Stained River by David Faxon

pulse of the organization at the corporate level. The feedback and advice she gave, he listened to. She was forthright, spoke her mind, even warning him that his extracurricular dalliances were not only the source of office scuttlebutt, they would eventually bring harm to the company if he didn’t pay more attention to what was going on. She warned him too, that Dan Hewett wasn’t what he seemed to be. On those issues, Connery tended to play down their significance. Now, there was the SEC to contend with, and she knew what he faced.
    While she and Connery were close, they weren’t physically close , as the office rumors supposed. That was not her choosing; it was his. Hers was just the role he wanted her in, and she knew he avoided any private relationships with women in his employ. He reasoned, that kind of relationship would terminate eventually and the result might become sticky. She accepted those conditions. Still, abiding by them was not always easy. Relatively attractive, yet still unmarried, she hadn’t yet met the right guy.
    Dan Hewett was her nemesis. She never liked him. They didn’t get along and that was of no consequence. As long as Connery was around, her job was always safe. He was her mentor. More than that, he was her friend, gave her confidence, built her up. Because of him, and the responsibility he entrusted to her, she had status, respect. She looked forward to going to work every day. The only thing she didn’t have was him. Now, it had all ended in a rush of emotion, a near collapse. At the same time, she couldn’t avoid the practical aspect. He was gone and her job soon would be too. Hewett would take care of that. Eventually, he would find a reason to terminate her. Over the coming weeks and months, nothing would be the same. She was forty-two and with her expenses, being without a job was unthinkable. She might get another, but Terry wasn’t around to give her a recommendation and Hewett would never consider it.
    She got up, poured herself a glass of water from a silver pitcher inscribed with her name written in script , a Christmas gift from three years before. Life had been good at Hawthorne, the bonuses more than generous. She had to think this through, protect herself, if possible.
    Something going on with Hewett didn’t seem right. She remembered Connery’s reaction when she mentioned that he had taken Castelo Branco’s call. That day, Hewett went to his office, closed the door and picked up the phone. He was engrossed in the conversation, and she watched him on the other side of the glass wall partition. After ten minutes, he reached into his desk drawer for his leather bound notebook, the one he always kept locked up. He continued talking while writing something. Then he hung up, closed the book and locked it in the drawer. She wondered what it contained. In addition, who was this Castelo Branco anyway? She had met him, but once only. The week Hewett was away. Terry usually confided in her, but he never said anything about the meeting or why it took place. She wanted answers.
     
    Two weeks after the crash, Cindy Pellegrino still had her position at Hawthorne. But the tide had changed and not in her favor. She had nothing to do. Her work was delegated to someone else, she had no inside track on anything, Hewett ignored her. Though stripped of responsibilities, Personnel had neglected to ask for her key to the upstairs corporate offices.
    Sitting alone in her living room, she tried to sort the reasons why things didn’t seem right; the sudden SEC audit, her discovery of Hewett’s possible connection with Castelo Branco, the hiring of that lackey, Stephen Walters, Connery’s death. The more she thought, the more she would like to see what was in Hewett’s notebook. Then she remembered; I have the key .
    It was late, getting on midnight , when she cabbed to the Hawthorne building. The city had quieted. It had rained, and storefront lights reflected off wet streets giving them a