Chapter 30
Breakup
Amanda shut off the TV after The Late Late Show was over at twelve thirty a.m. She wondered who Mia was. Was she really a witness, or was Ryan on a date? Thinking about their deteriorating relationship, she realized they hadn’t made love in weeks. She knew it was her fault. She’d been so obsessed with making The Pact a best seller she had neglected Ryan. But more than neglect, it was her own guilt that was obviously showing through. She was so afraid that Ryan would find out what she’d done and break up with her that she’d become somber and ill tempered. Then it hit her. He already knew. Her own behavior had given her away. She doubted he could prove she’d been behind the Inquisitor story, but he knew in his heart that it was her doing. Their relationship was over.
She went to the bedroom and began packing up her things. There was no way she was going to be there when Ryan came waltzing in gloating over his date with Mia. She didn’t need him anymore, anyway. She’d made her first client a best-selling author and now writers would be lining up to have her represent them—a lot better writers than Rich Coleman. In an hour she was packed up and had everything loaded in her car. She’d soon be through with Ryan Coleman forever. But when she tried to leave and slam the door behind her past life, she began to cry and collapsed on the sofa in despair. What had she done?
Depression fell over her like a dense fog. Her head began to ache and her shoulders got so taut she squirmed, trying to ease the pain. Then she remembered she had a bottle of pain medication that had been prescribed for a sprained ankle. Most of the pills were still in the bottle, as the injury had healed more quickly than expected. She wondered if there were enough in the bottle to kill her and how Ryan would react if he found her dead in their bed. But perhaps pills weren’t the answer. He should come home and find her in a pool of blood. Yes, a bloody, smelly scene would be much more traumatic. He’d be scarred for life . . . or would he? Did he really love her? He’d said he did, but hadn’t wanted to commit to marriage. His precious law practice meant more to him that their relationship. They had no future, she realized. Their split up was the best thing for everyone. None of the Colemans appreciated what she had done for them. So, screw them! I’m out of here.
Amanda got up and stormed out of the apartment. She got in her car, started the engine, and peeled rubber as she took off to no place in particular. In her haste to leave she hadn’t thought out where to go—a motel, to her office, to her parents’ house? She finally opted for a motel. She couldn’t sleep very well at her office, and if she were discovered, it wouldn’t look very good. She thought of her parents, but they’d ask too many questions. As she drove down Central Expressway she spotted an extended stay motel. It looked brand new so she exited and drove up to the front entrance. After checking in, she brought up what she needed for the night and then collapsed on the bed. After just lying there for half an hour brooding, she got up and turned on the TV. A replay of Channel 11’s ten o’clock news was just starting. The anchor, Jessica Nichols, smiled as the camera began to roll.
“We have breaking news. Dallas attorney Richard Coleman is apparently missing. Authorities reported late this afternoon that the whereabouts of the accused accomplice in the Martha Collins murder and author of the best-selling true crime book, The Pact, is unknown. Members of the paparazzi who had been following Coleman around since his arrest last week have reported that he has not been seen in over twelve hours. Somehow he and his wife, Erica Fox Coleman, managed to slip away from their house undetected, and their whereabouts are unknown. When we learned of Coleman’s disappearance we sent our roving reporter, Dan Shipley, to track down Detective Alice Longoria, who is in charge of the Coleman investigation. He reached her earlier this evening as she was coming out of a performance at the Dallas Theater Center. Dan?”
“I’m here with Detective Alice Longoria of the Dallas Police Department. . . . Detective. Do you have any idea where Richard Coleman is at this time?”
“No, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He doesn’t have to report in until Monday,” Longoria replied calmly.
“But doesn’t it bother you that nobody knows where he is? Could he be fleeing the jurisdiction?”
She shrugged. “I don’t like it when a defendant goes off the grid, but it doesn’t mean he’s running. He and his wife may have just gotten tired of the paparazzi shadowing their every move. They could be holed up in a hotel somewhere.”
“So, you’re not going to go looking for him?”
“No, I didn’t say that. Since there is concern about his whereabouts we will try to locate him. We’ve already contacted his attorney.”
“What did his attorney say?” Dan asked.
“That he wasn’t sure where he was but he’d try to track him down.”
“What about the bond? If you can’t find him will you revoke his bond?”
“No, I can’t revoke his bond. But if he doesn’t appear in court on Monday the judge might do it.”
“All right. You heard it. Nobody knows where Richard Coleman and his wife have gone, but it doesn’t appear much will be done about it until Monday when Coleman is due to report in to the court. Dan Shipley, at the Crowley Courthouse in Dallas.”
Nichols turned toward the camera and said, “Well, has Rich Coleman gone on the run to avoid prosecution for the murder of Martha Collins? Will his two-million-dollar bond be revoked? We’ll keep you informed on this breaking story as more information develops—”
Amanda shut off the TV and rummaged through her purse to find her cell phone. She wondered why nobody had called her about Rich’s disappearance. When she tried to turn on the phone she realized the battery was dead. Looking at her watch, she saw it was almost two in the morning. She thought a moment and realized if anyone had tried to call her on her cell and didn’t get through they’d have probably tried her at the office. She went to the motel phone, dialed her office number, and punched in the password. There were over fifteen messages, including calls from Brenda Colson, Sylvia Sams, and Rich Coleman. She played the one from Rich.
“Amanda. By the time you listen to this message Erica and I will be out of the country. We have gone somewhere far away where no one will ever find us. I have assigned all of my contract rights and copyright to The Pact to the American Red Cross, as I have no interest in the money. Erica blames you for the misfortune that has befallen us. I hope she is wrong for Ryan’s sake, but if she is not, then I hope you rot in hell!”
“Oh!” Amanda gasped. She dropped the phone and backed off, as if fearing a snake would jump out of it and bite her. Pain stabbed at her neck and shoulders, and her head began to throb. Tears welled in her eyes and came gushing down her cheeks. When she reached the bed she collapsed, curled up in the fetal position, and cried for a long time.
When her eyes ran dry and she’d regained her composure, she went over everything in her mind from the day she had learned of Rich Coleman’s manuscript to his sudden disappearance. She hated herself for what she had done but wasn’t sure that if she had to do it again she would act any differently. Rich hadn’t put up that much resistance to publishing his manuscript. It was obvious he wanted the book published and therefore she wasn’t responsible for his arrest and exile. She felt bad for Erica who had adamantly opposed publication, but blamed her for writing revisions to the manuscript in the first place.
Why did you write the revisions if you didn’t want the book published? And why didn’t you destroy them once it was clear the book would never be published? Leaving around incriminating evidence was stupid. And now, because of your stupidity, I’ve lost Ryan.
Amanda hadn’t anticipated losing Ryan. Somehow, she thought she’d escape blame for what had happened, but everyone immediately assumed she was guilty. That had hurt her feelings even though they had been right. She wondered if they thought she was responsible for the break-in. Was she that transparent? It was almost like I did exactly what they expected. She began weeping again, feeling a bit sorry for
herself, perhaps, but mainly feeling for the first time an emptiness without Ryan in her life.
In the morning she woke up feeling disoriented. For a few moments she didn’t know where she was. Then the events of the previous day came streaming into her consciousness. Her body deflated at the horror of it. What was she going to do? She felt dirty and sticky from sleeping in her clothes, so she decided a shower was in order. She needed to think, anyway, and a shower was a good place to do that. As the hot beads of water eased the tension in her shoulders and neck she pondered the situation. Should she call Ryan and tell him his father and mother had skipped the country? No, she and Ryan were through. There was no reason to call any of the Colemans. Rich had severed the last connection between them, and she needed to move on. There was one problem, however: she was broke.
Her commission from Rich’s advance had long been spent, and Ryan had been picking up all her expenses. There would be royalties coming in since Rich’s book was a best seller, but they wouldn’t be starting for another four or five months. How would she survive until then? Then she got an idea. After she’d gotten out of the shower and was dressed in a fresh outfit, she returned Sylvia Sams’s call.
“Hello,” Sylvia said sleepily.
“Sylvia? This is Amanda. You called?”
“Yes. Right. Thanks for calling me back. I was wondering if you knew anything about Rich Coleman’s disappearance.”
“I do, and you’re going to want to hear it.”
“What is it? Tell me.”
“Not over the phone. We should meet.”
“Sure. At the usual place in twenty minutes.”
“Yes, and bring $25,000.”
“Twenty-five thousand dollars? But—”
“Don’t argue. You’ve got it in your budget. You never had to pay Rich the $50,000 for that last interview, and what I’ve got for you is much better.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to call my editor.”
“Call whoever you want, but I won’t say a word until I’ve got twenty-five grand in cash in my hand.”
“All right. Give me a half hour, then.”
Amanda smiled. “See you in thirty.”
A rush of relief and satisfaction washed over Amanda. It felt good after all the fear and regret she had felt the night before. She was a survivor and knew better than to wallow in self-pity. Ryan Coleman hadn’t been a mistake. Hell, he’d led her to her first big literary contract, but he wasn’t anyone special. She’d find Mr. Right down the road when she was on top of her game and would have a large field of suitors to choose from. But for now she needed to regroup and focus on the opportunities that lay before her.
When she got to Starbucks Sylvia wasn’t there, so she ordered her favorite coffee and took a seat. When thirty minutes came and went, Amanda began to wonder if she’d miscalculated the Inquisitor’s interest in her information. She wondered what she’d do for money if that were the case. The thought occurred to her that perhaps the story had already broken and everyone knew Rich had skipped out on his bond.
As she was about to search the news feeds on her cell phone for stories on Rich Coleman, she spotted Sylvia rushing in from the parking lot. When she walked through the door Amanda raised her hand and waved her over. When Sylvia saw her she came over, dumped her purse on a chair, and took off her coat.
“Sorry I’m late, but it takes time to get cash.”
Amanda smiled. “It will be worth the effort, I promise you.”
“It better be,” she said. “Let me get some coffee and then you can lay it on me.”
“Sure. Take your time.”
When Sylvia returned she sat down and looked at Amanda expectantly.
“Let me see the money.”
Sylvia nodded and reached for the purse she had brought. Looking around first to make sure nobody was watching, she opened it and showed Amanda the contents. Amanda smiled when she saw numerous stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills.
“Okay, I’ve got Rich Coleman on my voice mail telling me he has left the country. Is that worth $25,000?”
Sylvia thought about that a moment and then nodded. “Yes, I think that would be.”
Amanda dialed in to her office phone, punched in the password, and then called up Rich’s message. She handed the phone to Sylvia. Sylvia put the phone to her ear and listened. Her eyes widened as she listened to the message.
“Just punch seven if you want it to repeat.”
Sylvia nodded and punched Seven. After she’d listened to the message several times she gave Amanda her phone back.
“Okay, I’ll need a copy of the message,” Sylvia said as she reached for the purse.
“No problem,” Amanda said, accepting the purse.
“Don’t take the money out. Just take the whole purse. I bought it for ten dollars at Walmart.”
“Okay. Thanks. If I hear anything else I’ll let you know, but information may be a little scarce, as Ryan and I have broken up.”
“Really? How come?”
“I think he suspects I leaked Erica’s notes.”
“Hmm. Sorry about that,” Sylvia said. “Oh well. You must have known he’d figure it out eventually.”
“Yeah. I guess, but it doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Well, I’ve got to go. My editor is waiting for this scoop with bated breath.”
“Right. Go ahead. Don’t let me hold you up.”
Sylvia smiled sympathetically and then rushed out of the café, leaving Amanda feeling a little lost. Then she remembered she had $25,000 in cash that she ought to get to the bank. After finishing her coffee she headed for Bank of America, where she had her business account. After depositing the cash she went to her office and filled Brenda in on what was going on. Then she called Sheila Samson at Thorn to tell her about Rich’s message on her answering machine.
“He did what?” Sheila asked.
“He assigned all his contract rights with Thorn to the American Red Cross. Apparently we will be getting the contract assignment in the mail. He didn’t say exactly how it would happen.”
“Wow. That’s a surprise. . . . Well, none of this can hurt sales. As long as he’s a fugitive he’ll be in the news often, so if that’s the way he wants to play it, I guess that’s his business.”
“It’s a move to sway public opinion his way, I suppose. He doesn’t want Matt and Ryan to be hurt by his actions.”
“I hope his strategy works for their sakes.”
“Me, too. Although, his son Ryan and I have broken up, so I won’t have a close connection with the Colemans anymore.”
“Oh. That’s too bad. What happened?”
“It was inevitable. I should have known you can’t mix your personal life with business.”
“Hmm. That’s true,” Sheila agreed.
“So, that’s all I have. I’ll keep you posted if anything else develops.”
“Do that, and thanks for the update. Sorry about you and Ryan.”
Amanda hung up and sat back in her executive chair. It had been a whirlwind of a day but it had all ended well—for her, anyway. She wondered where Rich and Erica were at that moment and if they really could find a safe place to live out the rest of their lives in peace. She fought off feelings of guilt that tried to creep into her mind. No, this wasn’t her fault. Rich and Erica had killed Martha Collins, and now they were paying for their crime. This wasn’t her fault. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
Unconscionable, A Rich Coleman Novel Vol 3 Page 31
