Page 48 of The Accomplice
Kate left the firm and ended up suing them. And that started her passion project – representing women who had suffered sexual discrimination and harassment in the workplace. This was her mission. And when she saw Carrie, she had recognized that look. She had seen the same look in her own tiny, cracked bathroom mirror. It takes a lot to recognize that something wrong has happened. Kate found it hard to admit to herself that she was the victim of harassment. The emotions that came with it were complex – anger, pain, revulsion and, strangely, guilt. She constantly second-guessed herself until she was sure that she had done nothing to encourage this behavior. Once she realized she had been wronged, it took her some time to accept that it wasn’t her fault. Carrie was a victim too. She would have all those emotions and more. She had been hurt really bad. And Kate would do whatever it took to help her.
She put down her pen at the breakfast counter as her Alexa device muted the music.
Thump—bang—bang—thump
At first Kate thought it was coming from the hallway, but as she listened she realized the noise was coming from the asshole in the apartment next door.
‘Alexa, continue playlist,’ she said. ‘Volume up.’
Her little apartment was filled with the music from her favorite artist – Taylor Swift. She liked Beyonce too, but Taylor had a special place in her heart, and it helped her think while she worked.
More banging came from next door and she cut the music. It was louder now.
Bang—bang.
This time, it was her front door.
Kate got up and looked through the spy glass.
Bloch was outside her apartment.
When Kate opened the door Bloch picked up a large flatscreen TV and carried it inside without a word.
‘That’s my …’ But Kate wasn’t sure she wanted to finish that sentence. She remembered hearing the loud thumps coming from the neighbor’s apartment.
Bloch set the TV on the empty stand.
Stepping around her, Kate wanted to get a closer look and make sure it was her TV. It was the same model and had the same scratch on the lower left corner where the knife she’d used to open the box had scraped the frame.
There was something else on the TV, in the opposite corner.
‘Is that blood ?’ asked Kate, pointing to the spots on the top right of the screen.
Fetching a wash cloth from the kitchenette, Bloch wiped at the dark red marks.
‘Your neighbor needed some persuasion before he decided to come clean about stealing your TV. Make sure your door is locked when you leave the place next time,’ said Bloch.
One thing was for damn sure, Bloch wasn’t a victim. And never would be.
‘You want some coffee ?’ asked Kate.
Smiling, Bloch took off her jacket, sat down on the couch, said, ‘Sure. AnyColumboreruns on tonight ?’
The two women had been childhood friends. When they weren’t terrorizing young boys in their neighborhood in east New Jersey, they were in Kate’s house watchingColumbo.
‘I’ve got them all on TiVo. You want to watchA Stitch in Crime?’
‘Is that the one with Leonard Nimoy ?’ asked Bloch.
‘That’s the one. You get the coasters and napkins.’
Kate’s apartment wasn’t much bigger than her office at the firm, and she was obsessive about keeping it clean and tidy. Any kind of mess in a space so small made everything look dirty, and that drove Kate crazy.
‘I’ll get the coffee,’ said Kate. ‘Or would you prefer—’
‘Milk and cookies,’ said Bloch, and the two of them shared a warm smile that reminded them of rain-filled Sunday afternoons, curled up in blankets on the living room floor of Kate’s parents’ house, with cold glasses of milk and plates full of Oreos.
Two hours later, close to midnight, Bloch left the apartment and Kate went over her opening speech to the jury one more time. She was trying to redirect the jury’s anger. Explaining how all of the evidence shows that Carrie was another victim of the Sandman, and nothing more. She wanted them to know that her client had suffered and will continue to suffer. It was a hard argument, but one that needed to be made right away.
