“I’m doing all right,” she said. “Really. You don’t need to worry about me right now.”
He gestured at the grate. His turn to say something he didn’t want to half-shout.
“There’s a book at the house. It’s called Taking Flight. You remember it?”
“I… think so.” She didn’t, specifically, but he had a collection of books about aviation, along with big coffee table books of exotic landscapes and wildlife. “It’s not the same on a screen,” he liked to say.
“It kind of explains how I’m feeling right now, about being locked up like this. You know me, I don’t like being inside all the time.”
He drew back from the speaker but stayed close to the Plexiglas. Met her eyes. Held the gaze.
That was the message he’d wanted to give her.
She nodded. Message received.
“I wish I could send it to you,” she said.
“I do too. Because the reading materials here pretty much suck.” He smiled a little. “I guess I can request to buy books from an approved vendor. If I’m stuck here much longer, I probably will.”
“You won’t be,” she said. “We’ll figure out something.”
We have to, she thought. And soon. Whatever Gary’s game was, she had a feeling that the clock was winding down.
Chapter Eighteen
Travel time from Houston to Eureka was around eight hours if she wanted to leave tomorrow morning. If she flew at 7:20 a.m., she could be in Arcata by around 1:30 p.m. or so.
She could, conceivably, get back to Houston before work on Monday morning. There was a flight leaving Eureka at 8 p.m. But did that make sense?
Maybe it would be as simple as picking up the book. Maybe not. She had no way of knowing.
On the one hand, she hated having to ask for a day off. To make up some story why she needed it. She’d only worked for Caitlin for two weeks, after all.
On the other… what were the odds that she’d be tracked? That Gary would find out where she’d gone? She’d have to assume he would. If he did… how could she possibly explain a one-day jaunt to Arcata that would cost well over a thousand dollars?
She had to try to set this up.
She got out her Emily phone and called Evergreen.
She’d called Helen, her interim manager, several times since she’d been in Houston, in the mid-afternoon, when the restaurant wouldn’t be too crowded. She’d sounded harried, but insisted things were going well. Michelle had preferred to believe her-what could she do if they weren’t?
This time, she’d push. Anything that would give her a plausible excuse for going to Arcata, in case Gary was listening.
“Oh, hi, Emily. Yeah, it’s busy. You know, Saturday night.”
Helen sounded like she was in the middle of something, which she undoubtedly was.
“How are things with Joseph?” The chef.
“Oh. Fine. He’s… experimenting a little.”
She could just see Joseph trying to steamroll Helen.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean… you know. Some of it’s interesting.”
“Would it help if I came in?” Michelle asked. “Just to get everyone on the same page?”
“You don’t have to,” Helen said quickly. “Things are fine.”
“It’s okay if they’re not, Helen. Really. I dumped a lot on your plate.”
A hesitation. “Well, if we could have a meeting… I mean, we’ll be okay, you don’t have to rush, but… when you can… I think it would help.”
“I’ll see how soon I can get freed up, and I’ll let you know right away. Hang in there. You guys are doing great.”
One thing you could almost always count on: things going wrong in a restaurant.
A pretty thin excuse to go to Arcata, but it was some cover, at least.
9 p.m. on a Saturday. Later than she felt comfortable calling Caitlin, especially on a weekend.
She opened up a new message on her email and thought about what to say.
Don’t overexplain. Come up with a believable story if Caitlin asks.
Dear Caitlin, I’m so sorry, but I have a family emergency and need to handle it ASAP. Would it be a huge problem if I missed Monday? I can be back early evening, so I could deal with any emergencies then. Best, Michelle.
“Home” would be… Los Angeles.
Her father. Her sister. Her nephew. Something.
She thought about hitting “send.” Hesitated.
She had to assume anything going to and from Safer America was monitored.
On Wednesday, she and Caitlin were supposed to fly to San Francisco for another fundraiser on Thursday.
Maybe I should just wait and go to Arcata after that, she thought. Surely Caitlin could handle a flight on her own back to Houston. If she had too many glasses of wine on the flight, well, so what? As long as Caitlin kept it together for the fundraiser, what difference did it make?
But if Danny wanted her to see this book… maybe it couldn’t wait that long.
Michelle padded out into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of sauvignon blanc. Flopped on the couch, Safer America laptop and her own iPad by her side, and sipped her wine. Fuck it, she thought, taking a gulp. She got up and grabbed the bottle from the fridge.
This was all too fucking much.
Forget about the big problems: Danny in jail, Gary up to god knows what, having to deal with bags of dirty money, a shady charity helmed by a likeable, unstable woman and a board of sketchy directors. She couldn’t even decide on a travel itinerary.
She settled back down on the couch and topped off her glass.
Here’s how you play it, she told herself. You had a sudden family emergency. You just found out about it. You emailed as soon as you knew, and you’re so sorry for the inconvenience.
She’d wait a few hours. Book her flight. Send the email.
In the meantime, she’d do a little more digging into Safer America.
“Edgemore Media Consulting” and “Red Seas Research Ltd.” Those two companies had stood out on the list of independent contractors. It wasn’t obvious what they did, and they’d gotten a lot of money for doing whatever it was.
Edgemore first.
The website was easy enough to find. Edgemore Media “is a full-service political consulting firm specializing in media management and production coordinated across multiple platforms: television, radio, direct mail, email and web, including social media and SEO. We are constantly pushing the boundaries of technology to develop new communication tools that will engage and mobilize your target audiences.”
So they produced Safer America’s commercials. Michelle found a few examples under “Our Work,” a mix of upbeat pieces promoting particular candidates and initiatives and attack ads condemning others, including the one Gary had sent her… it seemed like ages ago. Had it been only three weeks?
She clicked on the ad. Something about it nagged at her.
“Drugs have taken over our cities.”
The voice was Matthew Moss. She was sure of it.
She listened to some of the other ads. He’d done the voice-over on several.
It was not a huge surprise to find Matthew Moss listed as an Edgemore “messaging strategist and media consultant.”
So Moss served on Safer America’s board for free. But a company he was a part of got paid over half a million dollars to handle media for Safer America. Of course some portion of that money was going into Matthew Moss’s pockets. For a gig that required him to show up at a few board meetings and make speeches at fancy fundraisers.
Nice work if you can get it.
Red Seas Research also had a website. But it was more notable for what it didn’t say than for what it said.
“Strategic research and intelligence for forward-thinking clients. We provide the information you need to recognize opportunities, optimize outcomes and manage risk.”
Good graphics, Michelle thought. There were customer testimonials, tabs for their advisory services and research products, all couched in the same vague corporate-speak. A page with headshots and brief bios of the company’s chief executives. None of whom were named Steve, unfortunately.