Monday, April 19th, 2:10 p. m
Trina’s phone rang, breaking her concentration. She wanted to ignore it and keep working on her story, but she could no more ignore a ringing phone than she could go on the air without makeup. She believed in the ripple effect of everything she did or didn’t do. The one time she didn’t answer the phone, she would miss the hottest story of the year. The one time she didn’t look her best, a talent scout would be watching her newscast. She picked up the phone.
“Trina Waterman,” she said with a touch of impatience.
“This is Allen Sebring with the accounting firm of Anderson and Shire. I think I have a story for you. Will you meet me this afternoon?”
“I can’t make it today. I’m on deadline. What’s the story?” She had no time for this, and yet she was intrigued.
“I can’t talk about it over the phone, but I guarantee, you’ll like the lead.”
“Tomorrow morning at 10:30. Starbucks on the corner of 7th and Washington. You know what I look like, right?”
“Of course. But I need to do this now, before I lose my courage.”
Trina couldn’t resist. He seemed to be suffering from the stress holding it all in, and she loved a ripe story.
“Okay. Same place, in forty minutes.”
“Thanks. See you then.”
Trina would have liked to walk the short mile to the coffee shop-any opportunity to exercise-but she didn’t have time today. She spent another ten minutes crafting her follow-up report about the murdered woman found near the river, then hurriedly ate the fruit salad she’d brought for lunch.
This better be good, she thought as she headed out.
Allen Sebring didn’t look like an accountant. He was tall and thin with a long angular face. Hunched over the small coffee shop table, Trina thought if he swapped his brown tweed jacket for a black overcoat, he could play Lurch. Out of habit, she visualized him from the lens of a camera. Compelling, in a freak show sort of way, she thought.
After the introductions, he held out his hand and she reluctantly shook it. Hand-to-hand contact was the best way to catch a cold, and she could not afford to get sick. The camera was not kind to virus-infected faces. She excused herself to go order a single-shot Americana and wash her hands in the restroom.
When she returned to the table, Sebring leaned in and spoke in a quiet voice. “Are you familiar with Prolabs?”
Trina felt the little charge of electricity she experienced when stories started to come together. She had just been writing about a murdered woman who worked for Prolabs, and now she was about to hear company secrets. Were the events connected? Even if not, talking about them together would make good coverage.
She kept her face deadpan. “Of course. They’re the city’s biggest employer and they plan to get bigger.”
“You know the city council just voted to change the zoning so the company could expand.”
“Yes. I know.” Trina sipped her coffee. It was still too hot.
“Did it strike you as odd that Walter Krumble, who has never voted to change anything, sided with the business?”
“That is odd. So?” She wished he would just spit it out.
“Neil Barstow, the company’s chief financial officer, withdrew fifteen thousand dollars in company funds and made a notation on the withdrawal slip that said Walter Krumble.
Another shot of electricity. “A bribe?”
“What else?”
“Why are you telling me? Are you his accountant?”
“I’m one of Prolabs’ accountants.” Sebring’s eyes darted around before he continued. “I’m telling you because their books are a mess-largely illegal-and if the JB Pharma deal doesn’t go through, the company will collapse.”
Trina sat back and gave herself a moment to digest it. She was excited and distressed at the same time. Prolabs was local success story. It employed hundreds of people, including her brother. Exposing its seedy side might bring it down. She didn’t want to be responsible for that. Yet, what else could she do? She had a responsibility to her viewers, many of whom owned Prolabs stock. Besides, bribery and illegal bookkeeping were the stuff of a scandal. If she exposed it now, she might actually help save the company. “Can you provide any documentation?”
“I made a photocopy of the withdrawal slip.” He pulled it out of his jacket pocket and pushed it across the small table. The paper unfolded and revealed itself to be exactly as Sebring had described.
Gotcha! she thought with glee. She couldn’t hold back a smile. “What about the bogus bookkeeping?”
Sebring squirmed. “I don’t know. I could get fired for divulging client information.”
“I can’t do much with the accounting story without some type of evidence.”
“You can contact the Securities and Exchange Commission. Call for an investigation.” Sebring started to button his jacket.
“I have to give them something to go on.”
“I’ll fax you a document. It lists a loan to KJR Inc., which is a specialty enterprise set up as a tax shelter. In reality, it functions as a personal line of credit to Karl Rudker. The first repayment is five months overdue.”
“How much did he borrow?”
Sebring stood and silently mouthed, “Two point seven mil.”
Trina liked the number. She heard herself saying it on air. She wanted more, but Sebring was leaving. “Thanks for the tip. Can I contact you?”
“Please don’t.” He started to walk away, then turned back. “Good luck.”
Trina nodded. The story would require some serious digging, but it could be well worth it. Especially if the dead woman was connected to Prolabs’ accounting scandal. Had she threatened to expose Karl Rudker? Was he prone to violence?
Trina decided to skip the coffee. Her energy level was already pulsating. This kind of story never happened in Eugene. Bankruptcies, identity theft, and an occasional scam on senior citizens were about all the white-collar crime the local folks came up with. She tossed her mostly full cup, exited the warm coffee shop, and headed back to the station. Karl Rudker’s life was about to undergo a scrutiny that would make even an honest man blush.
He was in a foreign country and hordes of people lined the sheer cliffs over a mile-wide river. Without hesitation, they all jumped, splashing into the icy water. Robbie knew he should follow, yet he hesitated. He eased up close to the edge and peered over. The water seemed to be moving slowly but it looked incredibly deep. He filled his lungs with air and prepared to push off.
His leap was cut short by the sound of the alarm. Robbie sat up and slammed off the noise. He swung his legs out of bed and planted his feet on the floor. A moment later, he was up and moving toward the bathroom. Halfway there, he became aware of his actions. He’d never come awake so quickly before. It was the first time in years he’d gotten out of bed without hitting the snooze button at least twice. He could not remember ever getting up to face the day without at least some reservation.
He smiled. The new drug must be working.
Once his brain really kicked in, some downbeat thoughts surfaced. Such as how interminably boring his job was. Robbie tried to find a positive thought. Maybe he’d get a seat next to Julie during lunch hour. They would talk and she would smile at him. Robbie decided to leave it at that. No reason to get his hopes up too much.
His energy level stayed high throughout the morning. After the lunch buzzer rang, Robbie zipped down to the changing room and out into the walkway faster than he had moved in a long time. His energy level surprised him. He wondered if this was what meth or speed felt like to a normal person. If so, he understood the attraction. His confidence increased with every step. There would be a space at Julie’s table. She would talk to him. Life was good.
Julie was at a table with only one other person, Melissa from the production office. Robbie hurried straight over, skipping his usual stop at the Coke machine. He sat down next to Julie, placing his lunch bag on the table. The tremor in his hands was obvious, so he put them in his lap. He couldn’t remember what he’d brought for lunch and wasn’t hungry anyway.
“Hi Julie.”
She was so pretty. Light brown eyes, pale perfect skin, and the cutest little mouth.
“Hey, Robbie. How have you been? I haven’t seen you around much.”
She had noticed that he hadn’t sat by her lately. Very cool.
“I’m doing great. I started-” Robbie caught himself. He had almost announced his new medication. “I started working out. It feels good.” He promised himself he would do pushups every day for a week.
“Oh yes, I have to exercise or I get cranky.”
“I can’t imagine you cranky.”
“You should see me when I go too long without eating. Whew!” Julie made a mock horror face. Robbie laughed. Julie smiled then bit into her sandwich.
Robbie opened his lunch bag and discovered a brown banana and a carton of rice leftover from Jason’s Chinese takeout dinner last night. He was too embarrassed to haul them out. He decided to have a Coke instead.
“I’m going to get a soda from the machine. Would you like one?”
“No thanks. I brought a Snapple.” Another bright smile.
He hated to walk away from her, but his throat was dry, and he didn’t want it to sound funny when he asked her out. Which he planned to do the moment he got back.
The vending machine was near the cafeteria door, thirty feet away. He pulled some quarters out of his pocket on the way. Rootbeer sounded better, so he reached for that button instead. Then he worried it would make his breath weird, so he hesitated, then bought a Coke instead.
Can in hand, he whirled around and started back. From across the room, he watched Julie talk and chew in a delicate balance that few could pull off. Then his heart went cold. To his left, Josh Mitchell the packaging lead, was coming up the aisle between lunchroom tables. The good-looking bastard slid into his spot next to Julie and shoved Robbie’s lunch bag aside in one easy motion.
No!
He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. They felt like lead. It seemed to take an eternity, but they carried him back. Josh was already talking to Julie, making her laugh. Robbie tried to cut in, “Hey Josh, I was sitting there.”
Josh finished his story, then looked up with an easy confidence. “There’s a spot right there.” He pushed Robbie’s bag with the beat-up banana down the table. “You’re already up. Don’t make me move.”
Robbie felt paralyzed. His mind whirled but his legs wouldn’t budge. Why had he gotten up? How could he have been that stupid? He had been so close to asking her out. He could not bring himself to sit down and watch Josh flirt with Julie. Robbie glanced at Julie, and she gave him a quick smile with a little shrug. Then she turned back to Josh and asked him if he played racquetball.
Robbie’s heart was so crushed it was barely beating. Why did he try? Why did he set himself up for disappointment? He picked up his lunch bag and dragged himself to the door. His intention was to leave work and not come back. He could not bear to be humiliated again. He dropped his bag in the trash, but hesitated to ditch the Coke. He was still thirsty.
“Hey, if you’re not going to drink that, I will.” A short, pretty redhead he hadn’t seen before sauntered up to him.
On impulse he handed her the soda. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” She took the can and smiled. “I’m Savanah. I started work here this morning.”
“Robbie Alvarez. Six months and counting.”
She wasn’t Julie, but she seemed nice. Robbie asked her if she’d like a tour of the factory.