Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [96]
“And your son?” I asked.
Mr. Fieldings was quiet for a few long seconds. “Laddy died seven years ago of an overdose. That’s why it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve lost my son, I’ve lost my company. My wife is gone. I have nothing left, you see?”
On the couch, Eden cried softly. And what about your daughter? I wanted to ask. But all I could do was thank Mr. Fieldings for his time and for sharing his story. When I left the house, the sky was dove-gray and thick with rain. I walked to the cab, ignoring the drops that splashed my face, and I told the cabdriver to take me to McKnight headquarters.
23
As the cab sped south down Lake Shore, heading back to the Loop, I dug frantically through my briefcase for my cell phone. I dialed my father’s office. I missed a number and got a message for someone named Glenn. “Shit!” I said, squeezing the phone tighter, dialing the numbers again with more caution.
The phone rang and rang, and finally my dad’s voice mail picked up. I hit zero and waited for Barbara, my father’s longtime secretary, to answer. But I got her voice mail, as well.
“Shit!” I yelled again. The cabbie eyed me in the mirror.
My frustration made me weepy, a few tears clouding my eyes. I hit zero again, and rolled the window down, letting the damp breeze blow on my face, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.
I finally reached the Gardner State receptionist and asked her to page my father. After what seemed like ten full minutes, he came on the line. “Hailey, sweetie,” he said, “where are you?”
“Did you give Sean McKnight information to blackmail the Fieldings family?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“I’m here.”
“Answer the question.” My voice came out hard and even, as if I was talking to a witness at a deposition.
“It was a long time ago.”
“So what?” I yelled.
More silence. I had never raised my voice around my father.
Finally, he said, “You know as well as I do that it shouldn’t be admissible in court.”
“Are you admitting it then? You used confidential information and gave it to the opposing side?”
“Leave it alone, Hailey.”
“Leave it alone? What are you talking about?”
The rain was coming harder in the taxi window now, but I didn’t move to close it.
“Miss?” the cabbie said, “are you all right?”
“All of it,” my dad said. “Just leave it alone. Please.” Was he crying or was it the sound of my own tears?
“Please,” he said. “Please. Please.” And he hung up.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered. I rolled up the window. I wiped my eyes. I lifted the phone and tried my dad’s number again, then went through the same five-minute process of getting a message, waiting for the receptionist and having him paged. As each second ticked by, I felt as if I wanted to jump out of the cab, I wanted to scream. Instead, I tapped my fingers on the armrest. Tap, tap, tap, tap. But he didn’t come to the phone this time.
Finally, I reached Barbara. “You just missed him,” she said.
“Where did he go?”
“Out of town for a meeting. Didn’t he tell you?”
“No,” I said abruptly. My mind was so cluttered that I couldn’t even dredge up any pleasantries. “When is he getting back?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You’re not sure? What do you mean?” Like my secretary, Barbara was exceedingly efficient and fiercely loyal to my father. Not knowing his precise schedule was unheard of.
“He’s not sure how long the meeting will take,” Barbara said. “Maybe a few days.”
“A few days? Where is he?”
“I can’t say.”
“Barbara, it’s me, for Christ’s sake. I need to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry, Hailey, but he was explicit. No one is to be given information about where he is. And to be honest, I don’t even know all the details.”
“Seriously, I need to talk to him immediately. This is important!”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Time for a lie, I thought. Why