by Peter Parkin
Wendy piped up, hoping to break the tension. "Cindy, how has Mike been since he got back? Troy has been a bit of a mess—doesn't sleep, his mind's off in space somewhere, and he doesn't talk much. Did Mike tell you how their trip went? Troy has been pretty tight-lipped."
"No, I don't know a thing, except that Mike has been kind of down in the dumps as well. Something went wrong, I think, but you know our guys— they'll probably just sort through it, fix it, and we'll hear nothing about it." Cindy hadn't yet confided in her friends about the strange symptoms Mike had been experiencing.
"True. I guess they just don't want to worry us. Maybe that's a good thing." Wendy laughed. "Anyhoo, I'd rather just think about where our next vacation is going to be." As soon as the words left her mouth, Wendy glanced over at Amanda realizing in an instant how insensitive they must have sounded. What a stupid thing to say—she could have kicked herself.
Amanda dropped her eyes to the floor, and walked off toward the bathroom. Wendy was painfully aware that she had just reminded Amanda that their next group vacation would have one less participant.
*****
"At the Board meeting next week, I have to come clean. I can't wait any longer, Troy."
"We could just delay until the meeting after that one, Mike. That would give us time to do our own investigations, see if we can recover some of the money, flush out some more details."
"We could, but I don't know about you, this is killing me. The deception is huge to all of our stakeholders. The balance sheet needs some provisions to restate those four assets, and perhaps an arbitrary provision for possible other impairment of assets that we don't even know about yet. We know about these four, but what if there are others?"
"Yeah, it's killing me too. I can't sleep as you can probably tell by the black rings under my eyes. But I would prefer we buy a little more time."
Mike got up and paced his office. "I haven't told Jim yet, have you?" "No, not yet. I'll leave that to you. Being the CFO, he'll have a shit-fit. He cut the checks that Gerry authorized—well, and someone pretending to be you authorized too."
"Thanks for reminding me of that, Troy."
"I'm sorry, but you know you'll have to tell the Board about that as well." Mike poured himself another coffee. "Yes, I'm well aware of that. They have to know everything and I'm not going to sweep this thing under the rug."
"Didn't expect you would, but at least consider the fact that it doesn't have to be disclosed this soon. We're a couple of months away from the close of the third quarter, so that does buy us some time. You'd still be disclosing properly if you waited until then."
Mike shook his head. "Nope—sorry, Troy. I'll face the music now. I'll sleep better knowing that I've told the truth. And you know what bothers me even more?"
"What?"
"I should have known about these properties before now. I should have done some oversight, some due diligence of my own. I left Gerry to his own designs. And I should have reacted to the red flags that were waving at me about Gerry's behavior. He wasn't the same man—I knew that, but I let our friendship cloud my judgment. If Gerry had been any other executive who I didn't know so well, didn't vacation with, hang out with, I would have been on top of this. I didn't allow myself to remain objective. Bottom line—I have no one to blame but myself."
Troy stood up and patted Mike on the back. "Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing. And you trusted Gerry; you let him do his job. He was a senior executive and a shareholder. How can anyone expect you to run a company with your most senior people on leashes? No one can run a company that way, and no CEO can know everything that's going on. It's impossible."
Mike looked at his friend and allowed a slight smile. "Thanks for trying to make me feel better. But it's not working."
*****
Cindy heard the familiar squeal of the school bus brakes. Her girls were home. She ran to the front door to greet them. She wanted to see the looks on their faces when they saw all the balloons and streamers.
Cindy opened the door and walked out onto the front porch. She saw the bus, saw the other four kids who always got off at this same spot, but did not see her girls. Cindy felt a knot in her stomach as she saw the bus driver get out and walk up her driveway. The palms of her hands started to sweat.
"Hi, Mrs. Baxter. Did you pick up your daughters yourself today?" Cindy opened her mouth but couldn't find the words. She just shook her head, and wrapped her arms around her chest fighting off the chill that had suddenly enveloped her.
A worried look came over the driver's face. "They didn't board the bus at school, and I checked with the principal. She said they didn't stay behind for any projects." He paused and took a deep breath. "I don't want to alarm you, but just to be safe I think you had better call the police."
Cindy just nodded and could feel the tears well up in her eyes, experiencing for the first time a mother's worst nightmare. She struggled back inside, her knees feeling like rubber, and then collapsed onto the floor. Amanda and Carol ran to her side. The driver came into the house and told them what he had just told Cindy.
"Get me the phone—quick!" Cindy wailed, as she lay on the floor.
*****
Mike had just finished up with Troy when he got the call.
"Mike...the girls are...missing. They...didn't get on the bus." He could hear the tears in his wife's voice.
"What! Have you called the police?"
"Yes, I...just called them. They're...coming over."
"Okay, I'm on my way home now, hon. Try to calm down. I'm sure they're okay. Maybe they went to a friend's house."
"They...would have called me, Mike. Plus...tonight was your surprise birthday party. They were so excited."
Mike felt a lump in his throat. "I'm leaving right now!"
He grabbed his jacket and car keys and ran out of his office, not bothering to lock it behind him as he usually did. Mike dashed down the hall toward his secretary's desk.
"Oh, Mr. Baxter. I was just ringing your office."
"Not now, Stephanie. I have an emergency," Mike yelled back as he rushed past her desk.
She called after him. "I just wanted to tell you that your girls are at the front desk."
Mike whirled around. "What?"
"They're waiting for you at reception."
Mike ran down to the reception desk, and saw his two little darlings sitting in the big leather chairs, looking intimidated. It was the loveliest sight he had ever laid eyes on. "Daddy!" They both yelped in unison and ran into his arms.
Mike picked them up and swung them around just the way they liked it. "How did you get here? Your mother is worried sick that you weren't on the bus!"
Diana, being the elder, assumed the role of spokeswoman. "But Daddy, the lady said you sent the car for us and that your party had been changed to your office and that it wasn't a surprise party anymore."
"What lady?"
"The one in the uniform and hat, driving the big limousine."
Mike didn't want to scare them with any more questions. "Look, I have to phone your mother and let her know that you're here and you're okay. Then I'll drive you girls home and we can talk about it more there. The party's at home, not here."
"Oh, I almost forgot, Daddy." Mike looked down at Diana as she reached into her pocket and pulled out an envelope. "The nice lady said to give you this birthday card."
Mike took the envelope and slowly broke the seal. It was indeed a birthday card, but unsigned. He read the typed words:
"Happy Birthday, Michael! Many happy returns! What lovely daughters you have, and they are so cooperative and trusting! If I were you, I would take some extra time to make them a little more street-smart. You never know what can happen these days—lots of weird characters out there.
"I hope that you reflect on the many good years behind you, and try to forget the sad moments and discoveries that have caused you pain. Some things are just best left alone, do you not agree?
"Your birthday each year mus
t be an especially sad time, because if my memory serves me correctly, your good friend Amanda Upton lost her parents in that armed robbery around this time many years ago. Is my memory accurate?
"And good luck at your Board meeting next week. It is always such a difficult balance for an executive like you, is it not? Knowing how much to tell your Board and how much to just keep close to your vest. Sometimes, 'less is more,' as the saying goes. "Many happy returns!"
Chapter 15
Thoughts were swirling around in Mike's head faster than he could process them. He stuffed the card in his pocket, grabbed his two little girls by their hands, and led them back to his office. He sat them down on the leather couch and instructed them not to move.
He had to phone Cindy, but first he had something else to do. Removing the birthday card from his pocket, he reached into a desk drawer and dropped it inside, hiding it from view underneath some papers and files. Then he opened another drawer and removed a blank birthday card, one of a stash he kept for those of his senior staff who were celebrating birthdays. They always enjoyed getting a card from the boss.
He wrote nothing at all in the new card, and simply stuffed it inside the same envelope. Mike knew that the police would ask to see it, because once the police questioned his daughters they would volunteer that the driver had given them a card. And he wasn't prepared to ask his daughters to lie. But he also wasn't prepared to involve the police in this extra piece of the puzzle— not yet anyway. So, he had to produce a birthday card. And only he, and the writer, knew what was written inside the real card.
The brazen kidnapping of his girls in broad daylight, and the sarcastic veiled threats contained in the card's message, made Mike's blood run cold. Fear and anger were ganging up in crushing his chest and he was finding it hard to breathe. He plunked down in his desk chair while Kristy and Diana gazed at him through puzzled eyes.
"It's okay girls. You're not in any trouble. I'm just going to phone your mom, okay?" The girls nodded in unison.
Mike picked up the phone and dialed his home number. Cindy answered it on the first ring.
"The girls are here at the office, dear. Everything's okay." He could hear Cindy gasp with relief, and then start to sob. "We're leaving now. I'll tell you all about it when we get home, but for now just have a stiff drink and maybe close your eyes for a while."
Mike couldn't see her nodding but in his mind's eye he could picture her, skin white as a ghost, eyes red from crying, holding a tissue to her nose. She had just experienced a mother's worst imaginable hell.
*****
It was a quiet dinner table. Mike and Cindy sat alone; the girls were sleeping over at their grandparents' home. It had been several days since the kidnapping and there were more questions than answers. Mike had his own set of questions, but Cindy had a separate set entirely, hers created mainly by Mike's duplicity.
The police had tracked down the limousine that had picked up the girls, and it turned out to be the same limousine service that Baxter Development Corporation had under retainer. And the woman driver was the regular driver that Baxter executives always asked for. This answered the question as to why the Baxter daughters would have gone with this driver—because they had been picked up by this woman many times before upon the request of Mike or Cindy. The girls knew the driver.
The driver had been questioned and the birthday card that Mike had substituted had been dusted for prints. No surprise to Mike that they had found only his. The driver said that the card had been left for her at the dispatch office to bring along when she picked up the girls. No one at the office saw who left the card with the instructions.
When the dispatcher himself had been questioned, he showed the officers an email from Mike Baxter himself, instructing the limo company to pick up his daughters at 4:00 p.m. sharp that day. The driver knew what the girls looked like, and they knew who she was, but she took along her large sign anyway that she always used for the Baxter girls so that they wouldn't miss her and take the school bus by mistake.
The police showed Mike and Cindy a printed copy of the email, and sure enough it was from Mike's personal email address at the office. The officers had started to take the matter less seriously after that. So had Cindy. The police made a visit to Mike's office and together they looked at his email 'sent' file. The message was sitting there clear as day. Without a doubt, it looked as if Mike had sent the message. The police certainly thought he had, and Cindy was now leaning in that direction as well. They also surmised that he was the one who had arranged to have the birthday card left with the dispatch office to be delivered to...himself.
The matter was now dropped with the police promising not to press 'mischief' charges if Mike promised to seek psychiatric help. Mike promised. Considering the crazy things that had been happening to him since the lightning bolt accident, Mike felt that even he might believe he was responsible for this if it wasn't for the fact that he had the real birthday card. Funny enough, that card, sinister as it was, was preserving his belief in his own sanity. And he wasn't about to produce the card just to convince his wife and the officers that he wasn't crazy.
He was scared for his family and he had taken to heart the not-so-subtle hint in the birthday card that he should keep things close to the vest, or...
He needed to do some investigation of his own, keep the police out of it. The warning in the card was clear. And he didn't want to worry Cindy and the girls needlessly.
Mike felt the soft touch of Cindy's hand. He looked up from the table into her beautiful eyes. They were sad beyond anything he had ever seen before.
"You have to leave for a while, Mike." Her voice was almost a whisper. "Just while you get some help. I'm afraid for the girls."
Mike felt a lump in his throat. "I would never hurt you or the girls, Cindy. You know that."
"Not knowingly—I know. But you're doing things that you're not even aware of, sending emails that you can't remember, sending yourself a birthday card. It scares me, Mike. The fact that you could have the girls picked up from school and brought to your office, with no consideration of the heartache that would cause me...that's just not you."
For a split second Mike wanted to tell her the truth—tell her about the fraudulent land purchases he discovered, tell her about the threats in the real birthday card, tell her his suspicion that someone was manipulating him and even hacking into his email system. But he stopped himself. She would want to involve the police, and a nagging thought in Mike's brain told him that that would be even more dangerous. It was safer for Cindy and the girls, at least for now, that they just think that he was losing his mind. It hurt Mike to know that they would be thinking that of him, but he knew he had no choice. His thoughts were interrupted by the realization that Cindy was still talking.
"...that the lightning bolt has caused some damage deeper than we feared. Dr. Fenton warned us about some possible weird symptoms, but I don't think either of us could have imagined what's been happening. I'll be sending him an update on the latest, and you should get in to see Bob Teskey again as soon as possible. I think this is just going to take some time, and some treatment. But I think you should live elsewhere for a while until things settle down a bit."
Mike nodded and got up from the table. He leaned over and kissed Cindy on the cheek, detecting the familiar salty taste of tears.
He knew without a doubt that she was right.
*****
The apartment was spacious enough, and luxurious enough, but it was missing life—the voices, laughter and smells of a family that always made a house a home. It would have to do for now, Mike knew, but he wasn't going to like it. He would tolerate it until he could solve this problem and prove to Cindy that he was normal enough to return.
The apartment was one of those fully-furnished executive suites that were just perfect for business folks who were visiting Toronto for an extended period of time and didn't want to suffer in hotel rooms. That was a big market in a business-friendly city like Toro
nto, and Mike guessed that guys and girls like him were another big market—the newly separated or divorced. The apartment building was thirty stories high, located on Queen St. West, downtown. Mike chose it because it was near the subway line, and it was close to his office. On nice days he could walk. On other days he could make the short drive or even dare to ride the subway again if he felt so inclined.
It had been heartbreaking to pack his bag and leave his family. The girls didn't understand, and Cindy was classy enough not to admit to them that she had asked him to leave because he scared the shit out of her. They both just explained to the girls that Daddy had a couple of months of lengthy meetings coming up at work that would require some all-nighters. So he had to take an apartment close to the office. He would see the girls on weekends. Mike didn't think serious little Diana believed that story at all.
Cindy had walked him out to the car and gave him the tightest hug he had ever had in his life. He was surprised at her strength. In between sobs she said over and over again that she was sorry, and Mike had said over and over again that it was okay. Then he drove away, looking back, wondering for just the briefest instant whether or not he would ever live in that beautiful house again.
After taking a walk around his new neighborhood, Mike settled in at the desk in his suite. He opened his briefcase and took out the strange birthday card that he had hidden in his office. He read it over again, very slowly, making notes in the margins.
The first paragraph was clearly a warning to him about his girls, emphasizing how easily they could be taken. The second paragraph was, in his view, a hint that he should forget the "discoveries" he had made. The discoveries referred to had to be the embezzlements that he and Troy had uncovered down in Brazil and Mexico. The writer wanted Mike to believe that it was safer if "some things are just best left alone."
The third paragraph was just as chilling as the first. The writer referenced the deaths of Amanda Upton's parents in the armed robbery several years ago. In fact it was four years ago this week. The writer had known that, but of course that was an easy detail to obtain. The point was why was it mentioned in the card? What was the purpose?