Chance Encounter Ch. 06

"It's a funny way to show gratitude," Paul said, saying nothing of his prediction to Audrey and his promise to help her find new employment.

"She should have come to me," Wilton repeated.

Paul told Wilton that Dunn would cooperate with the Agency.

The two men shook hands and parted. Each knew that they would never be close, but they stopped being enemies.

Wilton went back to his office and closed the door. The lawyers were already gathered waiting for him.

*************

Craig Morehead sat in his car in a fast food parking lot. He had planned on eating there, but was too upset for food. He tried to analyze the day's events, but his mind was too confused to sort them out. Earlier he had been making plans to bed Audrey that weekend. She had brushed him off once, but he wouldn't allow her to do it again. After that, he saw her as she prepared to betray him. He was angry, but his fright had left no room for rage at the moment. His instincts told him to put time and distance between him and the Agency. He called Personnel to tell them that he needed two weeks' vacation due to 'his father's health emergency in Florida'. He didn't think that the ruse would work for very long. He needed some time to dash back to his apartment to pack some clothes and then get out of town. He couldn't believe it, but he was on the run.

He had placed a call to Ed Grafton about an hour earlier, and left a message. He picked up his cell and called again. Grafton answered.

Morehead: Ed, Paul Crane got hold of the drawings and gave them to Wilton. They had a big meeting this morning. I left work. They think that I'm on my way to Florida to take care of my father. They'll be coming for me any time. You've got to help me!

Grafton: I heard about it. You made a mistake by running. You should have told them that they were wrong and then hired a lawyer. You'll probably get fired, but if you keep cool, you can avoid prosecution.

Morehead: Why should I get prosecuted and not you?

Grafton: Who would it be besides you? They have nothing on me. You're the one caught red-handed with the drawings that you stole.

Morehead: But you are the one who changed them!

Grafton: It means nothing. No one saw me.

Morehead: You told me that you changed them.

Grafton: It would be your word against mine. They would never be able to extradite me to Illinois on that.

There was silence on the line as Morehead was lost for words.

Grafton: Look, Craig! All of this is your fault for trying to squeeze me for money. You should have left it alone. I should let you die on the vine, but I'm going to find you a lawyer. Give me your cell number and I'll call you back later.

Morehead: where am I going to get money for a lawyer?

Grafton: Don't you have the five thousand that I gave you?

Morehead: It's still in the bank.

Grafton: You had better get it out before they put a hold on your account.

Morehead: you've got to send me more money.

Grafton: How can I do that, Craig? They'd trace it to me. If I go down I can do nothing to help you.

Morehead: I'll drive to St. Louis and meet you.

Grafton: Absolutely not! Just make yourself scarce for a few days. I'll find a lawyer that you can trust and call you in a few days. Get that money out of the bank. You'll need it!

Grafton hung up abruptly.

The conversation with Grafton made Morehead more confused than ever. The warning about his bank account gave Morehead a sense of urgency and reminded him that he was being quickly cut loose from any base he might have had. It surprised him that Grafton knew about the details of the meeting so quickly. He wondered if Grafton and Wilton were conspiring to frame him.

Craig convinced himself that he was innocent. In the whole affair, he had gained a mere five thousand dollars. Grafton had probably made twenty times that, plus his new job at Montgomery. Hopkins' take was even bigger. He wondered if he could trust Grafton. The realization should have driven him back to Wilton. He could have bargained for lenient treatment just by confessing and helping to get Grafton.

Morehead drove to a branch of his bank to withdraw his funds. He sat in his car, afraid to go in and present his check. He feared that his account was 'on watch' already and the bank's security cameras would record him. He was wrong in his assumptions, but his psyche was already playing tricks on him.

Morehead was alone, isolated and frightened. His mind functioned in a linear way and a dense fog lay in his path. It was impossible to proceed straight ahead without crashing into obstacles that he could not predict. As he drove aimlessly around the city hoping for Grafton to call him with a rescue, he sensed his inadequacy. He knew Grafton wouldn't call. He clung to the futile hope, it was all he had.

He could no longer focus on his present situation. His memory played back the events of his life—a sad biography. It was an escape. His mind's eye saw his high school days, the champion wrestler whisked off to college on scholarship. Everyone was so proud of him, but he disappointed. There were his college days. He studied hard, but grades didn't come easy. He tried for girls, too, but they didn't come any easier. Maybe he should have tried studies that weren't quite so hard, but he didn't know how to tell his parents.

His failed marriage came into view. His children were strangers whose father-figure was his estranged wife's live-in boyfriend. He supported them—strangers and betrayers. His career crept into his thoughts. As a young man he had dreamt of an engineering career of promise and advancement, but his grades forced into civil service. He was patient, enduring the endless waits for promotions. His salary was enough to keep him afloat, but never enough to satisfy.

"To satisfy what?" a voice asked.

"There would be unknown delights to feast upon," he answered the silent voice. "It would relieve the stale taste of his life. Money was the answer."

This one time, he reached out. He had tired of pulling his arm back from opportunity. It appeared so simple; there were so many ripened fruits on this new tree. Surely there would be a few for him. Grafton couldn't deny him a share. He had looked away countless times while Ed plundered the harvest. This one time was all he asked. He took what Grafton should have offered him all along. He would end his thirsting and humiliation. Disappointment and loneliness would fly away. It was his last chance. Grafton was retired and departed.

He almost had it in his grasp; he only missed it by a whisker. He sniffed the aroma; he longed for the taste. Once he clutched it in his hands; now it sifted though his fingers like grains of sand. He had taken Audrey into his confidence so that she could help him. He was going to win and her body was part of the prize. He needed her help because Grafton wouldn't share.

Why had it been so easy for Ed, and difficult for him? The answer was Audrey's betrayal. How could she do it to him after he offered to share with her what Grafton had always refused to parcel out? It was his fate to be cheated. If he couldn't have what he had won, he would have revenge. It lit the fires of rage.

He started looking over his shoulder for flashing lights of police cars. Surely they must be after him by now. He was afraid for himself; he had always been afraid of something. He resented always being under the thumb of fear. Fear and rage dueled for control of him. The two merged to form a new, unnamed emotion. He crossed over the Bridge to Darkness—became immersed in it. He allowed it to sweep him outside the edges of reason.

*************

For Audrey Wright it had been a trying, taxing day. The session that Paul attended in Wilton's office had been only half of the day's toil. Following that, there had been an afternoon of grilling by the lawyers and the giving of depositions. There was a confrontation between her and Wilton, which she had expected. It had been unsatisfying because she had no chance to tell him why she was forced to go outside the Agency with her concerns. She was only there to listen and speak when spoken to.

She was finally home as her car found its way into her space in front of her building in the apartment complex. She pulled her briefcase from the back seat and trudged to the collection of mailboxes. They stood on a post at the head of the walk leading up to her security door. She sorted through the mail as she ambled slowly up the walk. She split her thoughts between separating the ads from the bills, and the hot shower waiting for her inside. After that, she would call Paul and fill him in. When she got to the door she set her briefcase down to manage her keys through the bevy of mail in her hands. She finally got the door open and put a foot inside.

All at once she felt herself swept forward roughly by an unknown force. A second later she felt a grip on her arm that felt like a vise. She heard the security door close behind her. It was only then that she turned her head to the side to stare into the glazed eyes of Morehead. He said nothing, but she heard him growling deep in his throat.

He thrust out a meaty paw and grasped the keys from her. He seemed to know which apartment belonged to her. There were only four on each of the two floors of her building. Perhaps he had read it from the mailboxes.

"Let me go, Craig!" she scolded. "Don't get yourself into more trouble than you're in already."

He seemed not to hear her, but managed the key with one hand. Audrey struggled to free her arm, but his grip was too strong. Morehead pushed the apartment door open and threw her in. Audrey tumbled to the floor. Morehead followed and stood over her, glaring down.

As Audrey tried to get up Morehead grabbed her two arms and threw her against a wall about ten feet away.

"You bitch!" he screamed, and lunged for her. Audrey was able to dodge him.

"I'm gonna take what you promised me!" he roared. "You cheated me, but I'll get you!"

He hoped to see fear on her face, but found her contempt and defiance. It enraged him even more. Audrey had trapped herself in a corner when she eluded his first thrust.

She steeled herself for the attack. She proved more formidable than Morehead expected. He charged her and was met by her clawed fingers in his eyes. A sane man would have run away. Morehead backed away, regrouped and charged anew, barely able to see. This time he was able to grab her arms. Audrey kicked him in the groin. Morehead bellowed in pain, but shook it off.

Audrey screamed. "Help me! Please help me!" She didn't know if anyone heard her.

She saw neither the first blow that struck her, nor any of the others that followed. It landed flush on her right temple. Morehead had all the force that he had in him behind it. She didn't feel pain at the blow—only shock, the crushing impact and the loss of senses. It knocked the breath from her and she staggered. She could no longer hear anything but a ringing in her ears.

As she struggled to regain her balance, another blow like the first landed on the other side. Morehead delivered a new pair in rapid succession. He struck back at all who had made his life what it was. He would destroy all.

Audrey lay flat on her back. The room spun and she was barely conscious. She tried to continue the fight as best she could as Morehead threw himself down at her. He straddled her. Boom! Boom! Two more quick hits to the face turned out her lights. Morehead dragged her to the middle of the room and bent to the task of yanking the skirt and pantyhose from Audrey's limp body.

It was a stroke of luck that Audrey's neighbor from upstairs, an elderly widow, was returning from shopping. She and Audrey had become unlikely friends. She saw Audrey's forgotten briefcase in front of the security door. Audrey had set it down as she fumbled for keys. As the old woman carried the forgotten item to Audrey's door she heard the struggle and Audrey's screams for help. She pounded at the locked door to no avail. She hurried to her apartment to call the security officer at the apartment complex.

Several minutes later the guard was pounding on Audrey's door. The police were on their way. Morehead didn't hear the pounding. The guard used his passkey. Morehead only looked up as he burst into the room. He withdrew his penis from the unconscious Audrey, stood and turned to face the intruder. Morehead began ejaculating semen about the room.

The security guard stopped, stunned for a moment. Morehead charged him, holding up his pants. He pushed him aside and ran out of the building. He stopped long enough to refasten his trousers. He ran past his car and sprinted aimlessly into the complex. The police had him in handcuffs ten minutes later. Audrey remained unconscious, naked below the waist. She bled from one nostril. Her face was beginning to swell and change color from the blows that Morehead delivered to her. The security guard covered her with a blanket from her bedroom.

Craig Morehead, so unsuccessful in everything that he tried, had finally given a project his all. He had neatly destroyed his own life, and had done his best to brutally destroy another's. In his life he had tried everything but violence. He turned to it as his final redoubt. As he sat, handcuffed in the police car, he watched the ambulance carry Audrey away. She was conscious again, barely. He felt neither pride nor remorse. His mind held only a nothingness that he made no attempt to understand. He had traversed the full distance over the Bridge to Darkness where he found his new abode.

***********

It was four the next afternoon when Paul found out what happened to Audrey. He had been worried because he had expected a call from her and didn't receive it. It was Harry Carmichael who reached him with the news. He had been working downstate and it appeared in the evening paper of that day. Harry didn't know anything except what the paper carried.

Larry Wilton called him about an hour later with same news. He told Paul that Audrey had suffered a severe concussion, but no broken bones. Of course, there were the injuries from the rape. Since she lived alone, she would remain in the hospital longer than usual. She was now awake.

Paul: Does she have any family with her?

Wilton: No. She listed none in her personnel file. Her friends said that her father has been deceased for years and her mother is in poor health. She didn't want anyone called.

Paul thanked him and hung up.

Paul knew that he had to help Audrey if he could. He could never atone for having let her down. He should have foreseen Morehead's unraveling; should have cautioned her.

He groped, searching for the bitter sadness he knew was there. It was a feeling that resided somewhere in him. They were not strangers. He sought to pull it out and place it over his shoulders like a mantle, so that everyone could see his sorrow. He felt it skulking about in his soul, taunting him. He reached for it, but couldn't get his hands around it. He gave up; he decided to let the pain fester in silence. The mantle would have been a fitting decoration, but useless in his object of bringing comfort to the truly wounded.

He buzzed for Marge and told her what happened.

"Would you like me to go with you?" Marge asked. "Sometimes a woman needs another woman at times like this."

**************

TO BE CONTINUED

Dear Readers,

I hope that you are enjoying "Chance Encounter". As always, I enjoy receiving your comments.

Autumn Writer