25. In the Clink
in the clink
Strider
Monday comes and goes. So does Tuesday. Mirren and I chat each morning and each evening, and along the way, I tell her about O’Neill and the mess he and his team have caused.
Wednesday feels ominous when I wake with gray skies lurking and a distinct chill sliding through the day. It seems to foreshadow the day ahead.
Delays at the grocery where we get the turkeys and hams for the potluck set me back by an hour. The delay means the workers I meant to have one-on-ones with this morning got pushed. Thankfully, none were disciplinary matters, but cancelling and no-showing aren’t my style.
While nothing in me is feeling the holiday cheer, I am thankful for this team, even if we’ll be significantly lighter by later on today. The crew is setting up tables and getting everything ready by the time I arrive.
When we’ve all gathered, I offer a heartfelt thanks from Electric Peoria and from me personally and a genuine apology to everyone my scheduling messed up.
Lunch is delicious. Everyone brings their favorite and best dishes. And since we also have tons of leftovers, our teams have been known to make huge plates and drive around Peoria afterwards making sure the unhomed and the underserved have a hot delicious meal that is the best of the best.
With approval from our attorneys and human resources, I’d pre-scheduled meetings with O’Neill and his team.
That also means, I did the same with other project managers so there were no suspicions.
To those teams, I offered their holiday bonuses early, a sincere thank you, and the rest of the day off after lunch.
The half-day is expected, and I have no problem obliging.
Besides, fewer people in the office means fewer witnesses.
Price and his team enter the conference room, and I stealthily hit go on the intercom so that HR and our attorneys outside the room have access to hear without raising any suspicions by having them present in the room.
“As I do every year, I want to thank you for your work, time, and dedication to Electric Peoria. As you know, we hold each other in high esteem, with high expectation, and under high accountability since we all rise and fall together. I’ve been pleased to offer bonuses this year a month earlier than we usually do, since the economic downturn has hit so many people in a variety of ways. ”
The men smile at me from around the table. They think they’re being given a bonus for stealing from me?
“Unfortunately, those end of year supplements were smaller this year due to theft and unethical behavior.”
The men look pissed. “But that’s mine as part of my comp,” one insists.
I nod. “Each of us is dependent on one another to avoid spending frivolously and to bring our jobs in on time and under budget. I’m sorry the behavior of some means less for all.”
“Who?” another asks. His vehemence is him verbally smacking a fist into his palm.
Well, here goes nothing.
“You. Each of your timecards have been analyzed. Each week one of you adds a sliver of time to a job… Very rarely duplicating or all falling exactly the same. An audit of your truck’s GPS units verified that you weren’t at the job sites for the same duration as your timecards indicate.”
Price O’Neill is red in the face and vibrating with rage.
I speak directly to him. “We’re offering you the opportunity to admit your wrongdoing and resign voluntarily, so we can all avoid legal action. I’ll also commit to not telling the union. I’ll pay you what’s on your timecard for this week and eight hours per day through the end of the month.”
Passing a stack of papers to the man closest to me, I continue.
“Should you choose not to, we will terminate you effective three p.m. today. There will be no severance, and we will fight unemployment claims with the proof of illegal activity. We will not be silent in the case that you choose not to resign today. There will be your final paycheck, again, through three o’clock today.
Your keycards have all been terminated. Your cellphones have been locked.
Your trucks have been gone through and your things purged.
I need your keys and phones before you leave. ”
“And if we don’t accept your two options?” Price bites.
With every bit of calmness I possess, I say, “Then the Peoria PD will escort you out. Where they take you is between you and them.”
“How dare you?” the man across from me seethes, standing so quickly his chair flies violently into the wall behind him.
The police on standby is something HR recommended, and since Bryan is a high school track buddy, I figured it couldn’t hurt.
I truly thought I wouldn’t need him. That was a luxury I wasn’t afforded.
Because O’Neill launches over the table and wraps his hands around my neck.
My brain thinks it’s forever, even though some more reasonable part of me knows he isn’t there long, even if red and black dots spot my vision for longer than I’d like. It takes Bryan and two of Price’s team to get him off of me.
I’m gagging for breath as he’s hauled away in cuffs, screaming and cussing at me with the precision of a nail gun.
This is exactly what I didn’t want… drama.
Looking up, I realize there’s more—an audience of employees with pity in their eyes and knowing looks on their faces.
Well, fuck.
Mirren
Daxton is pissed, and I mean pissed.
Smack dab in the middle of my debrief, he was called away. The man rarely loses his cool, and it’s safe to say his cool is nowhere to be found.
Not going to lie, though, the extra time won’t go to waste.
I have two casseroles already prepped for tomorrow that will only need to be heated.
And I’m making a salad, but that will have to be done tomorrow morning.
Donuts on my way in the morning will get me one of Mom’s glares, but keep me in my brothers’ good graces, and since it’s one versus five, I’ll always go with the odds.
Uncle Alpha
Heads up. New assignment on Tuesday. Be ready. Details forthcoming.
Uncle Alpha is a mash up of Uncle Sam and Alphabet agency, and a way I wouldn’t blow my cover if someone inadvertently picked up my phone. It’s not Aunt Britt’s husband, though I’ve no clue if anyone would even question it. Except maybe Jamie. And only because he’s way too observant.
Confirm receipt.
Well, I’ll be camping again on Tuesday, I guess. Probably time to ask the team for another set of photoshopped pics. Hell, I’m still waiting on the last set.
Flipping threads, I start a message to Strider.
How did today go?
Strider
It’s still going.
Good time?
Not really. Police reports take way longer than I would’ve thought. They look relatively quick on television.
Police report?
Call me when you can.
{Thumbs up emoji}
Nothing says shit day like a police report.
I finish out my workday and wait.
It’s after five when my phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.” The defeat in his whispered voice reveals so much.
“Hey.” I drop my voice to match his mood. “Want to tell me about it?”
A car door slams in the background, and the call changes to Bluetooth. “The guys who’ve been stealing from me were shellshocked, but it was going as planned. I was waiting for them to sign when who I’m assuming to be the instigator decided choking me was better than being fired.”
“What?” I rip my phone from my face, toggle to speakerphone, and immediately hit my search engine for flights.
“Yeah.” His blinker activates, and I have to smile. We don’t do that down here. That midwesterner uses his turning indicators.
“And?”
“And after being checked out in the ER and paying a mortgage for tests I do not need, I had to go to the police station to press charges. Bad day for it, for him at least. Judges are gone, and tomorrow’s a holiday, so he gets at least two nights in the clink while I get to walk off the bruises and the random effects to my eyes. ”
I try so hard. I really do, but I snort. “Did you just say in the clink?”
“I’m old, Freckles. Give me this, at least today.”
“I will if you tell me about the bruises.” I try to keep my tone light, but there’s no denying I’m seething.
“Am I talking to Freckles, the badass Ranger, or the medic?”
“I’m all three, though badass is relative.”
“I have a ring of bruises around my neck, including thumb prints below my Adam’s apple. I’ll see a specialist next week or the following to make sure there’s no problem with my larynx or esophagus. The holiday made it hard to schedule.”
A ring of bruises.
Oh my God. Okay, calm down, Mirri. Breathe.
My voice is steel when I ask, “Did you get a good swing in?”
“Nah. Five witnesses plus the cop means not only was it unprovoked, but with no retaliation, there’s no legal liability on me as an individual or for the company.”
“And you had the discipline to think that fast?”
“Sure,” he tries for sarcasm but the rasp in his voice nullifies the effect. “It was the sheer shock that I was throttled in my own conference room.”
“He knows where you live.”
“If he doesn’t, he can find out.” He waits a long moment, but before he can continue, I cut him off.
“Please pull over.”
“Why?”
“Please.” I press the button for FaceTime. It takes several rings before the call changes to video.
“Hey, baby,” he offers, his smile weak and his eye bruised and swollen. “God, I missed your freckles.”
It takes me a minute. The medic in me wants to do one thing while the woman in me wants another. The Ranger deep within wants to throttle his attacker with my bare hands, but several deep breaths allow me to shove her down to let a more calm Mirren prevail.
His voice is quiet when he continues. “I can hear your wheels spinning. I’ll be fine. I promise.”
“I don’t like this,” I say honestly, my voice smaller than the thrumming rage behind it demands.
“I’m leaving in the morning. Denver, remember?”
“But that’s while he’s locked up. He could be out by the time you’re home.”
“Mirren?” He calls as my mind starts to spin on scenario after scenario of how vulnerable Strider could be, how volatile this guy seems, and how I can’t protect him. “Baby?” His words rip me from my swirling thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“It’s my job to protect you, not the other way around. Need you to remember that, okay?”
“I don’t need protection,” I refute.
“But allow it anyway, okay? Because I need it for me.”