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Tamara
Waiting for a cup of tea to steep, I change into some comfy clothes and come back to the kitchen. I take an armchair by the back door, so that I can watch birds freely dance throughout the air. I love watching groups of birds sway this way and that as they stay together, like a ribbon, moving in the wind.
Free.
Not me, right now. Someone is managing to turn all the evidence and point it directly at me. I’m hurt by Jason and Ken. Moreso hurt and angry at Jason.
How could he think that I’d stoop so low as to steal from this company, let alone damage machinery? Or slash my own tires! It’s not in me to do this type of stuff. Never was either. I sip some tea and shake my head watching the birds play again.
They are so carefree, the birds. Flitting from one tree to another and then to my porch rail. I’m starting to settle down, but the anger and hurt still boil inside of me, waiting to spill over the side, causing damage to anyone or anything in its path.
A tear slips down my cheek and I brush it away, taking another sip of the calming liquid. I don’t understand why Ken didn’t, at the very least, defend me. Jason’s always on the hunt for some investigation to meddle in. Sometimes, I think he just makes shit up.
Definitely too much TV for him.
Another tear falls as I recall our sleepovers and the sex. I hang my head and silently sob into my cup of tea. Why is this happening to me? I’m a good person, aren’t I? I sit up and change my line of thinking so that I don’t dive into a cesspool of self-doubt, berating myself for this mess.
I set the tea down and wipe my tears from my face with a tissue. I know that I’m not doing any of this and I just have to stick to that. Know my truth.
I put the tea in the sink and lay down on my bed, dozing off somehow.
A knock on the door disturbs me and I rise up, leaving the bed. I check my image prior to answering the door. How long did I sleep? The clock says three-thirty-nine. A little more than two hours. Must’ve been exhausted.
I open the door to an FBI agent and the oil commissioner. “Hello,” I say, feeling down about where this is leading. “Won’t you come in please?”
The agent nods and says, “Thank you,” stepping past me.
The commissioner kisses me on the cheek. “Hello, Tamara. Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted out.”
After offering them coffee, I have a seat in the armchair and they sit on the sofa. The FBI agent begins by opening a laptop. “Is it alright if I jot some notes down during this?”
“Yes,” I answer in a meek voice. Noticing that I’m wringing my hands, I sit on them to keep me somewhat calmer. I don’t care what anybody says, when the FBI knocks on your door, it’s fucking nerve wracking.
“I’m going to ask a few questions about your whereabouts when these things happened or when you discovered them,” says the FBI agent.
I look at the commissioner and he nods his head. “Okay,” I stammer out, my voice shaky.
“Where were you on the night the first two rigs were damaged?” he asks, pushing his glasses back on his nose.
“That’s been quite a while ago, so I really can’t answer that,” I respond.
“What about each other night of damaged rigs and machinery?”
“I know the second time they were sabotaged, I was with two co-workers, here having some beers,” I say without shedding too much light on Ken and Jason. Why in the hell couldn’t they do that for me?
“And last night?” he types on his computer and then looks up, pushing his glasses on his nose again.
I sigh, because I wasn’t with anyone last night. “I was here, by myself.”
The agent curiously looks up at me. “Now the missing checks?”
“I have stuff on my computer at work about the dates the checks were cashed, but I discovered that while I was working.”
“Ms. Daniels,” the agent peers over his glasses at me. “You are aware that most of the evidence points directly at you, correct?”
“I suppose it does, but I didn’t do any of it,” I say to him and then glance at the commissioner. “I swear I’m innocent of these incidents.”
“You have access to the cash and to the company's checks, you know quite a bit about the rigs and machinery, and the image on the video looks very much like you,” he says while looking at the laptop. “Isn’t this correct?”
