Taking Stock

by C J West

  The passenger window was open and pulling even. Erica darted for a van up ahead. When she reached it, the soles of her sneakers slapped the ground and she screeched to a stop, hidden by the boxy gray vehicle. She crawled to shelter behind the rear wheel and watched the Corvette stop opposite her and then move on, carried away by anxious drivers that honked from behind.

  Erica squatted, breathing heavily.

  She needed to get off the street. In this light traffic, Brad could be waiting up ahead or circling around from behind. She couldn’t know which. She jogged three more blocks then veered off into the park toward the river. Fortunately, it was late afternoon and the lunchtime crowds had headed back to work. If Brad was there, he’d be easy to spot. She watched the path up ahead for any signs of him as she jogged at an easy pace. The openness of the park gave her a great view of the wide river and Cambridge beyond. She was exposed, but Brad would have to leave his car to get near her.

  * * *

  Brad parked his car ahead of a delivery truck so Erica wouldn’t see it as she came up the path. He picked a bench on her normal jogging route and waited, hidden by a newspaper.

  The blue running suit appeared one hundred yards away. The short dark hair bobbed along the trail that led to Brad’s feet. He strained to see what he knew to be true. She was coming right to him. He slipped the .357 from under his windbreaker, cocked it, and laid it in his lap. He peeked around the paper again to check her progress. She turned away from him toward the river. Soon she’d disappear behind some trees. Too long a shot. Herman had screamed at him to get close this time, so close it was impossible to miss.

  Brad carefully let down the hammer, shoved the gun in its holster, and hurried across the open grass to the trees. Few people ventured inside the tree line and the head high bushes were too thick to see through. Hidden inside, he trudged his way through until he could see the path along the edge of the river. He chose a large tree to hide behind and crouched there sheltered from both directions with a good view of the path below. Seconds passed. No one appeared from either direction. This was the only way out unless she saw him and turned back. But she couldn’t have. He’d been hidden by the newspaper and then the trees.

  He picked his way through the bushes toward where he last saw her, careful to stay out of sight, but close enough to maintain a good view of the path in case she sprinted by. At the next curve, a splotch of blue appeared. She was resting on a bench facing the water. Brad scanned the path for onlookers. No one was close enough to identify him or catch him when he ran. He closed twenty more yards for a clearer shot and luckily, she didn’t hear him rustling in the bushes.

  He lifted the gun and focused on the sight as it drifted in and out of the blue sweatshirt. He couldn’t keep it steady until he braced his forearm against a tree. The sight settled on the patch of blue and held. Herman would have told him to get closer, but he had her. POW. The sweatshirt jumped and settled back on the bench. His shot had hit its mark. He lined up again to be sure. POW. Again the swatch of blue jumped as the slug passed through. This time, it fell to the ground.

  Brad holstered the gun and ran even before she came to rest. The bushes swiped at him, stinging his face and arms. He broke into the open grass and sprinted for his car, a mere sixty yards ahead, poised to speed away.

  When he neared the center of the lawn, too far from the trees to turn back, two large figures emerged from either end of the delivery truck. Each extended a palm as a warning to stop. When he saw the guns, he turned up river. After two long downhill strides, he saw a much larger man burst from the tree line. He was well over six feet tall and almost three feet wide at the shoulders. He closed the distance between them so fast Brad knew he couldn’t outrun him. The officer stopped twenty yards away and stood with his 9mm aimed at Brad’s chest, ready to fire. Brad stopped and looked down at his motionless feet.

  Slowly he raised his hands over his head.

  “You shot my dummy, Man,” the officer hollered.

  “We’ve got him and the gun, Sir,” Officer Lewis squawked through the tiny speaker. Erica hoisted herself up from behind a stone wall. Two officers stood up on either side and escorted her across the park. She pulled the tiny radio from her ear and brushed herself off as they went.

  Erica had been listening to the surveillance reports even before she stepped out her front door. Gregg had been listening from the communications van. The play-by-play of the officers guided her near enough to lure Brad into the ambush without giving him a chance to shoot, although it had gotten dicey a couple of times. She could see Gregg standing with the officers outside the communications van. He looked pale, stressed from the last ten minutes, but relieved to see her coming up the hill unharmed.

  Sergeant Douglas, a roundish man with a curly clump of reddish-brown hair on each side of his head, greeted the group as they approached. “Congratulations, Ms. Fletcher. Believe it or not, that’s about as smooth as these things go.”

  Officer Lewis handed Brad off to his partners and joined the team by the van. “You make excellent bait.”

  “Thanks, I think.” She patted his huge shoulder. She could see kindness in these men and she couldn’t have been more grateful they were taking Brad away, probably for life.

  “He means, you did an excellent job,” Sergeant Douglas corrected.

  Erica looked at the men circled around her. “I’ll sleep better tonight. Thanks to you guys.”

  Sergeant Douglas handed her a business card. If she saw anyone suspicious hanging around or even if she just got nervous, he’d have a cruiser to her apartment in two minutes. He was grateful for her help. It probably meant a promotion for someone on his team. She didn’t say so, but it was Stan Nye they both had to thank for putting this together.

  She thanked Sergeant Douglas and reminded him about the call to Sarah Burke. He promised to call right away then turned to Gregg with his hand extended. “I know it was hard to sit back and watch, but you should be very proud. That’s an incredible woman you’ve got there.”

  Gregg agreed. The anger was gone. He looked drained and maybe disappointed that she didn’t need him as much as he’d hoped.

  Erica slipped off her sweatshirt and opened her protective vest revealing the moist T-shirt below. The sergeant took the vest and left Erica and Gregg standing together on the grass.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Sarah crossed Storrow Drive and found Stan on a bench more or less where he said he’d be. At three o’clock in the afternoon, the trip from the financial district had taken a full twenty minutes, time she couldn’t spare and appease Herman’s appetite for constant progress updates.

  Stan hopped up off the bench when he saw her coming and bounced along toward her. Nothing dampened his spirits.

  “Thanks for coming right over,” he said.

  “You know why I came.”

  “Confident are we? You want to up the stakes?”

  Stan couldn’t know about the gun. “Sky’s the limit,” she said.

  His eyes traced her figure top to bottom and popped up to meet hers. His interest had been obvious for awhile and it was flattering, but he was a bit too short and way too unfocused. Nothing meaningful would ever happen between them. What he wanted was clear, but he didn’t have the guts to ask.

  Too bad for him. She was so positive she was right, she would have agreed to anything for his side of the wager. No way Stan could change her mind about Erica in five minutes, not with the gun in the safe.

  When he didn’t answer she said she wanted lunch delivered to her desk every day for three months. He hesitated then asked for dinner and a movie every Friday for two months. She agreed and they walked along the grass toward a cluster of activity about a half block away.

  “Should I start the clock?”

  “Not yet, there’s someone you need to meet first.”

  Faces in the crowd grew clearer as they approached. Gregg mingled with a dozen men. Some wore blue Boston Police uniforms others were large and fit,
plainclothes detectives maybe.

  Stan introduced Sergeant McKenna, a young man in blue with a jovial attitude she didn’t attribute to policemen. He was one of the Boston Police Department’s fastest rising stars.

  “Sarah works with Erica and me,” Stan said. “She’s very interested to learn what happened today.”

  “Pleasure,” he said without the brogue she expected to accompany the upturned nose. “It’s been an exciting day. We’ve learned quite a lot.”

  Sarah wondered how much eight dinners and movies would cost.

  Stan tapped his wrist on an imaginary watch to start the countdown.

  “It seems Mr. Foster was making some unauthorized withdrawals and trying to pin them on Ms. Fletcher,” McKenna said.

  “Stan told you that?” Sarah asked.

  “Mr. Foster proved it to us.”

  Sarah couldn’t imagine how.

  McKenna described the stake-out of Erica’s apartment and how Brad chased her from there into the park and then shot the mannequin dressed in an identical running suit to the one Erica was wearing. Brad’s intent was unquestionable. Any jury would make the connection to the fraud he’d perpetrated at work. They’d know the incident in the parking garage was his first attempt. Brad Foster was going to prison.

  Sergeant McKenna shifted and Sarah spotted Erica among a group of officers. They treated her like a hero. They believed her. McKenna believed her. Stan idolized her. Still, the story was hard for Sarah to reconcile with the gun. If she could have asked McKenna, he’d have said the gun was another part of the frame-up. What would Herman say?

  McKenna stood silent. She looked past him toward Cambridge across the river. She couldn’t acknowledge her own investigation, the gun, or even Erica’s suspension from work. She asked the only question she could. “Where’s Brad now?”

  McKenna indicated a squad car at the curb.

  She turned toward it, but Stan had hold of her elbow. “What time will you pick me up Friday? I’m thinking Italian. Chinese might be good, too. You can pick the movie.”

  She whirled toward him expecting him to drop her arm and back away, but he stood close and held her glare with an intense look of his own. This wasn’t the goofy clod she’d joined a few weeks ago. His intensity immobilized her. He’d put this whole thing together to prove Erica was innocent; to prove her wrong. He concocted the bet to bring her here, to keep her from driving too far down the wrong road. He could have embarrassed her, but he didn’t. He’d saved Erica and Sarah a lot of heartache.

  It seemed the goof-off had found his inspiration. There was fire behind his eyes. His fingers locked them together a foot apart. She thought he might pull her in for a kiss. The realization that she might not pull away made her smile and this broke him from his trance.

  “What?”

  “Do you mind letting me go? I’d like to talk to Brad.”

  McKenna perked up at this. “Can’t do that. He’s headed for booking. You can see him tomorrow at the station.”

  “Don’t even tell me you still think she’s guilty,” Stan said.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She canted her head toward the cruiser. Herman would change his mind once he heard what the police had to say, but it wasn’t her place to tell them anything. Stan was way out of bounds. If he wanted to blow his career spouting off about company business that was fine. She wouldn’t, not until she talked with Herman.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Erica stepped inside and immediately felt their eyes swing on her from the other end of the boardroom, their instinct to jump up and pounce barely restrained by an affinity for decorum. Marty looked surprised but rational from the head of the table. Herman glowered as Sarah led the way in and sat to Marty’s left. Erica sat beside her, glad to have the table between herself and Herman and a clear path back to the door.

  Herman exchanged prodding looks with Marty. Absent his leadership, Herman began, “Sarah, you’re aware Ms. Fletcher was suspended. You mind telling me why you risked your job to bring her here?”

  “I know she’s innocent. I’ve brought her in to help me investigate.”

  Herman’s hands clamped down on the table. “I don’t care what she’s told you. If you’ve let her touch those files, you’re both headed for the back seat of a police cruiser.”

  He’d have Erica in a cell next to Brad’s if he could.

  Sarah raised her hands to calm him. “We didn’t touch anything. We came straight here, but trust me, the police won’t take her anywhere.”

  “You were ready to call the police yesterday,” Marty said.

  “That was before I talked to them–”

  Marty went white.

  Herman jumped from his seat and slammed his fist on the table, “What!” He was so angry he fumbled for words. “What the Hell were you thinking?” If not for the table between them, he would have grabbed Sarah by the throat. He hulked above his chair, fuming then shot a look at Marty.

  Marty took a bit longer to consider the ramifications, but his tone was just as menacing. “If this is in the paper tomorrow, you’re through.”

  Sarah held her breath.

  Herman was unsure where to look.

  “I think I can help,” Erica offered.

  “That’s the last fucking thing we need, thank you very much,” Herman yelled. He turned to Marty, huffing to regain composure. “I think we should reconsider that item in the safe. It might be time to turn it over to the authorities.”

  Erica turned to Sarah who clearly knew what they were talking about, but didn’t explain. She offered only a shrug.

  “Don’t play dumb,” Herman said, glaring at Erica. “It’s too late. We found the gun in your desk. Not a very good hiding place for someone as smart as you.”

  “I shot at Brad? That’s a laugh,” Erica hissed.

  “Don’t play with me.”

  Herman’s snide sarcasm reminded her of Brad.

  “Do you know where Brad is now?” Erica asked.

  Neither man made a sound.

  “That’s what Sarah was trying to tell you. He tried to kill me. Twice! First in the parking garage and again yesterday outside my apartment.”

  “We don’t have time for this bullshit,” Herman started.

  “The police don’t think it’s bullshit. They have the whole thing on tape and they’ve locked him up. I don’t expect he’ll be leaving there anytime soon. You’re going to have to find me a new boss.”

  “Why would he do that?” Marty asked almost to himself. “I know he blamed me for saddling him with you, but I can’t imagine he’d shoot at you.” Marty’s mumbling trailed off.

  Being up on twenty-three, Marty was insulated from Brad’s dealings around the firm. He must have trusted his brother-in-law implicitly and no matter how carefully stated, the message was going to be hard to hear.

  “This is going to be a shock,” Erica began, “but Brad was stealing from the firm. I’m sure of it.”

  Marty wheeled toward Herman for reassurance. Neither he nor Sarah offered a word of support, so Erica continued herself. “He was switching around the surveillance tapes and erasing them to hide something he was doing in the computer room. Whatever it was, he was using my credentials.”

  “What credentials?” Marty asked.

  “My building access card for one. The security system shows me in the computer room at times I wasn’t there. That’s why he needed to erase the tapes. Otherwise you’d see him on camera not me.”

  Marty cupped his mouth to hide his expression and nervously tapped the fingers of his free hand. He’d come here expecting an indictment of Erica and this was turning into something else entirely. It wasn’t going to be an easy transition to make or to explain at home.

  Herman watched Marty thump the table for nearly a minute. When he couldn’t wait any longer, he craned his neck so far around that Erica could barely see his face. “I have a real problem with this. You know what we
found yesterday. You heard Brad. And now she’s telling us Brad was framing her. This is all he said, she said. Just as likely she set him up and now she’s taking advantage while he’s not here. It comes down to a question of who we believe. I don’t like having her involved in this investigation one bit. Frankly, Sarah’s out of her mind for suggesting it.”

  Marty turned to Sarah. “Why do you want to include Erica?”

  “She’s the first person I brought this problem to and she knows more about the work downstairs than anyone. If we want to get this closed quickly, she’s the one to do it.”

  Marty nodded his agreement, but said nothing.

  Herman scowled at Sarah. “You came to me because you thought she was the embezzler. Now you want to give her a chance to cover it up?”

  Marty halted the discourse by holding up a single finger. “Herman, I tend to agree with Sarah. Erica can help us determine what happened here. She never struck me as the outlaw type. Just look at her. If the police have Brad in custody, I think we should take any help she’s willing to give. What will it take to convince you?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Damn right! We’ve searched her office. What harm can she do?”

  “We found a gun for God’s sake. What more do you need? I can’t let a thief and a murderer loose in the building, not on my watch.”

  “Anyone could have put that gun in there including Brad. If the police say he tried to kill her, I’m inclined to believe them.”

  “Over me?”

  “Yes.”

  Herman slumped, just perceptibly. The room was quiet while he considered his next move. “I want to check her financials,” he said inflating to full stature again. “If we did that, I’d be comfortable letting her see what we have.”