Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (15 page)

“Uh… hmmm. Of course. Right this way, M– Ms…”

“You have forgotten my name already? How long have you been in S T & P’s employ?”

“Uh…four years?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Uh, no ma’am. I’ve been here for four years. Five years in two months’ time.”

“And your name?”

“Phillip Edwards, ma’am.”

“Hmmm. Well, your competence at your job leaves much to be desired.”

Stopping in front of Patricia’s door, Phillip opens the door and attempts to usher me in.

I instead wave him off. “Go away before I change my mind and ask Patricia to deal with you.”

Another plasticized smile and nod of his ashy blonde topped head precedes, “Good day, ma’am.” Turning away I hear him mumble under his breath but loud enough for me to hear, “Must come from the Bitch r Us factory.”

Now Patricia and I have the same place of birth. Wonderful.

I ignore the well-deserved comment and quickly dial Sam’s number.

“Jodi, wh–”

“Can’t you read hand signals? I kept showing you 2nd left, 1st door.”

“Not when you were pointing out 2L, 1D.”

“How can you not understand that?”

“Because L isn’t left and D isn’t door.”

“Whatever. Just hurry up. I don’t want Phillip to come back telling me I need to leave.”

“Alright, we’ll be there in a minute.”

I hang up and throw the phone in my bag before going through the desk drawers.

One by one the remaining members of Grace’s 7 stream into the office under one guise or another, leaving Sam lurking outside the door and Alex sitting in the downstairs lobby on the lookout for Patricia.

After about twenty minutes of searching every available, openable file on the desktop, I turn to the laptop to restart the search. Grace, Max and Koya go through the doors, drawers and file cabinets. Another ten minutes of trying to figure out her Google password, I’m stumped. Thank heavens gmail doesn’t limit these attempts or I would’ve been locked out already.

It isn’t anything I can think of. I look around Patricia’s office trying to gather clues as to what the password could be. Problem is there has to be more awe-inspiring walls in a psychiatric hospital. I almost feel suffocated by the white. Too much white. White walls, white couch and office chairs, white area rug, white cushions, white blinds. I can’t help but think the only thing missing is padding in the walls and a straightjacket. Grace’s voice saves me from a pushback of thoughts against the white.

“Max found a vault. What was Patricia’s combination again?”

“2-3-4-5-4-3-2.”

Koya’s widened eyes meet mine. “How do you remember that?”

Lifting my chin with a smile, I say, “Easy. Her combinations have always been the same thing. A seven number palindrome with 5- my favourite number– in the middle. Like I said, I know Patricia.

Five minutes later, still staring at the empty, white walls, I decide to call Alex. “Have you seen Patricia yet?”

“Nope. My newspaper peephole is being worked to the bone, though.”

“I can’t figure out her password. I’ve tried about 20 times already, nothing is working.”

Alex snorts. “Have you tried ‘I hate Jodi, Grace and Alex’ yet? That should work.”

“Good idea. Thank you.”

“Wait, are yo–”

So another ten minutes and at least fifteen combinations of Alex’s suggestion later, I discover Patricia’s password to be ‘ih8JodiA&G’. Even better seeing that she thinks so much about us. Patricia may really, truly hate us.

Knock. Knock.

The voice sounds at the same time the door begins to creak open. “Patricia wh–”

“She isn’t there Mr Stanfeld. She went out to lunch with a friend. She should be back within fifteen minutes, I’m told.” Sam’s voice raises at the last five words.

“Oh. Uh… Thank you, Mr…”

“Cedrics. Accounts? I just left some files in her office. Something I can help you with, Sir?”

“Uh… no. Cedrics?”

“Yes, Sir. Roy Cedrics? Don’t worry, Sir, I’ve been told many times I blend in the background too much. I’ll make an effort to stand out more.” Pssh. As if Sam could ever blend in anywhere.

“Ah… yes, do that. I feel as if I don’t know who works here anymore. I need to start doing more rounds in the offices. Obviously, I’m slipping. I’ll let you know when she gets back, Roy. Good day.”

One thing I’m learning in this experience is that it’s very hard to quiet your breathing when you are really scared. The logical side of me keeps saying ‘Shut up!’ However, the emotional side keeps repeating ‘I’m going to die!’ even though I’m not in mortal danger. A more legitimate argument would be ‘I’m definitely going to jail this time’, but I guess my emotions got rid of lucid thinking a long time ago.

With ragged and noisy breathing, we all stay frozen in our spots as our intruder’s footsteps soften. When the sound of Stanfeld’s footsteps disappeared, I sucked in oxygen as if there wasn’t a breath of air in the room.

Savannah and Koya grab their chests and start chanting as soon as I took that first breath. “Oh my gosh.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Oh my gosh.”

Max bends with his hands on his knees. “Shut up, you two. We don’t need to draw any more attention to ourselves.”

Sam pokes his head through the door. “Jodi, it’s okay. He’s gone. Now, stop staring at the door and get moving. We need to leave.”

Snapping out of my jail–filled haze, I nod and return focus to the laptop. Quickly scrolling through all emails with attachmments, I find the e-mail of the day.

“Found them.”

At the mention of those two words, all three heads swing my direction seconds before they come overshadowing the laptop. I open the attachmment to find three photos with Max’s face either fuzzy or hidden

“Ew!”

Max shoulder bumps Koya. “Quiet, Koya.”

“Max, no sister should see those things. Delete them, Jodi!”

Savannah flinches and recoils from the screen. “Eighteen pictures of nasty. What’s wrong with Patricia?”

“Not enough parenting, too much free time, not enough money growing up, abandonment, the list goes on.”

Koya looks at me with a scrunched up face. “They were sent just a couple days ago. What are you going to do with them? Delete, or…”

I turn to see Max looking at the pictures and nodding. “I’ve never made a porno before. I must say they look good.”

Koya and Grace roll their eyes at Max. “Okay, then. I’m forwarding the emails to me, take screen shots of both and send to my email account as well and then delete.”

“We need to find a way to get rid of those from Kamal’s email and I’m not heading into a police station to do that. Sorry, but that’s where I draw the line, Max. Most likely they’ll be on his work computer and siblinghood only goes so far.”

Nodding, I say “I agree with Koya. We can’t even think about heading there.”

Savannah looks at her phone. “How much longer?”

“I… am…done! Forwarded and now all deleted.”

We all get up and head to the door when Max says, “Did you delete the emails you sent from this end, too?”

“Of course. That goes without saying. Leaving them would be having a lighthouse pointing Patricia to our activities.”

Koya bites her lip before saying, “Can we leave now?”

“Yes, just take one last look and make sure everything is the way we found them.”

As per our agreed signal, I knock on the door three times, waiting for Sam’s responding knock. One for no and two for go. After a minute without one, I decide to knock again. Maybe Sam had to move and didn’t hear those first two. I knock again. No response. My hand trembles as I reach for the doorknob. Alex warned us not to go out if we didn’t get a response, but knowing that Patricia will be here in about five minutes diminishes the value of that warning.

“Where’s Sam?”

I look over my shoulder at Grace. “Wish I knew.”

With the time ticking, I bite my lip and tightened her fingers around the cold knob, willing myself to open it. A shiver runs through me. Taking a deep breath, I hold then exhale.

I almost nearly shot through the ceiling when a knock sounds on the door.

“Ms. Simpleton, these– who are you?”

Koya immediately grabs unto Max. “Holy hell!”

Max runs his hands through hair. “Oh, dammit. Where’s Sam?”

Perfect. Just perfect. I’m surrounded by outstanding stupidity. Aren’t all actors able to improvise? You know go with the flow?

“Jodi!”

I guess not. “Yes, Grace?”

Eyes set in a pudgy face narrow at our group. “Do I need to call security?”

Trying to calm down my breathing while thinking a mile a minute, causes my heart to go even faster. “No, I was waiting on Patricia. Phillip led me here, but I can’t wait any longer.”

Pushing up his glasses, he tilts his body toward me. “Who are you?”

I try not to stare at the man’s hair but fail each time. The positioning of what I’m certain is a toupee further highlights the difference between his real brunette shade and that of the black wig. It’s lopsided but in way that makes you wonder if it’s deliberate or has been moved throughout the day. And if it is deliberate, why? Does he know he’s fooling no one that that hair is natural? “The name’s Cedrics. Rhonda Cedrics. We had a meeting for 12:30 and have been waiting since then.”

Pointing the documents in his hand in our direction, Wig Man says, “And them?”

Sam stops in his tracks upon seeing the problem, backs away in jerky steps, before once again moving forward at my answer.

“My team. And my driver is here now, right behind you. I’m sorry, but I have another appointment I can’t miss. Are you her secretary? I could simply reschedule for another day. Although, a vice president missing a meeting doesn’t send a good image of your company.”

“Uh, no.” Looking over to an empty desk about eight feet away, the man says “Her assistant is probably at lunch. You don’t mind calling in, do you?”

“No.” Looking down I see the phone lighting up in my hand. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”

“Yes, of course.”

Stepping away from the doorway, Sam joins us. However, just when we think we are home free I hear the man’s voice behind.

“Hey, Ms! Wait up! I’m heading down with you.”

If it wouldn’t look overly suspicious and alert security I would’ve started a sprint. I went for a speed walking contest instead. I text Alex letting her know we’ll meet at the car. No need to arouse Wig Man’s suspicion even more with an obvious lookout joining us.

Within the three minutes it takes to wait on an elevator and complete the descent to the lobby, Dave, who I think Wig Man is a better name for him, thinks we are buddies. “Patricia is that coworker who believes she is the hub of the operation. You know she shows false patience by crossing her arms or putting on a fake smile when others speak or try to contribute to projects in some way. Stuff like that. She thinks no one notices or figures it out, but we’re not dumb. We simply smart enough to ignore her behaviour.”

We stand in the elevators sharing glances and I wonder if the others have the same thoughts running in their heads as me. ‘If people are so willing to offer up unsolicited information on Patricia, just how awful is she?’

After the elevators opens, we waste no time in getting out the building as quickly as our hurried, unsuspecting feet can take us.

“So that’s the sum total of what happened from the time we split up.”

Tracey looks over at each face. “I can’t thank you all enough. Never have I expected to be taken in so quickly in your group. But you have welcomed me with opened arms, warm smile and genuine hearts. I never could’ve run to my family with this without being blamed and ridiculed and called names.

“Being the black sheet of the Mistrono kids and having your parents marry you off to the first willing contender wasn’t the joyrode some people made it out to be. I tried not to be ungrateful, because there are so many others less fortunate than I am materially, but I think I hit the jackpot with you all. I don’t think I’ve ever said this and be truthful before, but I love you guys.”