1983

Battered and wretched, Kari half-crawled through the back door, across the kitchen, and pulling herself up in the doorway, stumbled into her bedroom.  Still trembling with fear and somewhat stunned, she slammed the old windows shut and yanked the curtains closed.  The outdated and heavy drapes blocked the moonlight plunging the room into blissful darkness.

Within a minute or two, her eyes drooped and mercifully blocked the pounding that steadily beat its way into her consciousness.  She lay curled in a fetal position on her bed until the morning light glowed around the outside of the drapes giving the room a freakish glow.  Her eyes felt grainy and dry as she opened them and glanced around the room.

Images from the night before flashed behind her eyes as she stared at the weird glowing curtains.  She winced and then whimpered.  Terror welled up inside her before she could prevent it.  Kari Finley wasn’t accustomed to fear.

Suddenly, she jumped from the bed and raced to the bathroom.  She turned on the water as hot as she could stand and climbed into the tub allowing the nearly scalding water to burn off the memories.  Cuts stung in places she’d never imagined.  The desire to cry was almost overwhelming but instinctively she stuffed it down.  Kari Finley did not cry.  Well, not anymore.  It was time to ‘put away childish things.’

An hour later, she sat against the corner of her couch, knees drawn up to her chest, hair dripping down her back and soaking her shirt- deep in prayer.  She’d missed her class.  The clock struck eleven.  Kari needed to hustle or she’d miss the next one too.  Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter anymore, which she knew was ridiculous.  She grabbed a brush, her books, and her keys.  If she didn’t get back on the proverbial horse, she’d regret it.

***

Kari froze.  Students pouring from the classroom bumped her until she was shoved out of the path of the crowd.  A short thickset man stood facing her as the hallway emptied.  “Miss Finley, I’m from the-”

“I know who you represent,” she growled.  “I swear if I’m threatened, I’ll-”

“My boss wants to talk to you.  He says he’ll meet you anywhere you like.”  Before she could reply, the man continued.  “I’m sorry.  I know why Mr. Steve wants to talk to you and, well, I think you should talk to him.  He can’t make it go away but he can make it more bearable.  He sent Steve Jr. away-.”

“As long as he’s singing soprano…”

The man’s laughter rang through the halls as he joined the throng moving outside.  Kari glanced at the business card in her hand.  Maybe calling this number would help her decide about going to the police.

 

***

 

She stared at the check in her hand, uncertain of what to do.  The bank doors swung open and closed as people went about their financial business.  If she cashed the check, she’d give up all right to testify against Steven Bradford.  No one would trust her testimony with proof of a million dollar bribe.  Then again, could she testify?  Could she put herself through that?  All evidence was gone.  Her bruises were turning green already.

Kari glanced at the numbers on the check.  She didn’t know people actually gave checks for that sum.  It was a cashier’s check no less.  “Paper trail,” she muttered.  “No wiring to Swiss or other off-shore bank accounts- they want proof that I took it.”

Abruptly, the overwhelming sense of panic returned.  She wanted out of the city, out of school; frankly, she wanted out of life. Without another moment of hesitation, she grabbed her purse and climbed from the car.  She’d sell it.  Eventually.