Chapter 6: The Voice on the Phone
Joseph looked at Renzo.
Renzo looked at the phone.
Neither of them spoke.
"Answer it," I said.
Both men looked at me.
"He already knows where we were.
He probably knows we moved.
Letting it ring doesn't protect us — it just tells him we're rattled." I held Joseph's gaze.
"Answer it.
Put it on speaker."
A beat.
Joseph answered.
Speaker on.
Phone on the console between us.
"Joseph." The voice was smooth.
Unhurried.
A man who had never needed to rush anything in his life.
"I hear you had an interesting evening."
"Victor." Joseph's voice was identical to what it had been all night.
Level.
Dry.
"You're having me followed now.
That's new."
"I'm having a lot of things followed.
It's a busy season." A pause.
"I have to say — the girl is striking.
She has your jaw.
I noticed it in the photograph before your people took the phone."
Joseph said nothing.
"I'm not calling to threaten you," Caine said.
"I want you to understand that.
This is a courtesy call."
"You'll forgive me if I don't feel particularly grateful."
"I found her six weeks ago," Caine said.
"I've been watching her since.
I know where she works, where she lives, what she orders for lunch on Tuesdays." A brief pause.
"I know her mother's sister lives in Evanston, which is probably where Rose is headed right now."
My stomach dropped.
I reached for my phone.
Joseph put his hand over mine — not grabbing, just pressing down.
Wait.
"What do you want, Victor?" Joseph said.
"The Meridian contracts," Caine said.
"The three distribution agreements you locked up in February.
Sign them over to my people and I walk away.
The girl goes back to her life.
Rose goes back to hers.
Nobody gets hurt.
Everybody wins."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I stop being courteous." The warmth left his voice.
Not anger.
Something colder.
"I've spent six weeks building a very detailed picture of that young woman's life.
Her schedule.
Her friends.
The boy she's been seeing — Marcus, I think his name is.
The night class she takes on Thursdays." A pause.
"I don't want to use any of it.
But I will."
Joseph's hand was still over mine.
"I'll need time to consider," Joseph said.
"You have until tomorrow morning.
Eight o'clock." Another pause.
"Give my regards to the girl."
The call ended.
Silence in the car.
Then I pulled my hand out from under Joseph's and dialed Mom.
It rang four times.
Five.
Six.
No answer.
"She's not picking up."
"She may already be in the car," Renzo said carefully.
"She always picks up."
I dialed again.
Same result.
Joseph was already looking at Renzo.
Something passed between them.
"I'll call Patricia's landline," Renzo said.
He dialed.
Waited.
"No answer there either."
The air in the car changed.
"He said he knew she was going to Evanston," I said.
My voice sounded strange to me.
Too flat.
"He said it like it was already done."
"It was a threat," Joseph said.
"To show us the reach of what he knows."
"Or it was information," I said.
"About something that's already happening."
Joseph looked at Renzo.
"Get Milo to Patricia's address.
Now." Then to me: "What's your mother driving?"
"A gray Honda.
I don't know the plate by heart."
"Year?"
"2019.
Maybe 2020."
He relayed it to Marco by phone.
Thirty seconds of clipped instructions.
Then he ended the call and looked at me.
"We'll find her," he said.
"You don't know that."
"No," he said.
"I don't."
I appreciated that he didn't lie.
We went inside the building.
The ground floor was empty — concrete floors, covered furniture, a single bulb overhead.
Renzo led us upstairs to a room with a table, four chairs, and a window that looked out over the street below.
I sat down.
Joseph remained standing.
"He wants the Meridian contracts," I said.
"What are they worth to you?"
"More than he knows.
Less than you are." He said it without hesitation, and then seemed almost surprised that he had.
I looked at him.
"You don't know me."
"No." He pulled out a chair and sat across from me.
"But I know what you are.
And I know what I failed to protect twenty years ago." His voice didn't waver, but something in his face did.
"I'm not making that mistake again."
"I'm not a mistake to be corrected," I said.
"I'm a person."
"I know that."
"Then stop talking about me like I'm a debt you owe."
He was quiet for a moment.
"You're right," he said.
"I'm sorry."
It was the second unexpected word of the night.
The first had been *please.*
My phone lit up on the table.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Audrey." A woman's voice.
Tight.
Familiar.
"Mom." I exhaled.
"Where are you?"
"I'm safe.
I'm — I'm not going to say where." A pause.
"I was followed leaving the apartment.
I lost them.
I think." Her voice dropped.
"I think."
"Are you hurt?"
"No.
Audrey, listen to me.
There's something I didn't tell Joseph.
Something I didn't tell you." Her breathing was uneven.
"When I left — when I disappeared — I didn't go alone."
I waited.
"There was someone who helped me.
Someone who knew Joseph.
Someone who told me Victor Caine was already watching us back then — twenty-one years ago — and that if Joseph knew about the baby, Caine would find out and use it." She paused.
"He helped me disappear.
He set up the new identity, the new city, everything."
"Who?" I asked.
May you like
A silence that lasted too long.
"His name is Danny," she said.
