Crossing the Line

“Crossing the Line”

It was when the large, green “Welcome to Illinois” sign came into view that it dawned on you. Except for that one time when you were ten and you went on a family vacation to Lake of the Ozarks your entire life had played out in the Eastern Time Zone. Born, raised, educated and employed all without having to figure the time difference. When you were younger, life in a small town like Mayfield suited you, and it was just a two hour drive to several larger cities if and when you felt the need for more excitement. But over the past year or two it started to feel different. Mayfield just wasn’t enough for you anymore. You came to feel that your life was like the verse in the Pink Floyd song; “I have become comfortably numb”. Daydreams of living somewhere else became part of each day. But where was that somewhere else? You’d wanted to make a move for a long time but didn’t do anything to make it happen. And then the little questions about the company’s annual report and the audit that followed helped you make the decision to leave.

Creation of the annual report took longer than in past years but you couldn’t figure out why. It had been a good year from the standpoint of revenue but expenses had grown significantly. You heard stories, more like rumors, all year long that more and more money had been shifted from various accounts to cover the surprisingly high expenses. The juggling wasn’t your fault but along with you everyone in the accounting department had fingers pointed at them. It was a mess. It involved a significant amount of money and it was hard to tell if the problem was accidental or deliberate.

Moving money around from one column to another was something you saw all year long, year after year. That was the way a lot of businesses operated. But when the end of the tax year approached it was your job to make sure the final amounts were correct and in the proper column on the spreadsheet. Monitoring and logging the company’s expenses was part of that job. Your colleagues were top notch and helpful so usually it wasn’t a difficult task. Until this year. This year’s report didn’t smell right from the get-go even though it was approved by John Wycliffe, the owner. You noticed a few things that didn’t look quite right and pointed them out to other people in Accounting. A few of them just shrugged their shoulders and a few more suggested that you not get too curious. Their responses only added to your frustration and curiosity.

Then in March, while your entire department was up to its neck getting ready to file corporate taxes, things exploded. The finger pointing was intense. The advice you all shared within the department was to stay quiet, keep your heads down and wait. Each of you met with Junior, the owner’s son who was the computer geek who ran the IT department. It was to make sure there were no software glitches in your computers that could infect the system while you transferred files. You and everyone in accounting met with the auditor behind closed doors to explain your roles and involvement in creating the report. It felt to you as though management was looking for a scapegoat. Quiet conversations began among your coworkers. Conversations about updating resumes and making some phone calls. That was when you decided not to wait around to find out who the hammer would fall on. It was a signal that it was time to finally pull up stakes and leave. Leave the company, leave town and leave the time zone.

You were careful with your money and felt you’d built a sizeable cushion for yourself. Since you weren’t in a romantic relationship at the time you were able to avoid a big, sad break-up scene, Giving your notice at work surprised people and it turned out to be more emotional than you anticipated. But you got through it. You always thought of yourself as a very private kind of person so you didn’t offer up any details when someone asked about your plans. Saying goodbye to old friends and neighbors was just as hard and you were relieved when it was finished. The more mundane tasks of moving took about two weeks. You talked your landlord into letting you out of your lease. You sold your furniture and gave away some things you didn’t feel attached to. Everything else you owned, all of the little items that had made up your life, were packed inside or on the roof of your Tahoe. That day, as you crossed over the Illinois state line you couldn’t decide if you were running toward the future or away from the past.

Denver had always appealed to you albeit from afar. It was one of the places on your unwritten list that you promised yourself you’d visit someday. Your internet searches over the past few months were mostly on the historic parts of town, the nightlife and the outdoor activities in the Rockies. But the last few weeks of searching also included possible job opportunities. It was going to be an adventure, and one that you were glad you’d decided not to share with anyone.

The drive from Mayfield to Illinois took the entire day. When you’d gone online and worked out your route to Denver you included towns along I-80 for your overnight stops. As planned you arrived in Joliet around six o’clock on the first day of your drive. The Comfort Inn was pretty much what you expected; nothing exciting but clean and adequate. Hours and hours of interstate driving can be exhausting and you decided to keep things simple. After those hours in the car, a walk across the parking lot to an Olive Garden, two glasses of red wine with dinner and the walk back were about all you could handle for the day. You just sprawled on the bed and were scrolling through the TV channels when you got the text.

You’d given your cellphone number to only a few people from the office and the text was from Paul, a Senior Accountant who you’d worked closely with for a few years. You sat up and read the text. “Danny, where are you? This morning Matt from Security asked me if I knew where you were. I told him no. That’s all he’d tell me. What’s going on?”

It was an unsettling message to say the least. You wondered why the security staff would want to know your whereabouts. You turned in your laptop and company credit card. Did you leave some personal belongings in your desk? Did you forget to turn in your parking pass? Or was it something more? At that time of the evening and given the one hour time difference it didn’t sound all that important. You decided to hold off on replying.

You were on the road all morning and just when you entered Iowa your phone beeped. It was another text but you couldn’t read it while you were driving. The fuel gauge said you still had enough to drive another hundred miles or so but when you reached the Des Moines exit you headed for a gas station. Not so much for the gas but for the chance to read the text message.

It was another one from Paul and this time it sounded more urgent. “Danny, there’s something going on here. All kinds of closed door stuff. There’s all kinds of buzz and your name keeps coming up. Somebody asked me why you left town so suddenly. Care to share?”

How many times did you read that text? Wasn’t it like ten or twelve? What in the hell was going on back there in Mayfield? You just couldn’t get your head around it. Why were so many people talking about you? You didn’t leave town suddenly, at least as far as you were concerned, but apparently that was what everyone was thinking. And what were people saying behind those closed doors? Were they talking about you?

When you crossed over the Nebraska line it was still on your mind. You replayed every word and every scene from your last few weeks with the company. Your role in getting the annual report ready for the auditors. The things you were told to include and the things you were told to leave out. The expressions on peoples’ faces and the tone of their voices. You put in extra time and met every deadline. What could possibly be the reason for security’s interest in you?

You could have made it the short distance to the I-76 cut-off and over the Colorado line but it became impossible to concentrate on your driving. You pulled off the interstate at North Platte, another time zone under your belt, and found a Day’s Inn just off the exit. It looked just like the Comfort Inn from the night before and all of the other vanilla hotels that line every major highway in America. The heat coming off the asphalt parking lot felt like an oven as you walked to the lobby. Another unmemorable room, another franchise restaurant dinner and another night staring at the ceiling.

You were racking your brain trying to figure out what happened between the day that you left the company, when everything seemed normal, to that night lying in the hotel bed when nothing made sense. You needed some kind of answers, something that would help you understand the suspicion that seemed to be on everyone’s minds and everyone’s lips.

No more wondering and worrying. You’d had enough and grabbed your phone to text Paul. “Paul, got a minute? Can you talk?”

It was about half an hour before your phone rang and you saw Paul’s name come up on the screen. You were surprised that you actually felt nervous. You took a long, deep breath and answered, and so began a very long and uncomfortable conversation. “Hey, Paul, thanks for calling.”

“Yeah, no problem. I would have called sooner but I had to wait until I could get some privacy.” He paused and you wondered who should speak next. Paul decided it should be him. “So where are you? Maybe it’s none of my business but you never told me where you were going, just that you were leaving town. Why the secrecy?”

It was a fair question but one that you didn’t have a clear answer for, at least one that you wanted to share yet. “Well, I’m heading west right now. I’m not sure where I’ll be ending up. I have a couple of ideas but for now it’s just a little vacation” You felt bad for being so evasive and dishonest.

“You’re kidding. You packed up and left town without a destination?”

“No, I have a plan but it’s flexible and I’m in no hurry so I decided not to say anything to anyone, at least until I decide things.” You hoped that was enough to satisfy his curiosity, at least for a while.

“Look, Danny, I don’t mean to pry into your life. You’re a big boy and you know what you’re doing. It’s just that since you and I worked together so much, everyone at the office, and by that I mean Wycliffe, thinks I know where you are, and man, they really want to find you.”

If you were worried before the phone call you were really churning after Paul said that. “So what in the hell is going on? Why is Wycliffe or anyone else looking for me? Am I being accused of doing something?”

“Well, you know how office gossip works. Say one little thing to someone on Monday and by Wednesday it’s an entire novel.”

“And I’m the subject of the novel, right?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so, pal, and everyone in the company wants to read it.” He paused for a moment and you heard him sigh. “Danny, you know you can tell me anything, anything you’re comfortable with. I’m doing my best to stay out of the line of fire on this but it’s getting harder and harder.”

“What do you mean “the line of fire”?

“I mean you’re a moving target, man, literally and figuratively. When all this stuff started to happen, you left the company with no forwarding address. You know how it works, it’s always the guy who isn’t there that everyone sees.”

“So simply giving my notice then quitting my job somehow branded me as a crook.”

“Look, Danny, I’m just trying one last time to help you. Nobody knows about this call and I promise I’ll keep it that way. I’m just asking you to think and think hard. When you were finishing up the expense report was there anything, any little thing that you saw and wondered about?”

You leaned back against the headboard of that uncomfortable hotel bed and didn’t answer for a moment. All of the tension and stress that you’d tried so hard to leave behind had suddenly returned. And so had a thought. “Paul, how much do you know about Wycliffe, I mean Junior?

“I don’t know what you mean. Are you talking about his personal life or office stuff?”

“All of it.” Your mind was racing as you tried to connect the dots.

“”I don’t know, I guess the same stuff everyone else in the company knows. He’s a trust fund brat with a big ego. He loves hanging at the casino. He flirts with every woman in sight but rarely finds one who’ll put up with him. That’s about it. I have very little contact with the guy.”

An idea was forming in your mind. “Same with me. I tried to keep my distance because the kid’s kind of a little punk.” Your idea kept on churning. “So when you sat down with him before you sent your files, did he ask you a lot of questions?”

“No, not really. My meeting with him lasted like five minutes and that was it. Why?”

 It was time for you to make your claim. “Because I was the guy who tracked expenses and when a guy pumps me for information about how that all worked it just seemed strange, like why does it matter so much to you? He wanted to know every detail of expense accounting in a half hour meeting.”

You remembered how long it took Paul to say anything after you laid your suspicions in front of him. Finally he said, “So you think all of that money that’s unaccounted for is because of Junior?”

“I’m not really sure what I’m saying. All I know is that I did my job and I did it well. And I was honest with everyone I worked with.” You could feel your anger building. “If Wycliffe or anyone else wants to point fingers they can just point them somewhere else. I’m sick of all this.”

Paul sounded frustrated but concerned for you. “Okay, let’s leave it at that. I won’t tell anyone that we talked and I’ll keep my ears open about Junior.” He paused a moment then said, “All I can say, Danny, is that this thing might not go away and you don’t want it hanging over your head no matter where you go. How about coming back and getting things straightened out?”

“You mean I should drive all the damn way back to Mayfield just to defend myself from something I didn’t do?

“I’m sure you don’t want this to follow you, and you might need a reference for a job.”

You felt your anger growing, not towards Paul but toward Wycliffe and especially toward Junior. You understood Paul’s advice but you were well on your way to a new life and the thought of turning back was hard to accept. How much would it affect your future? What if going back didn’t change one damn thing?

“Look, Paul, I really appreciate your concern and I promise I’ll think things over.” There was nothing else to say but, “I promise you I’ll keep in touch.”

The next morning was warm and muggy. You tossed your bag on to the backseat and climbed into the car. With your coffee cup sitting in the console, your seatbelt buckled and your sunglasses on, you sat there for a moment. Up on the highway directly in front of you a large sign read, I-80E Des Moines / I-76W Denver. You paused, looked both ways and sighed deeply as you pulled out of the parking lot and on to the entrance ramp.