Jasmine jumped out, her short hair glinting in the sun, and enveloped me in a tight embrace. I felt a lump rise in my throat, but I held back, resolved not to cry anymore. I had decided long ago that tears were for the weak.
“Let’s get out of here.” Jasmine glanced around nervously, as if the guards might change their minds. “Better not to attract attention.”
I climbed into the passenger seat, the smell of leather and old takeout welcoming me. The car pulled away, taking me from the place where I had spent seven years, two months, and eleven days of my life. Jasmine switched on the radio, trying to fill the awkward silence, then turned it off after a minute.
“You okay?” she asked, glancing at me.
“I’m alive.” I stared out the window at the passing landscape—strip malls, pawn shops, and a Waffle House. Memories flooded back suddenly, like a dam breaking. I could almost hear the laughter of my co-workers, smell the coffee from the break room, feel the familiar ache of a long day’s work.
Before the Fall
That day was forever etched in my mind, clear as if it were yesterday. A typical Monday morning at Excel Partners. I was deep into the quarterly report when two men in dark suits walked into my office. Their expressions were serious, and I felt a chill creep down my spine.
“Naomi Harrove? We’re with financial crimes. We need to ask you some questions about wire transfers to Blue Spectrum Consulting.”
At first, I didn’t understand what they were talking about. The words bounced off me, heavy and foreign. They took me to a conference room and showed me documents with my signature on them—documents I had never seen before. Payment orders for huge sums. Eight hundred seventy-two thousand dollars. Contracts with a company I had never heard of.
