Chapter 6 Bridge to Darkness

It was Tuesday morning. Craig Morehead was sipping coffee and eating his morning toast in his apartment. He signed onto his account page on his bank's website and saw what he was hoping for, a deposit of five thousand dollars. It meant that Grafton had finally come through with some of the money that he owed him.

"When Ed found out that I had the drawings hidden away, he knew that I held the cards." he said out loud to himself. He adopted a self-congratulatory attitude. Now, he had to ponder how to deal with Audrey. It was a tough decision. He owed her half of everything he collected, but Audrey had no way to know that he had collected anything, unless he told her. On the other hand, she promised him a taste of her bedroom delights once the money started flowing.

He decided that it would start flowing that night. He wouldn't give her half, though. A thousand dollars would look like a lot to a young girl like her, he reasoned. No point in overspending. She would probably demand more later. Craig hadn't been with a woman in so long a time that he and his right hand were starting to have lovers' quarrels. Relief was in sight. The best of it would be when he let everyone in the lunchroom know that he had bedded her. He wondered how he would make them believe it.

He arrived early in the parking lot on purpose, waiting for Audrey to pull in. She finally did and he accosted her as she walked from the lot to the building.

"I've got a package for you!" he blurted out.

"Quiet!" she snapped. "Someone will hear you!"

Craig looked around and lowered his voice. "I'll bring it to you tonight. You remember the other part of the deal, don't you?"

"What part?" Audrey demanded.

"Don't be cute with me. You know what I'm talking about!" Craig retorted with lust in his voice.

"I said to send some serious money my way and we could talk," she reminded him.

"How does a thousand sound?" he asked.

"I said serious money, Craig. You didn't take peanuts from Grafton and I'm not taking peanuts from you."

Morehead, assuming that she had caught him cheating her, was speechless for a moment. He was getting frustrated and angry. His face reddened.

"Besides," she went on, "I'm having my period this week, so I'm not going to bed with anyone but myself!"

Morehead stopped in his tracks, stymied and confused. Audrey didn't stop. She walked even more briskly and left Morehead behind. He became angry as his plans for the evening unraveled. He suspected that she was lying to him.

Audrey's heart was pounding, but she was proud of herself for keeping her cool. The old Tampax ploy had worked a few times in college. She hadn't needed it since then. She was worried by the new wrinkle. The meeting with Paul and Wilton was on for Thursday. If the meeting came off on time, things would go alright.



As Audrey walked into the Agency in Springfield, Paul was in his office in Michigan prepping for his appearance before the Ethics Committee. He set his coffee cup on the desk and decided that he had prepared enough. He called Ted Wilson and asked if he was busy.

"Take a last look!" he called from the doorway of Ted's office. "I'll be in front of them in forty-five minutes."

"I hope that you make out alright," Ted consoled.

"What can they do?" Paul countered. "Fire me? Let them! I could use a vacation. Every man deserves a 'golden parachute' once in his life."

The two men had a chuckle at the gallows humor.

"That's not why I came to see you, Ted," Paul said, changing the subject. "I was wondering if there was something that I could do for Glenda. You remember—she's the woman that I was going with in Chicago. I'd like to help her find a new job," Paul continued. "There's got to be someone in that city who could use her. It would have to be at the same level or above."

Paul explained the pension service credits problem to Ted. He nodded that he understood.

"If we find someone big enough, they might buy out that final year at present value," said Ted.

"One last thing," Paul cautioned. "it has to be off the record. Dunn can't be involved because of the lawsuit. Besides, I don't want Glenda to feel like I rescued her. Then she'll think that she owes me, and I don't want that. She has to be able to claim it as her own."

"No problem, Paul," Ted assured. "We'll get one of the headhunting firms in on it. I know just the one. I've done some favors for one of the principals. She'll be glad to help out; she loves to get involved in this kind of thing. Leave it to me. I'll call you after your session with the Committee and get some details."

"Speaking of which," Paul looked at his watch, "if I don't get moving I'll be late. He raised his hand in salute as he left for his meeting.



The Ethics Committee was not really a committee of the Board, but a newly-created sub-committee of the Audit Committee. The larger group reviewed company issues that affected the financial statements that Dunn presented to its investors and the public. The smaller group was geared to questions involving high-ranking personnel that might affect the corporation's public image or standing. As part of the Audit Committee, it had access to the Internal Audit staff. Paul didn't know it, but his case was the first one that ever came before the new creation of the Board of Directors. It was born of the contagious fever of the Sarbanes-Oxley era when companies were expected to injure themselves with self-flagellation at each opportunity. Dunn Chemicals had never been involved in any scandal. The Board, however, decided to go Sarbanes-Oxley one better in creating the Ethics Sub-Committee.

Paul was exactly on time. He strode to the long table in the conference room and took a seat opposite the three chairs lined up for the Board members. All of the members were from outside Dunn's management. One was a retired food company executive; another was a mutual fund director. Both had been directors for a number of years. They were present in the meeting room waiting for Paul when he arrived. The third member was not in the room. It was Allison Greene, the Managing Director of a charitable foundation with many interests. Before she held that job, she had been in government service in the nineties. She was new to the Board. Ted Wilson's secretary, serving as stenographer, sat to the side ready to record minutes.

"Allison has been detained by a lengthy phone call. She should be here by now. We'll just have to wait for her," said Allen Richardson, the food company executive, and chairman of the sub-committee. His face wore an expression that was meant to convey the solemnity of the occasion. Paul knew Richardson the best of the three. He had been a supporter when Paul was proposed as Vice-President.

Elizabeth Pender was the mutual fund executive. She looked annoyed.

"We should have just done this with memoranda," she said. "I don't see anything very serious here. I'm supposed to be at our headquarters in California right now."

Paul said nothing. He took solace in Pender's statement. He thought Richardson would understand, too, having been in the business world for decades. They sat for three minutes in silence.

Allison Greene finally made her grand entrance. She swept in with an air of self- importance and a scowl. Greene was a woman in her late fifties. She had black hair with chestnut highlights and a dark complexion. She had once been slender, but time had added some girth. Her attire suggested that her self-image had not yet caught up to reality. She had that 'strapped-in-tight' look. Despite her age, her face was wrinkle-free, suggesting some surgical intervention. More than that, she had an insincere, characterless aura that forced people to struggle to like her.

"So sorry, everyone!" she sighed loudly as she took her seat to Richardson's right. To his left was Pender. The committee sat in a row facing Paul who was alone facing them on the opposite side of the long table. Paul saw that the group had some files in front of them. He recognized Bert Loehman's personnel file. He also saw the Policy Manual.

Richardson brought the meeting to order. He read aloud the policy section that Paul had broken and a narrative of the facts. As he finished he asked Paul to comment.

"It's all true, as Mr. Richardson stated," Paul said. "When I took the action I knew that the offense of Mr. Loehman was a case for automatic discharge. I decided against it for a good reason. We need Bert to help us with a lawsuit in which we are defendants. We also need his help in presenting evidence in the case of a fraud was committed against Dunn. Firing him would have ruined all that."

The members of the sub-committee sat looking at Paul, expressionless. Paul felt that were waiting for more.

"Other than this, he has a spotless record. He's going to retire in a few months with forty years' service. I thought that the deviation was warranted." Paul added.

"Why didn't you go through channels?" asked Richardson. "It would have taken weeks." Paul answered. "News of it would have leaked. Our opponents would have found out, and that would have meant they would be aware of what we had found out."

"Did you take it easy on this employee because you have known him for a long time?" Pender asked.

"I would have been tempted to," Paul answered, "but the other factors made that irrelevant."

"You did this favor for Mr. Loehman so that he would say whatever you dictated to him?" Greene hissed out. "Aren't you pursuing personal vendettas?"

"No," answered Paul, keeping calm, "everything that we have is documented and supported by fact. We have corroboration."

"That brings up the 'other matters'," sneered Greene. "You have corroboration in the form of stolen goods. You conspired with an employee of the State of Illinois to steal drawings and deliver them to you."

The accusation alarmed Paul. No one knew of Audrey's delivery of the drawings but a few people. There was no reason for Allison Greene to know it, except for one of those trusted had leaked it.

"The drawings that I received were taken fraudulently from Dunn." Paul stated coolly. "I rightfully took them back into our custody. The person who brought them to me had received them voluntarily from one of those responsible for committing the fraud. I'm traveling to Illinois on Thursday to present our evidence to the State authorities. No one on our side has committed any dishonest act."

Greene was undeterred. "How can we believe this preposterous story?" she cried. "You've made it up! You are subjecting this company to criminal prosecution!"

"I have plenty of evidence to say that I did not make it up. My meeting with the Illinois officials is a fact on the record," Paul responded.

"You had an affair with the secretary of the plaintiff's attorney. You took her to your cabin on the Upper Peninsula. Is that true or false?" spat Greene.

Greene revealed herself in her final hysterical thrust. Paul looked at her expression and could tell that she knew it—she just hoped that Paul had not caught it.

Paul realized that whatever Hopkins knew, Grafton would, too. They would easily figure out that Paul would present the drawings to Wilton as evidence. The phone call that had delayed Greene had probably been Hopkins instructing her. Her tirade was a last ditch attempt to abort the presentation to Wilton. Paul sensed that the desperate ploy meant that he was getting close to them.

"The woman mentioned and I had a relationship," Paul stated. "I took her to my cabin. At the time the lawsuit against us did not exist. We were both single. We have since broken off our relationship. I have not seen her since then. You don't have a right to delve into this. I'm sorry that you've made this personal," Paul declared. "I can prove the dates if I have to."

"I think that we should order him to put this whole thing on 'hold' until we can look at it more. He should deliver those drawings into our custody." demanded Greene. Paul half-expected her to pound her fist on the table.

"This sub-committee doesn't have that authority, and I don't think a delay is in order," said Richardson, shaking his head.

After a few seconds of silence, Richardson asked Paul if he wanted to add anything. Paul declined. Richardson dismissed Paul.

"We'll write our recommendations in a report to the Board," Richardson said.

"Put it on the record that I believe Paul," called Pender as she rose from the table. "I have a plane to catch to California.

She and Paul walked out of the meeting room together. Paul looked over his shoulder. Richardson had a burdened look and Greene looked even angrier than before.

Paul and Elizabeth Pender waited for the elevator together.

"I hope that you have good luck on Thursday," she said.



Paul returned to his office and sat behind his desk with a fresh coffee. The inadvertent disclosure by Allison Greene made him question the trust that he had in those closest to him. It was a gnawing feeling to know that one of them was guilty of betrayal. He decided to figure it out later. It was too late in the game to have an effect on events. They were charting a course of their own. He called Audrey. She was the only vulnerable link left in the chain.

Paul: Audrey, Paul Crane. Can you talk now? I just want to check on things.

Audrey: Yes, I can talk. Something happened this morning. Craig Morehead told me that he had money from Grafton for me. He wanted to give it to me tonight.

Paul: What did you tell him?

Audrey: I put him off for a few days.

Paul: Audrey, don't take that money under any circumstances! How did you put him off?

Audrey: He thinks that part of the deal is that I promised to sleep with him once the money started flowing. I told him it was my time of month.

Paul: Why does he think that you plan to go to bed with him?

Audrey: Well . he told me he wanted it and I didn't exactly say no.

Paul: You should not have done that! How long can you hold him off?

Audrey: Probably until the end of the week; maybe over the weekend.

Paul: Grafton and Hopkins know that I have the drawings. I just found that out. I don't know how they found out. How did Craig act? Do you think that he knows, too?

Audrey: No, he acted like he can't wait to get me into bed!

Paul: It means that Morehead is being double-crossed by his partners. We're still on for Thursday. Keep a low profile until then. Stay away from Morehead!

Paul didn't like what Audrey had told him. He knew that her promise of sex had clinched the deal with Morehead. He realized that she was audacious. His inexperienced protég was playing with fire.

He turned his attention to the leak to Hopkins.

In addition to Paul, there were five people who knew of the status of the drawings. He trusted each of them.

He knew that it wasn't Marge, and he had taken Ted Wilson into his confidence many times with never a reason to doubt him. Jim Spencer was a poor candidate. He was a rising star with a good salary. Risking it all for a quick payoff would make no sense.

That left Audrey and Bert Loehman. Audrey was out of the question. Her testimony was damning to Grafton and Morehead. She was the prime source. If not for process of elimination, Bert would have been a poor candidate, too. After the disclosure of his careless release of the files, he had worked hard to help Paul put together his case. His work had been thorough and well-done. Bert knew that Paul put himself at risk by not firing him when Bert knew that what he had done warranted it.

Paul reasoned that the leak had been a careless accident. It could have been to a spouse, a friend, or coworker. It could have been any of the five, but Paul suspected Bert. He had been guilty of carelessness already.

Whatever had been leaked, the advantage remained with Paul. The evidence in his hands was ironclad and would remain so, regardless of leaks. In a few days he would put it all in Wilton's hands. The leak was too late to stop it. Paul was reluctant to pursue its source. If it turned out to be Bert again, it would be more fodder for the Ethics Committee. Paul considered it a matter to be left alone.



Paul flew to Springfield on the early bird on Thursday. Ted Wilson, Jim Spencer and Bert Loehman were with him. When they arrived at the State Office Campus Paul called Audrey, and she made her way to Wilton's office and arrived just before them. Finally, two groups of lawyers showed up. There were three from the Agency, and two from the State Attorney General's office. All told, there were ten people waiting to see Wilton. No one said much as they waited.

Craig Morehead was always interested when a large group was gathered around Wilton's office. This occasion was no exception. He slowly ambled by, glancing into the anteroom. It was easy to pick out Audrey with her long blonde hair. Once Craig saw her, it was easy to recognize the other familiar faces. He saw Paul sitting next to Audrey holding the very tube of drawings that he had entrusted to her. Craig saw the tightly drawn expressions. It was easy to guess the purpose of the meeting. Just seeing the 'Peoria group' waiting without having been invited to the meeting was enough.

Craig stopped in his tracks and gaped at the collection of people. His face reddened; he said nothing. After a few paralyzed seconds, he about-faced and retreated. Wilton appeared at his office door and invited the group around his conference table.

Paul was surprised at Wilton's easy acceptance of the accusations against Grafton and Morehead. It was as if Wilton had seen all the facts in advance. Audrey and Bert backed him up with their own accounts. Bert showed all of the drawing changes that had been made. The State attorneys asked some questions, aimed at legal technicalities. The evidence was compelling. There was little argument over the conclusion.

Finally, Wilton broke his silence. He buzzed his secretary.

"Mary, tell Craig Morehead that I'll want to see him as soon as the meeting breaks up. Tell Craig not to go anywhere. He should report here right away!" He called out.

The State lawyers started arguing among themselves. It was over whether to bring the FBI into the case. At first, they didn't want to. Later they thought they'd better, since Grafton was out of state.

Wilton's secretary buzzed back. "Mr. Morehead went home for the day, sir."

Wilton's expression turned angry and worried.

Paul sensed that it was time to depart. Wilton asked to see him alone before he left. They waited while the others left the office.

"I know that you don't think much of me," Wilton said to Paul.

"I was too hard on you last time." Paul said. "I was wrong; I'm sorry."

"I don't know if we'll ever get Grafton. It all depends on what Morehead is willing to do to save himself," Wilton told him.

"What about Hopkins and Montgomery?" Paul asked.

"It depends on getting Grafton first," said Wilton.

Paul nodded that he understood.

"Craig is the smallest fish and it looks like he's in the most trouble," Wilton continued. "If he's smart, he'll give us Grafton—but who knows?"

"You sound like you've thought this out already," Paul told him.

"I reread the reports and looked at the drawings after you called. I had a pretty good idea before the meeting started. All the lawyers were briefed. This meeting was just to cement it all together," Wilton admitted.

"You could have done that long ago," Paul stuck in a final barb. Wilton didn't answer.

"What about Audrey?" Paul asked.

"Miss Wright has a short future with us," Wilton said. "She should have gone through channels to voice her concerns. We can't fire her now. We need her cooperation. After that, I'll cut her loose. We could have taken care of all of this within our four walls without Dunn having to get into this."

"It's a funny way to show gratitude," Paul said, saying nothing of his prediction to Audrey and his promise to help her find new employment.

"She should have come to me," Wilton repeated.

Paul told Wilton that Dunn would cooperate with the Agency.

The two men shook hands and parted. Each knew that they would never be close, but they stopped being enemies.

Wilton went back to his office and closed the door. The lawyers were already gathered waiting for him.



Craig Morehead sat in his car in a fast food parking lot. He had planned on eating there, but was too upset for food. He tried to analyze the day's events, but his mind was too confused to sort them out. Earlier he had been making plans to bed Audrey that weekend. She had brushed him off once, but he wouldn't allow her to do it again. After that, he saw her as she prepared to betray him. He was angry, but his fright had left no room for rage at the moment. His instincts told him to put time and distance between him and the Agency. He called Personnel to tell them that he needed two weeks' vacation due to 'his father's health emergency in Florida'. He didn't think that the ruse would work for very long. He needed some time to dash back to his apartment to pack some clothes and then get out of town. He couldn't believe it, but he was on the run.

He had placed a call to Ed Grafton about an hour earlier, and left a message. He picked up his cell and called again. Grafton answered.

Morehead: Ed, Paul Crane got hold of the drawings and gave them to Wilton. They had a big meeting this morning. I left work. They think that I'm on my way to Florida to take care of my father. They'll be coming for me any time. You've got to help me!

Grafton: I heard about it. You made a mistake by running. You should have told them that they were wrong and then hired a lawyer. You'll probably get fired, but if you keep cool, you can avoid prosecution.

Morehead: Why should I get prosecuted and not you?

Grafton: Who would it be besides you? They have nothing on me. You're the one caught red-handed with the drawings that you stole.

Morehead: But you are the one who changed them!

Grafton: It means nothing. No one saw me.

Morehead: You told me that you changed them.

Grafton: It would be your word against mine. They would never be able to extradite me to Illinois on that.

There was silence on the line as Morehead was lost for words.

Grafton: Look, Craig! All of this is your fault for trying to squeeze me for money. You should have left it alone. I should let you die on the vine, but I'm going to find you a lawyer. Give me your cell number and I'll call you back later.

Morehead: where am I going to get money for a lawyer?

Grafton: Don't you have the five thousand that I gave you?

Morehead: It's still in the bank.

Grafton: You had better get it out before they put a hold on your account.

Morehead: you've got to send me more money.

Grafton: How can I do that, Craig? They'd trace it to me. If I go down I can do nothing to help you.

Morehead: I'll drive to St. Louis and meet you.

Grafton: Absolutely not! Just make yourself scarce for a few days. I'll find a lawyer that you can trust and call you in a few days. Get that money out of the bank. You'll need it!

Grafton hung up abruptly.

The conversation with Grafton made Morehead more confused than ever. The warning about his bank account gave Morehead a sense of urgency and reminded him that he was being quickly cut loose from any base he might have had. It surprised him that Grafton knew about the details of the meeting so quickly. He wondered if Grafton and Wilton were conspiring to frame him.

Craig convinced himself that he was innocent. In the whole affair, he had gained a mere five thousand dollars. Grafton had probably made twenty times that, plus his new job at Montgomery. Hopkins' take was even bigger. He wondered if he could trust Grafton. The realization should have driven him back to Wilton. He could have bargained for lenient treatment just by confessing and helping to get Grafton.

Morehead drove to a branch of his bank to withdraw his funds. He sat in his car, afraid to go in and present his check. He feared that his account was 'on watch' already and the bank's security cameras would record him. He was wrong in his assumptions, but his psyche was already playing tricks on him.

Morehead was alone, isolated and frightened. His mind functioned in a linear way and a dense fog lay in his path. It was impossible to proceed straight ahead without crashing into obstacles that he could not predict. As he drove aimlessly around the city hoping for Grafton to call him with a rescue, he sensed his inadequacy. He knew Grafton wouldn't call. He clung to the futile hope, it was all he had.

He could no longer focus on his present situation. His memory played back the events of his life—a sad biography. It was an escape. His mind's eye saw his high school days, the champion wrestler whisked off to college on scholarship. Everyone was so proud of him, but he disappointed. There were his college days. He studied hard, but grades didn't come easy. He tried for girls, too, but they didn't come any easier. Maybe he should have tried studies that weren't quite so hard, but he didn't know how to tell his parents.

His failed marriage came into view. His children were strangers whose father-figure was his estranged wife's live-in boyfriend. He supported them—strangers and betrayers. His career crept into his thoughts. As a young man he had dreamt of an engineering career of promise and advancement, but his grades forced into civil service. He was patient, enduring the endless waits for promotions. His salary was enough to keep him afloat, but never enough to satisfy.

"To satisfy what?" a voice asked.

"There would be unknown delights to feast upon," he answered the silent voice. "It would relieve the stale taste of his life. Money was the answer."

This one time, he reached out. He had tired of pulling his arm back from opportunity. It appeared so simple; there were so many ripened fruits on this new tree. Surely there would be a few for him. Grafton couldn't deny him a share. He had looked away countless times while Ed plundered the harvest. This one time was all he asked. He took what Grafton should have offered him all along. He would end his thirsting and humiliation. Disappointment and loneliness would fly away. It was his last chance. Grafton was retired and departed.

He almost had it in his grasp; he only missed it by a whisker. He sniffed the aroma; he longed for the taste. Once he clutched it in his hands; now it sifted though his fingers like grains of sand. He had taken Audrey into his confidence so that she could help him. He was going to win and her body was part of the prize. He needed her help because Grafton wouldn't share.

Why had it been so easy for Ed, and difficult for him? The answer was Audrey's betrayal. How could she do it to him after he offered to share with her what Grafton had always refused to parcel out? It was his fate to be cheated. If he couldn't have what he had won, he would have revenge. It lit the fires of rage.

He started looking over his shoulder for flashing lights of police cars. Surely they must be after him by now. He was afraid for himself; he had always been afraid of something. He resented always being under the thumb of fear. Fear and rage dueled for control of him. The two merged to form a new, unnamed emotion. He crossed over the Bridge to Darkness—became immersed in it. He allowed it to sweep him outside the edges of reason.



For Audrey Wright it had been a trying, taxing day. The session that Paul attended in Wilton's office had been only half of the day's toil. Following that, there had been an afternoon of grilling by the lawyers and the giving of depositions. There was a confrontation between her and Wilton, which she had expected. It had been unsatisfying because she had no chance to tell him why she was forced to go outside the Agency with her concerns. She was only there to listen and speak when spoken to.

She was finally home as her car found its way into her space in front of her building in the apartment complex. She pulled her briefcase from the back seat and trudged to the collection of mailboxes. They stood on a post at the head of the walk leading up to her security door. She sorted through the mail as she ambled slowly up the walk. She split her thoughts between separating the ads from the bills, and the hot shower waiting for her inside. After that, she would call Paul and fill him in. When she got to the door she set her briefcase down to manage her keys through the bevy of mail in her hands. She finally got the door open and put a foot inside.

All at once she felt herself swept forward roughly by an unknown force. A second later she felt a grip on her arm that felt like a vise. She heard the security door close behind her. It was only then that she turned her head to the side to stare into the glazed eyes of Morehead. He said nothing, but she heard him growling deep in his throat.

He thrust out a meaty paw and grasped the keys from her. He seemed to know which apartment belonged to her. There were only four on each of the two floors of her building. Perhaps he had read it from the mailboxes.

"Let me go, Craig!" she scolded. "Don't get yourself into more trouble than you're in already."

He seemed not to hear her, but managed the key with one hand. Audrey struggled to free her arm, but his grip was too strong. Morehead pushed the apartment door open and threw her in. Audrey tumbled to the floor. Morehead followed and stood over her, glaring down.

As Audrey tried to get up Morehead grabbed her two arms and threw her against a wall about ten feet away.

"You bitch!" he screamed, and lunged for her. Audrey was able to dodge him.

"I'm gonna take what you promised me!" he roared. "You cheated me, but I'll get you!"

He hoped to see fear on her face, but found her contempt and defiance. It enraged him even more. Audrey had trapped herself in a corner when she eluded his first thrust.

She steeled herself for the attack. She proved more formidable than Morehead expected. He charged her and was met by her clawed fingers in his eyes. A sane man would have run away. Morehead backed away, regrouped and charged anew, barely able to see. This time he was able to grab her arms. Audrey kicked him in the groin. Morehead bellowed in pain, but shook it off.

Audrey screamed. "Help me! Please help me!" She didn't know if anyone heard her.

She saw neither the first blow that struck her, nor any of the others that followed. It landed flush on her right temple. Morehead had all the force that he had in him behind it. She didn't feel pain at the blow—only shock, the crushing impact and the loss of senses. It knocked the breath from her and she staggered. She could no longer hear anything but a ringing in her ears.

As she struggled to regain her balance, another blow like the first landed on the other side. Morehead delivered a new pair in rapid succession. He struck back at all who had made his life what it was. He would destroy all.

Audrey lay flat on her back. The room spun and she was barely conscious. She tried to continue the fight as best she could as Morehead threw himself down at her. He straddled her. Boom! Boom! Two more quick hits to the face turned out her lights. Morehead dragged her to the middle of the room and bent to the task of yanking the skirt and pantyhose from Audrey's limp body.

It was a stroke of luck that Audrey's neighbor from upstairs, an elderly widow, was returning from shopping. She and Audrey had become unlikely friends. She saw Audrey's forgotten briefcase in front of the security door. Audrey had set it down as she fumbled for keys. As the old woman carried the forgotten item to Audrey's door she heard the struggle and Audrey's screams for help. She pounded at the locked door to no avail. She hurried to her apartment to call the security officer at the apartment complex.

Several minutes later the guard was pounding on Audrey's door. The police were on their way. Morehead didn't hear the pounding. The guard used his passkey. Morehead only looked up as he burst into the room. He withdrew his penis from the unconscious Audrey, stood and turned to face the intruder. Morehead began ejaculating semen about the room.

The security guard stopped, stunned for a moment. Morehead charged him, holding up his pants. He pushed him aside and ran out of the building. He stopped long enough to refasten his trousers. He ran past his car and sprinted aimlessly into the complex. The police had him in handcuffs ten minutes later. Audrey remained unconscious, naked below the waist. She bled from one nostril. Her face was beginning to swell and change color from the blows that Morehead delivered to her. The security guard covered her with a blanket from her bedroom.

Craig Morehead, so unsuccessful in everything that he tried, had finally given a project his all. He had neatly destroyed his own life, and had done his best to brutally destroy another's. In his life he had tried everything but violence. He turned to it as his final redoubt. As he sat, handcuffed in the police car, he watched the ambulance carry Audrey away. She was conscious again, barely. He felt neither pride nor remorse. His mind held only a nothingness that he made no attempt to understand. He had traversed the full distance over the Bridge to Darkness where he found his new abode.



It was four the next afternoon when Paul found out what happened to Audrey. He had been worried because he had expected a call from her and didn't receive it. It was Harry Carmichael who reached him with the news. He had been working downstate and it appeared in the evening paper of that day. Harry didn't know anything except what the paper carried.

Larry Wilton called him about an hour later with same news. He told Paul that Audrey had suffered a severe concussion, but no broken bones. Of course, there were the injuries from the rape. Since she lived alone, she would remain in the hospital longer than usual. She was now awake.

Paul: Does she have any family with her?

Wilton: No. She listed none in her personnel file. Her friends said that her father has been deceased for years and her mother is in poor health. She didn't want anyone called.

Paul thanked him and hung up.

Paul knew that he had to help Audrey if he could. He could never atone for having let her down. He should have foreseen Morehead's unraveling; should have cautioned her.

He groped, searching for the bitter sadness he knew was there. It was a feeling that resided somewhere in him. They were not strangers. He sought to pull it out and place it over his shoulders like a mantle, so that everyone could see his sorrow. He felt it skulking about in his soul, taunting him. He reached for it, but couldn't get his hands around it. He gave up; he decided to let the pain fester in silence. The mantle would have been a fitting decoration, but useless in his object of bringing comfort to the truly wounded.

He buzzed for Marge and told her what happened.

"Would you like me to go with you?" Marge asked. "Sometimes a woman needs another woman at times like this."



TO BE CONTINUED