Like a Woman Scorned (15 page)

“He knows it was you.”

Alison reached into her purse and grabbed ahold of a small, round, cylindrical object that gave her some sense of security when she found herself frightened.

“If that’s a can of pepper spray you’re holding, please don’t. You have two choices here, and if you mace me, that would be making an irreversible, emotional decision that I think you would regret. I assure you, you are in no danger from me. I’m just an administrator, and the contract has not yet been assigned.”

“What the hell are you talking about? What contract? You say Rick hired you? Hired you for what? How does it involve me?”

“Do you really not understand?” Tom asked.

Some crazy ideas were bouncing around in Alison’s head, the kind you usually only see in mobster movies. She didn’t understand, and she was never more scared. She needed clarification. She needed Rick. She wanted to run all the way to the plane, or better yet, run across the country herself and go see him.

“He knows you were the secretary who framed him,” Tom said calmly, as if reading Alison’s mind. “He figured it out—with the help of his attorney, apparently.”

Alison took her hand out of her pursed and clutched the strap tightly with both hands.

“I …I …I was going to tell him. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m going to tell him. It will make everything okay…”

“No. It won’t, Miss Carson. It’s too late for that now.”

“What did he say?” Alison asked. “About me? About knowing about it now? What did he say about me?”

 “That’s all I really know—except, of course, that he doesn’t forgive you. I have not met Mr. Waterman personally. He is willing to use the last of his money to get revenge now, from what we have ascertained, assuming he can get it properly transferred to us. We are still waiting on payment. That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Payment for what?” Alison felt her heart racing.

“Payment to have you killed, Miss Carson. Now, can we please discuss the alternative?”

Alison turned to run to the taxi, but stood in place instead. She was torn and confused, like in a dream where you want to run from danger but can’t.

She spun back around to face Tom. “Suppose I call the police myself, right now, and tell them everything you just said?”

“If they get here before I leave,” Tom said as he leaned down to scratch behind his dog’s ears, “which is doubtful, knowing the San Francisco police, I will simply tell them I was hitting on you and you took offense. Since they have nothing but unfounded accusations, they will be forced to let me go, probably with a stern warning to stay out of the parks. Then Mr. Waterman’s contract will be assigned and our business will be over. You can go see him and tell him anything you want, and see how he responds. My guess is he will deny everything and say I must be some crazy person. Maybe you will then move into your new apartment in Boston. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m only here to offer you a chance at a reversal—which is, as I already explained, a rare opportunity.”

“What’s a reversal?”

“The subject is given the opportunity to reverse the contract and make the original client the subject instead. Like I said, it’s rare. It costs double the original contract price. In this case, however, there are middlemen finder’s fees to pay and some extra expenses involving in a rather unorthodox manner of funds transfer, so it will be a little pricier than normal.”

Alison sat back down on the bench, much closer to Tom this time. Her eyes suddenly felt like they were on fire.

“How much did he pay to have me killed?”

“Thirty. Thousand, that is. We like nice round numbers. But because of the extra expenses involved, the final contract price to him ended up being closer to forty. His money was tied up in his attorney’s client trust fund account—”

“The money’s coming from his lawyer?”

“That’s essentially correct. Of course, she doesn’t know that, which is what makes the funds transfer complicated—”

“That bastard!” Alison could feel tears on her cheeks. Her own money, that she gave to help him, was being used to have her killed.

“Miss Carson, do we have a deal?”

“I’ll triple it. All of it. $120,000. Cash. Some of it in American Express gift cards. Might take me a couple weeks to get it all together.”

“Excellent. Here.” Tom handed her a key.

“That’s a safe deposit box at the Farmers and Merchants bank one block down the hill.” He pointed. “We have another key for it, and you have already been established as a user on the account. You just need to show them your ID and the key when you go there to get access. Nice folks at that bank, so there won’t be any trouble. We’ll look to have the money in that box two weeks from today, then.” Tom stopped petting his dog and looked into Alison’s eyes.

 “Just one more thing. We did our homework on you, and trust you to pay us—so the contractor will be hired immediately. If you leave here with that key, it’s irreversible…”

Alison didn’t wait for him to finish. She got up and jogged back to the taxi.

“Change of plans,” she told the taxi driver. “Just take me back home. Sorry. You still have your $20 tip coming.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The phone rang. Alison looked at her clock. It was 7:05 pm Thursday evening. That would be Rick. He always called at 7:05. She tossed back the last of her glass of vodka and cranberry juice and picked up the phone.

“Rick?”

No response.

“Hello? Rick, is that you?”

“Oh …hi, honey. Sorry, the phone was acting weird. Is everything okay? I got concerned when you didn’t show up today. God, I miss you.” But it sounded to Alison as though he were slightly surprised to hear her answer.

“Yes honey,” she said in her sweetest possible forced voice. “I’m sorry. I miss you too—terribly. This financial issue has gotten more complicated. I guess I have to tell you now, but it was going to be a surprise. I’m moving some money around, and selling a few things, because I rented an apartment in Boston—so I can be close to you, and we have a place to live together when the time comes.”

There was long, unnatural pause. Alison wondered if he suspected her of knowing that he now knew about her. The conversational flow between them was strangely different. The words were all the same as they would have been, but that comfortable, familiar warmth was now missing from both sides. The image of two poker players both bluffing flashed across Alison’s mind, waiting to see which one would back down.

She, of course, knew they were both lying. But he might only know that he was lying, although this sudden break in seeing each other—for two weekends now, after so many months of her being there like clockwork—had to be unsettling for him.

Finally, Alison broke the silence herself.

“Honey?”

“I’m here, Ali. Just sort of …overwhelmed. I had no idea. You should have told me! I hope it’s nothing too expensive.”

 “That doesn’t matter. I have some money, now, remember? And we will want a nice, out-of-the-way place to hole up together for a while when you get out, right?” Alison knew there was only one hole Rick actually wanted her in, however, and it was six feet deep. But she was willing to play this telephone game for the entire allotted five minutes if he insisted. No way was she going to crack. Not now.

“Alison, is there anything else you haven’t told me? Is everything really okay? Things seem …different all of a sudden. Or am I just being paranoid?”

“I don’t know, Rick. You are very perceptive, after all. I do wish I was there with you right now. Even had a flight booked that I had to miss. Maybe I just feel a little strange. Yes, there are some things I haven’t told you, and I’m a little worried you will be upset.”

“I won’t be upset, Ali. We’ve all done things we regret. If there’s anything that could possibly put a wedge between us, let’s just get it out in the open. I want us to be close. So close we have nothing to fear. If there’s something you need to tell me, please, just do it.”

Alison felt her resolve weaken and a tear on her cheek. “Rick ….I …I”

“Yes, honey?”

“I can’t have kids. The pregnancy …it was an ectopic one. I didn’t voluntarily have it aborted. I keeled over in the office and had to be rushed to the hospital. Because of the hemorrhage, they had to go in and get it surgically. The doctor’s diagnosed me with something called Asherman's syndrome, and because of that they recommended I have my tubes tied to prevent any accidental pregnancies in the future, which are dangerous for me.”

There was another short pause before Rick spoke again. This time, however, it was in a low, caring, loving voice.

“Ali, do you blame me for that?”

“I did, yes,” Alison choked. Tears were now streaming down her face.

“This Asherman’s thing,” he said, “was it caused by the bad pregnancy?”

“They don’t know, maybe.”

“But maybe not, right? I mean, there’s a decent chance any pregnancy would have ended up the same way, with the same result—right?”

“That’s what they said, yes,” Alison sobbed. She was bawling uncontrollably now.

“Honey, it’s okay. Honey, I love you. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I would give everything I have to stop that. Ali, are you still with me?”

“Yes.”

“Just know that I love you, Ali. Please just know that. If only I had the power to always be with you and protect you from everything. I love you, baby.”

“Rick, there’s more.”

“It’s okay, honey. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I just love you and want you to be okay. Really. I’ve done some awfully stupid things that I regret, and now I want to stop them all and love you forever. Maybe I still can…”

“No Rick, please. I need to tell you—”

“Times up Waterman, hang up,” a loud, stern voice in the background said.

“I have to go, Ali. They’re taking the phone from me. I’ll call you again Saturday. I can call you back Saturday—”

Click. Dial tone. He was gone.

Alison crumpled to the floor and wept like she never had before in her life. She soaked the carpet with tears. Huge gasping sobs occasionally stopped just long enough to hear the phone screaming its off-the-hook signal. Finally, the phone went dead. A while later, Allison stopped, too. She had exhausted herself and eventually fell asleep on the floor next to the phone receiver.

Friday was a strange day. Everything felt surreal to Alison. Maybe nothing was real. What’s the point of life, anyway? Why couldn’t she live normally, like everyone else? Why did she have to get tangled up in insane circumstances, and have her heart crushed into little pieces over and over again? Did anything matter? All these simple people all around her leading pathetic little lives, why did they seem happy? There’s no happiness, everyone was just fooling themselves. Existence was a gigantic waste of time, God’s idea of a cruel joke.

She didn’t eat anything and went for a long walk. Alongside the bay, Alison saw people fishing and boating and walking dogs. One of them looked like Tom’s dog and she did a double-take. It seemed to recognize her as well. The person walking it wasn’t Tom, though. Another little piece of cruelty added to the big joke.

Alison looked up to the sky and asked God if this was really it. Is this all He wanted from us, to haunt us with stupid little things like that dog? Would it matter at all to Him if Alison climbed up on this rock pile, jumped into the bay and drowned? Would He get some perverse satisfaction from that?

What the hell, she climbed up on the rocks and looked down.

It wasn’t far enough to hurt her, most likely, but what if she let out all her breath on the way down and then gasped in a lungful of water after she sank down under? What would happen then? Would her body come back up, or stay down? Would anyone ever find her? Would anyone care? It was a simple act to perform, really, and what would God care? Maybe He would find it entertaining. Just a step off this rock, and that would be it. So easy.

At that moment her mom’s voice came into her head. It wasn’t telling Alison she loved her and to please not leave her like this. No, it was horrified over the blasphemy she was committing. Alison was raised catholic. None of her family went to mass anymore, not in many years. But her mother still crossed her heart quite often and both her parents held a fear of the almighty. They would cringe to hear the thoughts in Alison’s head now.

Alison climbed down from the rocks and kept walking. After a while, she noticed her extreme hunger and decided to observe it rather than serve it. What was it going to do if she ignored it? Usually, she grew faint or nauseous from lack of food. She could detect a little of those feelings, too. Stupid feelings, they were bluffing, weren’t they? Alison would test them. She walked all around the city that day and only stopped for a bottle of water. Late in the afternoon, she noticed her hunger pangs gave up. They just quit on her, as if they realized there was no point to it any longer. Alison had won.

She got back home after dark, having walked maybe twenty miles today. Her hunger pangs took another shot at her when she was home, but Alison told them to get bent and collapsed on the couch. Flipping around the television, she happened to come by the religious channel. A preacher in the middle of a sermon said, “Revenge is mine, sayeth the Lord,” just as she turned there. Perfect. She left the TV on that station and slept until nine the next morning.

Saturday was a new day and Alison felt different. Funny thing, she still wasn’t really hungry. But she took a walk several blocks to a favorite bakery and got herself a muffin and a latte. The muffin filled her up and she didn’t even finish it. But what to do the rest of the day? It was a long ways to 7:05.

And what would she do at 7:05? What exactly was she about to say to Rick the other night before her breakdown? She wasn’t actually going to confess to a crime, was she? That seemed like an incredibly foolish thing to do.

Rick was right about the pregnancy, of course. It wasn’t his fault Alison couldn’t have kids. This was the first time she admitted that to herself, and this realization had no doubt been a big factor in the cause of her breakdown. But she was still a victim of his selfish infidelity. The cheating bastard used her and left her in a terrible position.