Twisted Deception

Chapter One

Chapter One

Time wasn’t on Addie’s side and Paul wasn’t helping.

Neither were the texts from her girlfriend.

10:30—Geez I’m starving. When r u

getting home?

“Is that Drake?” Paul asked, stuffing papers into his

already bulging briefcase.

Addie wondered how much longer the poor imitation

snakeskin could take the abuse. Only one latch kept the battered beast closed.

The hinges often popped open at will, and Paul had strewn his work all over

more than once when they were walking to work. Addie had to keep pedestrians

from stepping on his client prospectuses. He probably didn’t have a better

briefcase for the same reason he didn’t have a girlfriend. Paul was usually a

little clueless. Addie liked him in spite of it. Or, perhaps, because of it.

She stared at the glowing screen of her cell, then

hesitantly tapped it. If too much time went by, Drake would text again. The

second one would be a shouting text.

10:40—Leaving now. J

“You want to get a drink?” Paul asked. “Or doesn’t your

ball and chain stretch that far?”

Addie rolled her eyes as she shut down her computer and

gathered her purse. If she sat, she couldn’t see over the half wall that kept

her and Paul separated. She bumped her hip against the file-cabinet drawer,

closing it. While it wasn’t an office per se, the walls offered enough privacy

from prying eyes that Addie could shop for her favorite shoes online every once

in a while. “This from the man who’d kill for a ball. Or a chain,” she said as

she cast Paul a glance that, if he had a wife, he would have recognized

instantly as a don’t f**k with me look.

Heading home to Drake, the girlfriend who could barely

afford to take her out for sushi, made her headache from a long day of

crunching numbers even worse.

“I’ll take that as a yes. O’Malley’s Pub?” Paul pressed

his luck. “You know you love their fries.”

“Twist my arm. Let me tell Drake I’ll be late.” Even as Addie typed, she had a feeling what

the reply would be.

10:42—Change of plans. Meet me at

O’Malley’s pub.

10:43—WTF? Are u kidding me. I’m going to bed.

Don’t wake me when you get in. Pillow on couch.

Addie sighed and Paul stole a look at the reply.

“Shocker.” He groaned. “Aren’t you tired of her crap yet?

Or just tired of sleeping on the couch?”

Drake worked hard and had no problem staying out late with

the guys from the garage. But if Addie did the same, Drake hit the ceiling.

Besides, it was her apartment. And she’d had it with the couch.

“Guess it’s just us.”

“Good! We always have a better time without your little

grease monkey.” Paul threaded his arm around Addie’s waist. “God, are you

losing weight?”

“No, not really,” she lied. Drake had made some harsh

comments about Addie’s figure, and she had made a point of not eating around

Drake, who watched everything she put in her own mouth. Addie had been proud of

her swimmer’s body. Soft in all the right places but fit. Yet she didn’t

compare to the pin-up girls that draped themselves on Drake when she was at a

race. She didn’t have a clue what Drake saw in her, and it was starting to be

painfully obvious that Drake had a type and she wasn’t it, yet.

Paul smiled and tapped his watch. He wasn’t a man’s man.

He was the type that would make your mom happy. Slim, well-groomed, and polite

as hell. Why couldn’t she like guys, or at least guys like Paul? What did they

call a man who hung around lesbians?

“Bullshit. Ever since you’ve been dating Motor Girl,

you’ve gotten skinnier and skinnier. By next month, you’ll be down to your

birth weight. Don’t make me stage an intervention.”

Addie’s phone vibrated in her hand, as if Drake had

overheard them.

10:48—Goin 2 my place instd. Gotta race

2mrrw.

10:48—Fine. Maybe you’ll be in a better

mood tomorrow.

The bomb she’d just lobbed would probably blow up in her

face tomorrow after Drake’s race, but she was beyond caring at the moment. It

was Friday night, and she’d worked over sixty hours that week. She needed a

glass of wine. Or a shot. Or both.

Addie found herself stuffing her own briefcase past the

point of closing too. It didn’t matter. She’d broken the zipper a long time

ago.

Taking work home was requisite if you wanted to keep your

job at Integrated Financial Services. They weren’t just the top brokerage firm

in San Jose. Integrated Financial had practically predicted the economic

collapse within a few weeks. That alone placed them in the top ranking of

stockbrokers.

Above Addie, a bank of clocks set to times around the

world loomed, ticking silently. They were critical. If someone wasn’t careful,

it was easy to put the wrong time down on a sell order and screw a client out

of major money. Addie had sat there on many a night, watching the bright-red

second hand crawl slowly around the face of the clocks, just waiting for them

to hit a sell time.

But not tonight.

“Let’s get out of here,” Addie declared.

Paul summarily pushed his desk chair in. “Don’t have to

tell me twice. Let’s make a night of it. We’ll stay up late, then go to the

Waffle House in the morning and get fried chicken and gravy.”

“Is that another hint about my weight?”

“I’m pretty subtle, right?” he said, snapping off the

lights to the office they’d shared for over a year and leaving Addie in the

dark.

“Yup. Subtle.”

Paul could be a pain, but he was always good to her. They

were both hanging on by their fingertips to every rung they’d climbed on the

corporate ladder at Integrated. However, he’d never tried to edge her out for a

promotion, cut her out of a deal, or even hit on her. Addie knew she had a true

friend in him so she wanted to return the favor.

Following him out into the hall, she added, “Tell you

what. I’m going to text my friend Tara. She should be getting off work right

about now.”

11:00—Heading 2 O’Malley’s pub. Join?

Want u 2 meet someone.

11:01—You finally dumped that

biiiooottccch, Drake?!? Can’t wait to meet your new squeeze. C ya in a few!

Misunderstanding aside, Addie announced, “You’re welcome.”

“For what?” Paul asked.

“Tara will meet us at O’Malley’s. She’s just your type.

Hard-working. No life. Likes Chinese takeout right out of the box. And doesn’t

like commitment.”

“My dream woman!”

Her phone vibrated in her hand again. Afraid it was Drake,

Addie ignored it.

Paul pushed the office’s main door open, the Integrated

Financial logo’s emblazoned boldly on the glass, and waited for Addie to walk

past. “Bet Motor Girl doesn’t do that for you, does she?”

Addie elbowed him in the stomach. “Stop. She’s not that

bad.”

Suddenly, she remembered that she’d forgotten the file she

was supposed to work on that weekend. Drake hated it when she brought paperwork

home, as if it was an insult to her and the quality time they were supposed to

be spending together. But the days of Saturday-morning hikes and fun Sunday

brunches were long gone, replaced by arguments over leftover pizza and

pretending to still be asleep when the sun rose so they didn’t have to talk.

“I’ll meet you in the garage and we can argue who gets to

drive.”

“Not if I’m already in the car waiting for your slow ass.

Besides, I’m the designated driver tonight. I don’t want to make a jerk out of

myself if your friend is hot.”

“She’s definitely hot. And you’ll make an ass out of

yourself regardless. Meet you in the garage in five after I get that file.”

Paul strode down the long corridor and hopped into an open

elevator as Addie’s phone vibrated yet again. Steeling herself, she tapped the

screen.

11:14—Leaving now. C u in a few.

At the sight of Tara’s text, Addie relaxed.

11:14—C u in about 10.

Addie typed in her pass code at the main door for reentry.

Integrated had become serious about security after a hacker had nearly breached

their firewall earlier that year. She looked up at the new security camera

pointed right at her. She should feel safer, but the idea of Big Brother

watching, well, it had people talking. Padlocks on the supply cabinet wouldn’t

have surprised her. Things had been tense at the office since then, but it was

more because of the merger rumors swirling. She didn’t want to think what that

would mean for her job. She had heavier things on her mind at the moment.

Snaking through the darkened offices and half cubicles,

she reached hers, snatched the file from her desk drawer, then tucked it under

her arm and read another text from Tara. Was this what her life amounted to

after so many long hours and grueling days on the job?

11:15—I need a double. C u in five.

Addie slipped her head through her briefcase strap,

shrugged it across her chest, and tucked her purse under her arm so she could

keep texting. Lately, it was the only way she could keep up with family and

friends. Lucky for her, her mother had recently started to respond to texts.

Little snippets of niceties between them throughout the week had replaced the

long Sunday phone calls. Nice!

Addie rushed out of the office for the elevator. Lucky for

her it was waiting.

11:16—Not intro-ing you to a girl. Want

you to meet my coworker, Paul. Nice guy.

The elevator dinged, stopped, and the doors slid open.

Addie caught sight of a man out of the corner of her eye but didn’t give him a

second thought. Integrated had a reputation. Staying late wasn’t just the norm.

It was almost mandatory. You worked long hard hours and hoped your boss took

notice.

“Good evening,” he said in a deep voice she didn’t

recognize.

“Hey.” She didn’t bother to look up from her phone. She

kept it brief, not wanting to encourage more conversation. Addie read Tara’s

latest text.

11:18—He better be. That last guy you

wanted me to meet was a d-bag.

“So, working late, huh?” the man said.

Addie cast a glance in his direction, discreetly checking

him out in the highly polished brass wall of the elevator. His suit stretched

across the huge expanse of his chest, the buttons of the vest looking like

they’d pop at any minute. Spit-shined wingtips looked out of character for some

reason. His beefy hands clenched and then relaxed. No briefcase. Odd. Everyone

had a briefcase at I.F.

Not wanting to be rude, she answered, “Yeah. You?”

“The hard-ass boss, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.

You work on the twenty-third floor, right? I’ve seen you in the cafeteria a

couple of times.”

Addie could feel his gaze crawling over her from head to

toe. In that tight space of the elevator, it was unnerving.

11:19—Gotta stop txtn. A guy got on the

elevator and he’s looking over my shoulder, TTYL.

“It’s a job, right?” he said.

Addie tucked her phone in her pocket as the man shuffled

closer. She stepped back as he crowded her at the panel. As he stuck two

fingers out, a scar across the first two knuckles caught her attention. She

heard a loud click at the same time he pushed a floor that meant he would get

off before her. His hand lingered on the panel and she caught a whiff of

a strange scent. Mothballs, she thought. She remembered her grandmother’s house

smelling the same way.

“Wow, you smell good. What’s the name of that perfume

you’re wearing? I’d love to get some for my wife.”

He still stood too close for her comfort, so she started

to step to the back of the elevator. Before she could put space between them,

Addie felt herself pushed up against the wall.

“Think you’re too good to talk to me?” He was close enough

that she smelled stale nicotine on his breath. Without warning, he bashed her

against the wall, instantly splitting her lip. Blood seeped into her mouth.

“You should’ve been nicer.”

She tried to push off the wall, but he forced his body

against hers. If she could get turned around maybe she had a fighting chance.

She felt herself being pulled back by the strap of her briefcase. In a second,

she was thrown down to the ground. The pain from her face making contact with

the floor almost made her black out.

Her mind was screaming, Fight, Addie! Fight!

Arching her back, she shifted her hips as she tried to

roll her attacker off her. A glint of silver briefly caught her eye. Next, she

felt the pressure of the briefcase strap release. He tossed the case into the

corner of the elevator and jerked her around on her back, face-to-face with her

attacker. Her phone buzzed.

Reaching up, Addie tried to shove his massive weight off

her, but he grabbed her wrists and pushed them back. His face was close, sweat

dripping on her. Without thinking, she rammed her head against his nose. Her

forehead made contact with something that snapped. His blood splattered all

over her cheeks as he bellowed, “You little b***h…ˮ

She bucked her hips, trying to toss him off, and he let go

of one of her hands to clutch his wounded nose. Instinctively, she raked his

face with her fingernails.

“Uargh,” he screamed, reaching for the furrow marks her

nails had drawn. He straddled her hips, waving the knife blade in front of her.

“Fight me and I’ll kill you. Understand?” He lowered his face closer. “I know

where you live.”

He reached across her, grabbed her arm, and flung her onto

her stomach. His thick fingers threaded into her hair, yanking her head back.

He pushed her dress up, and the snap of the elastic waistband being cut echoed

in the small confines. The tip of the blade caught the flesh of her butt, and

she yelped. A trickle of hot blood rolled down her thigh.

“Stop struggling and you won’t get hurt.”

“f**k you.”

“Oh, I plan on it. You just made it interesting.”

A meaty fist clocked the side of her head, and the edges

of blackness started to encroach on her. Fighting to stay awake, she heard her

phone buzz again. It was always in her hand, except now when she needed it

most. The elevator jerked from its stop and started moving, and then everything

went black as more excruciating pain lanced through her skull. Black and quiet.

A scream wrenched her from the darkness.

“Addie! Addie, what happened?” She could hear Paul but

couldn’t see him. Her eyes were practically swollen shut.

She tried to sit up, but her body wasn’t cooperating and

her head was throbbing.

“Don’t move. An ambulance is on its way. Addie, who did

this to you?”

Flickers of memory like the ticking frames of a silent

movie flashed behind her closed eyes. Her aching body confirming what she could

imagine was only a nightmare. The stranger had attacked her.

“Christ,” she heard him mutter under his breath. “Stay

with me, Addie. Help’s on the way.”

Two minutes, she’d just needed two minutes to get that

file and they could have been sitting at the bar. Paul pulled his coat off and

covered her as she started to shake. “Oh God, Addie. Who did this to you?” he

said again. Behind him stood two women in cleaning aprons, their carts full of

maintenance supplies pushed to the side by the bank of elevators. Addie didn’t

know how she’d gotten into the foyer of the building.

Her vision cleared, and she licked her bloody lips. “I

don’t know. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Can I do something, sir?” one of the cleaning women

asked, standing at a respectful distance. Her graying hair was scraped up into

a hasty bun, a concerned look on her aging face.

“I think we all just need to stay here and wait for the

police to show up.”

The second one piped up. “Yes, yes, but I have to do my

job, or I could get fired.” She was younger, a dark ponytail swinging as she

whispered something to her coworker that neither Addie nor Paul was meant to

hear.

“I’ll talk to your boss. Besides, you found her, and the

cops will want to talk to you both. Did you see anyone get off the elevator?”

The cleaning women swapped glances and shook their heads

at the same time.

“No, no, we didn’t see anything. Sorry.” The younger one

nervously twisted a rag between her hands, wringing it out as a siren pierced

the tension.

“Oh, the police are here. I’ll go and bring them, yes?”

one of the women said.

Addie dug her nails into the back of her arms as she

rocked back and forth. Pain suddenly felt good. It kept her focused in the

moment, keeping some modicum of clarity from slipping away. Footfalls echoed in

the distance. Not the rushed steps of someone in a hurry to get away, but the

casual pace of someone daring them to find him. The doors swished open, pushing

the smell of nicotine into the small gathering.