Chapter 30
Jerry Irwin’s house
Jerry Irwin was packing his overnight bag when the cell phone rang. He looked over at the nightstand to see which of his disposable phones it was. Pittsburgh. Where the hell was Gregor? He hadn’t even called in with a progress report.
He folded his long-sleeved polo shirt and put it down on top of the bed.
“What is it?” he snapped.
“Don’t take that tone with me.”
Irwin sighed. Two more days, he told himself. Just two more days of suffering this insufferable bitch.
“I apologize. I was hoping to hear from my guys. What can I do for you?” he said through gritted teeth.
“You can tell your guys to get their asses in gear!”
He held the phone away from his ear as Vivian Coulter shrieked.
“That little bitch figured out which planes have the RAGS installed and called me, asking me to ground them. Take care of her, Irwin. Do it right this time. And get that damn personnel file back. I will not have all my careful planning ruined by your ineptitude. You have no idea how . . .”
This time, Irwin hung up on her.
He stared at the phone in his hand. Then in a fluid motion, he hurled it at the mirror hanging opposite his bed. It bounced off and the glass shattered in a waterfall of shards.
Irwin returned to his packing. He counted his outfits, then smoothed out the blazer on top and added his shaving kit to the bag. He did a final sweep of the room to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. He wasn’t. It occurred to him he would likely never come back to this house.
He zippered the bag closed and slung it over his shoulder. Then he picked up the cell phone from his nightstand, stooped to get the one he had thrown, and stepped over the glass.
In the doorway, he stopped and reached into his pocket to retrieve his third cell phone, his real one. Hit the button to dial the only preprogrammed number it held.
“I’m on my way” was all he said.
Irwin shut out the light and headed to Pittsburgh, humming to himself.
Irreparable Harm (A Legal Thriller) Page 44