Rhodes took the central door, sliding a keypass over an electronic plate. He ushered them into what looked like a gray tunnel, which led down two sets of steps before leveling out. Torie was so turned around and confused by it all, she had no idea where in the airport they could possibly be.
“Here you are. Your luggage.”
Their bags sat by an equally unremarkable exit door. Beyond it, a dark sedan idled in the sunshine.
“The driver doesn’t know who you are or where you’re going. I’d suggest you not go straight home or to your office,” Rhodes said as he once again uncoded the door. “These drivers usually try to sell information to the press before the car door’s closed behind you.”
“Good advice,” Paul muttered, offering the man his hand. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
He shook Torie’s hand as well, and they were on their way. She glanced back, but Rhodes was already gone from the door. The driver, his eyes alive with curiosity, held open the door for her, then helped Paul load the luggage in the trunk.
“Where to?”
“The city. Market Street and Fourth. The Bourse Shops.”
Torie started to speak, but Paul shushed her and motioned to his PDA.
“I’ll have my secretary pick us up.”
“Good idea.”
Nothing else was said for the entire ride. The driver attempted some conversation, but when neither of them picked up the gambit, he finally fell silent. That didn’t stop him from constantly checking them out in the rearview mirror. Evidently, Rhodes had been correct. No way they could trust this guy to keep their destination a secret.
“She’ll be waiting on the Independence Mall side,” Paul said quietly. “We’ll get you home, and then you can come to the office tomorrow, okay?”
“Do I need to call the police or anything?” Torie whispered.
“No, I’ll take care of that. I’m your lawyer now, like it or not.”
“But you…”
“Don’t argue with me right now, Torie. Please.”
She probably would have continued but for that one word. She’d seldom heard it from him. In fact, she tried to remember the last time she had heard it. Those thoughts occupied her the rest of the ride. They paid the driver and got out at the corner. Paul’s secretary waved from a nearby coffee shop. Paul waved back, but waited to walk over until the sedan from the airport had pulled into traffic and moved off down the long one-way street.
“Let’s get going, quickly,” Paul said as he took her arm and marched her across the street to the shop. “Hey, Martha, thanks for coming on such short notice.
“Torie, I’d like you to meet my assistant, Martha Prinz. Martha, this is Torie Hagen.”
“I was happy to help.” Martha smiled at Paul and gave a brisk nod toward Torie. Evidently, Paul’s attitude was echoed by his assistant. “Hello, Ms. Hagen. I’m glad you got here safely. Let’s get both of you under wraps.”
Walking around the block, pulling her luggage with her carry-on piled on top, Torie wondered what the hell had happened to the tidy, boring life she’d tried to build. Nothing about the past five years had been tidy, but this was even worse.
“I’ve arranged to get Ms. Hagen home,” Martha said as they walked. “You did leave your car at your hotel didn’t you, ma’am?”
“Please, call me Torie. And yes, I did.”
“Well, we’ll be sure one of our trustworthy car services get you home quickly. No press will find out anything from the people we hire.”
“That’s good to know.” What else was there to say? She couldn’t imagine the press knowing where she was staying, or working, or anything. She couldn’t imagine the trouble she was in.
Torie frowned at Paul’s back. They were descending into the depths of a parking garage, with Paul and Martha at the front of the car. How could she be a murder suspect?
“Paul,” she began, just as the doors opened.
“Hold that thought,” he cautioned, checking outside the doors before letting her get off.
“You’re acting as if there were a raft of reporters waiting at every turn.”
“There could be. Todd was well loved in our fair city, and you were not only his jilted bride, but rumors are already floating about what happens to his estate.”
“His estate?” Torie was flabbergasted. What did that have to do with her?
“Hush, now. We don’t want anyone to overhear us discussing anything of the sort.” Martha was the voice of caution. She led the way to a silver Mercedes with faintly tinted windows. Paul piled their luggage in the trunk, and helped her into the backseat.
“You won’t be seen back here. Martha often picks me up, so hopefully no one will think you’re in here.”
She nodded. Right now, she had so much to think about that she didn’t want to talk, or be seen.
Torie closed her eyes and dropped her head onto the smooth leather of the headrest. How was she going to explain this to her boss? Or her Mama? Her brother would know immediately that it was all crazy. Pam obviously thought so already. Dev probably didn’t care as long as he could get as far away as possible from her. Lord only knew what GoodMama would think.
“Torie,” Paul said as they pulled into the garage at his office. “I want you to stay here with Martha for a few minutes until I’m sure there’s no one waiting upstairs. Will you do that for me?”
“Sure.” Torie managed the word without lifting her head. Her mind was fogging over with all the thoughts and ideas, the details and ramifications of Todd’s death. Who would she call when she wanted crazy advice? For solid business advice, she had always called her brother. Even though he was younger than she, he’d been a suit-and-tie businessman from the time he was twelve. But when she wanted off-the-wall, go-for-it kind of advice, she’d called Todd.
Paul stood there for a moment, looking at her. It was unnerving because she could swear he was reading her mind. He didn’t say anything, just turned and walked away. Martha, in the driver’s seat, never looked back. She kept her eyes on Paul as he walked through the door to the elevators, and she kept her gaze there the whole time he was gone.
Mercifully, Paul returned within five minutes. “We’re good. Why don’t you come on up, Torie? We’ll talk.”
“Talk?”
“I’ll fill you in on what the police have, or at least what they’ve shared.”
“Okay.”
“Mister Jameson,” Martha began.
“It’s okay, Martha. You can head out. I’ll send for the car for Torie.”
Martha didn’t say anything, but Torie was sure she disapproved, just by her body language.
Paul confirmed it once they got to his office. “Don’t mind Martha. She’s overprotective.”
“Why? Surely you’ve already shared with her how much you dislike me.”
“I don’t dislike you, Torie. And no, I don’t share my opinions with my assistant.”
“Ha. Yeah, like she doesn’t know your opinion. She probably knows it before you do,” Torie said as she walked into the spacious office. Framed photos of beach scenes, in haunting black and white, graced the walls. They were of empty stretches of sand, or twisted driftwood. No people. No color. They made her sad, and she said so.
“Really? I find them restful,” Paul replied. He seemed surprised. “Nothing but sand and waves and peace.”
“You crave peace?” There was a surprise. Paul had always struck her as the quintessential party animal.
He smiled. “Sometimes. The older I get, you know the line.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So, have a seat. Let’s get this over with.”
Nice. He couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Suddenly the thought of her empty, cheerless Extended Suites room made her want to cry. She longed for the comfort of her home, her things. Her dog. All of which were currently covered with soot, and under investigation, or in veterinary care.
“What do I need to do to convince them I didn’t do this?”