The Stolen - Jason Pinter [47]
"No, even worse. Gray Talbot came by our office
today."
"The political dude?"
"Senator, yeah."
"What was he doing at the Gazette? Doesn't he get
enough press?"
"That's the thing, he wasn't there about a story that had
already run, he was there to make sure we didn't print
anything else about Danny Linwood or Michelle Oliveira."
"That's ridiculous. Why?"
I took a breath. "He knows about the files."
There was silence. Then she spoke. "I assume you're referring to whatever files I definitely had nothing to do with."
134
Jason Pinter
"Those are the ones."
"Goddamn it, Henry, you promised you wouldn't say
anything!"
"Amanda, I didn't, I swear. But he knew about it and
threatened to either fire me or castrate Wallace if we ran
any stories about Michelle Oliveira, using the information
you gave me. Is it possible someone in your office knows
you took the files?"
"It's possible," she said. "I had to log in to our system
to print out a lot of it. But if they know I took them, why
haven't I been led out by Security?"
"Same reason he came by our office. He wants this
kept quiet. You get fired, the press gets hold of that, and
he's got much more than Wallace Langston to worry
about."
"But why is he taking such an interest in Michelle and
Danny?" Amanda asked.
"I don't know," I said. "But I'll find out."
"I want to find out with you," she said. "I'll meet you
at your apartment in an hour."
"Amanda," I said. "I don't think--"
"Right, don't think anything. I want to help figure out
what the hell is going on. I work with kids seven days a
week. Kids that have been beaten and left for dead because
nobody fought for them. And now it turns out two of them
are missing pieces of their lives and some stuffed shirt
wants to step on it? Not on my watch."
I came this close to saying I love you. I didn't. But it
sounded great in my head.
"I'll be at my place in an hour," I said. "See you then."
"Have a pot of coffee ready," she said. "And please,
Henry. Pick up whatever dirty underwear is starting to
grow spores in your hamper."
The Stolen
135
"I have a hamper?"
She hung up.
I caught a cab back home, threw every article of clothing
that appeared salvageable into a garbage bag and shoved it
into my closet. I was apprehensive about letting her in.
Amanda hadn't set foot in my apartment in six months. Like
me, Amanda had the inquisitive gene. And especially now
that her ass was on the line, she was going to be a part of
this until we figured out what happened to the years
Michelle and Danny had lost. I just needed to make sure
my nasty socks hadn't grown a life of their own in the
meantime.
Once the apartment was clean enough to present, I
poured a glass of water and sat on the couch, thinking
about Daniel Linwood and Michelle Oliveira. It had made
me sick to read about how heartbroken their families were
when they disappeared, how two families could be shattered in seconds. I could only imagine the joy when they
came back, as though a hole in their parents' hearts had
suddenly been repaired.
I hadn't spoken to my father or mother in two years. The
last time was while I was on the run. I called my father
one night, holed up in a dank room, waiting for two men
who would either be my saviors or my executioners. I
called him for two reasons. The first was to say goodbye,
in the event that I didn't make it out alive. The second was
out of the hope that that bastard would give me something
to keep going, a reason to live, to spite him if nothing
more. He gave me that, and I lived. And we hadn't spoken
since. I never desired to. I didn't wish him dead, but merely
hoped he took care of my poor, absent mother the best he
knew how. But I was glad to be gone from that home. I
was happy to be living a life where I was the only arbiter
136
Jason Pinter
of my triumphs or failures. Like Danny and Michelle, I'd
been lost, too.
The buzzer jolted me out of my thoughts. I went to the
window, looked down to see Amanda standing at the
door. She looked up, saw