet, shy, bookish girl would be. I nod at Gus and as he is getting his coat on, the back door opens and Jessica walks in. The whole room goes still. Everyone looks at her without a word.
She’s alive. My girl is safe. Home. And alive. Relief sweeps over me and in two strides I’ve got her in my arms and I’m sobbing.
“What?” Jessica voice is in my ear and I am filled with love.
Sophie
A couple large men show up at 6:00 along with a drop dead gorgeous woman. She is tall, classy, well dressed, and did I mention, drop dead gorgeous. I feel like a gargoyle next to her. Lindsay is beautiful. This woman, she is more than that, she is the kind of women powerful men have on their arms. A woman who possesses a combination of old fashion glamour with timeless grace. This woman is someone I’d never be within a hundred miles of let alone in the same room as.
“Lindsay darling. You’re looking gorgeous.”
“Marissa. You are impeccable as always. Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“It’s what friends do. Where would we be if we didn’t have each other’s back?”
Somehow her voice has me visualizing her long, sculpted nails in Lindsay’s back more than the two of them standing back-to-back protecting each other. I’m not sure why. The tone? Something underneath it doesn’t sound sincere. Something in the way she talks to Lindsay makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, like they did before Craig would have a temper tantrum.
“This is Sophie.”
“Yes. Hello. So what is it you need my dear?”
She didn’t look at me, like I am beneath her notice, like I’m the help and not an equal. I instinctively look down at my toes and step back, out of her way, out of her sight. I know I’m being silly. This is Lindsay’s friend. I’m just paranoid and weird.
“Sophie stop being silly.”
I can hear my mother’s voice saying the words in my head. She always told me I was just being silly whenever I tried to tell her how I felt. Here I am at 40 and I still hear her voice admonishing me when I am feeling uncomfortable, upset, bad, that I’m just being silly and to stop it.
I wonder what voices my mother hears? Does she hear my grandmother’s voice? Still?
“Sophie here is my new roommate.” Lindsay says.
“Your roommate. Well, how quaint.”
“Yes. I was getting a bit lonely and Sophie just moved here and is looking to buy a place. You know this market is so hot it’s hard to find anything decent. So until she does, she’s going to stay here.”
“Buy a place you say.”
“Yes. She’s looking for something bigger than my place, she has the two kids after all.”
“Bigger?”
“Much.”
“Well I will have to keep my eyes open for you Sophie.”
The woman is extending her hand out to me and I take it, gingerly. I look to Lindsay in a bit of shock. What is she talking about? I’m about to contradict her when she puts a finger to her lips in a shhhh sign and winks. Winks. Like we have some secret. A game of some kind. I am confused. I don’t like lying. I want to say something. Lindsay shakes her head and this gorgeous, classy, snob of a woman takes my arm and leads me to follow Lindsay towards the rooms the kids are in.
“What do you think Marissa? Olivia is 7 years old. Too old for the cartoony stuff and princesses are out. This girl is not a girly girl. I don’t want little girl.”
“Pre tween. Some bold colours, vibrant, and girl punk. Cutesy skulls that type of thing.”
“Perfect. I knew you’d know what to do.”
Marissa tells us what she plans on doing with the room Olivia is using. I look from Lindsay to Marissa back to Lindsay. I don’t understand.
“Ah Lindsay. What are you doing?” I ask.
“Now, Wyatt is 10. He’s a star wars fan and likes to skateboard.”
“Hmmmmm. I know. Urban. Graffiti, brick, and wire fencing. That kind of thing. Make it feel like a skate park.”
“Lindsay. We aren’t staying here that long.” I say.
Lindsay just shrugged and kept making plans to redecorate the rooms. This doesn’t make any sense to me. We’re not staying here long enough to have the rooms decorated. Plus my kids don’t need girly punk and urban skater bedrooms. They just need a bed. That’s it. We aren’t staying here long enough.
“For Sophie’s room. I’ll need the office furniture out right away and a bed brought in.”
“Of course darling.” She walks out of the bedroom Wyatt is borrowing, snaps her fingers and the two large men follower her up the stairs. “So we’ll need to pack up all the books, empty the desk, and then take it all out.”
“You can just move the desk over and I can sleep on the floor.” I say.
“Oooh my dear. Heavens no. We can’t have that. This room will be your sanctuary. Filled with –“
“I really don’t need you to move the books or most of this. I like books. It would be nice to read these ones.”
“Oh. Well. I guess we could leave the books and shelves. The desk has got to go. I have a gorgeous bedroom suite in the truck and it should fit in here quite nicely. Even with the books.”
She smiles at me. I feel trapped. Like I’m going to owe Lindsay and this witch woman an arm, a leg, a lung, or Wyatt.
Justine
The kids are in bed.
The house is quiet.
I’m trying to get some work done. No not house work, though I have a lot of that to do. I’m sitting on my computer working on a marketing campaign for a client. Trying to figure out what will catch people’s eye, make them engage with my client’s business and by doing so spread the word about the business organically. This isn’t easy.
Gary is watching TV in the other room. Some zombie apocalypse TV show that he can’t miss an episode of, which is fine. I’m busy working. I
don’t feel much like talking. I’m getting tired though, my eyes are blurring, making it hard to read the screen. It’s getting harder and harder to keep my eyes focused on the words. They are blurry.
I rub at my eyes trying to clear them. They’re probably just tired. They are blurry almost every night now. I’ve never had a problem with my eyesight before. I shut off my laptop and rub my eyes again. They feel dry.
Time for bed.
“Gary.”
“Mmmhmm”
“About today. You know with that Craig guy.”
“Mmmhmm”
“Thanks for coming in when you did.”
“He wouldn’t have done anything. Guys like him are all hot air.”
“I know. It was scary though.”
Rose had run into Gus’ arms where she started shaking, falling apart as he held her and walked her back to their car. Gary went and made arrangements with the landlord. Howard helped Anna to my car as she complained and demanded we all get alarm systems. Then we left. The rest of the day was normal. I picked up the kids, came home, made dinner. Gary got the kids to bed while I got caught up on work. Normal.
“You’re fine. Nothing happened.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“We can talk about it later ‘kay. Show’s almost over.”
“I’m off to bed.”
“Night.”
I lie in bed staring up at the ceiling. I’m not tired. My eyes are but I’m not. My thoughts drift to today’s excitement. I’m glad Sophie wasn’t there. After meeting Craig again, I am certain that we have done the right thing. She needed help to get away from him. She needed a safe place.
Gary is right. Craig is a bully. I’ve met a few like him in business. Trying to get ahead by pushing their way through everyone. The world is filled with men and women, like Craig, who use intimidation and manipulation to get what they want.
My mind takes me back to the suite where I can see an angry Craig coming for us, demanding to know where his wife was. I can see the anger in his eyes. I can hear the force of it in his voice. I sigh at the memory before my mind wonders down a different path, a path leading away from reality to fantasy.