“About three weeks ago Jack Hughes slipped this under my door before I got in,” she said, handing him the manila folder she had brought with her. Phil took the file and perused the documents, his eyebrows rising as he read. He reviewed the emails quickly, but unhurriedly
“What do you make of this?” he asked, finally setting the sheets of paper on top of the open file folder.
“I think it's interesting,” Tara said. “On face value it makes Laurence look pretty bad.”
“On face value?” Phil said. “So you don't think this means what it seems to mean?”
“I don't,” Tara said. “It's unlikely on several fronts. Supposedly, these were found in Laurence's recycling bin, but what earthly reason would he have to print these and then leave them lying around?”
“How do you know it was Jack that slipped these under your door?”
“He talked to me about them the week before and he's been by my office several times asking me to bring them to you,” Tara explained. “He said he was looking out for the company.”
“Then why not bring them to me himself? If these are authentic I'd think he'd want the credit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Tara said.
“I'd say leave them with me and forget about it,” Phil said, “but if this is what it appears to be, we have a problem on our hands. As it is, there's nothing to tie this to Jack except your word.”
“My bet,” Tara said, “is if you called him in here he'd claim he'd never seem those before.”
“Here's an idea,” Phil suggested. “Why don't you tell him I believed you, but I didn't think these were strong enough to move against Laurence. Tell him you need more.”
“Okay,” Tara said. “What if he doesn't take the bait?”
“We'll think of something. Don't worry.”
Tara nodded. It was a relief to have Phil on her side. She was sure he'd take care of everything.
Tara called Jack into her office later than day and told him about the meeting with Phil. He was obviously disappointed when she explained that Phil hadn't been totally convinced, but assured her that he had another email that would clinch the case against Laurence. He promised to bring it in the next day. Tara emailed Phil the news. He didn't explain what he had planned, advising her to continue to play it cool.
The next morning when Tara came in there was no envelope under her door. It was a bit of a let down. She'd been on tenterhooks the night before, nervous about what the following day might hold, but now it seemed as if Jack was going to take a few days to whip the fakes together like he had done the first time. It wasn't until she logged into her computer that she realized something was happening, after all. There was a meeting invite from Phil and this one included both Laurence and Phil's admin Brenda. Tara didn't know Brenda very well. They exchanged small-talk in the kitchen from time to time, but she wouldn't call them friends. Tara wondered why Brenda was on the invite.
The next two hours passed slowly while she waited for the meeting time. She barely got any work done as her brain buzzed. She even wished Jack would come by, but he didn't.
At the appointed time she went to Phil's office. Laurence was sitting in one of the guest chairs, looking uncharacteristically serious. Brenda was in a task chair she'd probably dragged from her desk. Tara took a seat in one of the guest chairs. A couple of minutes later Phil came in, trailed by Jack. The expression on Jack's face when he saw the occupants of the room was priceless. Tara only wished she knew what was going on.
“Take a seat, Jack,” Phil said, closing the door behind them. Jack sank into the only empty guest chair. He quickly recovered his bravado and sat down as if he owned the room. Obviously, he thought he had the upper hand. He didn't even glance at Brenda.
“Tara,” Phil said, “could you tell me why you think we're here.”
If Tara hadn't known better she would have thought she was in trouble. She swallowed nervously.
“About three weeks ago,” Tara started, “Jack came to me and told me he had discovered something worrying. He was in Laurence's office and he saw something in the recycling bin that looked fishy, so he grabbed it. It turned out to be emails exchanged between Laurence and some people at New Image. I asked him to show them to me and he slipped them under the door of my office the following week.
“When I read them they implicated Laurence in selling us out to New Image, revealing details about a bid we were involved in. There was also an email exchange with their HR. Taken together it made it look as if Laurence was thinking of going over there.”
“Interesting,” Phil said, dryly. “Laurence, any of this sound familiar?”
“Not really,” Laurence said. He had a booming, theatrical voice that filled the room, as it did every room he was in. “I did exchange a few emails with the head of HR a few months ago, but it was entirely innocent. She just had a couple of questions about someone I used to work with before I came to the company. I didn't see the harm in telling her what I knew. She's a friend of my wife's. As for the rest of it, that's a total fabrication. I have never and would never give confidential information to my gardner, much less a rival company.”
Tara could see Jack fighting the urge to grin. He really thought things were going his way.
“What do you have to say to that, Tara?”
“Just what I told you before,” Tara said. “I was suspicious of the emails from the time I got them. There were grammar mistakes I can't imagine either Laurence or Dean Franck making, and they weren't even printed on the kind of stock we use here in the office. To be honest, I thought Jack was playing a prank, but when he kept insisting I bring the matter to you, I realized he was seriously trying to get me in trouble. I mean, a high school kid could spot the damning email as fake. I don't know why he thought I'd fall for it.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jack said, indignantly. “I don't know anything about any emails. I certainly never tried to get Tara to give them to you. She's just trying to find a scapegoat now that her scheme has failed.”
“Why you?” Phil asked.
“I don't know,” Jack said, looking around the room for support. “Maybe she feels threatened by me. She's very young to be in her position and she's one of the few women. Maybe she's trying to eliminate a rival.”
“Interesting,” Phil said, in a bored voice. Obviously he didn't think it interesting at all. “What would she have to gain by going after Laurence in the first place? Even if he was fired she's not in line for his job.”
“Maybe not,” Jack said, “but maybe she thought with Laurence out of the way there would be some reshuffling and she'd have an opportunity. She probably found that email and figured she could manipulate things to make Laurence look bad.”
“May I put Jack out of his misery, Mr. Ricard,” Brenda asked sweetly. She'd been silent up till now, and all heads turned in her direction.
“By all means,” Phil said.
“I came in early this morning like you asked and checked the badge logs. The only person who entered the office before I did was Jack. I then went to Ms. Jacobs' office and found this slipped under her door.” From the interior of her voluminous handbag Brenda produced and intra-office envelope. She opened it and extracted a piece of paper.
“'Hi, Dean,'” she read from it, “'I am so excited by the offer. If I'd realized sharing a few key pieces of information could be so rewarding I'd have done it ages ago. Phil Ricard has never appreciated my genius, but based on the compensation package in the packet you sent me, New Image clearly does. With my insight into the inner workings of this company I promise I can deliver a competitive advantage--',”
“That's enough, Brenda,” Phil said. “I think we get the idea. Jack, what do you have to say for yourself.”
“Maybe she put it there herself before she went home last night,” Jack suggested.
“I checked before I went home last night,” Phil said, “and no one badged in after that, not even the cleaning staff. There's no way tha
t envelope was placed last night.”
“Well, who says someone wasn't using my badge?” Jack asked, sullenly.
“Then how did you badge later in the morning?” Phil asked. “I checked. You badged in again at 8:04.”
Jack scowled and folded his arms. He had no response.
“You, Mr. Hughes, may pack up your desk,” Phil said. “I'd like you out of the building within the hour. Is that clear?”
Jack didn't reply. He stood up haughtily and stalked to the door.
“Fuck you,” he said, scanning their faces. As if he thought the expletive wasn't enough, he slammed the door after him when he left.
Tara was flooded with relief. It was over.
“Thank you, Brenda,” Phil said. “That was exemplary. Would you mind calling building security to be ready to escort him out if he's still here in an hour? And could you keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't take anything with him he shouldn't? I've already had IT disable his computer and badge access.”
“Sure thing, sir,” Brenda said, leaving them.
“Wow,” Tara said, letting a big breath whoosh out of her. “Thank you, Phil. That was amazing. You set this up perfectly.”
“Unfortunately, I've had some experience with his type,” Phil said. “If we'd accused him without some kind of evidence he would have lied through his teeth and possibly sued us on top of it. Fortunately, he was stupid enough to draft that first email on his workstation, so he's going to have a hard time making a case that he was unfairly accused.”
“Why didn't you just confront him with that?” Tara asked.
“I didn't know until this morning,” Phil said. “I also didn't want to go poking around his files until I had some indication that he was guilty. When Brenda found that envelope I knew we had something and that's when I went to IT.”
“And let's not forget you like drama as much as any of us,” Laurence rumbled. He was smiling. “By the way, Tara, I have to thank you for not buying that hooey.”
“I know you, Laurence,” Tara said. “One thing you're not is a sneak.”
“Why does that feel like a back handed compliment?”
Tara laughed. Laurence enunciated like a classically trained actor. She knew better than to dismiss him just because he had an affected way of speaking. He wasn't the near genius that Phil was, but he had a mind to be respected.
“You know I'd never compliment you, Laurence,” Tara said, standing up.
Laurence rose as well, and patted her warmly on the back.
“You're a good egg, Tara,” Laurence said. “And that is a compliment.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tara said, feeling the need to express her respect.
“I'd keep your head down today,” Phil said to Tara. “Be discreet. I'll have HR send an email announcing his departure.”
“Sure, Phil,” Tara said.
She exited the office with Laurence and waved goodbye. Walking to her office she could hear Jack's voice drifting across the cubes, but not what he was saying. She didn't want to. If she never saw the jerk again it would be too soon. He had about forty more minutes to get out of the office, which was good timing since their department meeting was around that time. She was pleased to think she would never have to look at his conniving face across a conference room table again.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Shaking off the last of her nerves, Tara finalized the slides she would be presenting at the department meeting. It was a good thing she'd started on them the night before, because she hadn't had a very productive morning. She finished up and left her office early, walking cautiously towards the big conference room. The room was already half full. The back wall away from the table was lined with the younger staff. The managers trickled in as she took her place and opened her laptop. She was focused on the presentation as the rest of the group arrived, but she couldn't help noticing there was some whispering going on.
The meeting followed the agenda as provided the day before. The only exception was that Jack's updates were skipped. Tara presented her slides about half-way through the meeting. She realized something was wrong when she looked away from the screen to see that many of the younger people along the wall were whispering to each other instead of listening to her. It got so bad that towards the end of the three minute presentation she had to raise her voice to be heard above the chatter. She had never gotten that kind of disrespect from anyone at the company before. What was going on? She could only assume that Jack had been talking about her, but what had he said?
Once she stopped talking things quieted down. Tara was disturbed. Rumors could do huge damage in a workplace. It was rare that anyone would tell you what was being said about you, so it was difficult to mount a defense, and there wasn't anything management could do, especially in a situation where talking about what had happened would violate Jack's privacy. Feeling a bit shaken, she walked slowly back to her office, a frown marring her face. It was lunch time, but she wasn't hungry. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. What a roller coaster of a day – from nerve-wracking, to relieving to upbeat and back to nerve-wracking, and it was barely past noon.
When she checked her phone there was a text from Mark asking how her day was going. She didn't know how to begin to answer. She hadn't told him about Jack, and there was no way she could explain the whole situation via text. She was tempted to call him. It would be good to hear the sound of his voice.
Tara: Complicated. Weird. I'll tell you later.
Mark: I can't wait.
Tara: How's the apartment coming along.
Mark: Good. I've gotten to the tedious part: unpacking boxes.
Tara: Sounds like fun. Don't work too hard.
Mark: Right back at you.
“Tara,” someone said, tentatively.
Tara looked up to see the receptionist, Ebony, standing in the doorway. Her expression was a mixture of curiosity and chagrin. What now, Tara thought. Had the girl heard the rumors too.
“You drive a silver Toyota, don't you?” Ebony asked.
“Yeah,” Tara replied. “What's up.”
“What's your license plate number?” Ebony asked, looking pretty uncomfortable.
“I don't know off the top of my head,” Tara said, puzzled. “I can check.”
“That's okay,” Ebony said. “Do you remember where you parked today?”
“You're making me nervous,” Tara said. “I parked on Level D, near the back wall, by the stairs.”
Ebony bit her lip and shifted her weight from foot to foot. “I think you'd better come talk to building security. They're out by my desk.”
Tara stared at her car, unable to believe what she was seeing. Gouged into the side, going from the front panel across both doors and onto the back was the word BITCH. Tara was stunned. Obviously, Jack had lost his mind. It was going to cost a fortune to get the car fixed. Some of the scratches went right into the metal. What had he used? A screwdriver? There seemed to be scratches on the hood too. It said DIE.
Tara's whole body went cold. The act of vandalism was bad enough, but this was more. Maybe it was just to scare her, but in that respect it was working. She could see Jack's face after he was fired, the sheer venom. It made her shiver. She was shaking. “DIE BITCH.” She could almost hear Jack saying it. There was probably no way she could prove that Jack had vandalized her car, but she knew it was him. It was a horrible, vulnerable feeling.
“Do you have any idea who did this?” Tara asked the building security guy, regaining control of herself.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “The security cameras don't cover this part of the structure and no one saw anything. One of my guys thinks he saw a blonde man headed this way about a half hour before it was reported, but that doesn't mean anything.”
“Medium height? Wearing a blue shirt?”
“I'd have to check,” he said.
“But that's a pretty generic description,” Tara said, saying what he didn't. That didn't prove it was Jack who had vandalize
d her car, but who else would have done it.
“What do I do now?” Tara asked.
“We'll help you file a police report,” he said. “You should call your insurance company, file a claim. I know this is unpleasant, but this kind of damage can be repaired, and it's just a car.”
Just a car. Right. Just violence against her personal property. Just a complete invasion.
Tara spent the next couple of hours dealing with the police and her insurance company. Phil was pretty understanding and once word of the vandalism spread public opinion seemed to swing around to her side pretty quickly. Tara wanted to say it was a huge comfort, but it didn't seem to mean all that much. She barely heard what anyone was saying. No one seemed to take the threat seriously, but Tara couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just an empty threat. She wasn't easily freaked out, but she was now. Since she was pretty much useless where work was concerned Tara decided to go home early. Without thinking she dialed her phone.
“Hi, Tara,” Mark said. She could hear the smile in his voice. Normally just the sound of his voice would have made her feel better, but not now.
“Can you come get me?” she asked.
“Sure. Where are you?” Mark asked.
“I'm at work. Triumph Tower, downtown. I need a ride home. Please.”
“You sound shaken up? Did something happen?”
“It's kind of a long story, but I'll explain later. I just need to get home, okay.”
“Okay, sweet cheeks,” he said.
Tara hung up the phone and gathered her stuff together. Instead of waiting in her office, she went down to the lobby of the building. She wasn't up to talking to anyone the way she was feeling, but she managed to keep a weak smile on her face. A few minutes later Mark texted that he was outside. She practically ran to the car. It was a BMW like the one he'd driven that night at the reunion.
“Thank you for picking me up,” Tara said, attaching her seatbelt. For the first time since he'd reentered her life Mark hadn't shown up looking perfect. He was wearing old jeans and a white T-shirt with a sports team logo across the front. His hair was messy. There were dirty streaks across the front of his shirt and on one of his forearms, and it was damp with sweat in the underarms and middle of his chest. It looked like whatever he'd been doing when she called, he hadn't even stopped to wash up before he came to get her. The smell of his body was strong and earthy, but Tara actually found it comforting.
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