The author retains all rights to this original work of fiction.

Last Updated: 2/8/2024 to smooth out the beginning of this story.

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March 8th, 10:46 a.m.
I had my head buried in briefs all morning and totally spaced on the time, so it wasn't a surprise to look up and see Lisa standing outside my office. I tried to smile at the questioning face she was giving me and mouthed, 'Sorry...' She just gave me a look that said, 'Girl, get your ass out here!'

I smiled, and so did she, opening my office door to complain in earnest, "We're late... I'm gonna to miss me some Bryant time downstairs! Sheesh!"

I shook my head still smiling, "Not like you're ever going to ask him out." I instantly regretted saying that; it just sort of slipped out. I hoped she knew I was kidding.

"I'm working up to it. He’s my marathon, and honey, I do not sprint for any man; I told you that," she replied with a hearty laugh.

I felt relief from her blowing off my comment, and we wasted no time heading toward the elevators. If we made our exit from the office any faster, it would look like we were trying to escape a prison or something.

March 8th, 10:58 a.m.
Bryant was the UW graduate student who worked the morning shift at the espresso stand in the lobby of our building. His shift ended at 11, and we were generally down there by 10:30 so Lisa could do her flirting thing. He was a couple years younger than she was and played along like a champ. It really was entertaining to watch them both, and he certainly added fuel to the fire with his own form of flirting back at her. If they ever did go out on a date, they would probably just sit there awkwardly, wondering what to say to each other. Lisa was bold in a crowd of friends—not so much alone, she'd told me once.

We rode the elevator down from the 18th floor to the lobby, making faces at each other behind the backs of a couple guys in suits talking about their upcoming fishing trip to Ocean Shores this weekend. I had to stare at my phone more than once to keep from cracking up at her hilariousness behind their backs. I thought for sure they were going to figure out that she was being all goofy as we made our way down to the lobby.

Lisa and I met on our first day working for Brandt, Wentz, and Larson during our HR indoctrination. We were both hired at about the same time, and it just so happened that we got through that first day with HR together, along with two others who’d been hired by the firm. I'm not sure that day could have been any more awkward for me having to listen to rules for everything from conduct to office romances and even which bathrooms to use based on our own gender identification. She might not have felt uncomfortable, but I certainly was through the three-hour presentation, which sure seemed to spotlight the ‘T’ in LGBTQ+ individuals.

Lisa figured out what was going on with me quickly enough over the next couple of weeks. Thankfully, my being Trans was totally a non-issue. Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, for left-leaning liberal Seattle or a law firm, my situation was pretty much a non-issue for everyone I’ve had the opportunity to work with so far. I felt blessed to finally have a friend, though, even if our friendship was during work hours. My first break, a bit of normalcy, in just over 6 years, this transition journey had been for me.

In the lobby, we wasted no time getting in line for coffee, and as Bryant's last customers of the day, he said he was going to make our drinks extra special. Lisa whispered to me when he’d left us to start our drinks, "I know I'd like something extra and special." She had a devilish grin and a twinkle in her eye. I smiled and turned away, trying to hold in the giggles.

The rest of their bantering, when Bryant had finished our drinks, was relatively tame. They tried to drag me into their flirting routine, but I declined to contribute. We all laughed, and our mid-morning break ended on a high note as far as Bryant was concerned. Lisa had gotten her daily Bryant fix, I got some laughs, and we both got our mid-morning caffeine fixes.

Lisa was crazy fun to hang with, and I really did love her for how she treated me. I was just one of the girls as far as she was concerned, and that’s all I ever wanted to be.

Typically we would find a standup table near the atrium to drink our coffee so Lisa could ogle Bryant, but she said she was working on something for Janet Larson, one of the partners in the firm, with a deadline by lunch, so we cut our time short for this coffee break. The ride back up to the 18th floor was all talk about what she would like Bryant to do to her—nothing too graphic, but she sure laid it on thick, and she had quite the sexually charged imagination.

She eventually began complaining about this being the longest ‘dry spell’ she'd had in a couple years, and I just rolled my eyes back at her. We hadn't exchanged much in the way of my lifelong emotional desert when it came to men, friends, or even my family, so I wasn’t about to compare ‘dry spells’ with her. My life was certainly more complex than hers. I almost wished there had been others on the elevator ride back to the office, since I had already heard her spiel a few times before.

I wondered if she knew how much easier she had it than I did. I was sure everyone at the firm knew my basic story by now, and on the one hand, I should be happy no one treated me with kid gloves or like I was fragile. Then again, I wished they could grasp the extent of the struggles I’d fought my way through to be where I am today, given society's hatred of anything Trans. It had been crushing more times than I cared to admit, and I'd thought many times about checking out for good. Dysphoria was a fucking bitch! People didn’t seem to understand that or the crushing struggle it could be.

Yeah, nothing about how I got to this point in my life has been easy. Augh! Really? Get off the pity train! Why do I do this every time?! I should be thankful for where I am today, here, right now.

What had my psychiatrist always said? "You make your own happiness; own it; be thankful…"

March 8th, 1:24 PM
I had just entered another RCW (Revised Code of Washington) search and was pouring through references when my phone rang. I could see it was originating from the large conference room near the partner offices.

"This is Elizabeth; how can I help you?"

I felt a little self-conscience about talking on the phone, and this being an internal call, I knew I needed to sound extra professional in case there were clients in the room with whichever lawyer was initiating the call. Not that this call was handled any different from the dozens of others I’d answered, but I was determined to focus on being professional. I found my voice sounded more feminine if I talked slower and deliberate in my pronunciations of my words, which seemed to make my tone sound more relaxed and less strained. It also helped to keep my sentences short, but I think it annoyed some people because maybe I sounded overly calculated or just plain stupid.

Seriously though, everything action in my life was calculated in some way to mitigate the risks of appearing to be someone I wasn’t.

"Elizabeth, do you have a couple minutes to come meet with us?"

I knew the voice: Janet Larson. I had no idea who the 'us' was or whether I was on speakerphone. It didn’t matter.

"Yes, Ms. Larson. I'll be right there."

"Thank you," was the reply before the line went dead.

Having battled extreme bouts of anxiety for many years, mostly due to the stresses of the path I chose for my life, I have a prescription for Xanax. This medication works incredibly fast for me when taken right away or before I know I will be in a stressful situation. It's not the only drug I've been prescribed to control or balance my being, but it was a wonder drug I could have used from the time I hit my teens.

I could feel the telltale tightening in my chest and fear of the unknown roiling in my stomach because of the call that brought on my panic attacks so I knew I needed to act. I reached for my purse, grabbed the prescription bottle, tapped out a single.25 MG white pill, and downed it with a gulp of cold coffee. Work quickly, please!

I stood, straightened my skirt, and buttoned my sweater up. I caught my reflection in the glass of my office door and thought I looked the part of a legal secretary—now to execute that role like I’d done many times before. Don't panic; you got this!

I grabbed my fully charged voice recorder, two pads of legal paper, three pens, and two highlighters, and I had confidence in that little pill I'd just swallowed to get through whatever was waiting for me in the conference room. You can do this! Breathe...

When I rounded the corner of the hallway leading to the partner’s conference room, my heart skipped a beat. Each of the three partners of the firm was in the room, and there was no one else with them.

My first thoughts, naturally negative ones—because what could be easier—were that maybe I wasn't past my ninety-day probation period and this gathering was for my termination. I walked at least ten steps without taking a single breath. I could hear my skirt brushing against the slip under my skirt, the slip whishing against my pantyhose, and my toes were unusually cold for some reason. Could others hear these sounds? Was it that cold in here?

I felt tunnel vision coming on, and I tried to study the faces of the partners, noticing they were not looking at me and looked to be in deep discussion about something as I approached the door to the conference room. Was one of them arguing to keep me on and not fire me? What was I going to do if I was fired? Would unemployment cover at least a portion of my monthly bills? I owed my mom a couple thousand dollars still, and she needed me to pay her regularly.

Wait, where is the HR representative?

My hand reached for the door, and I pushed it open, forcing a smile at the serious faces now quietly watching me as I walked in. I felt unsteady and quickly went to the nearest chair, setting down my supplies and slid heavily into the chair, none too ladylike. My hands came together on the conference table in front of me, posture perfect—maybe a little too rigid, but I couldn't relax.

"Thank you for joining us, Elizabeth."

"Happy to... assist you, Mr. Wentz." I barely got that out, worried that if I said much more, I wouldn’t be able to breathe afterwards.

My nerves were getting the better of me, and I could hear it in my voice, the thumping in my temples. When I felt like I was losing it, I would play the 'What do I know' game to focus my mind on something other than how I was about to totally die, be riding in an ambulance, or stop breathing and pass out in front of people.

Jacob Wentz, managing partner, 56 years old, married to Elisa; she was a pediatrician at Seattle Lutheran Hospital. They had two children: Jacob Jr. was 8 years old and Mirabella was 10. Jacob lived on Mercer Island and was very active in the community. He founded the firm 29 years ago and interviewed me twice. I have a signed letter from Jacob offering me the job as a legal secretary/paralegal investigator.

Why was I being called into the conference room? I started on January 3rd; I was past my 90-day probationary period. This has to be something else, right?

"We appreciate you coming down to talk with us. To put your mind at ease, we all think you are doing a wonderful job. Everyone says you are incredibly organized, resourceful, and aren’t afraid to think outside the box. We hope you are enjoying your stay with us."

Martin Brandt had just spoken. He was a partner, 42 years old, and the lead litigant on the firm's highest-profile cases. He was single, divorced his wife Michelle three years ago, and had one child, age 3, named Charlie. He lives in a high-rise condominium in the downtown core, likes to play hockey, and travels to lecture at colleges around the country.

What did he mean by 'stay with us'? I was confused. Do I answer? The pause seemed uncomfortably long. Say something!

"Thank you, Mr. Brandt. I really enjoy working here, and everyone has been so wonderful to me," I rattled off quickly.

I was praying the weight of the ten thousand-pound gorilla on my back would be shifting off me based on his compliment. Okay, happy happy thoughts now!

Why did this room feel so warm?

"Elizabeth, did you happen to catch the news today?" Janet Larson asked.

Janet was a senior partner, 41 years old, and the highest grossing partner. She was partnered with a woman named Angela and they had no children. Why didn't I know what Angela did for a living? Janet was dressed impeccably, so much so that she looked like she could out model many of the top established models out there. It would be a lie to say I didn't try to incorporate her design and style cues into my own Target, Wal-Mart, and Goodwill-based wardrobe for work.

She had interviewed me twice, and whether it was on purpose or a nod to my struggles, she mentioned being very involved with the local LBGTQ+ community. It was a bright spot during the interview process, if there was such a thing.

She was the most thorough interviewer, going over my paralegal community college curriculum degree in greater detail than I thought necessary. She was also the only one to ask what my future plans might be. Janet had asked me to tell her what the opportunity to work here would mean to me. I was prepared for that question, and I think I answered it well, given her smile afterwards.

Janet scared Lisa, but I never felt that way around her. I wasn’t sure why.

Did I catch the news today? I had. I knew the weather forecast: rain, high today: 46; low overnight: 39; winds should be light and out of the east. More to the firm's concern, though, would be the news that the mayor was trying to limit the Port of Seattle's union bargaining power in future negotiations with the city. Since we represented the union—this is likely what we were going to be talking about—maybe I was going to assist Martin somehow—a twinge of adrenaline hit.

"I saw the report about the mayor's new union bargaining stipulations and how she wanted to get it before the City Council…" I stopped speaking when Martin looked over to Jacob, who nodded ever so slightly. Had I overstepped? Did I sound cocky, arrogant, or anxious to work with Martin? Augh!

"Yes," Martin began, "We've got that issue handled. What we were wondering is whether you had heard about anything outside of Seattle, specifically news from Phoenix and a connection to the firm."

Phoenix? What does a case in Phoenix have to do with Brandt, Wentz, and Larson? We didn't practice in Arizona. I guess we could if someone had passed the uniform bar exam there. I think if any of our lawyers were practicing on the federal level, there would be an opportunity to try a case in another state, right? Augh! Answer the question!

"No, I did not hear anything on the news about Brandt, Wentz, and Larson in regards to Phoenix." I'm sure the confusion on my face was evident from the answer I’d just given them.

Jacob looked uncomfortable, picked up his pen, and pointed to something on the pad in front of him. Janet nodded. He looked at Martin, who also nodded. I just watched the three of them, wondering what was going on. Was I going to be fired? No, something else is going on...

"My younger sister," Jacob began, "lives in Phoenix. She's happily married, a stay-at-home mom, and has three great kids. Two years ago, after a few rough years, her son came out as not wanting to identify as male. He was fifteen, and it was a rough transition for everyone." His voice was breaking, and he stopped speaking.

I could feel the air being sucked from the room while listening to Jacob speak—from my lungs as well. Was that even possible? My feet were freezing, my fingers were clenched tighter than I realized, and I could see my knuckles were white. I felt an instant ache for Jacob. I wasn't sure I could speak and managed only a feeble nod of my head.

Janet reached over to Jacob's hand and patted it. "Elizabeth, we won't pretend to know how something like this affects a child brave enough to make this decision or the family that tries to make its way through the new family dynamic. In an effort to get past some of the awkwardness, we need to remind you that, as part of your employment agreement, you signed an NDA, or non-disclosure agreement. You understand your obligation in regards to the agreement as it concerns this firm, correct?"

There was a buzzing in my ears. I looked from Janet to Jacob. Did they not think I knew what an NDA was and the implications of signing such as document as part of my employment?

"I understand my obligations to Brandt, Wentz, and Larson under the confidentiality agreement I signed," I replied.

I don't think I sounded very confident, but it was the best I could do at the moment. I could feel the knot in my stomach tightening. When was that Xanax going to kick in?

"Thank you. Last week, Amber did not come home after school. She was reported missing after her third period class at Collins High School. Stephanie, Jacobs’s sister, was notified within an hour to see if Amber had an appointment or permission to be absent; she did not. The police were brought in immediately. That evening, her computer was scanned, and they found a number of leads. Her phone was traced and eventually recovered. The police have followed a couple of leads but have little more than unanswered questions so far. That was six days ago," Janet paused to see if I had any questions.

I was so focused on there being a missing Trans teenager that I missed everything Janet had said. Were the police involved yet? Did they try to track her phone? Wait, she said something about a phone. Six days? Oh my God!

"Stephanie called Jacob this past weekend, asking for his help. He's set a few things in motion, including hiring a computer forensics specialist who has uncovered a few social network accounts the police had missed. He thinks she also has a few other accounts, subscription-type accounts, and at least two crowd-funding accounts. On a memory card from her camera, there were videos she made; these were probably live streamed to those subscription accounts. There's more, but..."

Jacob looked uncomfortable, and I couldn't help but interrupt Janet. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wentz; if there's anything I can do, I... I would be...," Janet nodding as if approving of my interruption made me stop speaking.

"Thank you, Elizabeth. The reason for this meeting was to see if you would be willing to join the team Jacob has put together in Phoenix. We realize this is a highly unusual request and appreciate that you might be willing to assist. We'd like you to think about committing, take the rest of the day, and let us know tomorrow. Your decision will not affect your current position should you decline."

What was there to think about? I was about to answer when Jacob and Martin slid their chairs back. Martin made his way to the door, but Jacob stood and looked over something he'd written.

"I'll cover that with Elizabeth; go ahead; you've got a plane to catch," Janet said.

"Thank you, Janet, and thank you, Elizabeth, for considering helping us find Amber," Jacob replied.

I could only nod in reply and watched Jacob leave the conference room, catching up with Martin, who was obviously lingering in the hallway. I turned back to Janet.

"I can't imagine what his sister’s family is going through."

"I think you might have more insight than most Elizabeth, at least on some aspects of this situation. I would caution you to really think this over; you might be pulling scabs off old wounds and possibly creating a few more. Amber may have been into some things you're going to find disturbing. That's what Jacob was going to mention before leaving. His computer forensics specialist reports finding links to a number of porn sites where there is content that includes her.

“The police informed Jacob that it's possible this will turn into a case for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children as a possible sex trafficking abduction. Jacob knows the local director of the FBI in Phoenix, so there could be some assistance given to us from them. I really want you to think this over, though, as you can imagine emotions are running pretty high," she finished saying.

I exhaled slowly, "Thank you, Ms. Larson. I'm struggling with a number of emotions right now concerning Amber," I said as my voice cracked, tears welling in my eyes. My head dropped as the first tears began to slowly course down my cheek.

I felt her hand on my shoulder as I tried to stifle a slow sob and wondered how she got to this side of the conference room table so quickly? Was there a fan buzzing in the room?

"It's alright, Elizabeth... Just relax. I understand... I'll tell Jacob you're not up for this assignment," she said softly.

"Nahaa," and I tried to look up at Janet. "No, I want to help. I'll go."

More tears fell, and Janet handed me a tissue from the box that sat in the middle of the conference room table, and I feebly tried to dab at the tears.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes," I croaked.

There was no way I sounded confident, but something about this beckoned me to get involved. I couldn't explain it if I tried, but I would do my best to help. Of course, some of the aspects Janet shared were hitting closer to home than I cared to admit. As I thought about how she’d described what information they’d found about Amber I wondered if she somehow knew about my past; she’d mentioned...

"All right then, I'll have Kendal make the necessary reservations. She will call you as soon as she has your itinerary. I will have her issue you a company credit card, but that will probably have to be delivered to your hotel. She'll have a car pick you up tomorrow morning to get you to the airport and from the airport in Phoenix to the hotel. I'll authorize a $500 per diem for expenses and a $1,000 stipend which will be later classified as a bonus, so don't worry about accounting for that."

She was writing all this down as fast as she was speaking. There was a long pause, and I wondered if she had asked me something.

"I think it is best that you take the rest of the day, go home, pack, relax... I think Jacob wanted you for the rest of this week, through next Friday. If it goes longer, we can reevaluate. We'll clear your work and reassign as necessary. Any questions for me?"

I slowly shook my head.

"OK, then," she pulled a business card from her pocket and wrote on it. "This card has my direct contact numbers. I can be reached at each of these numbers, and if unavailable for some reason, I'll get back to you within five minutes. Now, listen to me closely," she paused to make sure we were making eye contact. "You will call me daily and let me know what is going on with the investigation, with Jacob, with everything. Are we clear?" Janet's tone wasn't bitchy, but it left no doubt who I was expected to answer to.

"I understand, Ms. Larson."

"Write your cell phone number here for me," she said as she slid her tablet in front of me.

I did as requested. She looked at the number, nodded, thanked me for agreeing to help, and exited when it was obvious I had nothing to add or had any questions.

I felt very alone in the silence of the empty conference room. I wasn't cold anymore, but I was sure my cheap makeup was shot. I gathered my supplies and made my way back to my office. I packed my backpack, grabbed my coat and purse, and headed to catch an early bus home.

March 8th, 6:11 p.m.
It took only two hours to make it to my apartment in Kent. The bus ride mid-day was much quicker than during the rush-hour commute. I was home by 4:45 PM rather than the usual 7:00 PM. My daily commute averaged three hours and two bus changes, plus a short walk on both ends, in total. If I could afford a car, insurance, and the monthly parking fee, I would probably be able to cut my commute time in half. Commutes to Seattle sucked!

Kendal called while I was still on the bus to give me the details of the trip. I was flying first class on Alaska Airlines direct to Phoenix, leaving at 6:44 AM. A car would be at my apartment at 4:30 AM to take me to the airport. This would be the second time I had flown in my life, the first time in first class.

I hadn't flown since I was 10 years old, when my family went to Disneyland. I remember my brother Alex being consumed back then with the Pirates of the Caribbean, Matterhorn, and pretty much everything on the California Adventure side of the park. I remember I just wanted to see the princesses and be one of them. That thought reminded me that I hadn't talked to him in almost a year.

Augh… I didn't want to think about my family right now!

Okay, the good news was that I could check in online at any time for the flight, according to Kendal. She also said I would be staying at the Canyon Suites in Scottsdale, which was only a few miles from Jacob's sister's home. They were prepared for me to check in early, and there would be a driver at the airport waiting for me.

"Look for the placard with your name on it in baggage claim," she had said.

That’s pretty fancy, right? How did I rate such VIP accommodations?

Kendal said payroll had processed the stipend and the money would be available to withdraw tomorrow morning from my checking account. She mentioned that American Express would be delivering my corporate credit card to the hotel by noon tomorrow. I needed to keep all receipts and fill out an expense report when I got back to the office.

Lastly, she said all this would be detailed in an email. I stopped trying to memorize the details and stared out the bus window at the gray and rain as I made my way home. I wondered what the weather in Phoenix was like and if my brother wondered about me.

I had been thinking about the trip while staring at a pathetic selection of clothes hanging in my closet and feeling panicked that I wouldn't have enough of the right types of clothes to last the nine days I was scheduled to be in Phoenix. I picked out the dirty clothes from the hamper I'd worn Monday and Tuesday, thinking if I got them in the washers in the downstairs laundry room now, they would be done by 9:00 PM at the latest. I rushed to get that moving.

What was I going to do if I ran out of clothes to wear? If I had more time, I could try to get some new outfits from the Goodwill store that closed in an hour. Most of my better pieces were designer pieces that I had been previously enjoyed. Sure, some were dated, but it was my style—at least that's what I told myself. For what I could afford to spend on professional work clothing, shopping at the Goodwill was a godsend when Target or Wal-Mart options looked too cheap for the office.

I only have $53 in my bank account and $6 in my wallet—pointless to think I could go shopping tonight. I’d have to do what I could with what I had. Quit over thinking every single step or misstep! Why was I being so anal all of a sudden?!!

March 8th, 10:13 p.m.
I zipped the tattered suitcase shut and fired up my Android tablet to do the online check-in. I declared a single bag—two were included as a first-class flyer—and had the boarding pass sent to my phone. Wow, flying first class? It was kind of exciting to think I'd possibly be pampered while flying.

I returned to my closet and tried to figure out if there was anything else I could piece together for another outfit, but gave up. I needed to get to bed before I started doubting my value to helping Jacob’s family finding Amber. I had too many unanswered questions and a few unchecked emotions that were sure to creep in and screw me up before this was over.

I set my alarm and a second one on my phone. As I lay in the dark, the stillness slipped around me, my past creeping in, trying to drown me. I'm awake, right? Amber had made the same mistake I...

::: --- :::

I would like to acknowledge the assistance of Bronwen Welsh in proofreading and giving me insightful advice. She is an accomplished author in her own right and I appreciate her time more than I can say...

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