“None. At least none that I remembered.”
“What about other places you worked at?”
Michelle took the question seriously. She thought about it, rattling off those that came to her quickly. “There was a woman I used to work with at an insurance company, one of my consulting gigs. I don’t remember her name. She practically lived at the office. Had no boyfriend, no husband, had never been married. All she talked about was work, even the few times she tagged along with us after work for drinks.”
“Any more?”
Michelle thought about it and related more; a middle-manager she knew at a client’s office who once reported Michelle to her supervisor when he heard a rumor that she dabbled in art outside of work. “Asshole actually believed extra-curricular activities that deviated from the company’s stated goals were in direct violation of the company’s interests. Can you believe that?”
“Bingo!” She heard Jay take a drag on his cigarette. “I was actually dreading those terms, but at the same time I’m glad you said it.”
“Why? Can we stop with the bullshit and just tell me flat out what the hell is going on?”
“I still don’t have all the answers yet,” Jay said. “But I’m working on them. And I don’t want to keep this line open anymore. Go get your stuff and call us when you get back to your room. But before you do that, do you have a copy of Corporate Financial’s Employee Handbook somewhere?”
“I have a pdf copy on my laptop. Why?”
“Read it before you call back. I think you’ll find most of it—especially the section under the heading ‘Conflict of Interest’—to be very interesting.”
“Okay, but—”
“We gotta go,” Jay said. “I think you’re safe for tonight, just call us back when you get to your room.”
“Donald!” Michelle called out.
“It’s okay,” Donald said, and now she could hear that his voice had changed; he didn’t sound nearly as nervous as before. “Call us when you get to your room.”
“I will,” Michelle said, and then the line went dead.
She sat on the bench for a moment, her thoughts running a mile a minute. She was more curious now than ever before; she was no longer frightened, no longer angry at Jay (okay, maybe a little… he’d scared the living shit out of her when she found out he’d showed up at the house unannounced and armed), and despite all that had happened, she was now getting the feeling that something was not right. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but talking to Jay made her think about things she hadn’t thought about in a long time.
Namely her parents.
Were your parents like Dennis Harrington?
Absolutely.
She shuddered at the thought because she knew now, for the first time ever, that something had been wrong with her parents. They hadn’t just been unemotional, uncaring people. They hadn’t just been too self-absorbed with their own careers and goals that they continually ignored their only child or cast her aside. It wasn’t that at all.
Her parents hadn’t been entirely… right.
She thought about this on the walk over to baggage claim, turning it over in her mind. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that the walk was over before she knew it, and then she was scanning the monitors for her flight, trying to find which baggage claim area to report to, and she was still thinking about what Jay said when she found her flight, and that’s when two men she’d never seen before suddenly materialized in front of her. “Michelle Dowling,” one of them said; he was about her age, blonde, well-groomed in a sport shirt, blue tie, and a coat. “I’m Bill Mayer, from Corporate Financial. This is Tom Elliot. We’re here to escort you to your hotel.”
And before she could shift gears they swooped down on her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
TOM ELLIOT AND Bill Mayer found her luggage quickly. “We have a car,” Bill said. He motioned for Michelle to begin following him. “Corporate has convened a meeting at the hotel, and we need to get there on time.”
Michelle was still stunned by their sudden appearance. “A meeting? Tonight? For what?”
“Strategy,” Bill said.
Michelle looked at Tom Elliot; he had a blank expression on his face. When he smiled it looked false, as if something unseen was pulling the tips of his mouth up. “I understand you’re probably tired, but this shouldn’t take long. Bill will help you check in and escort you to the meeting, and I’ll get your luggage to your room so you won’t be late.”
“But—” Michelle protested.
“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Bill said. He took Michelle’s elbow lightly and attempted to steer her toward the exit.
Michelle jerked her arm away from Bill. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
Bill frowned. They were standing near the exit, oblivious to the bustling of activity around them as throngs of airport passengers walked around them, carting luggage and children. Michelle could feel the cold Chicago air as the doors wheezed open and shut. “Excuse me?” Bill said.
“Are you deaf? I said, get your fucking hands off me!”
Tom frowned. “I hardly think this is the type of language to use on—”
“Tom,” Bill said, looking at his co-worker.
“—fellow team members,” Tom said. He stopped, that strange smile crawling across his features again.
“I hardly think you want to be brought up on a sexual harassment charge against a fellow team member either,” Michelle snarled.
The flinch was barely visible but Michelle caught it; Tom blinked and looked at Bill.
Bill’s tone was soothing. “I’m sorry. I just got a little carried away. I’m just very eager to get you to the meeting. I don’t want us to be late.”
Everything had happened so fast that Michelle’s mind was still trying to process it. She felt a huge sense of distrust in Bill and Tom; who the hell were they? Why would Corporate Financial send them to the airport to intercept her like this? Suppose they weren’t who they claimed they were? Her distrust rose and she reached into her purse for her cell phone. “Put my suitcase down,” she told Bill. “And step away from it.”
“I hardly think this is an appropriate—” Bill began.
“Put the suitcase down now or I’m yelling for a cop!” Michelle said, her voice loud.
Bill set her suitcase down. Tom still looked stoical, like he was struggling to react in some way but didn’t know how. Michelle turned her cell phone on and, keeping a careful watch on Tom and Bill, she scanned down to her pre-programmed numbers and found Sam Greenberg’s number. She pressed the Send button and brought the phone to her ear as it began to ring on the other end.
Sam picked up on the fourth ring. “Michelle? What’s up?”
“Did you send somebody to O’Hare to meet me?” she asked, keeping her fiery gaze on Tom and Bill.
“Yes, I did. Tom Elliot and Bill Mayer. Have they found you?”
Michelle felt herself relax a little bit. “Yes,” she said. “What’s this about a meeting tonight?”
“It’s last minute and I apologize,” Sam said. His voice was soothing. At least Sam was genuine; he wouldn’t lie to her. “It’s part strategy, part orientation. You need to be brought up on some last minute updates before your meeting tomorrow.”
Tom Elliot and Bill Mayer were watching her. She held their gaze, not allowing her anger to subside. “Okay. Just wanted to check.”
“Call me tomorrow,” he said. “I’m rushing to a meeting with Mr. Lawrence and some of the other board members.”