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Tamara
Heading into the office this morning, both Jason and Ken are on my heels, literally. It’s been silent around here for the past couple of days. No broken rigs or machines, no messes, or mean messages.
Jason makes some joke about a man and his horse that we all three laugh at. However, we didn’t laugh for long. Turning the corner into the main room, the laughter turns into shock, seeing a huge mess of the place. “What in the fuck happened here?” I ask the two oilmen standing amidst the clutter.
They shrug their shoulders, but Dan replies, “This ain’t all there is either,” he looks at Ken and Jason. “Can I show you guys some things?”
“Sure,” says Jason and he follows them out.
Ken looks at me and grabs my arm. “Call the cops and don’t touch anything. We’ll be back.”
I nod my head and watch him go out the door, catching up to the other men. Looking around at the sight of toppled furniture askew with papers everywhere. I call the police and they said they’d be here shortly. I go from room to room and note that everything is a wreck.
Topsy turvy and in disarray. The biggest mess I’ve seen in years. I check the safe and other places to see, if I could even tell, if anything is missing. I’m correct in that I couldn’t tell. I head to my safe place to retrieve the ledgers and checks.
Grateful that they’re safe, I walk back to see Jason and Ken returning. “You’re not going to believe this,” Jason says, placing his hands on his hips.
“What in God’s name, now?” I ask more than tired of this bullshit already.
I watch Ken cross his arms and look at the surrounding wreckage while Jason fills me in. “Almost every rig and some machinery is badly damaged.”
I raise my arms up, still holding the ledgers and checks, and slap them down. I’m about ready to give up and pack it in. “What is the fuck? Is there anything to help us identify the piece of shit that’s been doing all of this?”
Moving his hands up and circling the room with them, Jason finally looks frustrated. “Look around us, we’re at the threshold of hell, Tamara,” Jason quips, trying to raise the spirits a little. “How could anyone find anything in this disaster area?” He slams his hands down to his side and bends slightly forward.
Ken laughs a little at Jason’s somewhat lighthearted joke. “Yeah, this isn’t going to go away any time soon.”
I hug the ledgers and checks to my chest and shake my head. In great frustration, I sigh heavily, looking at them both. “I know. It’s going to take some time to sort through all of this and get it back where it belongs, and the machines. That could take at the very least a week. If we get the parts quickly.”
“Whatcha got there, Tamara?” Jason asks me.
“The ledgers and the company checks,” he looks at me curiously, like a cop would look at a culprit.
“Where did those come from?” he interrogates me.
“I hid them in a different place so that the person responsible couldn’t get to them.” I shot back a warning glance. “Where are you going with this, Jason?”
“Nowhere, just wondered,” But he held his hostile look towards me.
The cops finally arrive here, the same three from the other night. One of them starts taking pictures of the place and the damage. Jason calls Dan back in to show the officer around outside, getting pictures of the damages out there.
Cop one opens his notebook and jots down the appearance of the place. “What time did you all arrive here this morning?”
“About eight,” I respond. “To a disaster area.”
“Have you checked any surveillance cameras for anything?” he asks.
“No, not yet,” I say and look at the guys. “We were waiting for you to get here.”
“Let’s go see what we can see,” Cop one says following after me. Cop two and Ken fall in line after.
Once we are in the video center, I pull up all of the camera’s feed. At one point, camera four has a shot of a person, with blonde hair and about my size frame. Everyone in that room looks at me suspiciously. “Great! So, I’m now a suspect?” I stand from the chair and turn to face their accusatory looks.
Cop one looks at the image and at Tamara again, sizing her up. “Well,” he tips his head to one side, “You must admit that the image does correlate with your frame and hair color.”
“I don’t have to admit jack shit,” I cross my arms, furious at even the hint that I’m a suspect.
Jason’s face returns to the inquisitor face he made earlier when he asked me about the ledgers and checks. Ken’s is placid. He’s got a great poker face. And the two policemen, from the other night, held me in contempt, like I’m the perpetrator.
