Name: Tadlock, Felicia.
Title: “Mystery in Numbers”
Reader: Eliza Tahan
Notes: Poor grammar & syntax, standard rejection letter.
Name: Tag, Lee.
Title: “Morey”
Reader: Eliza Tahan
Notes: Slow plot, can’t connect with characters, standard reject.
Name: Tahan, Sharif.
Title: “Illusions of You”
Reader: Intern Office
Notes: 3+ spelling errors in cover letter, automatically sent back per standard procedure.
I blinked, certain that my blurred eyes were playing tricks on me. “Sharif Tahan,” I whispered.
“It’s a different Sharif Tahan,” I justified, but my voice shook even as I said it. “There is no way in the world that Dad sent in a manuscript.”
He’s been dead over ten years!
“This list must be old, pulled from the wrong date range. What if he wrote something a long time ago and didn’t tell us? Yeah, why would he tell his kids? It’s a personal thing.” I checked the date range again at the end of the page. The manuscript was submitted just two months ago.
There must be some mistake. I trembled violently.
I struggled with my next step. I knew I should call Cleo, but talk of Dad always disturbed her and brought back her initial survivor’s guilt. And I’d already left her a message to call back. But I couldn’t just sit on this finding until I saw her. Couldn’t just bring it up lightly or something. I needed her advice right now, and I called her again.
Her voicemail picked up. My first sentences were my general, “Cleo, are you there? If you’re there, pick up,” but then I remembered that this was not her answering machine, she couldn’t screen message per message. “Sorry,” I muttered, and left a short message saying she must call me right away.
Cleo’s not available.
Liam’s not home.
I no longer trust Adam.
And I’m far from work, so even that can’t distract me.
I couldn’t hold back any longer. I lost it. Conspiracy theories ran through my mind.
Maybe the guy who was driving the truck that hit and killed Dad is a writer and took Dad’s name as a pen name as some kind of tribute. Or he was driven insane and took Dad’s personality.
Or did Dad fake his death for some reason? Had he been in danger? Had he been a spy? Could he be with Mom now? She was supposedly in Botswana, but I had never been there so I could not know for sure. Mom could be anywhere. She could be “anywhere” with Dad.
I picked up the phone and called Detective Wilson. It was late, and I expected to leave a message with all the information so that I could feel somewhat unburdened. I was tired of the police department’s inaction. When he answered I was too surprised to speak for a moment. Finally I stated, “You’re there late.”
“I left you a message, Kai, my sweet,” he replied somewhat absently, surprising me more. “This case is becoming increasingly urgent. I won’t be home for another hour or so at least.”
I coughed in embarrassment for Detective Wilson. “Um…I’m not your…sweet.” I tried to keep a playful tone to keep him from being too embarrassed. “I’m just calling to see if you got a chance to look at the list of authors I sent on Thursday.”
He stuttered for a moment and then said, “This must be Ms. Tahan. Sorry about that. I thought you were my wife. I’m rarely late coming home and was worried that she didn’t get my message. Anyway, yes, we got the list and it has been helpful. Thank you for sending it.”
“No problem. Listen, I’ve been going through it, slowly of course, because it’s so long. But I found something that seems really odd and suspicious.”
“You don’t need to go through it. We’re doing that.”
“Yeah, I know. But I feel in danger, and so I needed to take some kind of action.”
“Understood. What did you want to tell me about?”
“There’s a name on there that shouldn’t be on there.”
“I know who you are talking about,” the detective surprised me again. “Your father’s name.”
I could not reply. I nodded nervously until he asked if I was still on the line and I mustered up a weak answer in the affirmative.
“We noticed that, too, and we are looking into it.”
“Why’s he on there, Detective?”
I heard a noise in the background, a man’s voice saying that the files he ordered had been picked up. “We are looking into it, Ms. Tahan. Something just arrived that I need to take a look at, but we will hopefully figure all this out soon. Then we can make an arrest and you will no longer think that you’re danger. Thank you for calling us with this. Please let me know if you need anything further. Until then—”
“Wait.” I stopped him before he could hang up. “Please. What do you mean when you say that you’re going to make an arrest? Who are you going to arrest? My dad’s been dead a long time.”
“We know that. But you were correct to realize that the fact that his name is in the list is a key point.”
“Okay, so who do I need to avoid? Is it an author in the area?”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. I have to go, and besides, I am not at liberty to discuss this further right now. We will be in touch.”
Detective Wilson hung up.
* * *
I paced my room, wondering what to do. I should be comforted, I told myself. The police are on the case and must have some lead. That author list helped them. They have narrowed it down or something. They are going to make an arrest soon.
It really didn’t help right now, though, and I questioned whether I should even go back to work until the murderer had been found. Would the author be looking for me there? Or would I be safer out of the house? I knew for sure that I would be using public transportation now, even if my car had been drivable. I didn’t care what kind of car the murderer was driving these days; he wouldn’t be able to knock a bus off the road and walk away from it.
I decided that, indeed, I should go to work tomorrow. Cleo was in town and I was hoping we could get together. We could talk about Adam. We could talk about what I found on the author list. Or maybe by then I will have gotten a call from Detective Wilson and we can just celebrate that the murderer is behind bars. We could go to a bar to celebrate and I could pick up a new lover, and she could, too. Her Jorge was probably cheating, too, now that I thought about it. Why had I stuck up for him?
I couldn’t wait until she arrived. Her trip down here was perfect timing. Even with the anger and fear, my painful eyes and head overcame me. I crawled into bed, turned out the light, and fell asleep.
* * *
I had received no call from Cleo or Detective Wilson by my lunch break, and I tried Cleo’s cell phone again. When there was no answer, I reminded myself that she was down here for meetings, and not at my usual disposal while working from home.
As soon as I hung up, my cell phone rang. Adam’s number appeared on the screen, but I didn’t answer because I didn’t want to speak to him. I did, however, want to hear what he had to say, so I waited five minutes to give him a little time to leave a message and then immediately dialed the voicemail.
“Hey, beautiful. I got your message. I can definitely meet up tomorrow at six. And yeah, that Greek place is good. Do you need a ride, or are you going to take the ferry over? I can definitely give you a ride if you want. I have something to show you. Just let me know. If I don’t hear from you before then, I’ll just meet you at the Greek place at six. Can’t wait to see you!”
What is he talking about? Did I invite him to dinner before I found out about Crystal?
I searched my memory. No, Cleo’s in town, and we hadn’t discussed yet when would be a good time for all of us to get together. I wouldn’t have just made plans with Adam before working out a good time with Cleo.
Could it be that the message was for Crystal, and he was already mixing up his Aryan chick with his Ar
ab chick? Could he be so careless?
I decided that was all right. It was perfect. I’d show right up at the “Greek place” and surprise them. He’d mentioned taking the ferry, so the Greek place he was talking about must be Spyro’s Gyros right off the ferry landing in Coronado. I’d take the ferry over around five-thirty, and maybe even see Crystal, if she took the ferry. In fact, she probably would take the ferry around the same time, especially since she would not have received the message with Adam’s offer to pick her up.
I imagined the look on her face when I walked up to her on the ferry and told her that her boyfriend was a two-timing jerk. Maybe we could walk up to him together, just to see his reaction. I began to feel better about the situation. More in control.
If Cleo ever returned my call, for goodness sake, we could go together. That way, if I didn’t meet up with Crystal, Cleo could be there to support me. Make sure I didn’t overreact in public. She always grounded me when I went a little crazy, just as she had when I’d overreacted to the situation about Sue.
By the time I ran downstairs to the Grab-and-Go deli and brought my grilled cheese sandwich and diet soda back to the office, my lunch break was pretty much over. I closed my office door and put on the mysterious The Living Sea CD, which I still had in my bag. I needed some background music as I ate and plowed through more manuscripts and made more authors hate me.
I knew I shouldn’t be listening to the soundtrack that was associated with Liam’s accident, but as soon as the music started, I couldn’t turn it off. It was just so good. Plus, now that I knew he was the one listening to it and not some murderer, I didn’t feel as threatened. As the third song began, I looked up from my stacks of manuscripts and my sandwich and said, “Wait a minute!”
I stood up, a light of discovery shining in me.
If Liam was listening to this at the moment of impact, why wasn’t it in my car CD player? If anything, it should be crushed inside my crushed car!
I walked around to the front of my desk, my steps keeping time to the music. I paced back and forth in the office until I finally shut off the CD. In the first moment of silence, the realization came upon me.
Someone put this in my car after the accident. And it wasn’t me and it wasn’t Liam.
I picked up the phone to call Cleo again. I stopped myself, though, knowing that she was in meetings all day, and that I had already left several messages. But I was not overreacting on this one. This was important.
CHAPTER 17
Cleo didn’t call me back on Tuesday. By the end of the workday Wednesday, Cleo still had not called me and I was getting worried. She was my best friend and sister and she never ignored me like this. I spent a lot of time wondering if I had done something to make her mad at me, but I could think of nothing. That made me even more worried. What if something had happened to Cleo now? I decided to find her, even if it meant calling the President of the United States and demanding to know where my sister, one of his government’s employees, was. Enough was enough.
First I called Cleo at home, even though that wasn’t where she was supposed it be. I left a message on her answering machine just in case.
I called her cell phone and left another message. “This is Eliza. You need to call me back right away. I’m worried about you.”
I called the number she’d given me for Jorge, but no one picked up there either. I left a message stating who I was, that I needed to get in touch with Cleo, and that she was not returning my calls. I asked him to call me back as soon as possible.
Then I remembered that she had said she’d be staying at the Hotel Del Coronado and I decided to try her there.
“The famous Hotel Del Coronado,” the friendly voice on the line answered. “How can I help you?”
“Yes, hi. I’m trying to get hold of my sister. She’s staying there while going to some kind of Homeland Security conference. Can you connect me to her room? Her name is Cleo Tahan.”
“Just a moment, I’ll check. But I think the people going to that conference—the Homeland Security one—are booked downtown. At the Marriott, I think.”
“I know, but my sister was going to get approval to stay at the Del instead.”
“Her name is not coming up. Tahan is spelled T-a-h-a-n?”
“Yes. No Tahans at all?”
“I’m afraid not. Her bosses must not have approved the hotel switch. They like to keep everyone in the same hotel. Probably get a group discount or something. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.”
My next step was to call the Marriott. They had no one checked in under Cleo’s name, but noted that the rooms were reserved by the organization, and room numbers were assigned when people checked in. They told me it was possible that Cleo was staying there, and that she hadn’t checked in yet.
This didn’t help my anxiety. If she hadn’t checked into her hotel and been at the conference, where had she been?
It was time to get serious.
Within minutes of hanging up with the Marriott, I was searching the Homeland Security website for any name that sounded familiar. Cleo had mentioned her boss’s name many times, but I just couldn’t remember it. I was hoping I’d see it and recognize it.
Russ Goodwyn, that was it! I redialed the Marriott to inquire after him. The man on the line said Mr. Goodwyn had left forwarding instructions for a short list of people, but if I wasn’t on the list he could direct me to the room voicemail.
“My name is Ms. Tahan,” I said, knowing I would not be on the short list, but that Cleo might be.
“Tahan. Yes. And your first name?”
“Cleo,” I lied.
“Here you are. I apologize for the inconvenience of waiting. I’ll connect you to his cell phone, Ms. Tahan.”
“Thank you.”
After a moment a bass voice answered the line.
“Hello. This is Goodwyn.”
“Yes, this is Eliza Tahan—”
“Who gave you my cell phone number?”
“I—I’m Cleo Tahan’s sister. Listen, I’m sorry to call you in the middle of your conference but I haven’t been able to get hold of Cleo. She said she would be here this week, and that she was staying at the Hotel Del Coronado, but when I called them they said they didn’t have her name on record. So I called the Marriott and they don’t have her listed either. They put me through to you because of my last name. I guess my sister was on your list of people to connect to your cell phone or something. It’s important that I talk to Cleo.”
“This is her sister?” he asked simply, after my long monologue.
“Yes, Eliza Tahan. I know she’s down here for the conference, and she was probably in meetings yesterday and today, but she hasn’t called me back and she always does, so I’m worried about her. Plus she is not at the hotel she was supposed to be at. Do you have her hotel information?”
He cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Miss Tahan has not showed up for any of our meetings, yesterday or today. She never said anything about the Hotel Del Coronado, and as of this morning when I inquired, she hadn’t checked into the room we reserved for her at the Marriott. We try to keep an eye on our agents, even the ones who are unlikely to be in harm’s way, so we’ve been trying to track her down. When was the last time you heard from her?”
He seemed frustrated and accusatory, and I found myself lying to cover for her even before I thought it out. “Oh, um, this past weekend, I guess.”
“How was she acting?”
“Acting?”
“Was she acting normal? Angry? Distracted?”
“Normal, I guess. Actually, I probably talked the entire time. So I can’t really say.”
“Did she mention whether she was planning to miss meetings?”
“No. I think her car may be in the shop. The last time she was down here, she had to use a rental car.”
“Her government-issued car was in the shop? She never reported that.”
I was getting her into hotter water. “I’m…I’m not sure which
car it was. She has several cars.”
He cleared his throat again. “I didn’t know that. But if she has several cars, and one was in the shop, then why didn’t she use a different one? Having a car in the shop is not a reason for her missing these meetings.”
I paused and conceded, “Good point, Mr. Goodwyn.”
“She’s missed quite a few meetings lately,” he continued. “Just a moment, let me find a spot to sit and start up my laptop.”
After a moment during which I assumed his laptop was booting up, he began clicking open files and then typing. He didn’t say a word the entire time, and I wasn’t going to speak first. Finally he asked, “Did you talk to her on the twelfth?”
“Of…”
“This month.”
The date jarred my memory. “I think I did.”
“That was the date of the last meeting she missed.”
“Oh! That makes sense, actually. She was with a friend of mine in the hospital. The hospital called her because they couldn’t get hold of me. She was on her way down here for the meeting, so she wasn’t planning to skip or anything. It was just an emergency.”
“Where’s ‘down here’?”
“San Diego.”
There was a silence then a quick mouse click and keyboard typing. “Keep going,” he said finally.
“That’s all. She was down here for the meeting—not the conference, of course, just the usual one. She must have missed it because of my friend’s accident.”
Russ Goodwyn cleared his throat. “She wouldn’t have been in San Diego for our usual meeting. The meetings are in L.A.”
“But you’re in San Diego now, right? For a meeting.”
“For a conference. It’s completely different. Our regular meetings are in L.A. At the West Coast headquarters. Cleo knows that. She’s been to dozens. So why was she coming down to San Diego for a meeting that she knew was in L.A.?”
I had no answer, though it was obvious that this question needed one. “Well…I don’t keep track of her at all times. I’m sorry. Why not call her? Or email her or something? Maybe she thought the meeting was in San Diego. Maybe she got mixed up, what with the usual meetings in L.A. and then the conference coming up in San Diego. It could happen. Maybe she was just confused on the meeting location.”
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