“I never doubted how effective you were at your job. My objection was with the way he treated you.”
She stopped wandering aimlessly and met my gaze. “You were right.”
“That doesn’t make me happy.”
“I know.”
I held out my hand, and she let me pull her beside me.
“What happened in Costa Rica?”
“He was having lunch with the client, and I saw an email about the last job in South America. They were praising the photos, especially a series of shots of a beach. I was confused because Carl had never gone to that particular beach. It was where I had spent my time while he was on his break. I did some digging and found the files he had sent without my seeing them. There were five pictures—all mine. I was shocked. I did even more digging and found he had changed the metadata on the pictures, making them his property. In fact, he had changed the entire file of that shoot. He walked in and found me at the computer. He knew right away that I’d discovered what he had done, and we had a huge fight.” She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “It was awful, the things he said. Accusing me of stifling him, not being cooperative, sapping his creative energy. When I told him he was full of it and the bottom line was that he stole my photos, he told me he had to. I gave him no choice. The client wasn’t happy with his work, and since it was my fault he couldn’t do his job, he took mine.”
I barked out a laugh. “Typical narcissistic behavior. Blame everyone else.”
She swallowed. “He let it slip he’d been doing drugs and was hooked. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. He was always such a health nut and ate clean. It explained his erratic behavior too. He told me he could quit anytime.”
I snorted. “The famous words used by all addicts.”
She nodded. “It got ugly. At least on his part. I was in such shock, I couldn’t believe what was happening. I told him I quit and I was going to the client to tell them the truth. He laughed and told me no one would believe me since the photos were in his Dropbox, and the information on them showed his watermark. He told me he’d give me a commission for ‘my effort.’ I was so angry, I stormed out.”
“But that wasn’t the last of it.”
“No. He called me the next day and apologized. He said he knew what he did was wrong, but he’d been desperate. He begged me to meet him for a drink so we could talk and clear the air. I went, hoping we could figure it out. I still admired him, and everyone makes mistakes.”
I shook my head. She was far too trusting.
“We met, and he told me he’d been crippled with anxiety for a while. Depending on the drugs to help him. Fighting it and too ashamed to admit it. He said his work suffered and he was desperate. He was skimming his photos while I was gone and saw a new upload to Dropbox. He looked at the pictures and knew they were exactly what the client wanted. He admitted to stealing them, plus a few others. I was traveling and hadn’t noticed.” She sighed. “He begged me to forgive him. Promised me it wouldn’t happen again. Assured me he would compensate me. Said we’d finish the job and head back home, and he’d get help. Go into rehab. I believed him—he seemed so contrite. Upset. More like the Carl I had first met than the man he had been. He asked if I’d reconsider working for him. I told him I had to think about it. He said he understood, then he went and got us a drink.”
“That was when he drugged you?”
Kelly nodded, the pain of the memories showing on her face. “Yes. A few sips and I started to feel odd. Hot. Dizzy. Carl acted concerned. I passed out. When I woke up, I was in his hotel room, and it was the next day. He was waiting for me. I was confused and sick. Unsure what happened.” She was silent, not meeting my gaze, tears filling her eyes. “He was a different man that morning. Evil. Uncaring. His eyes so black I was frightened. I was so sick I could barely function, and he pulled me out of the bed and showed me what he’d done.”
I took her hand. “Tell me.”
“He’s taken a set of pictures of me and the guy I’d hired but didn’t like. The way he shot them, they looked like stills from a porn movie. Like we were having some wild, kinky sex.”
“Jesus Christ,” I spat out. “Kelly, you said you weren’t—”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I was checked.”