A tiny sales rep firm, moreover, didn't do business with the general public. This could explain the lack of a web presence.
This couldn't explain the total lack of professionalism on the part of the man who had answered my call. But a lack of professionalism was by no means solid proof of foul play.
My thoughts were interrupted when my phone started ringing. The ringtone for my ex-wife, Claire.
Chapter 40
I answered the call and asked Claire to wait. Donnie and Bethany weren't back at their desks yet, but they might return any moment.
I walked over to a relatively private area of the third floor, near the restrooms, and one of the windows that faced the interstate. I told Claire that I could talk now.
Following her usual pattern, Claire launched into a series of inconsequential topics before getting to the point. Finally she revealed that she and Ryan would be going to the Ohio Winter Days Festival in Dayton tomorrow.
With everything that was on my mind, it took me a few seconds to make sense of the reference: the Ohio Winter Days Festival. Then I remembered. The annual event was held on a fairgrounds near Dayton. I had never attended it. Why would anyone be attracted to an outdoor carnival in January? But the event had been staged for over a decade now; it obviously appealed to some people.
My mood was immediately soured, needless to say, by the mere mention of Ryan. But I thought I saw an angle that could be beneficial for everyone. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, as they say.
“Why don’t I take Olivia while you and Ryan are at the Ohio Winter Days Festival? That will make it easier for the two of you.”
She hesitated, then said, “Actually, I kind of wanted Olivia to go with us.”
“What? Nice. You don’t trust me to babysit my own daughter now? Is that it?”
I knew that I was being combative now, but I also suspected that before the end of this phone call, Claire was going to give me a reason to be combative.
“No, Frank. Of course not. And I think you know better than that. I don't think it would necessarily be a bad thing for Olivia to spend a little time with Ryan.”
She audibly exhaled at the end of her sentence. There, she had said it.
“Actually, Claire, I do think it’s a bad idea. Ryan might be your boyfriend, but he isn't Olivia’s father. Didn't we already talk about this? About Ryan having a child of his own?”
“No, Frank, we didn't talk about anything. You made a snide remark about it when you were here to take Olivia out to lunch last Saturday. I’m not talking about Ryan replacing you. How could you think that? But you never know what could happen. Suppose that Ryan and I get married eventually. That won’t mean that Ryan is replacing you, but he would have a definite role in Olivia’s life. And the same could happen on the other end. Suppose you get remarried. Your new wife would be another adult in Olivia’s universe. That’s the way these things work. It’s nothing to feel threatened about.”
I couldn't believe, first of all, that she was so casually talking about picking out stepfathers and stepmothers for our daughter. And on my side, the entire argument was purely theoretical, anyway. I wasn't even dating anyone.
“All right,” I said, ending the conversation, “I hope the three of you have a grand time at the Winter Festival. Don’t let Ryan slip on the ice.”
“Frank, I’m trying to make this easy on you, me, Olivia—all of us.” (When she said “us”, I knew that she was referring to Ryan, too.) “That’s why I’m keeping you in the loop, so it won’t be a shock to you, so you can get used to the idea.”
“Well, thanks for keeping me ‘in the loop’. Anyway, Claire, I really need to get back now.”
I ended the call. I supposed that in her own way, Claire was trying to be decent, to make the best of a bad situation. But as the party who had never wanted the divorce in the first place, there was simply no way to make the best of it. There was no silver lining, no upside.
I was in no mood for further investigating that day. Over the weekend, I’d decided, I would think about the file for the Jones Company, and consider some more angles. I would also do some more digging on the Internet. If I could eventually trace the information in that file to a legitimate business entity, then I could eliminate one fruitless angle of inquiry.
I wasn't going to Dayton to see my daughter, as I would have preferred. So I would have plenty of time to consider if the Jones Company was a real clue, or just a fluke.
Chapter 41
I was on my way out of the building that afternoon when Donnie changed my plans for Saturday.
I was in the elevator, on the way down, when Donnie stepped in behind me.
It was just the two of us. There should have been at least one more person, given the five o’clock rush for the parking lot. Just my luck.
I looked at him and held his gaze for a few seconds, then slowly turned away. There was no plausible objection I could make: Donnie Brady had as much right to this elevator space as I had.
The elevator closed behind us and Donnie said, “I hope your daughter has a good time at the Ohio Winter Days Festival. That ought to be a hoot.”
I couldn't see my face, obviously, but the look I gave him must have been like daggers.
“Shut up about my daughter.”
He returned the hint of a smile. “My, my. When did you turn into a tough guy? I’ve got to hand it to you, Frank.”
I had no interest in taking any compliments from him, or engaging in any kind of manly bonding ritual with him. Donnie was out to get me, and we both knew it.
“Just leave my daughter out of this.”
“Sure. Of course, you never know who might be lurking around the festival, right? It’s a public place.”
I immediately picked up on the not-so-subtle threat. Suddenly, my field of vision became a red haze of anger.
I shoved him up against one side of the elevator. Had he been expecting it, no doubt his advantage in size and strength would have held him in place.
“You go near my daughter and I’ll kill you! Understand?”
He recovered, and shoved me back against the far side of the elevator—hard. I saw stars as the back of my head knocked against the elevator’s metal walls.
We were now on the first floor, and the elevator door opened automatically. There were people moving around, a few milling about, but most of them were heading toward the main entrance.
Donnie pointed a finger at me. “If they’d only let me, I’d give you exactly what’s coming to you.”
Donnie turned and walked out. I let him go. I could shove at him until our confrontation escalated into a real fight, but that wouldn't answer my questions. Nor would it protect Olivia, necessarily.
How had Donnie known about my conversation with Claire? Had he been eavesdropping? I had been standing near the restroom, after all. That was possible.
There were other possibilities, as well: I didn't know much about electronic eavesdropping; but I’d heard about cell phone transmissions being intercepted. Surely the technology was out there. But was that too far-fetched?
Then I corrected myself: Last week my manager had held a gun on me. Nothing was too far-fetched.
And to whom had Donnie been referring when he’d said, “If only they’d let me..”? Sid, Bethany, and Ellen Watson? Or someone else?
Or maybe the same someone who had answered the phone at the Jones Company?
That, however, was a secondary matter for the moment. Among the many things I didn't know was whether Donnie had merely been yanking my chain just now. I wasn't going to take any chances where Olivia was concerned.
I was going to Dayton tomorrow, after all.
Chapter 42
You might reasonably ask: Why didn't I simply call Claire and tell her the whole story?
I’d thought about it, believe me.
But as should be apparent by now, my relationship with my ex-wife was “complicated”. My reactions to her relationship with Ryan had made our com
munications all the more difficult.
Suppose I had recounted the whole chain of events for her—the overheard conversation, the trip to Raleigh with Sid, the evening visit from Donnie and Bethany. I know my ex-wife. She would think that I was either lying or suffering from delusions.
And I wouldn't be able to blame her. The products of my eavesdropping wouldn't hold up in any court of law; and my recent interactions with my manager and coworkers were beyond outlandish.
There was neither the time nor the mutual trust—in the aftermath of our arguments about Ryan—for me to explain the situation, and convince her to call off her grand outing with Ryan.
So I would be there, at the Ohio Winter Days Festival. I would remain just out of sight. And if anyone suspicious came too close to my daughter, I would intervene. I would do whatever I had to do.
I arrived at the location for the Ohio Winter Days Festival around 10:00 a.m. It was a public park, a fairgrounds, really, on the eastern bank of the Great Miami River.
I parked in the designated area: a gravel lot where attendants—all of them bundled up against the chilly January air—directed vehicles into orderly rows, so as to maximize the use of the limited space available.
Once parked, I set off toward the main fairgrounds. I had neglected to consider an obvious problem: There were thousands of people in attendance, and I had to find three of them without making them aware of my presence. It was a bit like looking for three needles in a haystack, while taking care not to get jabbed by the needles.
I walked for the better part of an hour before I located them. I spotted my ex-wife, her boyfriend, and my daughter standing before a display marked “Winters of Olden Times”. This was a large-scale diorama that purported to show how people survived the winters during Ohio’s pioneer days. There was a representation of a log cabin, a man chopping wood, a woman in a bonnet hauling water.
I maneuvered myself closer, threading my way through the crowd. I stopped when I was close enough to follow them when they eventually moved on, but distant enough so that my ex-wife would not turn around at random and recognize me.
I had already been an eavesdropper, and now I was playing the spy, too.
Chapter 43
I followed Claire, Ryan, and Olivia as they made their way through the Ohio Winter Days Festival. It was more difficult than it might sound.
Ryan would not recognize me, of course; and Olivia, with a typical four-year-old’s stature, had a limited field of vision. If one of them spotted me, it would be Claire. Claire was constantly looking around as she was walking, intermittently talking to both Ryan and Olivia. I frequently had to duck behind tents, booths, and displays. More than one group of festival attendees eyed me suspiciously when I abruptly used their collective bulk as a blind.
I noticed Ryan smiling down at Olivia on several occasions, and I immediately felt resentful. Then I asked myself: What did I expect him to do—frown at my daughter, like the Mr. Murdstone character in David Copperfield? I knew that he was only trying to be decent, as I would be if I were dating a single mom. But like I’d told Claire, I would have much preferred him to play father to his own child, and to leave my daughter (and ex-wife) alone.
I also had to look out for any sinister party who might be following the three of them; and in between my hiding, and my stewing over Ryan’s presence, I couldn't forget that this was my primary objective, my only real reason for being here.
I figured that if I saw any of the conspirators here, I would see Donnie. Sid might not be above pulling a gun on a subordinate, but I thought that he would balk at stalking a four-year-old girl. Bethany was also a possibility, though I didn't expect her to be here sans Donnie.
I followed them for the better part of an hour. I didn't see Donnie, Bethany, or anyone else who seemed likely to be aligned with the conspirators at Thomas-Smithfield.
I was beginning to think that Donnie had been bluffing, that his implied threats had been nothing more than a cruel ploy to rattle me. Donnie had overheard my conversation, and he had conceived the threat in a moment of dark inspiration. That was it.
Then I saw the guy in the olive-colored utility jacket.
He was a young man, no older than twenty-five. Of diminutive stature, he was a far cry from Donnie Brady. But there could be little doubt that he was stalking my wife, daughter—and Ryan, I suppose.
I moved closer, taking care to simultaneously stay out of Claire’s field of vision. Now I got a better look at him: He had collar-length brown hair and a scraggly beard, pale skin.
He did not look particularly skilled as a tracker. He was making little effort to conceal his movements and his intentions: When Claire, Olivia and Ryan moved, he moved, too. When they stopped, he hovered just beyond their notice.
I moved closer, remaining at an angle. I tried to make out the outward contours of the pockets of his utility jacket, looking for the bulge of a weapon. I was too far away to tell for sure.
Chapter 44
I was trying to decide what I should do: Ideally, I could isolate the stalker and challenge him. I had no real proof, of course, but I wasn't in the mood to be a stickler where proof was concerned—not while this creep appeared to be tailing Olivia.
I could also simply interrupt the guy: I could pretend that I had mistaken him for a long-lost friend or relative. Hey, Bob, how are ya’ doin’? That would not only remove him from the trail of my ex-wife and daughter: It would also give me a chance to get a good look at him.
Claire, Olivia, and Ryan paused at the festival’s sled-riding slalom. The slalom had been set up at the crest of a hill, which sloped downward toward the banks of the Great Miami River. Well beyond the bottom of the hill, a large net barrier had been erected to prevent any sledders from overshooting and plunging into the frigid waters.
The surface of the slalom was coated with snow—of the fake variety, of course. Ohio gets its share of heavy snows, but we also have our comparatively warm and mild winters. There was just a trace of natural snow on the ground today, not nearly enough for sled riding.
As I looked upon the three of them, I hoped that Claire would have the sense not to let Olivia go on a sled ride, and that Ryan would not propose any such bright ideas. She was way too young for something like that. I saw Olivia pointing at the slalom, obviously entranced as a sled descended.
The young man in the olive utility jacket hovered, just beyond the line for the slalom.
I was partially relieved when Claire and Ryan gently guided Olivia away from the sled ride.
Then the young man, after an interval of a few seconds, trailed after them.
They moved on to a children’s exhibit: another diorama: This one consisted of bears in winter attire. It didn’t do much for me, but Olivia was quite taken with it.
I wondered if Olivia was warm enough. She was bundled up and seemed to be having a good time. But I found myself suddenly angry at my ex-wife and her boyfriend for having dragged her out here on a January day. Had it really been necessary?
Olivia laughed at the bears, and the young man in the utility jacket hovered at a distance. While I might not have proof, I no longer had any reasonable doubt. I had decided that enough was enough. I was going to do something about the stranger following my ex-wife and daughter.
Chapter 45
They were walking away from the bear diorama now. Claire was holding Olivia’s hand. Ryan was walking on the other side of Olivia, but (mercifully, from my perspective) he was not holding her hand. Neither of the adults had yet noticed the young guy in the utility jacket, though he wasn't making too much of an effort to conceal his presence now.
They came to a plain cinderblock building that housed the public restrooms for the fairgrounds. Claire paused and spoke to Ryan. Then she knelt down and said something to Olivia. Olivia shook her head. This was easy enough to decipher: Claire had asked Olivia if she needed to use the restroom, and Olivia had said no.
Then Olivia noticed a little stall not far away where a m
an was selling hot chocolate. There was an exchange between Ryan and Olivia. Then between Ryan and Claire.
It was apparently decided now that Ryan would take Olivia for a cup of hot chocolate while Claire used the ladies’ room.
My alarm increased. My wife was not much of a street fighter; but from the perspective of a kidnapper, two adults were more of an impediment than one. If the young man in the olive fatigue coat was going to attempt something, he would do it while Claire and Ryan were separated, I thought, while there was only one adult to contend with. That’s the way I would do it, I imagined, if I were him.
My ex-wife disappeared into the ladies’ entrance of the cinderblock restroom, while my daughter followed Ryan toward the hot chocolate vendor.
Ryan was keeping an eye on Olivia, from what I could see, but he had no idea of the danger she faced. Now I actually wished that Ryan would hold her hand. But as I’d pointedly reminded Claire the previous weekend, Ryan was not Olivia’s father. I was.
When the stranger followed Ryan and Olivia, I moved in.
Chapter 46
I stood a few yards past the hot chocolate line. I was now within sprinting distance of Ryan, Olivia, and the young man in the fatigue jacket.
For the first time I got a good look at Ryan. He was tall and blond, with a trim, athletic build. Was I jealous? Sure I was. I wasn't overly concerned about Ryan recognizing me: He had probably seen my photo; but he wouldn't know my appearance that well. And he wasn't expecting me to be here. My daughter, I could see, was absorbed in the prospect of hot chocolate.
Ryan’s turn in line came, and he purchased two cups: one for himself, and one for Olivia. He knelt down and gave Olivia her hot chocolate.
They walked back toward the restroom. The young guy was now directly behind them. I was directly behind the young guy, only at an angle. He gave off an odor of cigarettes, and clothing that badly needed laundering.
The Eavesdropper Page 12