The Intern Vol. 2(5)

I stare at it and notice how vulnerable she looks-unlike how she acts in  real life. There's so much I don't know about her, so much that she  could be hiding.         

     



 

My phone rings and distracts me from my thoughts. I quickly exit out of all the screens before answering it.

"Yes?"

"Sir, Professor Hennings is on line one for you."

I thank her and quickly switch the line over.

"Hello, this is Bentley Leighton from Leighton Enterprises," I greet. "Thank you for calling me back, Mr. Hennings."

"Hello, Mr. Leighton. How may I help you?"

I can tell it's an older gentleman by the raspy tone in his voice. I  only plan to get a few details about Ceci because now all I can think  about is she and that pretty little mouth of hers.

"Yes, I was wondering if you could give me some information on one of  your students. A Miss Casey West. She applied to an internship program  here a while ago and actually received it. My apologies for not  contacting you sooner on this matter, but I thought we should at least  communicate about her references."

I hear him clear his throat before responding. "Uh, Casey West, you say?"

"Ah, yes, sir. She's one of your students?"

"Yes, she is. I wasn't aware she was even looking into internships, nevertheless applying for them."

I hear the confusion in his voice and wonder if perhaps he's getting too old for his job.

I smirk to myself before replying. "Well, sir, I actually have a letter  of recommendation from you. It says you acknowledge her skills as a  student and that she would be a valuable asset to our company." I try  not to sound rude, but I'm annoyed at how he can't even keep his  students straight. "Casey West, she's about five feet-three, maybe a  hundred and ten or twenty pounds. Um, brownish-blonde hair?" I ramble  off her looks as if it'll matter.

"I'm aware of what she looks like, sir. I'm not aware of any internship  she's applied to." His tone is harsh, and I'm immediately pissed off.  "Or any letter of recommendation."

I run my tongue along my lower lip as I take in this new information.  I'm not sure what it all means, but one thing's for sure-she lied on her  application.





Chapter Four


Cecilia





I SPEND THE better part of Friday night trying to research Samuel Anderson and what connection he could possibly have to my dad.

I end up falling asleep at my desk with all my lights still on. By the time I wake up, I'm already late for work.

"Shit!" I frantically rush to get ready and drive faster than I should. I finally arrive at 8:27 am.

I don't have time to feel nervous anymore. All I can think about is how  mad he's going to be. And how I have no idea what we are … or how I'm  supposed to act around him.

I smooth my skirt with my hands as I walk down the hall to Bentley's  office. I walk in slowly and watch him intently to gauge his mood. He  sits tall as he continues writing something.

"Good morning, Mr. Leighton," I say as I stand in front of his desk with  my arms folded in front of me. I don't have his coffee either … fuck,  he's going to fire me.

"Good morning, Miss West." His voice is deep and smooth. I nervously stand there, anticipating him yelling at me soon.

He finally lifts his head and makes eye contact with me. There's an  amused grin on his face as he takes in my outfit. I wonder if he's going  to mention Thursday night, but after sneaking out early, and taking a  cab to my car Friday morning, I haven't heard from him since. And I  haven't tried to contact him either.

I watch as he squirms in his chair as if he's fighting an inner battle.  His eyes aren't as soft, and suddenly, I feel butterflies in my stomach,  as I fear something is wrong.

"I have a project for you this morning," he says as he hands me a thick  manila folder. "In order for me, as your boss, to know your abilities,  we have all interns and out-of-college grads complete a practice case  file."

I nod in understanding, but inside I'm completely dying.

"It's a simple junior college-level case, something similar you've  probably already covered in one of your class projects." He smiles back  at me, and I feel as if he's challenging me.

"Great, I'll get started." I smile wide as if it'll be no big deal and turn to walk out the door.

"Oh, and Ceci." His voice jerks me back around to face him. "You have one hour."

I nod and hurry out of his office and into the one I've been allowed to  use. My body is shaking with nerves as I realize the task he's given  me-something a college senior should be able to do in their sleep.

I adjust myself in the office chair and flip open the file. I read over the notes, the case information, and the evidence.         

     



 

Victim: Mark Philips

Background information: 34-year-old Caucasian male, never returned home  after work on Thursday, March 19. Wife reported him missing the next  day.

Case Notes: Police followed up with his job at Tillman & Tillman, a  sausage processing company. He worked 6AM to 6PM Monday-Thursday.

It was confirmed that he punched in at 5:57AM and punched out at 12:35PM  for his lunch break. He then punched back in at 1:35PM but never  punched back out for the evening.

Detectives interviewed the company owner, his supervisor, his line  partner, and five other employees that said they saw him that day.

Ty Neumann, his line partner, claimed he left work early. Records proved he punched out at 5:02PM.

Randy Huntington, his supervisor, claimed to not have seen him after  lunch, as he was in a business meeting from 1PM to 4PM and then left  immediately after to pick up his daughter from daycare. Detectives  confirmed his daughter was picked up at 4:17PM.

Jerry Sullivan, Heath Tyner, Joseph McMillian, Lenny Johnston, and David  Winters were also interviewed-they noted that Mark always worked  twelve-hour days. Jerry was known to not get along well with Mark, and  David was currently in anger management (both unrelated, just an  observation.)

His car was found undisturbed in the parking lot. No video surveillance.



I read over the rest of the papers that are included in the file, all made up notes and interviews.

With one minute left, I shuffle the papers back in the manila folder and head back to Bentley's office.

I knock softly, and he tells me to enter. I cautiously walk to his desk,  his body language unreadable. A shift has occurred since we were  together the other night, and my increased heart rate tells me it's from  him finding me in his office. The alcohol that once flooded his blood  veins is no longer doing the thinking for him-he's suspicious.

"Well?" he asks as I approach him. He's leaning back all the way in his  chair, his hands resting behind his head. "Do you have a conclusion?"

I can hear the amusement in his tone. It's as if he's expecting me to get this wrong, expecting me to not know the answer.

"I believe I do." He gestures for me to keep going. I clear my throat,  stand up a little taller, and respond, "His wife is the suspect."

His eyes widen as his lips curve up into a smirk. "And what makes you think that?"

If I told him how I knew-the truth-it'd give too much away. When the  shooting happened, my mother was inside. She had no idea what had  happened, who was hurt, or where the shooting was coming from, but her  first reaction? Get help. She didn't waste time finding answers. A wife  and mother's first reaction should always be to get help.

I clear my throat again, stalling. His eyes wander up my legs to my  chest and meet back up to mine. I smile confidently and continue. "She  waited too long to call the police. Her alibi is improbable at best. Any  concerned wife would've called his cell phone several times or the  company phone, and after that, the police. Except, she didn't. She  waited until the next day. She also made sure it was a Thursday, his  last work day of the week. I found the likelihood of her coming into his  place of work much more plausible than any of his co-workers having  anything to do with his disappearance. She had distracted him before he  got the chance to punch out, which was her sole purpose in getting the  attention off her."

His lips form into a half-sided grin, a cocky smirk that could melt the  panties off any girl. But right now, all I want to do is impress  him-wash away any doubt that he's feeling.

"That's very impressive."

"You look surprised."

"Well … this case is used in many trial interviews and internships. It's  been used as an extensive training guide due to the fine details that  often get overlooked."

"And you didn't think I could do it." It's more of a statement than a question because I can hear the doubt in his tone.

His jaw ticks as he smoothly rubs a hand over it. "No."

I take a step back, shocked by his confession. "Then why even give me the task if you expect me to fail?"

"Let me make myself clearer. I didn't think you could do it … because it  takes most people three hours to come to the same conclusion you just  did."