Blizzard Bound Excerpt
DARBY
I fucking hate winter.
Snow. Ice. Air so cold it freeze-dries the insides of my nostrils every time I take a breath. I hate it when the tip of my nose feels like it’s going to shatter and fall off.
So of course I live in Denver. Not my brightest idea.
It’s too fucking cold to do anything but curl up in my cozy bed with a book and a cup of tea. But nooooo, here I am dragging my ass to my boring, meaningless, corporate bullshit job so I can pay the bills.
Taking one last deep breath inside the fading warmth of my parked car, I throw open the door, tuck my face deep into my coat, and scurry as fast as I dare across the icy parking lot toward the back door. I hoped parking behind the building would at least shield me from the wind, but a gust slaps me in the face, stealing my breath.
I can’t believe people live here for fun, paying thousands of dollars to crystalize their lungs and risk their fool necks while slipping down icy mountains.
My mittens make my grip slip on the doorknob. I fumble for what seems an eternity, trying not to breathe in the brutal air. Finally, I get the knob twisted, start to pull open the door, and something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye.
Smoke. Rising from a dumpster at the edge of the building.
A literal dumpster fire.
Frozen with the door cracked, I open my mouth to yell for help, but someone’s already here. A man turns, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Oh. Hey, Darby.” My boss, Tim, swipes his hair back off his face and gives me a sheepish grin. “I didn’t think anyone used the back door.”
Stunned, I can only stare as he tosses another stack of manila folders over the edge into the burning dumpster. He’s got a whole trash can full of files.
My boss is burning folders. In the dumpster. Behind the building.
“I thought I’d get a closer parking spot,” I say slowly even though my mind is whirling. Is he having some kind of breakdown? I’ve worked for Sunshine Financial for almost two years, but I don’t really know anything about him outside of work. He’s my boss, not my friend, and not even that great of a manager. “Are you okay?”
“No worries.” He laughs with a shrill, maniacal edge of glee, or panic, I’m not entirely sure. “We needed to free up some space in the archives. Go ahead and start the staff meeting without me.”
Not to be that person but I’m pretty sure regulatory procedures for the proper handling of client data by financial companies don’t include burning files in a dumpster. But I’m just a spreadsheet girlie. They don’t pay me enough to know anything too useful. “Okay, sure. Do you—”
With a grunt, he shoves another huge armload of files into the dumpster. Sweat drips down his smudged cheeks and he coughs through the smoke. Wisps of thin, burned paper ash float around him. “Get out of here before it’s too late.”
That doesn’t sound good at all. In fact, his tone rings with finality, which signals threat and danger. Rather than try and talk him down myself, I hurry inside, passing through the storage area into the main office building. I’ve never entered the building from the rear, and I’m a bit turned around. The lower-level offices are dark, small, and cramped, winding back and forth like a rabbit warren. Finally I make it out to the main reception area where Bill, the security officer, sits watching the front doors. He’s twenty or more years older than me, knows everybody’s name, and always has a ready smile.
“I need help,” I gasp.
Immediately, he’s on his feet, moving around the desk to come closer. His brown eyes fill with concern. “What’s wrong, Ms. Barclay? I didn’t see you come in.”
Now that I’m out of the cold, I’m suddenly too hot. The scarf is too tight, strangling me. I try to drag it away from my neck, but the mittens make me clumsy again. “Back door. There’s something wrong with Tim.”
“Stay here.” Pulling out his phone, he races back the way I came, already talking to someone on the phone.
Using my teeth, I pull off the right mitten so I can jerk at the scarf, nearly clawing my skin to get the itchy, hot material off my throat. I’m sweating profusely, but I’m not sure if it’s just the temperature change or adrenaline. Flashing red and blue lights out the front door only ramp up my stress levels.
Wow. That was fast. Bill must have called 911.
But then I realize it’s police cars. Not an ambulance.
Surely Tim needs to go to the hospital.
My heart thuds heavily, a slow, ponderous thump that makes my ribs ache.
He doesn’t need an ambulance. He’s burning files. He must be in some kind of trouble.
The kind of trouble that brings cops without sirens to a corporate tower.
Am I in trouble too?
Horrified, I stagger around the desk and fall into Bill’s seat before my legs give out. I haven’t done anything illegal—to my knowledge. But Tim’s my boss.
Oh my god.
I’m going to jail.
All I can think about is having to waste my one phone call from prison on my ex-husband so he can take care of our Husky, Skadi.
Which means he won. He finally got custody of the only piece of our disastrous marriage I’d been able to retain for myself.
#
Numb and exhausted to my bones, I barely have the energy to lift my head when the conference door opens. If it’s the police again…
Tears fill my eyes and my lips quiver as my best friend, Kirstin, slips through the door. She peers through the cracked door, watching outside for a few moments before she turns to me. Keeping her voice low, she asks, “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay. How’s Tim? Did they arrest him?”
Tall and athletic, she gives me a crushing hug that nearly breaks the dam blocking all the anxiety tears I’m holding back by the skin of my teeth. “They took him away hours ago.”
Clinging to her, I will some of her steady strength to leach into me. Right now, I feel like a wet noodle. “Then what’s happening? Are we all getting arrested too? Or fired? Both?”
“They’ve got a whole crew tearing apart Tim’s office while the rest of the cops interview the team. What did they say to you?”
“Not much. They kept asking me the same questions, over and over and over. What did he say to me? Has he been acting any differently lately? How well did I know him? Why did I come in the back today? Why didn’t I call 911 myself? I’ve answered their questions so many times I don’t even remember my own name.”
“It’s Darby Wilkins,” she says solemnly.
Which makes me laugh, as she knew it would. Wilkins was my married name. The day I finally got my divorce decree so I could take my own name back, we went out for drinks and called in sick the next day because we were both too hungover to even think about working.
I only have this job because of her. She gave me a safe place to land when I needed to start over.
Senseless guilt washes over me. “You’re not in trouble because of me, are you?”
She scoffs. “Why would we be in trouble? We didn’t do anything illegal.”
“He was our boss.”
“So? We’re not guilty by association.”
“But what if he had me doing illegal things and I didn’t even know? I’ve barely been here a full year.”
She drops her voice, glancing over at the door to be sure no one’s coming. “Rumor has it that he was falsifying loan documents after clients signed the disclosures, increasing the fee amounts to line his own pockets. Unless you were making copies and using White-Out to change the numbers around, you’re good.”
My shoulders droop with relief. “I’ve never even seen the final disclosures. All my work goes into creating their balance sheet of assets and liabilities before the application goes to underwriting.”
“See? Nothing to worry about. Besides, I know you, girl. Even if Tim ordered you to switch numbers around on a client’s file, you would have asked questions. That’s not something you’d do blindly.”
True. I don’t really know much about mortgages, but I understand financial documents and disclosures after running my own business. If I ever noticed something not balancing to the penny, I’d have been asking questions.
The door opens and Melissa, my boss’s boss, enters the conference room along with two cops. Everyone in the office is a little scared of Melissa. No one else knows even a fraction of the business as her. Whip-smart and quick to call out bullshit, she may be intimidating but has always been fair to me, though granted, I’ve not worked with her directly very often.
Both cops glare at Kirstin for coming inside the conference room without their permission. She manages to grin while still looking innocent.
“Thank you for cooperating with the police today, Darby,” Melissa says. “The company owes you our gratitude for helping apprehend Tim before all of the evidence could be destroyed. Do you have any questions for me?”’
“Is he okay? I mean, I know he’s in trouble, but he seemed to be having a breakdown.”
“The consequences of his own actions came crashing down on him. I’m sure he was a mess, but his health was not in danger.” Her tart tone implies his health might have been in danger from her if she’d managed to get her hands on him before the police arrived. “You may not know the history of this company since you’ve only been with us a year, but my grandfather started Sunshine Financial. We’ve always taken great pride in providing excellent customer service and rock-solid financials for our customers. Tim’s managed to irreparably damage our reputation with his schemes, and with financial companies, our reputation is everything. We will prosecute him to the full extent of the law.”
I shiver at her cold, unwavering tone, grateful her wrath isn’t turned on me. Kirstin drops a hand on my shoulder, a touch of warmth reminding me I’m not alone, giving me the courage to ask the hard question. “Am I fired?”
Melissa’s eyes widen. “Absolutely not. As I said, we owe you a debt of gratitude for helping us build a solid case. Granted, our business is going to take a hit while we deal with the fallout of Tim’s actions and attempt to rebuild the faith of our customers, but that’s not your fault.”
I nod though I’m surprised that I’m not relieved to still have a job. Sunshine Financial isn’t a bad place to work and the benefits are decent. I certainly put in fewer hours than I used to at the bakery.
But the bakery was mine. My heart and soul and—
I clench my jaws, fighting back another wave of raw emotion that has nothing to do with a burning dumpster.
“Hey, when’s the last time you had a break?” Kirstin asks.
“I don’t know. What time is it?”
“Two PM.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t realize it was already after lunch. I haven’t left this room since this morning.”
Melissa narrows a hard look on the cops. Evidently they aren’t immune to her dragon-like personality, and they shift their feet nervously. “You’ve already taken her statement. Do you need anything else from Ms. Barclay at this time?”
“No, ma’am,” the male cop answers. “We’ve got everyone’s contact information if any other questions arise.”
She turns to me. “Go home and rest. Take a few days off at least.”
“I don’t have any PTO,” I stammer.
“I insist. Don’t worry about the PTO. I’ll talk to HR and make sure it’s covered. Do something fun, completely unrelated to work. Go somewhere warm and get some sun.”
Maybe I’m suffering from shock because I can’t really comprehend what she’s saying. A warm, sunny vacation sounds like heaven, but that’s not a day or two off. That’s a week, at least, especially if I drive. And what will I do with Skadi? It’s too short of notice to find a doggie daycare with an opening, and certainly too expensive. I make decent, stable money now, but I’d rather not drop several hundred dollars on dog boarding on top of hotels and airfare and food…
But the idea of getting out of Colorado entirely has taken root in my head. Lying in the sun, baking in pure light and warmth. No more snow and ice.
I could go out to Vegas and surprise my parents. I haven’t seen them in years. I could stay with them for a day or two to avoid hotel expenses. If I drive, I can take Skadi with me, though she would hate the warmer climate.
My brain leaps ahead to filling out a monumental to-do list. It won’t be an easy trip in December, and I’m not that great of a winter driver. I didn’t grow up driving in snow. I’ll have to get chains put on my tires and make sure I have emergency supplies just in case. Food for Skadi, of course. My clothes. Warm driving clothes, but something light for Vegas. Maybe even a pair of shorts and a couple of tees—I could wear them inside even if the outdoor temperatures don’t justify summer clothes.
Bliss.
“I might drive out to Vegas and visit my parents,” I say, testing the idea out loud.
Melissa nods. “I think the time away will be good for you. Today was a shock, so I approve of having plenty of support around you. Take your laptop if you want and stay out there an extra week or two. There’s no reason you can’t work remotely until things quiet down here.”
“Really?” My eyes tear up and I sniffle, fighting the urge to sob out loud. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Softening her voice, Melissa pats my shoulder. “Workplace confrontations can be extremely stressful. Today was nonviolent but we all know things could have been very different with someone who’s trapped and desperate. Take all the time you need. Kirstin will be stepping in as team lead for now, so keep her updated on your situation.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Everyone leaves except for Kirstin. “Wow. That’s a lot.”
“Yeah.” She heaves a sigh and gives me a wry grin. “An unexpected promotion for me and vacation for you. Let’s get you packed up and out of here before she changes her mind.”