Wenatchee - Cover

Wenatchee

Copyright© 2010 by Coaster2

Chapter 5: Upside Down

August turned out to be one of the hottest on record. The growers fretted about sun scorch and finding enough labor for the harvest. My parents had that all looked after. It was a family affair, and we would work early in the morning and late in the evening to avoid the heat of the day. The packing houses stayed open late to receive the totes, knowing they had to be cooled quickly to preserve the fruit.

Terry knew my schedule and we worked around it at the shop. It was a week to ten days that I would be involved, but not every day. I knew as my parents aged that sooner or later they would have to hire help. They were delaying that day for as long as they could, wanting to keep it in the family. It wasn't just the harvest, it was the pruning, weed control, spraying, pollination, and all the other details associated with operating an orchard.

Gisele had dropped in a couple of times for coffee and we resumed our conversations. I was learning more about Jana and her father as well, but both of us could see the changes in the young woman. Whatever the motivator was, she was dressing much more attractively, opening up socially, and generally smiling a whole lot more. She loved her job, and she told me so regularly. She and Jimmy were a great team, each helping the other problem-solve. I wondered more than once if there was something happening with the two of them.

Pete called just before I was to leave for Eugene with Matt.

"Hi, Pete, what's up? You finally hear from Joyce?"

"Uhhm, not exactly. I don't know how to tell you this, but Joyce has disappeared."

"What? What do you mean – disappeared?"

"Just that. She's gone. She didn't show up for work this week. Someone at Koch phoned her parents and her parents phoned Ocsana. I guess they checked the house and there was no sign of her and a bunch of her clothes and personal things were missing, along with her SUV."

"You don't suppose she just took a vacation and forgot to tell someone?"

"Does that sound like Joyce to you, Geoff?"

"No ... no ... you're right. So ... what next?"

"Well, apparently there's an audit going on at Koch, and it may be that Joyce is involved in that, but no one is saying anything."

"What does involved mean?"

"There may be some ... irregularities in some of the accounts. I don't know anything for sure, yet."

"Oh, shit ... no! She wouldn't ... would she?"

"You know her better than I do, Geoff. Would she?"

"I don't think I know her at all any more, Pete. In the last four months it's like she's a completely different person. Oh brother ... the boys are going to be devastated. Divorce is one thing ... but theft? I think I'm going to shut up about this until we know for sure or unless someone says something to them. They've got enough on their minds right now. They don't need more grief."

"Yeah. I have a couple of sources at the cop-shop, so as soon as I hear something, you'll know. Better the boys hear it from you than read it in the newspaper or see it on TV."

"Yeah. Thanks, Pete. Jesus ... what next? This is turning into a fucking soap opera, pardon my language."

"No problem. I understand. You've been keeping your cool very well for guy who's been under as much pressure as you have. Just sit tight until I get more details."

I didn't get much sleep that night. I was trying to understand just what my wife was thinking if she had done what Pete implied. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it was connected to the money she had held back from me. Was she building a nest-egg to finance her escape? What the hell had triggered the switch in her brain that made her do anything like what I was imagining? As usual, far too many questions and damn few answers.

We were up early the next morning. Matt and I were leaving for Eugene and with my parents tied up in the harvest, Joyce's parents were taking Ross until I returned. I didn't have the time to talk very long to Nora and Mike, but I knew they were very worried about Joyce, and that was without knowing about any possible wrongdoing at Koch Motors. I suggested we would talk when I got back in three days.

It was a five-and-a-half hour drive to Portland at this time of the year. Over Blewett Pass, through Ellensburg, Yakima, then west along the Columbia to Portland. I decided to stay overnight in Portland, explaining to Matt that I wanted him to have some transportation while he was at school, and the big city was the best place to shop. When he got over the shock, he immediately agreed.

It took half a day to find a car we both agreed on. In fact, it was a late model mid-size crew cab pickup with a V-6 and four-wheel drive. It looked like it had been city driven, with not quite forty thousand miles and no signs of abuse. We bought it at the dealer who originally sold it, so I was a little more confident that it wouldn't be a lemon.

Years earlier I had arranged with my bank for a line of credit that I often used when I was working with my parents at the orchard. It had almost nothing outstanding on it, so putting down nearly eleven thousand dollars wasn't going to be a problem. After the insurance and license, I gave Matt a check for twenty-five hundred dollars to look after other expenses, telling him I expected it to last until the New Year. I think he was so stunned that I had bought him the truck that he would have agreed to anything.

Naturally, he drove it to Eugene with me following in my car. Two years earlier I had purchased a Subaru Outback, wanting the all-wheel drive for the hills leading up to the house. Snow in the winter was common and it proved to be a good investment when I put the winter tires on. Matt was a responsible young guy, and I was fairly confident that he would treat the truck with respect and not do anything stupid with it.

The drive back to Wenatchee was an all-day trip. I bent the speed limits a bit and got back in a little under seven hours, even with a couple of pit stops. As I drove along, I wondered if I should be moving back into our house. If Joyce had taken off, it would change everything in the divorce, particularly if she had committed a crime. I might not have to give up my beautiful home on the ridge.

It wasn't long before I was ripping myself for being so selfish, thinking of how her disappearance would benefit me. I was feeling guilty about it, yet ... something told me that the bad news had only begun and I was in for another rollercoaster ride of emotions in the not-too-distant future. Once again, it was hard to keep my thoughts straight.

Ross started his senior year in high school, the first few days riding in with me from Orondo in the morning and home again late in the afternoon. At the end of his first week, we packed up our belongings in Orondo, and moved back to our home.

It was the third week of September when Pete Mahoney called me and asked if I could come to his office. I agreed, of course, but dreaded the likely subject of the meeting.

"Come on in, Geoff. We'll meet in the board room. I've got a guest you will want to talk to."

I walked into the board room and saw a middle-aged man in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and dark tie, sitting at the table. He rose when we entered.

"Geoff, this is agent Sam Hildebrand of the Seattle office of the FBI. He has some news about Joyce."

I was speechless as I shook hands with the agent.

"Have a seat and relax, Geoff. I think Mr. Hildebrand is going to help clear up a lot of the mystery about Joyce's actions."

"Mr. Nelson, I understand you have been in the process of seeking a divorce from your wife, Joyce Alana Nelson, formerly Fielding. Is that correct?"

"No ... not exactly. She had filed for divorce from me."

"Yes ... that's right ... my error. To make a long story short, we are investigating your wife for the embezzlement of funds from Koch Motors and Koch Credit Services. We were alerted to the theft by Wenatchee Police who were called in by Koch Motors when a preliminary audit revealed the theft. Subsequently, we have determined that your wife has left the area, and we believe, the country as well. She is traveling under the name of Alana Fielding, and has a passport and other credentials in that name.

"Her company vehicle was found at SeaTac airport parking and the date she entered the lot was August 20th, at nine-oh-seven in the evening. We know she boarded a flight to Mexico City, then we think she boarded another flight to South America, possibly Brazil. We have not been able to confirm that yet, but we strongly suspect that is where she went. Beyond that, we do not know where she is at present."

I was in shock. I couldn't get my head around what he was telling me. Joyce was a fugitive and had flown the country to escape prosecution. It all seemed just too preposterous to believe.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked finally.

"Yes ... quite sure. There is a warrant out for her arrest and all our international contacts have been alerted. The company's audit confirms at least a half-million dollars is missing, most of it in the past year. We have been unable to trace the money, but we suspect it is in an offshore account, possibly the Cayman Islands."

"I can't believe this. It's just so improbable. This is so completely out of character for her. This whole thing ... the divorce ... the money ... her running away ... it just doesn't make any sense," I said, shaking my head.

"Believe me, Mr. Nelson, we see this kind of thing more often than you might think. The temptation can sometimes be too great to resist. In the meantime, if you have any contact with your wife at any time, please contact me immediately. Please don't think you can handle this yourself. It is now an FBI matter."

I nodded, still baffled by my wife's behavior. The agent rose, shook Pete's and my hand and left the office.

"This just gets crazier and crazier, Pete. What does it all mean? What happens now?"

"As far as the divorce goes, her petition will die after she fails to show. That means there's no divorce unless you file yourself. I'll have to check to find out how long it would be with no response from Joyce before the petition would be granted, but I think it might be six months. Sometime next spring, you'd be a free man again."

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