by Iris Bolling
“Why in the bloody hell would Richard be calling Williamsburg, Virginia?”
He knew the answer before he finished the thought. He immediately called Grace.
“Come on, Love, pick up.”
The call went to her voicemail. Jonathan strolled through his contact list on his phone then dialed a number.
“Roark, this is Jonathan.”
“It’s not like you to gloat, Jonathan. So what do you want?”
“Are you still in Richmond?”
“Why?”
“I think Grace may be a target. I need you to put eyes on her, now.”
“Look, she chose you as her man. So do your job and protect her. I’m out of it.”
“I am not there. I’m on my way to London.”
“You left her again?”
“Stop being an arse and listen. Get to Grace, Roark!” he shouted. “I don’t know what’s about to happen, but my gut tells me Grace is in trouble. If you care about her the way you claim you do, find her. I am sending you the last coordinates from her phone. I hung up with her about an hour ago.”
“Does this have something to do with the bank or her uncle Walker?”
“It may be both. Why do you ask?” Jonathan sat up.
“I turned over some troubling information to her yesterday regarding both,”
“What kind of information?”
There was some hesitation on the line. “What was the information, Roark?” Jonathan yelled out the question.
“There was an arrest warrant issued for Walker Dunning Jr. years ago. It was placed in abeyance. I’m pretty sure Grace was going to have it activated.”
“Does Walker know about the arrest warrant?”
“He did when it was issued. He signed an agreement to keep them from moving forward with it.”
Jonathan thought for a moment. “Would he know Grace has the information?”
“I don’t know how he could know,” Roark replied. “I sure as hell didn’t tell him and I doubt that Grace would.”
“How dangerous is he, Roark? Would he harm his own niece?”
“He wouldn’t do it himself, he is afraid of Grace. But I wouldn’t put it past him to hire someone to do it for him.”
“From what I know he does not have the means to compensate a hired hit.”
“Maybe he has friends in high places who do.”
“Maybe he does.” Jonathan held that thought. “Roark, get to Grace. If anything happens to her because your Alan is twisted I will put my foot so far up your arse you will think you’re having a tonsillectomy. Get to her.”
“What in the hell is an Alan?”
“Panties, panties, man…. Don’t get your panties twisted.”
“You really need to speak English.”
Jonathan had disconnected the call as he began working on his laptop. He knew what he was about to do next violated all privacy laws, but something warned him time was of the essence. He hacked into the carrier’s system, pulled up transcripts of the three calls. Most people did not know that for every call made on a cell phones, their carriers could request a transcriptions. Most were retrieved by law enforcement during a case. Since there was no case and no time to waste on getting subpoenas, he decided one good turn deserves another. He used Roark’s login codes to get the information he needed.
It would take a few moments to get that information so he tried to call Grace again.
There was still no answer.
He then called the hospital to ensure a guard was on his mother’s room. Being on the damn plane suspended in air made him feel helpless. After all the promises he made to her about never leaving, here he was again, when Grace needed him and he was not there to help her. Why didn’t he see the trap?
###
It was dark, but not night time, Grace thought as her eyes fluttered open. There was a foul taste in her mouth, like the remnants of bad medicine. She thought she heard ocean waves splashing through her mind. Closing her eyes against the dizziness, she took a few deep breaths. The room smelled musty. She swallowed then jerked up, her hand going to her neck as she remembered the needle, then falling through the air.
“She’s awake.”
“Jonathan?” She called out, confused. The voice wasn’t his, but it was a British accent.
Her eyes strained to see what looked like steel walls. It was hard to tell for the only light coming into the room was from the crack under what seemed to be double hinged doors. With her vision a little blurry, Grace slowly stood, allowing herself a minute to clear her mind. The only thing she could make out in the room was the cot she had been lying on. It didn’t look or smell very clean.
“What the hell?”
She heard a scraping against the floor. Her eyes quickly moved to the corner. There was someone in the room with her.
“Hello?”
The body seemed to be a little distance away, but she could see the outline as it stood. “Where in the hell am I and who are you?”
A flash light came on, blinding her. Grace instinctively put her hand up to block the beam. She could hear movement, then a latch clicking. The flash light went up, but the area was filled with sunlight from the opened door. Then it closed, the latch clicking back in place.
Shit, she wasn’t in a room. It was a box, or some kind of container - a steel one at that. She felt around on the cot she had been lying on to see if her purse was anywhere near.
“Shit,” she exclaimed. It wasn’t there. What in the hell was happening, she thought? It wasn’t good, that she knew for sure.
“Okay, Grace Dunning, now is not the time to panic. Think.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath then exhaled.
“That shit didn’t work,” she chuckled to herself. “Okay…okay. This shit is real,” she said as her eyes began adjusting to the darkness.
Grace thought about a game she and AnnieMarie used to play. They would each wear blindfolds to locate items in the room. The winner would receive candy or a good book. This time, the prize would be her life.
“Dammit, just when shit was coming together.”
She shook that thought off, put her hands up then walked until she felt the wall of the container.
“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she said as she realized the box she was in was indeed steel. She reached up as far as she could, but did not feel a ceiling. That gave her an idea of how tall the container was. Next she put her back to the wall, then put one foot in front of the other. She wore a size seven and a half shoe. So two of her steps was close to one foot minus two.
Grace walked slowly, putting one foot directly in front of the other. Hands up, she continued, counting as she walked until she felt the wall on the opposite side.
“Okay, it’s approximately eight feet wide.” She exhaled, felt her way along the wall until she reached the corner. Putting her back to the corner wall, Grace repeated her steps, counting as she measured the length of the container, using her hand along the wall as a guide. By the time she reached the opposite corner her nerves were beginning to fade, her heart racing faster with each step and at one point she whimpered. I am not going out like that, she thought then shook it off.
“Twenty by eight feet.” She exhaled. “All right. This is either a shipping or a storage container. Some of those stories Roark had filled her head with about human trafficking came to mind. They pack shipping containers with women, lift them on to an ocean liner, then ship them off to different countries.
Well, it was only her, so that prospect could be eliminated. Which would leave the option of storing her here until….when? They get a ransom or kill her. Hmm…neither of those sounded good. She continued to feel around where the opening had been. There was a latch at the bottom of each door. She tested them to see if they would open from the inside. They did not.
“Dammit.” She slammed her hand against the door then cursed. She stepped back hitting something with her leg. Still not able to see without light, she felt around. It was a chair. A foldin
g chair. So someone had been sitting by the door watching her. She continued to feel around. Maybe there was something else in the container she could use as a weapon. With a new found purpose, she walked, criss crossing the open area, searching for something, anything that could help her get the hell out of there. After about twenty minutes of wandering around, she had only found the chair and the cot. She sat, thinking. Since there was nothing inside the container she could use as a weapon she would have to settle for the one thing a woman always has. The sharp heel of her shoe. She took off both shoes, made her way back to the front of the container. Finding the chair, she took a seat, crossed her legs and waited, poised to attack the next person who opened that door.
CHAPTER 29
Jerome was stepping off of the elevator just as Mike walked around the corner from the executive office suites. Elaine’s office was next to the elevator, then Preston’s office was next.
“What do you have?” Mike asked Jerome as they met in the hallway.
“A partial picture of a slim woman leaving Preston’s office right before the video feed was cut. When it comes back on, she is walking back into his office from this direction.”
Jerome and Mike looked up.
“She was either coming from the elevator or Elaine’s office,” Jerome stated.
“That name is coming up too many times to be a coincidence.”
“What name?” Jerome asked.
“Elaine Jacobson,” Mike replied. “I say we talk with both of them, Preston and Elaine.”
“What did you find in Mitchell’s office?”
“A foot in a female shoe about to step off the elevator right before the video feed was cut.”
Jerome looked at the picture. “You can’t see the shoe in this picture. I’ll take a closer look later. For now, let’s see what we can get from Preston Long.”
Mike walked over to the office door, tapped twice then walked in. “Preston, you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure.” Preston stood extending his hand. “How you doing, Mike?”
“I’m good, man.” Mike pointed to Jerome. “Have you met Jerome Morgan? He does some work for us.”
“I can’t say that I have,” Preston replied, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan.”
“Mr. Long.” Jerome shook his hand.
“Have a seat,” Preston said. “What can I do for you, Mike?” He sat behind his desk as the men took the seats in front of the desk.
“This information is not for public consumption,” Mike began. “At some point in the near future, an official press conference will be held. Before that happens we hope to have more details to what I am about to tell you.”
“Okay.” Preston sat forward looking concerned.
“The medical examiner has changed my father’s cause of death to murder.”
“Murder?” Preston exclaimed. “How?”
“He was injected with a poison that made it appear he had a heart attack.”
“Holy shit, Mike. I can’t believe that. Mr. Dunning was good to people. Who would want to harm him?”
“That is what we are looking into. Which brings us to this. Preston, do you know who this woman is?” He passed the picture to Preston.
Preston picked it up. “Yes, that’s my mother.”
“Your mother?” Mike questioned.
“Yes, she came to visit me that morning,” Preston explained. “Why are you asking about her?”
Mike exhaled. “We couldn’t identify her as we scrolled through the video feed.”
“We were able to track her to your office,” Jerome stated. “Then we lost her for a while.”
Preston thought for a moment. “She was here in my office until nine or so.”
“Did she leave out at any time?”
“Gentlemen,” Preston chuckled. “Mike, you can’t be thinking my mother had anything to do with your father’s death. Hell, I don’t even think she knew Mr. Dunning.”
“No.” Mike stood. “We are checking on everyone who was in the building that day.”
“Well, I think you can take my mother off the list.”
“We had to ask the question.” Jerome stood. “There is no reason to suspect her.”
“Thanks for your time, Preston.” Mike walked to the door. “We’ll let you get back to work.”
“Anytime, Mike,” Preston replied as they closed the office door.
Preston sat back in his chair. There was something in the way they questioned him that caused him to become uneasy. He made a mental note to ride out to his mother’s house after work. Just to check on her to make sure she was doing okay. The twenty minute drive was a normal weekend trip for him, but today, maybe he would surprise her.
The telephone on his desk rang.
“Dunning Bank and Trust, Preston Long speaking.” He sat forward. “Hello, Mr. Whitfield.” He smiled as he listened. “Friday, yes, sir, we will be ready.” He hung up the phone then pumped his fist in the air. “Yes!”
He had just landed the biggest account of his career. Well, almost landed. Two days from now, he would be riding high. He picked up the phone.
“Chrystina, it’s Preston. Do you think you can clear Mr. Dunning’s calendar for Friday morning, nine am. BIT’s executive team will be coming for the official presentation.”
“Congratulations, Preston.” Chrystina smiled. “I am certain Mr. Dunning will be in attendance. In fact, I will give him the news now.”
Chrystina hung up the phone, then knocked on the office door before walking in. “Would you like to hear some great news?”
Myles looked up. “They finished moving you into the house?”
“No.” She waved him off as she walked over to kiss him. “Better than that,” she said as he pulled her onto his lap. “The BIT presentation is scheduled for Friday morning.”
Myles smiled. “They decided to stick with us?”
“Yes, and it looks like it’s time to celebrate, again.”
“We seem to have a lot to celebrate this week.” Myles kissed her neck. “Gina has a job. Her children will have a safe place to live. Your mother can start living her life without worrying about you or Gina, and you are moving into our new home.”
“That is the best celebration of all.” Chrystina kissed him again, then pulled away. “I forgot. Until we know where the cameras are located, no kissing in the office.”
“Remind me to put Jonathan on that.”
“Will do. Oh, I forgot to tell you. Jonathan had to go to London. His mother had a fall.”
“How extensive are her injuries?”
“No details yet, Sydney is keeping me informed on her status.”
Myles nodded. “Good, I will give him a call to check on her.”
Chrystina walked towards the door. “I will also pull everyone together for the BIT presentation.”
“Try to keep the meeting and celebration to business hours,” Myles stated. “I would like for us to have a little private time to celebrate at home.”
Chrystina smiled. “I like the way you think, Mr. Dunning.”
CHAPTER 30
Walking into the hospital room after eight hours in the air, Jonathan was pleased to see his mother was awake and in good spirits.
“Mum.” He walked directly to her bed, gathered her in his arms then simply held her. Neither spoke as they both enjoyed the moment of just holding each other.
“I was worried about you, Mum.”
“Oh, now you know I can take care of myself. This frightened me a bit. I don’t believe anything was on the steps of the flat. Then there was the pressure on my back pushing me forward.”
“What kind of pressure was it? Did you feel hands pushing you forward?”
“No… no, son. No, nothing of that nature. Just a force, like a flat board or something pushing me forward across the railing. The doctor tells me I broke a rib and my arm where my shoulder hit the ground. But nothing to cause you to have to come back here, losing time from your new job. T
hat can’t be good since you just started and all.”
“Don’t you be concerned about me.” He smiled at his mother as he held her hand. “It is time for me to worry about you.” He kissed her temple. “Tell me, Mum, did you see anyone around your flat before you took the fall?”
“I can't say that I did. However, Penelope from across the way said that she’s been seeing a young fella around. Since she does nothing but stand behind that curtain all day I have no reason not to believe her.”
“I will be stopping by to have a spot of tea with her when I leave here. As soon as I speak with the doctors on your ability to travel I will be taking you back to the States with me.”
“Jonathan, I don’t want to be a bother. You have a new life in the States. One that I pray now includes that young lady you’ve always had a soft spot for.”
Jonathan smiled. “Grace.”
“Yes, that’s her name, what a beautiful name it is.”
“Grace is going to be a huge part of my life.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Just like you are. She is anxious to meet you.”
“You told her about me?"
“You are my mother, of course I told her of you. When the call came in about you she had me on an airplane faster than I could put my trousers on. She knows how important you are in my life. Grace knows that I love you as much as I love her.” He smiled. “That’s why it is important that I have both of my favorite girls in my life. You need to wrap your mind around the fact that you are coming to the States to live. It can be with Aunt English in New York or with me in Virginia. I will let you make that decision but you are coming to the States to live.”