“Actually,” Kara jumps in, “I disagree. Jonathan, keep your plans. I doubt anything new is going to happen over the weekend. Judge Moore rarely signs search warrants on a Friday, so go. Relax a bit. Just be sure to come back here on Monday.”
Mr. Sloan looks like he is about to object, but he knows better than to cross Kara. He has a terse expression on his face. I also notice his reaction to the fact that I’m going on the trip with Jonathan. He must put two and two together, because for a moment I, see a faint smile rise on his face. I don’t know him well enough to read him, but if I had to bet, I would think it’s the first time he really looked at me—the first time he’s seeing me and paying attention, and almost inspecting me. And I’m instantly uncomfortable.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jonathan answers. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I have a short errand to run near Grand Central, and after that, we can fly out.”
This is the first I’m hearing about Grand Central. I assume it has to do with his job at Fairchild Industries. His father perks up to that comment. I must be wrong. Perhaps it has something to do with Sloan Sports and Entertainment.
“Great,” Kara answers. “I think that’s all for the four of us today. Let’s keep the phone lines open over the weekend.”
She picks up her laptop and purse, and stands up. “Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind waiting here one moment while I speak with Rebecca on another case before we leave?”
They nod and Kara tells me to come with her. I follow her to a private conference room and shut the door behind me.
“If you do end up going away with Jonathan,” she says, turning to me, “I need your assurance you’ll be able to convince him to come back.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Do you…do you think he’s going to try to stay away? Is there something I’m missing?”
She tells me to hold on because her phone is ringing. Again, she puts it on speakerphone.
“Hello Gerald,” she says to the person on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound like you got much sleep last night.”
“Cut the bullshit, Kara,” the man replies. I realize then it’s Gerald Spencer, a lawyer representing the opposing party in a civil suit our firm took on a couple months ago.
“I, on the other hand, slept like a baby,” she tells him. “Six and a half hours of pure bliss. I’m so rested I can go a full forty-eight, Gerald.”
“Well fuck me. That’s great Kara. We need to get on with this now, okay? You know my client has been waiting almost a month to schedule the deposition. I’m tired of your firm’s stall tactics.”
“Come on, Gerald. You know the client’s deposition is on hold while a criminal case is being heard. What part of this can’t you explain to them? Perhaps you’d like me to talk to your client for you? I’m certain I can convince them a little patience will go a long way.”
“This is ludicrous. Shit, Kara! I’ve got things to do. Tell me what your terms are. Just tell me.”
“We conduct the deposition over five days. At our offices here.”
“There’s no way the client will agree to that. One day. In Houston.”
“You’re calling me, remember? There’s no way I’m recommending this goes forward in Texas. Four days here in New York, and before you think of countering, remember it’s me you’re dealing with. In fact, sit on it for an hour. Let me know, before I quash this and make him wait another month.”
She hangs up on Gerald Spencer and looks at me. “That man hates to lose, especially to women. He’s as sulky as he was five years ago. I’m telling you, Rebecca. They say women never forget, but men are the ones who hold on and get cynical as hell. By the way, where were we?”
“I was asking about Jonathan. Is there any reason he would want to stay away from New York?”
“I don’t know, Rebecca. Is there? You tell me.”
“I don’t know either,” I tell her.
“Good. See you on Monday,” she says, and gets up to leave. “Enjoy your trip. Let’s see Jonathan and Solomon out.”
Chapter 41
Jonathan
Dad and I are waiting for Kara and Rebecca to come back and finish off this meeting.
“What was so urgent when you phoned me earlier?” he asks.
“I went down to the locker, Dad.”
“Wait,” he says, turning to me. “You went down there already? Why are you going again?”
“The locker was empty.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“The trunk is gone.”
The man is close to frantic now. “Gone? What do you mean it’s gone?”
“Someone must have removed it before I got down there.”
“Is Mandy sure she left it in that locker?” He asks me. He gets up and starts pacing.
“She’s positive, and you know she does not lie. Anyway, I’m going back down there to check again.”
“Shit. Can things get any worse?”
“Why are you worried, Dad? You’re not the one with your life on the line.”
“I understand that, son, but I need you out here, not in prison.” He pulls out his phone and calls someone he knows from city transit security. He asks them to meet him tonight and it sounds like they agree.
“What’s that about?” I ask him.
“I’m calling in a favor. This guy can help us figure out who was at the locker. They have to have video surveillance of the Grand Central Station area. What’s the locker key number?”
“It’s 12 801E,” I answer.
“Good. I’ll call in a favor with my USPS buddy too. We’ll see who tampered with that locker after Mandy put the trunk inside.”
“Nice idea, Dad. How soon do you think we’ll have some answers?”
“Late tonight or tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll still go down there now, just in case.”
“That make sense… So tell me, son. You’re seeing Kara’s new associate? She looks like a sweet, young woman.”
“We’re not talking about this, Dad.”
“What? You don’t want your old man sticking his nose in your love life?”
“Exactly.”
“So there is something going on between you and Rebecca. This is the first woman you’re travelling with on a vacation. She looks like a nice catch.”
“Drop it, Dad. I’m done talking.”
“What’s your problem, boy?”
“You do not get to talk to me about the women I may or may not be seeing.”
“You realize you’re acting like a teenager over this, right? You’re a grown man. I’m not judging you. I’m your father. I’m supposed to care.”
There are a lot of things this man is supposed to be doing, and he doesn’t, so this line of bullshit he’s feeding me is nonsense. I’m about to tell him this when Kara and Rebecca return.
Chapter 42
Rebecca
I’m confused as we leave the conference room. Does Kara think Jonathan’s a flight risk? Why else would she pull me aside to tell me this again? She must have some concerns.
We get back to her office.
“I have two more meetings off-site this evening. Let me know if anything comes up.”
“ The men stand politely in response. Solomon turns to leave, and Kara says to Jonathan, “Let me know how it goes at Grand Central.”
Now I’m confused. Kara knows about to Grand Central too? Maybe it has to do with the Warrior deal. There’s so much to think about, I set that aside.
“I’ll phone you later, Rebecca,” Jonathan tells me as he follows them out.
He leaves with his dad and Kara. I head back to my office to gather my things. I’m not in a hurry to go with them. I look for a few more files, and take them with me when I finally head out. I’m a bit surprised. When I get out to the front of our office building, Kara and Jonathan are only now stepping out of Mr. Sloan’s limousine. It seems the three of them had a separate meeting—without me. There has to be more to this story. I start
to wonder what secrets they have. Again, it could have to do with the Warrior acquisition, so I leave it alone.
Jonathan sees me exit the building and heads toward me.
“Hey,” he says. He’s not the slightest bit nervous or apprehensive that I just saw them. For some reason, that sets me at ease.
“Crazy day, huh?” I say.
“Way too bizarre. Are you heading home?”
“Yes. I was just going to hail a cab.”
“Let me take you.”
“Isn’t that going to take you away from your errand? You’re going to Grand Central, aren’t you?”
“That’s okay. It’s only a few extra blocks. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He opens the door for me, and takes my laptop bag, placing it in the trunk before he gets in the driver seat. He leans toward me and pulls me in for a kiss. It hits me how much I missed him. I’m already melting and wanting him all over again.
“Mmmm,” I moan into his lips and lift my hand to his jaw.
“Let me get you home before I end up taking you right here,” he teases. He’s not far off—I could straddle him in the driver seat right now.
“Good idea.”
“I’m sorry about how this is going, Rebecca. This Rushton case is heating up, isn’t it?”
“Not really.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Not at all. Serious would be charges being laid, bail hearings and possibly some time at Riker’s Island.”
“I guess so,” he says, pulling slowly from the embrace.
“They have nothing on you. Try not to worry about it.”
“That’s a tall order. Someone has it out for me, with all these anonymous tips.”
“True, but that’s not your fault. Trust me, it could be worse.”
“Okay,” he answers, smiling softly as he starts the car. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime. Let’s go. This way, we can get as much done as possible, and still hopefully make it out to the Bahamas tonight.”
“Did I ever tell you I love the way you think?”
“No, but you can tell me now,” I say, smiling.
After another kiss on the cheek, we drive off. He lets me off at my building, and understandably, does not come up. I think he wants to finish up whatever he’s about to do at Grand Central so we can get away.
“The next time I see you, it will be in a limo on the way to the airport. Deal?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him. I give him a soft kiss on the lips, “Last one, for the road. See you soon, Jonathan.”
He waits for me to get inside my building and as I turn, he waves and drives away. I silently hope his Grand Central excursion has nothing to do with the Rushton case.
Chapter 43
Jonathan
I fight my way through traffic and eventually make it back to the post office opposite Grand Central Station. Finding that trunk here is probably a longshot. I doubt someone would remove it from the locker that Mandy put it into, and place it inside a different locker at the same location. If they did, they would certainly want to lock that thing up tight.
I park nearby, and check my wallet to see what kind of cash I’m carrying. This is a weak backup plan, but I may be able to sway someone who works there into opening the surrounding lockers, just so I can see if it’s there. I head back to the bay of lockers and wait, assessing the amount of foot traffic there is. No one is around this time. Just to be sure, I check the locker again. Nothing.
I sit in a nearby row of chairs again, figuring if I hang around long enough, information will come to me. Too bad that doesn’t happen after thirty minutes of sitting around. Eventually, I see one of the uniformed janitors walking by and I decide to try swaying him. This is New York, and money talks.
“Hey there. I’ve got a question about those lockers over there,” I say to the guy, pointing at the wall where I need access.
“What about them?” he asks.
“I have this key, and I think I put my stuff into the wrong locker. Is there any way someone can open them all for me?”
He looks me up and down. “No one here can do that for you, mister. If you need help with your own locker, go over to that desk at the other end of the hall.”
I get my wallet out and slide out four hundred-dollar bills so he can see it. “I’d prefer if you can help me, unofficially,” I tell him, and wait to see what he does.
He stares at the money, turns around and scans to see who’s behind him, and then looks at me. “Man, there’s a bunch of cameras pointed this way. What is this, a setup?”
He walks away, mumbling something about management trying to fire him, and having to talk to his union rep. Well, this sucks. I text my father to check on whether he’s had better luck on his end. He replies and says yes, he’ll have the information in an hour. He wants me to meet him at the Sloan offices when he gets it. The problem is, the information he’s getting is not the trunk. Someone will still have to track it down after we figure out who removed it. I leave the Grand Central area, certain that the ‘someone’ who has to keep working on this is me, and the weekend is pretty much a write-off now.
I get to Dad’s office. Before I park, he phones to tell me to come around back. He has the information, but is already in his limo and has to leave soon. I drive to him, park my car, and step inside his limo.
“What did you find out, Dad?”
He’s got a foul grimace on his face. “Someone is playing games…someone powerful.”
“What do you mean?”
“My guy checked the video files. The footage has been deleted.”
“What? How?”
“He doesn’t know. He said all the video files with cameras covering that bay of lockers have been corrupted. Someone tampered with it to make sure we don’t figure out who they are.”
“This is unbelievable. So what’s next?”
“We wait. Whoever took it wants something. They haven’t given it to the police, so we have to assume they want something from me. Eventually, they’ll contact me and tell me what it is.”
“Who else would know?”
“No one. Only you, Rocko, Tony, and Kara know. The circle is tight. Mandy said she didn’t tell anyone except Claire. Neither of them would want to extort me for it…Mandy has already given you her terms, and Claire is harmless. I’ve got to go take care of something. Let’s check in on Monday when you’re back from your holiday.”
So much time has passed already, and so much is still up in the air, there’s no way I’ll get this trip off the ground. I’ve got to stay close. “It won’t happen this weekend. Can I use your place in Atlantic Beach instead?”
“Yes, of course. Go ahead. Do you still have keys?”
“Yes,” I answer, and open the limo door. “Keep me posted, Dad.”
“See you, son.”
Chapter 44
Rebecca
Our trip away is now off the table—for this weekend, anyway. Jonathan phones. He says he’s on his way to pick me up. He wants to take me to his dad’s house in Atlantic Beach. It’s about an hour away, so we can at least have Saturday and Sunday together. I don’t even need to pack. Jonathan had the driver go by the airport for our things so it will be there at the house when we arrive. He promises to make it special. I’m so glad we’re getting some time together. I don’t even care for special. All I want is drama-free.
He gets here and has taken the time to buy my three dozen white, pink and red roses. I’m in awe that he’s so sweet and thoughtful. Finally, we’re on our way. I fall asleep in the car, and when I wake up we’re driving through the Water Club, one of the gated oceanfront communities in Atlantic City. The place is beyond breathtaking. The facades are all done up with Mediterranean stucco. I’ve only been in this neighborhood once, for a party Barnaby’s wife had hosted.
Jonathan parks in the driveway and helps me out of the car. We walk in, and I’m already in awe. I’m standin
g under a three-story skylight that dissects the entire house. It goes all the way to glass doors at the back of the house, where all I can see are the sandy dunes, crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean, and a well-planned infinity pool that seems to merge into the ocean from this spot. I instantly promise myself that before I leave this house, I’m slipping into a bikini and sinking into that pool.
He takes my hand and shows me around. Everything is decorated in pale creams and off-whites with chocolate brown accents. It’s gorgeous. We go to the living room first, and oh my God, it opens onto a deck with a hot tub in one corner, which also looks out on the ocean. I start to think I could stay here and never leave. Next, we walk to a massive open concept kitchen with attached dining room. He takes the flowers and puts it in a vase near the window. Even I could enjoy cooking in here, and I don’t cook.
I follow him up to a massive master bedroom suite with a large fireplace in one corner. The bedroom faces the ocean and runs the entire width of the house. He tells me we’ll sleep up here, and if I need more room for my things, there are two bedrooms on the lower level. Apparently, they open on the ocean as well, and make it easier to walkout to the beach. I can barely wait to take a long shower—or a bath—and relax with Jonathan all weekend.
Just then, Jonathan turns to me. The man is incredibly attractive, and I can’t believe I’m not in his arms right now. I reach my hands up to his shoulders and pull on them so he ducks down. Planting my lips on his, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asks, pressing a kiss on my lips.
“The escape,” I tell him.
He groans. “It’s not quite the Bahamas.”
“True, but it’s perfect. It’s the best of both worlds.”
“Yes, I guess. Except for the tropical fish, exotic food and the sun beating down on us. I had planned to take you to a little remote island with the yacht.”
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