Terminated (17 page)

“Not to you.”

“That’s not what you said at your office.”

“I said I would stop this man, but do you remember what Deborah Langan said?”

She did, but she didn’t want to say it. She could barely admit it to herself.

“She said you were an asset to the company. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“While you were employed by Pace Pharmaceuticals, you were an asset. You aren’t now. The investigation is over.”

She steeled herself against this setback. “I’m innocent. We both know that. We have an opportunity to prove it, right now, and you’re letting it get away.”

“I’m not doing anything of the kind.”

“You are. Pace sold me out, and you’re turning your back.”

Paul frowned. She knew he was disappointed in Ingram, not her. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s get you to bed,” he said to Kirsten and carried her back to her room.

Ingram was silent for a long moment. “I don’t like being accused.”

“I don’t really care. You told me you’d protect me. You fell down on the job more than once. You left me and my family vulnerable. You owe me this courtesy.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

There was genuine disgust in Ingram’s reply. She’d offended him, but she didn’t care, as long as he did something. Tarbell had probably reached 880. At this
time of night, he’d be thirty minutes from home. Ingram had less than thirty minutes to close the net on him.

“I’ll go to the media. I’m sure they’d be interested in how you abdicated your responsibilities.”

“I would advise against that course of action, Mrs. Farris. Pace Pharmaceuticals has already protected itself against any kind of trial, whether it be in court or by TV. If you cry foul, you’ll be painted as a gold-digging opportunist who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.”

“You bastard.”

“Don’t blame me. I feel for you, Mrs. Farris. Truly, I do. But you were never my client. I wasn’t hired to protect you. Pace hired me to protect their interests, and you aren’t one of them anymore.”

It was Gwen’s turn to be silent. Pace had boxed her in. If she fought them, what remained of her reputation would be torn apart. She had no doubt about that. They’d promised to do that to Tarbell. Why wouldn’t they do it to her? In the end, they wanted a productive workforce. It didn’t matter who those people were.

“I’ll be honest with you, Gwen.” Ingram’s tone had become almost gentle. “I believe Stephen Tarbell did assault you, but I can’t prove it. I hope that means something.”

“Under the circumstances, it doesn’t.”

Ingram sighed. “I’ll talk to him and see about getting him to stop.”

“See about getting him to stop? Wow, that’s a great help. Please don’t do me any favors.”

Ingram ignored the insult and plowed on. “Call the police and report the broken window. Don’t tell them about Tarbell. It won’t help.”

She hung up the phone in disbelief. She couldn’t believe how naive she’d been. She thought if she could tie anything to Tarbell, it would make a difference.

Paul came back into the room and put
his arms around her. “We don’t need those people.”

Paul was wrong. They needed someone. They were at Tarbell’s mercy without anyone on their side.

G
wen awoke the next day feeling as if every
nerve ending was exposed. It had been another night with little sleep. After Ingram had coldly given her the facts of life, the cops had arrived. A single officer to be exact. He had looked the mess and Gwen over with mild disaffection. Clearly, this broken window in the middle of the night was not inspiring him to go to the ends of the earth to bring the culprit to justice. He asked if she had any enemies. But his lazy demeanor only reinforced the fact that she had no intention of sharing. The cop handed her a report form to complete that could be mailed in and no doubt round-filed when it made it to the police department. Finally, he left, and cleanup began. They didn’t have a board to cover the hole in the fragmented safety glass and had to make do with plastic sheeting and duct tape. They decided not to put a call into the insurance company, guessing that the thousand-dollar deductible would surpass the cost of replacing the window. Then it was back to bed.

The next morning, Gwen’s internal body clock woke her in time for another day at the office. It took her a minute to realize that she could have slept in because there was no job to go to anymore.

She walked into the living room. The noise of the wind slapping and tugging at the plastic sheeting irritated her. She went from zero to pissed off in nothing flat. The noise
reminded her that Tarbell had succeeded again at chipping away at her life.

Move on. Let it go. He’s not worth it
. Everyone involved in this mess had given her this advice in one form or another. It was a nice sentiment, but it was what people said when the bad thing wasn’t happening to them. Well, she couldn’t move on and she couldn’t let go. She needed to give Tarbell a dose of his own medicine.

She dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, not bothering to shower or brush her teeth. Her hair was a tangle from a night spent tossing and turning. She pulled it back with a hair band, then grabbed her purse and keys.

Paul emerged from the bedroom, not quite awake. “Why up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep. What do you want for breakfast?”

He eyed the keys in her hand and the purse over her shoulder. She watched as a jolt of adrenaline woke him up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the store. I wanted to get some things.”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll come with you.”

“You stay. You always go. Let me do it.”

His expression said he wasn’t buying what she was selling.

“I just want to be alone for a few. OK?”

It wasn’t, but he said, “I’ll get Kirsten up and call a glass place.”

“Thanks. I won’t be long.”

She cut across Alameda. She didn’t have much time. She had to reach Pace before Tarbell got there. There was no way she’d get past reception. She had to catch him on his way in.

She bullied her way through traffic and parked on the service road. The parking lot was partially filled with early arrivals. She scanned for Tarbell’s Toyota but didn’t see it. She went to pull into the parking lot, then decided against it. Her parking there could be viewed as trespassing. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She parked down the
street and walked back. Remembering the security cameras, she kept to the trees lining the property.

She waited patiently, watching vehicles file into the parking lot. These people had been friends and coworkers yesterday. They were strangers now. None of them spotted her skulking behind a tree.

Tarbell pulled into the parking lot at exactly eight a.m. The sight of him returning to a job he didn’t deserve inflamed her rage. It should be him out of a job, not her. On top of that, he should be in a jail cell, sharing quality time with the likes of Desmond Parker. Then he’d see how tough he was. She didn’t wait for him to park. She cut across the parking lot, finding cover in the landscaping. She tracked his position, staying in his blind spot. He wasn’t to have any warning. He’d never given her that courtesy, so why should she give it to him?

Tarbell had parked in her spot by the trash enclosure. The sick bastard probably chose it for sentimental reasons.

As he opened the door, she burst from her cover and raced up to him from behind. A jet climbing out of the airport covered the sound of her sneakers pounding the asphalt.

He turned and his eyes went wide. His shock spurred her on. He remained rooted to the spot.

She pushed out her arms and ran into him. The impact shoved him back.

She closed the space, putting her face in his. “I suppose you think you’ve won, don’t you?”

The surprise drained from his face, and he shot her a derisive look. “I’m winning. Let’s just call it that.”

“Do you think you were clever last night, throwing stones at my window? I saw your car, and I saw you. Throwing stones? Really? Are you twelve?”

“Just testing the defenses, Gwen. I have more planned for you.”

More? Why? What did he hope to achieve? Didn’t he know he’d already won?
“I thought you’d gotten what you wanted. You destroyed me.”

She went to shove him again, but he caught
her arms and held them outstretched. She tried to wrench them free but his strength kept her pinned.

“You’re far from being destroyed, Gwen. You’re bloodied and bruised, but I haven’t even brought you to your knees yet. People like you—”

“People like me?”

“Yes, people like you, Gwen.” His grip on her wrists intensified. She winced in pain. “You glide through life taking what isn’t yours, while people like me give our all and lose every time.”

She shook her head in disbelief. He’d held a knife to her throat and yet saw himself as the victim. It was unbelievable. “What did I ever take from you? When did I put a knife to your throat?”

He sneered. “People like you don’t have to use knives. You have other weapons.”

She was right about one thing. His perceived victimization was no more sophisticated than a child’s. “If I’m a taker, then take note of this. This isn’t over. Cling to your pathetic beliefs because that’s all you’re going to have left. You’ll pay for what you did to me. I am going to make sure you do.”

He jerked on her wrists, yanking her to him. “Do it, Gwen. I dare you, because you won’t win. I’m rising up and pushing your kind down.”

“You’ll have to kill me.”

He grinned. “So be it.”

“Gwen,” a voice called. “Gwen, what are you doing?”

Gwen snapped her head around. It was Lauren. Gwen watched as her former colleague took in the tableau before her. She knew Lauren would want an explanation. Tarbell supplied it first.

He shoved Gwen, releasing his hold on
her. She stumbled back.

“Gwen, don’t blame me for your mistakes. You did this to yourself.”

Gwen almost smiled. Tarbell was good. She had to give him that. The scenario looked so damning. A distraught and acrimoniously fired woman returns to work the following morning looking for someone to blame and take out her frustrations on. Her ragged appearance surely didn’t help matters.

“You son of a bitch,” she said, disgust and admiration in her voice.

Her emotions surged out of control, but as she was swinging an arm to slap him, someone grabbed her from behind. She fought to shake herself free and a hat belonging to the security guard struck the ground at her feet. The battle was over, so she stopped fighting.

Lauren forced her way between them. Her face was filled with concern. “Gwen, stop it.”

“This isn’t over,” Gwen said to Tarbell.

Tarbell embraced his new role as victim and backed away with his hands up. “You need help, Gwen. I’m sorry, but you do.”

“Gwen, what are you doing?”

Gwen recognized Deborah’s shrill voice calling across the parking lot.

Fantastic
, she thought. Tarbell kept backing away, then headed for the office. Others had arrived and were gawking at the spectacle before them. They rushed to Tarbell’s side to offer him support. They were finally seeing him as the victim he believed he was.
Could this get any worse
? She should retreat with what remained of her dignity, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Stay away from my family, Stephen,” she yelled as he retreated. “Do you hear me? Leave us alone.”

Tarbell was heading into the building surrounded by a circus of newfound, protective friends. He didn’t look back to acknowledge her.

Deborah blotted out Gwen’s view of Tarbell. “Gwen, are you crazy? What are you
doing here?” Realizing Lauren was still standing there, she said, “Can you leave us?”

This jolted Lauren out of her trance. “Oh, sure. Of course.” She headed into the building. “Take it easy, Gwen. Call me. We’ll go somewhere for lunch.”

“If Mike releases you, are you going to be calm?” Deborah asked.

She was calm now, but saw no point in saying it and just nodded.

The security guard let go of her. Deborah asked him to give them a little space. He picked up his hat and stood a discreet distance from them but stayed close enough to wade in if trouble broke out again.

“Gwen, what were you thinking?”

“Stephen threw a rock through my window.”

“I know. Robert Ingram called me last night.”

Deborah knew. It looked as if everyone knew but wasn’t interested in doing anything about it. She decided to cut her story short. She was playing the victim, the same card Tarbell was playing. It wasn’t effective. Besides, she was finished with being the victim. Victims surrendered to their fate. She wouldn’t.

“Then you know what I’m thinking,” said Gwen. “You know why I’m here. I’m trying to finish what you failed to do. He just threatened to kill me.”

“Enough.” Deborah’s command split the air. “It’s over.”

“It’s not.”

“It is as far as we’re concerned.” Gwen went to object, but Deborah held up her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Take your fight elsewhere. We don’t want it here. At the moment, Pace plans no legal action. It’s been decided to forget the incident and move on. But, if you keep this up, we will press charges.”

“You’re protecting him now.”

“We’re protecting ourselves.”

Deborah waved Mike over and told him
to see Gwen back to her car.

“For everybody’s sake, including your own, go and don’t come back.”

Petersen watched the rent-a-cop walk Gwen back to her Subaru. He would have liked to have stepped in to help her when she confronted Tarbell, but Tarbell wasn’t supposed to know he still had a tail, as unofficial as it was. He felt for this poor woman. His inaction had helped Tarbell dismantle her life, but he was changing that today. The shackles were off. He was free to help her nail that bastard. There was only one problem. The shackles no longer bound Tarbell either.

Gwen started her car, and he followed her to the main road. It was time to let her know someone was on her side. Together, they could construct a trap for Tarbell. It would probably involve her playing the bait, but that couldn’t be helped. Tarbell wouldn’t be able to resist Gwen as the bait.

He couldn’t flag her down on the road. That was a limitation of not having a badge like a cop. He’d follow her to her destination, then introduce himself. He expected her to head home, but she picked up 880, then connected to I-80 East, heading for Berkeley.

He was interested to see where she was going. It could be nothing, but the unsettled feeling in his stomach told him otherwise. She headed to El Cerrito, and for an awkward second, he thought she was going to Tarbell’s house; he felt relieved to see she wasn’t. His relief didn’t last when she pulled into the parking lot belonging to West Coast Arms.

Tarbell had pushed this woman too far and the idiot didn’t see it. Both of them would get hurt if Petersen didn’t step in. He parked on the street and waited until she entered the gun store before leaving his car and following her in. He
arrived in time to see Gwen entering the indoor range carrying an automatic, a box of shells, and ear protection. His stomach burned again. It was obvious this wasn’t Gwen’s first trip to a gun range.

A bearded man behind the counter wandered toward him. “How can I help you?”

“Can I rent a weapon for some target practice?”

“Sure you can.”

Petersen rented a .38 revolver and ear defenders and bought a hundred rounds and a couple of paper targets.

Besides Gwen, there was only one other person on the range. He was an athletic-looking guy shooting a competition .22 pistol. He’d tucked himself into the end booth against the wall, and his demeanor said he didn’t want to be disturbed, which was fine with Petersen.

Gwen was stationed in the middle booth where the light was strongest over her head. He slipped into a booth two over from her. He didn’t want to spook her by getting too close. At this point, he just wanted to observe.

He attached a paper target and sent it down to the end of the range. The target looked like a Halloween ghost flying along on its cable. He loaded the revolver with six rounds. The gun was well maintained, if unspectacular. He squeezed off six shots, taking his time, getting a feel for the weapon and letting the target settle after having each bullet hole punched through it. He was a pretty decent shot, but it took him a little time to adjust to an unfamiliar weapon. Once he had the gun’s measure, he hit the mark every time. He liked the grouping he’d gotten after his first six. He popped the cylinder open and dumped the brass into the bucket next to him.