Page 3 of Buried Treasure
She turned to Lucy, who gave her a subtle nod. "I understand," Sydney replied quietly.
As the S.E.C. people walked away from them, the two women sat down quietly as Sydney wondered what was going on just beyond the reception area.
This job had been a dream come true for her. She worked two summers interning for John Martin's personal investment firm before getting her job there right out of college. She had quickly become a success, taking on more clients from John's portfolio. She was now his second in command in the firm, overseeing more than 50 personal finance clients, and she wasn't even 30 years old. Hell, last month, John was talking about maybe making her a partner in a few years.
But now there were people from the S.E.C. going through things in their administrative assistant's file drawers. Judy was a kind older woman with gray hair who brought in homemade fudge on Fridays. She wasn't supposed to be in for another hour, and Sydney wasn't sure if she should call to tell her not to show up. Was calling the nice lady with the fudge an arrestable offense?
And that was only one of the strange questions she was asking herself. What were the empty boxes for? Would the S.E.C. take the flowering cactus in her office as evidence? Did they purposely show up before she had her morning coffee to throw her off? And why in the hell were they here in the first place?
Her mind was reeling, trying to take in all the weirdness going on around her. Sydney prided herself on being able to quickly analyze facts when it came to stocks and bonds and mutual funds. But this? This wasn't making any sense.
"Lucy?"
She turned to look at her best friend, who looked pale and somber. Lucy leaned closer so they couldn't be heard by the government guys in the jackets.
"Do not talk to anyone without me from now on," Lucy told her. "You're lucky your office is two floors down from your company's lawyer. My boss is already back there with John. Sorry I was running a bit late."
"Running a bit late for what? Seriously, what the hell is going on?"
Lucy looked up and Sydney turned to look over her shoulder. John, her boss and mentor, was walking towards her in handcuffs. Some of the S.E.C. people had their hands on his elbows while Lucy's boss, who also happened to be John's company attorney, followed them out the door.
Sydney could feel her hands begin to shake, and she forcefully restrained them against her lap with little effect. Lucy put a reassuring hand on her knee to try and calm her down.
"Wait until we can talk in private," she whispered.
"Can't you just tell me what's going on," Sydney pleaded. "Just something."
Lucy looked over Sydney's shoulder to make sure there was no one prying before turning back and giving her a very serious stare.
"Your boss did some very bad things, Sydney."
It was sometime after the sun went down before Sydney reluctantly headed home. She had been avoiding her place for most of the day, spending time at her depressing office as more and more boxes followed her criminal boss out the door, although she wasn't sure he was still her actual boss considering the circumstances. She sent a discreet text to Judy simply telling her the office was closed. Then she shut off her phone. Lucy left for 10 minutes with instructions to not say anything to anyone, returning with a cup of coffee. The caffeine didn't help at all.
Sydney finally had enough after sitting at her desk for two hours asking government officials what she could take home with her and what she couldn't. The S.E.C. wanted to keep her financial reference books that she bought in college. They also took her favorite pens that she requested when Judy made a run to the office supply store. They did at least give her permission to take home the personal items on her desk: a framed picture of her and Lucy, her artsy business card holder, anX-Filesmug that said "Trust no one." She found that one particularly poignant.
After awhile, she couldn't handle it anymore and told Lucy it was time to go. Her lawyer, Lucy Evans, gave instructions to the S.E.C. officials about what to do with the rest of the things in the office and when she expected a detailed description of all the items. Her friend, Lucy Evans, took her to the local bar conveniently located between the office and her apartment and ordered her stiff drinks. At least Lucy got them greasy food and a piece of chocolate cake the size of her head to soak up the liquor in her stomach.
By the time Lucy gently suggested she should go home, Sydney was drained of any energy she had left in her. She insisted on going up the elevator to her apartment on her own, not wanting to admit to her friend that she planned to take a long bath that would include lots of sobbing. Hanging out with Ryan was definitely out for the night.
The elevator door opened and Sydney sighed loudly as she took the first few steps into the lobby on her floor. Her feet were killing her, which was something she hadn't noticed until now with her mind wandering to other issues. She put her box of office stuff on a small side table in the corner of the hallway, slipped her red heels off, and tossed them in. It was pretty easy considering how empty the box was.
She trudged down the hall towards her condo, completely oblivious of anything or anyone around her until she almost bumped in to a man standing in the hallway. A man standing in front of her door. He had a strong build but wasn't quite as muscular and athletic as Ryan. Tall but not too tall. A little bit of scruff on his face that probably came from just a day or two of not shaving. He looked familiar to her for some reason and if she just kept staring, her groggy mind might be able to place him. Most days, she would remember who he was. Today wasn't most days.
"What?" Her tone was a little more harsh than she had meant for it to be.Whatever.
"Um, do you live here?"
"Maybe." The man shifted uncomfortably on his feet, revealing the Detroit Pirates logo on his track suit jacket. "Oh, you're looking for Ryan, aren't you? He's next door."
She didn't wait for the stranger's reaction, balancing the box in one hand while trying to dig her keys out of her bag with the other. She still felt a bit drunk, which wasn't helping.
"Here, let me get that for you," the man said, taking the box from her arms.
Normally, she would've smiled or said a polite thank you, but she wasn't in the mood for niceties today. Instead, she finally found her keys, shoved them in the lock, and wordlessly turned around to grab her box back.
"Oh, I can bring this in for you if you want."
"I don't want. It's been a bad day," she said, taking the box from him. "In fact, if you're going to see Ryan, tell him I'm not coming over tonight."
