Behind His Eyes: Truth
Page 5
Brent nodded. “Some.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Patricia interrupted, “I’ll keep working to get a hold of Ms. Allyson.”
“Let me know as soon as you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Patricia replied, as she closed Tony and Brent inside Tony’s office.
Making his way to one of the chairs across from Tony’s desk, Brent collapsed and wearily began. “The media is running with the story. It was first announced, very early Eastern Time, and every morning news program has enhanced it since. I understand why Preston was so anxious to talk with you. He hasn’t even been in office for two weeks, and they’re calling for an internal investigation. They’re saying that you paid to have her release covered up.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Tony ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t cover something up that I didn’t know happened. Maybe Shelly should emphasize that?”
“It’s up to you, but you might want to stay with no comment. I mean, the more you say, the more they’ll infer.”
Tony stood and walked to his conference table. In the center of the table was his usual morning decanter of coffee and two cups. “Coffee?” he asked, as he poured the rich, dark liquid.
“Yeah, man, I haven’t slept since you called.”
Tony’s dark eyes peered over the rim of the ceramic mug.
“I know,” Brent added. “You haven’t either. Courtney’s worried about you.”
“Well, I’m fine. I want to know about the private eye. Who did you hire and has he or she found her?”
Brent sighed as he filled his cup. “I hired a man named Phillip Roach. He’s good. I’ve used him before, and he’s never disappointed me. He has a great resume—military as well as private. Give him some time and he’ll find her.”
Tony shook his head. Although he was too tired to sound hostile, determination rang loud throughout his tone. “Time is the one thing that he can’t have. Money—fine. Resources—fine. Time—no.” He set the mug down and leaned forward. “What information have you given him?”
“The Internet was full of pictures from when the two of you were dating and married.” Brent looked sheepishly toward his friend, obviously trying not to overstep his bounds on this sensitive subject.
Pressing his lips into a straight line, Tony nodded.
Brent continued, “So I forwarded him some pictures and links. I also sent him Emily’s information—her address, phone number, place of work. He said he’d start there. I mean, it made sense to Cort and I that she’d go there.”
“Yes, that was mentioned last night. I agree. She doesn’t have any money or any other resources. She has to be in Indiana.”
Before either of them could continue, Patricia knocked and entered. “Excuse me, Mr. Rawlings, I spoke with Quinn, Ms. Allyson’s assistant. Ms. Allyson will call back in a few minutes, and I’ll find out how soon she can arrive. She’s just now getting to her office.”
Tony glanced at his watch, 7:46 AM. “If she gets into her car now, she can be here by 10:00 AM.”
The ring from Patricia’s phone caused her to step hastily from the office with only a nod.
Brent leaned forward. “Well, here’s the thing. Roach has been working since I contacted him last night. He learned that on the date of her release, March 9th, Ms. Nichols had a first-class seat booked for San Francisco on American Airlines; however, less than an hour before boarding, her ticket was cancelled with no further record of her traveling.”
Rubbing his cheeks, Tony asked, “How? How could she possibly have a first-class ticket? Who paid for it?”
“The airline refused to disclose customer information. Roach is working on another avenue. He also found a number linked to one of those disposable, untraceable phones that has called Emily’s cell phone every day since Cla—Ms. Nichols’ release. Some days they’ve connected multiple times.”
Tony tried to comprehend this new information. It seemed very James Bond. “Can he tell where the calls originated from?”
“He’s working on that. He did call Emily during the night,” Brent grinned with a shrug, “or early this morning. It’s a matter of perspective. Anyway, Emily refused to divulge any information.”
“Of course she did.” Tony said curtly, distaste for his ex-sister-in-law thick on his tongue.
“Apparently, Emily said she didn’t know her sister’s whereabouts, had no further comment, and hung up.”
Tony squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Where was the phone purchased?”
“California.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. She doesn’t know anyone in California. Maybe it’s some trick and she’s really in Indiana.”
“Well, like I said, Roach is good. He’ll—”
Patricia reentered. “Excuse me, again. I just got off the phone with Ms. Allyson. She claimed that her schedule is very full. She’s working on a few big trials and can’t possibly come to Iowa City for another week.”
No longer able to restrain his emotion, the room echoed with the sound of Tony’s fist contacting the hard, shiny table. Coffee sloshed as the cups jumped. “Today! I said I wanted to speak with her today—in person—and that was what I meant. Call back. Talk to Quill or Qu—her damn assistant, and find out the details of Esquire Allyson’s schedule. If she has court today, learn the name of the presiding judge. It’s obviously in Iowa, so get the trial or hearing rescheduled. Ms. Allyson will be talking with me sooner rather than later. I’m already two weeks behind on this catastrophe. I’m sure as hell not waiting another week.”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Patricia interrupted, “I’ll keep working to get a hold of Ms. Allyson.”
“Let me know as soon as you do.”
“Yes, sir,” Patricia replied, as she closed Tony and Brent inside Tony’s office.
Making his way to one of the chairs across from Tony’s desk, Brent collapsed and wearily began. “The media is running with the story. It was first announced, very early Eastern Time, and every morning news program has enhanced it since. I understand why Preston was so anxious to talk with you. He hasn’t even been in office for two weeks, and they’re calling for an internal investigation. They’re saying that you paid to have her release covered up.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Tony ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t cover something up that I didn’t know happened. Maybe Shelly should emphasize that?”
“It’s up to you, but you might want to stay with no comment. I mean, the more you say, the more they’ll infer.”
Tony stood and walked to his conference table. In the center of the table was his usual morning decanter of coffee and two cups. “Coffee?” he asked, as he poured the rich, dark liquid.
“Yeah, man, I haven’t slept since you called.”
Tony’s dark eyes peered over the rim of the ceramic mug.
“I know,” Brent added. “You haven’t either. Courtney’s worried about you.”
“Well, I’m fine. I want to know about the private eye. Who did you hire and has he or she found her?”
Brent sighed as he filled his cup. “I hired a man named Phillip Roach. He’s good. I’ve used him before, and he’s never disappointed me. He has a great resume—military as well as private. Give him some time and he’ll find her.”
Tony shook his head. Although he was too tired to sound hostile, determination rang loud throughout his tone. “Time is the one thing that he can’t have. Money—fine. Resources—fine. Time—no.” He set the mug down and leaned forward. “What information have you given him?”
“The Internet was full of pictures from when the two of you were dating and married.” Brent looked sheepishly toward his friend, obviously trying not to overstep his bounds on this sensitive subject.
Pressing his lips into a straight line, Tony nodded.
Brent continued, “So I forwarded him some pictures and links. I also sent him Emily’s information—her address, phone number, place of work. He said he’d start there. I mean, it made sense to Cort and I that she’d go there.”
“Yes, that was mentioned last night. I agree. She doesn’t have any money or any other resources. She has to be in Indiana.”
Before either of them could continue, Patricia knocked and entered. “Excuse me, Mr. Rawlings, I spoke with Quinn, Ms. Allyson’s assistant. Ms. Allyson will call back in a few minutes, and I’ll find out how soon she can arrive. She’s just now getting to her office.”
Tony glanced at his watch, 7:46 AM. “If she gets into her car now, she can be here by 10:00 AM.”
The ring from Patricia’s phone caused her to step hastily from the office with only a nod.
Brent leaned forward. “Well, here’s the thing. Roach has been working since I contacted him last night. He learned that on the date of her release, March 9th, Ms. Nichols had a first-class seat booked for San Francisco on American Airlines; however, less than an hour before boarding, her ticket was cancelled with no further record of her traveling.”
Rubbing his cheeks, Tony asked, “How? How could she possibly have a first-class ticket? Who paid for it?”
“The airline refused to disclose customer information. Roach is working on another avenue. He also found a number linked to one of those disposable, untraceable phones that has called Emily’s cell phone every day since Cla—Ms. Nichols’ release. Some days they’ve connected multiple times.”
Tony tried to comprehend this new information. It seemed very James Bond. “Can he tell where the calls originated from?”
“He’s working on that. He did call Emily during the night,” Brent grinned with a shrug, “or early this morning. It’s a matter of perspective. Anyway, Emily refused to divulge any information.”
“Of course she did.” Tony said curtly, distaste for his ex-sister-in-law thick on his tongue.
“Apparently, Emily said she didn’t know her sister’s whereabouts, had no further comment, and hung up.”
Tony squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Where was the phone purchased?”
“California.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. She doesn’t know anyone in California. Maybe it’s some trick and she’s really in Indiana.”
“Well, like I said, Roach is good. He’ll—”
Patricia reentered. “Excuse me, again. I just got off the phone with Ms. Allyson. She claimed that her schedule is very full. She’s working on a few big trials and can’t possibly come to Iowa City for another week.”
No longer able to restrain his emotion, the room echoed with the sound of Tony’s fist contacting the hard, shiny table. Coffee sloshed as the cups jumped. “Today! I said I wanted to speak with her today—in person—and that was what I meant. Call back. Talk to Quill or Qu—her damn assistant, and find out the details of Esquire Allyson’s schedule. If she has court today, learn the name of the presiding judge. It’s obviously in Iowa, so get the trial or hearing rescheduled. Ms. Allyson will be talking with me sooner rather than later. I’m already two weeks behind on this catastrophe. I’m sure as hell not waiting another week.”
