by Mia Taylor
For almost ten minutes, she stared at the blank Word screen, trying to think of the proper phrasing for what she was about to do but nothing came out.
The urge to call August and beg him to understand was overshadowing everything else in her mind, her thoughts confused and disorganized.
This isn’t going to work, she thought, rising from the chair to pace around the small apartment. A part of her was exhausted and she wanted to go back into her bedroom and throw the covers over her head but Melissa knew that sleep wouldn’t easily come.
Her cell chimed and she snatched it up hopefully.
Morning Sunshine!
She resisted her instinct to whip the phone against the wall and stared at the text from Louis hatefully.
The only reason he’d be up so early is that he’s still partying from last night. I went home and agonized. He sat up drinking and doing lines.
Don’t know if you’re ignoring me but I just wanted to say glad to be working with you!
Her heart leapt into her throat and she eyed the message, suddenly understanding what Louis was trying to do.
He’s creating a digital footprint between us. Up until now, he had nothing except some stupid, drunken sex tapes to prove I have anything to do with them.
Her fingers froze over the phone, her mind racing.
If there’s no paper trail, there’s no way for them to connect me.
It was a brazen, flimsy hope but it was something.
You there, Melissa?
Don’t answer him. Ignore him.
A new confidence fired inside her and she threw the phone down as she considered her next move.
Resigning would leave the Waylands powerless but that wasn’t good enough, not when they were trying to ruin her life.
The cell dinged again and again but she didn’t bother to check the messages.
Yet when the landline rang a few minutes later, the sound made Melissa jump almost out of her shoes and it took her several seconds to regain her breath before answering the number she didn’t know.
Louis shouldn’t have our home number, she thought, picking up the cordless phone with trembling hands.
“Hello?”
“Melissa?”
Her brow furrowed as she tried to identify the voice but it didn’t come to her.
“Sorry, she’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”
There was a deep inhale and she waited for the man to speak.
“No. Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“Nope. Who is this?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he sighed. “Thanks.”
The call disconnected in her ear and alarm coursed through her body.
Was that related to the Waylands? Do they have someone watching me?
Paranoia didn’t suit Melissa but she was in a bad spot.
Now what?
She bit on her lower lip and picked up the phone, calling out to the phone company.
It took her several minutes to speak with a live person but when she did, she put on her best “scared girl” voice.
“Hi, I just got an obscene phone call and I want to know who the number belongs to,” she breathed to the operator. “Could you help me?”
“I’m sorry, miss, but we can’t give out information like that,” the clipped voice on the other end intoned. “If you file a police report, the department could issue a warrant for the records—”
“Would it help to tell you that I am the police?” Melissa interjected, the lost note to her voice evaporating.
“Then you should know the protocol, miss. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Melissa scowled. “No.”
She hung up before the operator could give her the standard “have a nice day” and stared at the wall.
I’m going to go crazy sitting in here all day, she realized. If the Waylands are watching me, they’re going to know I’m not at work and looking into their problem. If it’s not the Waylands, then someone else is looking for me, but what are the odds?
She had never felt more useless in her life and for a long moment, she could only stand and wait for inspiration to strike her.
Melissa reclaimed her spot at the computer and closed the Word screen, pulling up the internet instead. She did a reverse search on the phone number, hoping that maybe she’d get lucky online.
Chicago area code. 773-555-9023. Go.
Instantly a dozen sites appeared for her to look at, half of them wanting to charge, but in seconds, she found the name of the person who owned the phone.
Is this a joke?
She blinked twice at the name on the screen, shaking her head.
It’s a coincidence.
She closed the search and started again, only to find the same results.
How the hell… does this have something to do with the Waylands or is this something even worse than that?
Suddenly, a hundred images flipped through her mind like a Rolodex, each one overlapping the other.
She saw her mother’s worried face, telling her regretfully that they had to move again.
There were basement apartments, drafty rooms in houses and an endless parade of train and car rides as they zipped across the country.
She could hear herself pleading as a young girl to stay in Aspen, telling Lisa that she’d just made friends, but then they were gone, off to Florida.
Was it all for nothing?
Melissa hadn’t realized that she had risen from the table until the phone was in her hand again.
Don’t do it, a wise voice in her head called. You already told him you weren’t here, for some instinctual reason. Nothing good can come of this.
But what if it was a sign from the universe, one that had come at precisely the right time?
I’m lonely, defeated and this call comes through. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?
Something else took over her mind and Melissa watched as her long fingers pressed the recall button on the beaten cordless.
He answered on the second ring, a charged excitement in his voice.
“Melissa?” he choked. “Is that you?”
“Why are you calling?” she demanded. “What do you want?”
He exhaled in a whoosh so loud, it filled her ears.
“Is this really you, Melly?”
“I’m not answering any of your questions until you tell me what you want,” she hissed, suddenly regretting what she’d done.
Hang up the phone, Melissa! Hang it up now!
Was that her mother’s voice she heard echoing through her mind? With trembling fingers, she looked at the device in her hand.
“I shouldn’t have called you back,” she whispered.
“No, wait!” he cried. “Melissa, I’ve been searching for you, endlessly. You can’t hang up, please.”
“Then tell me what you want, Paul,” she insisted, shocked at how calm she managed to keep her voice.
“The same thing I’ve always wanted, Melissa,” he laughed nervously. “To be your father.”
Chapter Ten
Recruiting the Truth
“Are you sure that Melissa’s okay?”
Cara cast August a sidelong look worriedly and he sighed.
“That’s why you’re here,” he told her, pointing back to the computer. “You need to trust me on this, Cara.”
She scoffed lightly but didn’t respond as she turned her attention back toward the screen. Not that August blamed her for her skepticism. Showing up on her doorstep a few hours earlier and instructing her to come along with him on “police business” was hardly a reason for Melissa’s roommate to have confidence in him.
But the universe intervened this morning. I was looking for a tech and Melissa’s roommate is in IT. She’s not a bear… I don’t think. She must care enough about Melissa if they live together. She won’t say anything… I hope.
It went against everything he knew to put so much faith in a stranger but Cara was August’s best hope at that
moment.
“I’d feel a lot better if I knew why I was hacking into the phone company,” Cara muttered, but August got the sense that she was speaking more to herself than him.
“Cara, I’m Melissa’s boss,” he told her flatly. “I’m very worried about her. Today, she came to work to put in her resignation.”
Cara’s head whipped around and she gaped at him.
“WHAT?” she choked. “W-why?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Abruptly, Cara pushed away from the table and folded her arms over her chest, scowling at him in dismay.
“Well, she came here last night, didn’t she? Obviously you did something to her!”
August shook his head. “She didn’t come here,” he insisted, looking toward his sister, who was conspicuously quiet for once in her life. “She was going to come but she texted me to say something came up and she never showed.”
Cara eyed him warily, the suspicion naked in her eyes.
“That’s why I asked you to look into her phone records,” August explained patiently even though he was losing his easy demeanor.
“Auggy, can you help me in the kitchen?” Amber asked, rising suddenly as if she sensed her brother’s propensity for losing it.
“You don’t need my help,” he muttered without looking at his sister, but he didn’t need to look up to feel her eyes boring into him.
“Now.”
He stifled a sigh and followed Amber into the kitchen where she instantly whirled and glared at him.
“Her roommate? You dragged her roommate into this?” Amber demanded. “Are you out of your mind?”
“You know you ask me that at least once a day, right?”
“Maybe because I’m genuinely getting alarmed for your sanity. What are you thinking, August? You don’t seem the least bit concerned that she might find out—”
“Keep your voice down,” August hissed, looking behind him. “She’s listening.”
“Brother, she’s going to find out a lot more than she bargained for when she starts digging.”
“What else can I do, Amber? If I dig at the station, it will trigger alarms all over the place.”
“Jesus, August, maybe you should just walk away from this!”
He blinked and gaped at her.
“She’s my rookie!” he snapped. “I can’t just walk away!”
“She’s more than that and you know it,” Amber sighed. “And I understand how you feel—”
“If you did, you wouldn’t be telling me to walk away,” he countered but Amber kept speaking as if she hadn’t been interrupted.
“But if Melissa doesn’t want to talk to you about what’s going on, there might be a very valid reason, Auggy. She might very well be hiding something from you that she doesn’t want you to know.”
“No,” he said flatly, refusing to believe that. “She’s scared of something.”
“Maybe she’s scared of being found out,” Amber insisted. “All I’m saying is that you might not like what you learn once you open Pandora’s box.”
“Thanks, Dr. Freud. Can I get back to Cara now?”
Amber grunted. “August, you might be our sleuth’s leader but I’m still older than you and I have more experience in the ways of women than you do. Particularly women like us.”
“Women like you?” Cara repeated from the doorway, her face contorted in anger. “What does that mean?”
August shot Amber a scathing look.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he replied, steering her out of the kitchen. “Cara, we need to keep digging.”
“Actually, I came to tell you that I’ve found something,” she muttered, gesturing toward the laptop. “I got her phone records from last night.”
“And?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I remember now that she got a text just as she was leaving but she dismissed it.”
“Who was it from?”
Cara looked down uncomfortably. “It really doesn’t make any sense,” she hemmed. “I mean, it’s not like they’re really friends or anything, and after what happened…”
She trailed off and August looked at the screen but the number he saw meant nothing to him in itself.
“Well?” he demanded, his patience expiring. “Who texted her?”
“Louis Wayland,” Cara breathed. “But I’m sure he has nothing to do with anything.”
“Louis…” August’s eyes widened in shock. “The club owner?”
Cara nodded miserably, keeping her gaze carefully averted.
“We go there once in a while,” she muttered evasively. “I’m sure he was just messaging her to thank her for getting him out safely on Monday—”
“I guess I’ll find out, won’t I,” August said firmly. “How many times did he text? And do you have records of what was said?”
“I’m working on that but he seems to have texted half a dozen times and then there was a call out to him two minutes after she left the apartment.”
A frisson of alarm pierced his heart.
“What time was that?”
“Uh… 7:32.”
August reached for his phone and scrolled through his messages, finding the one from Melissa from the previous night.
She texted me at 7:35. It has to have something to do with Louis Wayland.
“Where are you going?” Cara cried as he hurried out of the apartment. “You’re just leaving me here?”
“Keep looking into the phone records and don’t stop at last night. I want everything coming in from her cell and home today, too.”
“My home, you mean?” Cara asked sarcastically but August was already out the door and flying down the steps to his car.
I need to get to the bottom of this before Melissa does something she regrets.
He hoped he wasn’t already too late.
~ ~ ~
To August’s annoyance, Portia was locked up tight and there were no cars in the parking lot to indicate that either of the Waylands were holed up inside and merely ignoring him.
He hurried back to his car and radioed in.
“This is Detective Silas of the 22nd. I need a home address for Louis Wayland, owner of Portia Night Club on Milwaukee.”
“Badge number, Detective?”
August gave it and waited for dispatch to follow through with his request.
“I have an address in the Loop, Detective. Stand by.”
Dispatch recited the location and August was driving before she had finished.
In minutes, he found himself before a condo building across from Millennium Park.
This bastard better be home.
In seconds, he was parked and at the concierge, flashing his ID to the bored-looking man at the desk.
“I’m here to see Louis Wayland in suite 1706.”
“I’ll call up,” he intoned but August snickered.
“No need. I’m a surprise visitor.”
He moved toward the elevators, noting that the guard was reaching for the phone as he did, but August didn’t care.
If he’s dumb enough to run, I’ll catch up with him later at the club. And why would he run if he has nothing to hide?
The doors slid open and August moved inside, closing them with a jab of a button. He was the picture of impatience, despite the elevator’s motionless speed to the seventeenth floor.
As the doors parted again, August’s foot was in the hall and he was moving toward the condo.
To his surprise, the door was already open and Louis Wayland stood scowling at him in anger.
“What is this, Detective?”
“I have some questions for you, Louie,” August replied, shoving past him with massive shoulders. “Mind if I come in?”
He was already in the foyer of the too-modern condo, the area rank with steel and glass, accented by “art” that any three-year-old with proper use of his motor skills could have painted.
Money is always wasted on these types, August thought grimly.
He thought of his own lavish-but-comfortable house in the suburbs.
“I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Louis grunted, stepping aside. “What’s this about?”
Louis closed the door and faced August with defiance.
“I already told you everything I know about Kenny.”
“I’m here about Melissa Stark.”
Acting was not one of Louis’ talents and his face paled to a near-opaque.
“I-I don’t know who that is,” he squeaked. August could see his face shift through a half dozen expressions before settling on a forced aloofness.
“Really?” August asked, anger rising inside him. “Because not only was she the officer responsible for saving your ass, you two have been very chatty, according to your cell phone communications.”
Louis swooned and for a disgusted moment, August thought the slight man might pass out.
“What did you talk to her about?”
“I didn’t do anything!” Louis wailed. “I swear! It wasn’t even my idea!”
“What the hell did you do?” The looming cop’s voice was barely a rasp and fear clearly showed on Louis’ face.
“Whatever she said, it was obviously a misunderstanding!”
August ambled closer to him, their faces inches apart, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Do you see my face right now, Louie? Do I look like I want to hear excuses or information?”
“I-I-oh God, what are you going to do to me?”
August was at a crossroads. He knew nothing except that Louis was the key to whatever had happened with Melissa but the weasel didn’t know that.
I need to get him to talk without him knowing I don’t have shit.
“I’m bringing you in,” August said, yanking on his arm and hustling him toward the door. He hoped the bluff would work but to his annoyance, Louis wrenched his arm back and he peered at August with distrusting eyes.
“Just you?” he asked slowly. “Where’s the rest of your team?”
Dammit. What is this idiot into?
“This is a nice building, Louie. We don’t like to upset the rich by reminding them that they live among scum. I have cars downstairs and more at your club.”
The shock on Louis’ face told August he had struck gold.
“I can’t believe that bitch ratted me out!” he howled. “I am going to—”
