Chapter 14: Bookstores, Payphones, and Another Piece of the Puzzle
Searching Lindsey’s apartment he found a pen and paper. He took it with him to the family room and sat on the couch, staring at the flame of the candle as it danced back and forth on the table in front of him. He had to try to piece what information he had together. He needed to know what to do next.
Leaning forward he began to write, talking to himself as he did. “I know that The Lords are working with Hamilton & Lewis,” he said softly. “I know that somehow The Lords are getting their hands on the drug, and that somehow Hamilton & Lewis are linked to that. But that’s where it doesn’t add up. How does a law firm have access to something like that?” He stared once again at the flame and shook his head. “The number,” he said leaning forward again to continue writing. “Whoever they were calling had to be a sort of middle man—a supplier maybe?” He scribbled quickly not wanting to let a lull stop his train of thought.
“That’s where Rachel and Joy came in. They somehow found out that something was going on. That someone who was calling Hamilton & Lewis was calling about something more than legal advice.” As he wrote an idea came into his mind. “Legal advice,” he said leaning back and looking at the words again. “It had to be one of their clients! That’s the only thing that makes sense. Why would Rachel be fielding calls from someone unless they could call the office under the guise of needing legal advice?”
Reaching for Lindsey’s laptop, he settled back into the couch and waited for the screen to light up. “Muffin,” he said as he typed in her password. Waiting for the computer to come to life, he looked again at the picture of Lindsey with her cat. “I’m so sorry,” he said to the cheery-face, bright-eyed girl who stared back at him. “I should have never brought you into this.” He felt a lump form in his throat and his eyes began to burn. “No! This is no time for self-pity!” he scolded himself.
He turned his attention back to the screen just as it loaded the search that Lindsey had left open. Reaching for his sheet of paper, Michael quickly wrote down the address of the payphone. “One of these businesses has to be the one working with Hamilton & Lewis,” he concluded as he zoomed in on the image of the shopping mall. He wrote down the names of the businesses he thought would be good leads. “Obviously not the bakery or the book store,” he said to himself, trying to weigh all the options carefully. “But there is an insurance company. Do insurance companies need lawyers?” he wondered to himself. He decided to write down the name and continued looking. “There’s also a bank. They have lawyers for sure,” he said to himself. “And a pharmacy, a dentist’s office, and a small private clinic,” he noted as he added the names to his list. “The last three would potentially have access to drugs, right? Maybe not the street drugs, but something that could be used to manufacture them.”
He sighed as he leaned back and reviewed what he had written down. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Hopefully something that would lead to another something, then another, and eventually to the answer. He looked up at the clock on the wall—9:32. It was too late to go to the strip mall then. All of the stores would surely be closed.
Michael considered staying the night at Lindsey’s apartment, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be waiting for instructions. How would he receive them? He figured the most likely place would be at his home. Besides, the phone was there.
When he arrived at his house, he checked the mailbox and around the front door, hoping he would find something there that would tell him what he was to do next. He didn’t. Walking into his empty house, he couldn’t help but let the feeling of guilt consume him. It was his fault that Lindsey was mixed up in all of this.
He tried to sleep, but it was useless. Every time his eyes shut, he saw Lindsey’s terrified expression flash before him again. He tossed and turned, waiting as the hours slowly ticked by. Finally, when he couldn’t take the waiting any longer, he decided to start his day, even though it was only 5:15 in the morning.
A quick shower, a breakfast consisting of cereal without milk, and a cup of coffee later he was making his way to his car. Checking the mailbox again before pulling fully out of the driveway, he found it empty. Feeling a twinge of frustration rise up in his stomach, he drove off quickly down the street, determined to figure out who had used the payphone. It was his only lead, and he would sit in the parking lot of the strip mall all day if that’s what it took.
Arriving at 6:28, he parked his car at the far end of the lot, and walked to where the payphone was standing, just outside the bookstore. He examined the inside of each shop as best he could through the windows to no avail. Nothing seemed to scream “sinister” to him, although he wasn’t sure what he was hoping to find by just peering in the windows anyways.
By the time he returned to his car, a few other people were pulling into the lot. The sun was just coming up in the distance, and the crisp air had left a light fog on his windshield. He watched the half-blurred figures move slowly to their respective businesses. The first figure went into the dentist’s office, the second to the clinic, and the third to one of the shops that Michael didn’t consider of much interest.
The morning trudged slowly on, and more cars filled the lot, more people filed into the various businesses, and more uncertainty rose in Michael’s mind. Maybe it was a false lead? Maybe the phone number linked to the pay phone was nothing more than a coincidence?
When the shops finally opened, and the crowds began to pour in, Michael decided to at least go into each place, get a feel for it, and then decide what to do next.
His first stop was the bank. He couldn’t arouse suspicion, so he needed to assume a false-identity. “Mr. Thompson,” he said as he held his hand out to the cheery-faced woman behind the customer service desk. “Mr. Jonathan Thompson.” He winked at the lady before adding, “but you can call me John.”
“How can I help you, John?” she asked, her face flushing red slightly.
“You see, Miss. Lightheart,” he said reading the plaque in front of her.
“Carrie,” she said softly.
“Carrie?” he smiled at her smoothly. “You see, Carrie, I’m just starting my new job. I’m working as a paralegal for a new law firm.”
“Wow,” she said twirling a strand of long brown hair around her pointer finger. “A lawyer?”
“Trying to be,” he replied light-heartedly. “But, my bosses are really pushing me to get as many new clients for us as I can. Now, I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he said leaning forward, “since I should really be discussing this with the manager of the bank. But when I walked in, I just couldn’t pull myself away from those bright, baby blue eyes of yours.”
“Would you like me to get him for you?” she asked, her face turning a brighter shade of red.
“No,” Michael said quickly. “Let’s not bother him. I just need to know, Carrie, if your bank is already being represented by any of the law firms in the city?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “Well, there is a lawyer that comes in to meet with the owner of the bank from time to time. I believe his name is Roberts—Hale Roberts.”
“Roberts?” Michael asked. He let out a sad sigh, “he’s from Roberts & Gibson, then.” Michael was familiar with almost all of the law firms in the area. Rachel had rambled on about all of them for at least an hour or more each when she was going through the process of applying for jobs.
“Is that a law firm?” the woman asked him.
He chuckled lightly. “Yes, Carrie. And a very good one, at that. I wouldn’t want to steal their clients away from them, so I’m afraid I must be on my way.”
“John?” she asked him as he turned to leave. “Would you maybe want to grab a drink or something some time?”
He walked back over to her desk and grabbed a piece of paper. He scribbled on it a phone number—a fake one—and handed it to her with a smile. “Call me anytime.”
He continued the same routine for the next two busin
esses—the pharmacy and the dentist. Both had legal representation already, and neither of them were working with Hamilton & Lewis. When he walked into the bookstore, even though he had discarded it as an option, he had to switch up his routine.
“Can I help you sir?” a stern, grandmotherly looking lady said to him from behind the information desk.
“Maybe,” he said walking over to her slowly. “You see, I have an appointment with the doctor next door in 30 minutes, but I got here a little early. I’m pretty nervous with that kind of thing, you see.” She looked at him with a disinterested look. “Well,” he continued quickly. “I came in to find something to read to distract myself while I wait.”
“Sure you did,” the woman said rolling her eyes and turning her attention back to the book sitting in front of her.
“You don’t believe me?” Michael asked confused by her cold-shoulder treatment.
She looked back up at him and eyed him carefully. “You’re just waiting for that little receptionist they got over there,” she concluded.
“What?”
“I figured it was just a matter of time before she had a new man slinking around my shop.”
Michael felt a slight spark of hope surge inside him. “You mean, she’s done this before?” he asked, even though he wasn’t sure what “this” was. He tried to put on his most convincingly hurt face, hoping to garnish even a hint of pity from the woman. “I’ll admit, I thought it was weird when she wanted to meet here, but I figured it was just because she liked books, or wanted an easy place to meet to get to know each other on her break.” He held the woman’s stare, still trying to appear pathetic and love-struck. “I thought she really liked me.”
She shifted her weight around as she looked at him, still sternly, but with a hint of sympathy now showing in her eyes. “All I know,” she started, “is that she had this guy who would come around here all the time. He would just wander around the store until she came over. They would meet, talk for a while, then sometimes they would leave together, sometimes separately.”
“No,” Michael tried to sound hurt.
“I’m not going to lie to you, young man,” she continued. “I think she’s a hooker!”
“A hooker?” Michael asked, shocked. It wasn’t hard to imitate the tone of surprise, since he found the woman’s accusation to be completely far-fetched. He had to hide the smile that was threatening to appear on his face.
“Yes,” the woman said completely convinced. “I watched the two of them one day, after they left here. They went out to his car, drove away, and when they returned a short time later, I could see an envelope sticking out of her purse!”
“You think it had…?”
“Money!” the woman finished for him.
He stepped back, cupping his hand over his mouth and acting as horrified and hurt as possible. “I… I can’t believe this…” he stuttered.
“I’m sorry, young man,” the woman said with a shrug. “But it seems like your lady friend is only after you for your money.”
“This is too much,” Michael said, walking backwards quickly, still putting on an air of shock and awe. “I have to go,” he said, turning to run out of the shop, the woman staring after him with a look of pity.
Once outside, he collected his thoughts again. There had to be a link between the receptionist at the doctor’s office, the pay phone, Hamilton & Lewis, the drugs, and the Lords. He set his sights on the clinic, and began marching determinedly towards it. Bursting through the door, he ignored the confused, frightened stares of the patients in the waiting area and headed straight for the reception desk.
“Good morning,” the dark-haired, big-eyed receptionist said, looking up at him with an expression of uncertainty. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Yes, you can,” he said leaning forward and reading the nametag she wore pinned on her multi-colored scrubs. “Gloria, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you see, Gloria, I have this friend,” he said, leaning in closer so he could whisper. “Or should I say I had this friend. She worked for Hamilton & Lewis. Maybe you have heard of her?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gloria replied firmly, shifting her gaze down to her desk and rummaging nervously through the papers there.
“Joy Reynolds,” Michael said her name slowly to let it hang in the air and wash over the small, nervous woman sitting in front of him. He avoided using Rachel’s name, knowing that the mere mention of it would cause his anger to boil over.
The woman’s eyes shot up quickly and pierced into his. “I didn’t know her,” she said quickly.
“But you knew of her?” Michael could tell by the way her eyes darted around that he was on to something.
“Who are you?” she asked him quietly.
“Just someone who is trying to find the truth, Gloria. And I think you can help me.”
“Look,” she leaned forward and lowered her voice. “I can’t talk about that now.”
“Tell me when and where.”
“I get off at 3:00,” she answered, her voice shaky. “We can meet at the café down the road. The one on Main Street.”
“I have a better idea,” Michael said, “I’ll pick you up here.”
“Fine,” she agreed begrudgingly.
“Wonderful! It’s a date!” Michael exclaimed leaning back quickly and slamming his hand down on her desk, causing her and a handful of the people in the waiting room to jump.
Leaving the doctor’s office, Michael was filled with a feeling of relief. He could sense that he was getting close—he knew he was going to get answers. He hurried across the parking lot to his car, trying to decide what his next move would be.
Just as he was nearing his vehicle a man rushing in the opposite direction bumped into him, almost knocking him backwards. “Watch it!” he yelled, pushing the man back forcefully.
“You have 30 minutes,” the man said, grabbing Michael’s hand and slipping a small sheet of paper into it.
“What?” Michael asked as the man continued on his original path towards the row of shop fronts. Looking down in his hand, he turned the piece of paper over so that he could read it.
On it was an address and nothing else. He realized that that was his sign. This was the place he needed to go to give Joy’s phone to the men holding Lindsey. Quickly, he ran over to his car and jumped in. He fumbled nervously with his keys, his hands shaking and his heart pounding. He only had 30 minutes. He had to make sure he was there! He had to make sure he did whatever he needed to, to ensure that Lindsey was safe.
Speeding down the road, he pushed all thoughts of Gloria and the doctor’s office from his mind. That would come later. If he was going to be successful in getting answers and saving the woman whose life was in the balance because of him, he had to compartmentalize his thoughts. He couldn’t think about everything at once, or he would become too overwhelmed. He couldn’t think about Hamilton & Lewis, The Lords, or Rachel, not then—not in that moment. At that time, the only thing that mattered was getting the phone and getting to where he needed to go.
Chapter 15: His Car, Her Car, Their Car
The location he was given was about 15 minutes outside of town. He had just enough time to return home, retrieve the phone from its hiding place in his kitchen, and speed off to the rendezvous. The address led him to an abandoned parking lot, surrounded by nothing, in the middle of an open field. He arrived just as another vehicle was pulling in and grabbing the phone from the seat next to him, he slid out of the car to wait.
When the car parked about 15 feet away from him, he held his ground, leaning his weight back against his own car and trying to appear as collected as possible, despite the fact that his heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands were trembling slightly in his pockets. He wasn’t afraid—not for himself at least. He was worried about Lindsey.
“Can you believe that they were going to build a shopping center all the way out here?” the driver said as he exited t
he car. He was a tall, muscular man, with dark, piercing eyes and a shaved head. Running down the right side of his face was a long scar, which made his countenance seem even more menacing than it already did. “I mean, who the hell is going to drive all the way out here to shop?” he added with a laugh.
As he spoke, three more men exited the car with him. The group made their way to where Michael was standing. “Where is she?” Michael demanded.
“You don’t actually expect me to answer that, do you?” the man replied with a hint of amusement in his tone. “I thought you were smarter than that, Michael.”
“Is she alright?”
“You have to realize something about me, Mr. Kent,” the man said crossing his arms at his chest. “I’m a man of my word. If the agreement was that your girlfriend would be safe for 36 hours, then she will be safe for 36 hours.” He looked down at his watch. “Well, 20 hours now,” he added. As he spoke, his face twitched slightly around the scar, giving Michael an unsettling feeling in his stomach.
“You’re not the man who was in her apartment last night,” Michael noted, hearing the difference in the voice.
“You are correct,” the man replied. “That was my most trusted henchman. He offered to be the one to meet with you today, in fact. But I wanted to get a look at you for myself. I just couldn’t believe that one man was able to cause such a stir among my dear friends The Kings and The Lords. I wanted to personally thank you for all you’ve done.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Oh, but you have. You’ve driven them completely crazy. They’re literally shaking! It’s hilarious, really!” the man added with a laugh. “The cops haven’t even been able to get them shitting their pants the way you have. And, as I’m sure you found out last night from my associate, the more scared and vulnerable they are, the more chance I have of overpowering them.”
Unforgiven: A Conspiracy Thriller Page 10