Magic Moment (16 page)

He strolled back into the general office area. Both women were busy at their computers. He walked into the file room, a spare room with three four-drawer black metal file cabinets. His eyes grazed the cabinet’s white labels. He was certain he’d never even been in this room, let alone looked in the file drawers. He hadn’t a clue where to start his search.

Drawer one, cabinet one …

Chase thumbed through folders. The phones rang regularly with either woman answering and conversing, their tones either business or recreation. He looked for invoices to Daniels’ produce business, or payables to Leisure Limo. He hoped to find an irregularity, something suspicious; anything questionable to challenge his father, a clue why the FBI harassed Laura. He pulled out Daniels’ current folder when he heard Rachel’s shout.

“Mr. Donovan! Chase is here!” she announced. “He’s in the file room. Want me to get him?”

Damn it!
Chase didn’t want his father to know where he spent his time. Before the secretary caught him rummaging through Daniels’ file, Chase shoved the folder into its proper place, closed the drawer, and exited.

Pressing the hold button, Rachel replaced the phone’s receiver. “Your father’s on three,” she said with a full grin, expecting Chase to be happy about the call.

“Thanks.” Chase walked to the desk next to Marla’s, his desk whenever he decided to show up. He lifted the receiver and pressed the red button.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Why are you in the file room?” Dick inquired edgily.

Chase’s deceit came quick. “Can’t remember if I submitted an invoice.” He changed topics. “How’s Florida?”

Dick wasn’t deterred. “You don’t need to poke through paper,” he said, clearly not believing his son. “Marla can check the computer.”

“Thanks.”

“And you can always ask your wife. Is she with you?”

“Laura’s feeling fine.” Chase was conscious of the two women who were openly watching and tuned into the conversation. “She sends her love,” he added.

“Is she with you?” Dick asked again, his tone sharp.

Once more, Chase overlooked his father’s inquiry. “Laura tires easily, sleeps a lot. That’s normal. The doctor said she’s in great condition.”

“I asked, is she with you?” Dick snapped.

Again, Chase ignored his father. “Don’t worry. Laura and the baby are fine.” Chase added purposefully, “I intend to keep them that way.”

“There’s nothing I want more than a healthy grandchild,” Dick said.

“Healthy child and mother.”

“Where have you two been?”

Chase persisted, careening off his father’s route. “Rachel tells me you’ll be home tomorrow.”

“My plane arrives at six in the evening.”

Chase was eager to return to his wife, but having exchanged these words with his father, he resolved to get their altercation over with, even if having their conversation meant being stuck in Philadelphia an extra day.

“How about if I pick you up at the airport?” Chase offered.

“Laura isn’t with you, is she?” Dick spat. “Where do you have her stashed?”

The man was incredible. Chase could almost see the veins bulging in his father’s neck, a general response when he was angry. “Laura will understand if I stay an extra day,” he said, keeping his voice even.

Dick’s tone hardened. “You were a fool getting her pregnant. If she’s even pregnant.” He grunted. “Marrying her makes you a bigger fool. If only you knew the problem you created for me.”

Chase kept his features even. “Dad, call me on my cell if you want that ride. Have a good flight back.” He hung up, unable to trust any more of his words to be cordial.

“Chase, your father had me order a car from Leisure Limo,” Rachel said.

“If Dad wants Leisure to pick him up, he’ll let me know.”

Proper detective work was impossible with people around. He would return later. His father’s absence provided easy access once the staff had left for the day. After an amiable goodbye to the two women, Chase headed out the door.

The bistro in Laura’s condominium lobby served take-out. Having had only a fast bagel and coffee that morning while the plane had been given the once-over, he was hungry.

Conversations on
Madre
, and gentle bantering over coffee with Laura popped into his head. Passing the time with a burger and a phone call to her was definitely appealing. Maybe he wouldn’t wait to say he loved her. Absence made the heart grow fonder. He would tell her now. His lighthearted steps quickened. Maybe she would say “I love you” back.

He reached his car and pressed the key ring’s black box. The single beep signaled the car alarm off.

“Chase Donovan?”

The voice came from behind. Chase said nothing. Didn’t even breathe. He turned slowly, deliberately, his arms relaxed at his sides. Two men, unmoving and straight-faced stood, both wearing jeans and dark down jackets. There wasn’t a soul in the vicinity. Tension gripped Chase. Had Daniels’ men been watching the warehouse? Waiting for him, or Laura, to return? Or maybe as soon as he had hung up with his father, the old man called Daniels, tipping him off that Chase was back. Cockroaches, even the human variety, were common around a produce warehouse. Chase feared these two had been hanging around, trying to find out where Laura was staying. One man looked familiar. Lou Kent? Chase couldn’t recall.

“Chase Donovan?” the familiar looking man repeated.

Chase kept his features and demeanor smooth despite his heart’s rapid pounding. “Yeah?”

The man reached inside his jacket.

His stomach coiling, Chase made an instinctive reach inside his jacket, behind his back.

There was no time to grab his weapon. The second man twisted Chase’s arm behind his back, wrestling him to the ground. Pain shot through his wrist, scampering up his shoulder. He was roughly patted down, the gun snatched.

“Bastard has a gun,” the man barked.

Chase lay face down with a hard, unfamiliar knee between his shoulder blades, suppressing his movements.

“Chase Donovan, you’re under arrest,” the man huffed, pausing as if waiting for a response. “Carrying a concealed weapon and threatening federal agents. You have the right to remain silent … ”

The cell phone vibrated in Chase’s jacket pocket. Face down on the ground and handcuffed, he wasn’t exactly in the position to answer. By the time the phone joined his handgun in Special Agent Ross Saunders’ pocket, the caller had given up.

At FBI headquarters, Saunders also confiscated Chase’s wallet, watch, keys, and wedding band. Chase, anger seeping through him, dithered before removing the gold band. The metal slipping from his finger pissed him off the most. After fingerprinting and a photo op, he then exchanged his denim jacket, jeans and beige crewneck sweater for an orange jumpsuit.

Now he sat alone in a tight interrogation room, smaller than the warehouse’s file room and even more oppressive. He leaned back in one of the hard, metal chairs, stretching his legs beneath the rectangular table. Irritation mixed with fatigue as Chase waited for that joke of an FBI agent to make an appearance. He hadn’t seen Saunders since the man had dumped him in this room. They had taken his watch, there was no clock on the wall, but if he had to guess he would estimate he’d been sitting alone for about two hours.

Too late, Chase recalled at the slap of the cuffs where he had seen Saunders previously. He shook his head and sighed. An arrest for carrying a concealed weapon. More of Saunders’ game playing.

Chase had the gun to defend himself if accosted, since he had always taken his Atlantic City winnings in cash. Of course, Chase kept the gun hidden. Five freaking minutes on a computer would give these dolts Chase’s permit information.

He kept quiet. He would advise a client to do the same. Lucky enough to catch Ned Stahl before his friend had left his office, the only details Chase had given were to say he had been arrested and the name of the arresting agent.

Chase let out a deep sigh and ran weary fingers through his hair. His thoughts went to Laura. He was certain she had been calling his cell. When he didn’t answer, he hoped she assumed his phone was out of range. He didn’t want his pregnant wife to worry.

The door swung open, and a breathless Ned Stahl rushed in. Dressed in a brown Dick-Donovan-like suit, and not nearly as tall as Chase or athletically built, the dark-haired attorney slapped his briefcase on the table and scratched at his bristly beard.

“Chase, what the hell? They tell me you pulled a gun on two feds?”

“I didn’t know they were agents. I thought they were looking to harm my wife.”

“Your wife!” Ned’s mouth dropped, his stare more horror-struck than amazed. “You? Married? When? Who?”

“I eloped two weeks ago. With Laura.”

“Who’s Laura?”

“My wife.”

Ned’s brows arched, then he frowned. “Suppose you tell me what’s going on?”

“Suppose you tell me what those two jackasses told you?”

The agents, Ned repeated, claimed they had approached Chase outside the warehouse. They had questions regarding the disappearance of a woman, Laura Roberts. When Special Agent Saunders reached for his identification, Chase went for a weapon.

“The idiot didn’t identify himself,” Chase snapped. “I thought he was reaching for a gun.”

“Saunders said you knew he was an agent. You two had met a couple weeks ago. In a diner.”

Chase’s eyes widened. “I saw him once. For two minutes,” he said, his tone incredulous. “And he had on a suit, all G-man like. I’m expected to be carrying his face in my head like a twenty-five grand blackjack hand?”

“Was there anyone around to witness Saunders not identifying himself today?”

Chase shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean someone wasn’t hanging out, grabbing a smoke.” He explained where his BMW had been parked. “Who reported Laura missing? People knew we got married, my father, his secretary. Laura even emailed a girlfriend.”

“Saunders said Laura had been under surveillance,” Ned said. “About two weeks ago they saw her get into a dark car at the warehouse, but lost her. An agent saw her later with you, on your boat in Beach Bay. You returned to Philly without her.”

Ned absentmindedly rubbed the back of a hand against his beard, which he generally did when bewildered. “Chase, what the hell’s going on?”

Chase’s brain cells shifted into overdrive. So someone had been watching
Madre
, but not one of Daniels’ cronies. The FBI was watching Laura? If they lost her once she had gotten into the Leisure Limo car, how did they find her in Beach Bay?

His blood pressure spiked, a vessel near ready to burst. He clenched his fists. If Saunders had eyes on Laura, how the hell did he lose her? Why didn’t he follow Ron Caldwell’s car?

Chase jumped from the chair. The force and his anger so strong, the wooden chair crashed to the floor. “Laura was under surveillance? Where were these assholes when she got dragged on my boat to be raped and murdered?”

“W — What?”

The law prohibited the listening device to be in operation while Chase and Ned spoke, but Chase knew Saunders was watching. He stomped over to the glass and pounded his fist on the pane.

Fury and frustration overwhelmed him. “If you were watching her, you should have protected her!” Chase shouted. “You left her defenseless with those bastards! Where were you when she feared for her life? Why aren’t you out there looking for those low lifes? No, you’d rather pester me!”

His final bang shook the glass pane. Ned clutched Chase’s arm, breaking off his repeated efforts.

Ned put Chase‘s chair upright. “Chase, sit down.” He took a sharp breath and shook his head. “Start talking. I want to hear everything. From the start.”

“I want to call Laura,” Chase stated firmly. “We haven’t talked all day. She’s pregnant. I have to call her.” His final words were a steadfast plea.

Ned, reacting more as Chase’s attorney than friend, was just as firm. “We’ll talk first, and go on from there.”

Disgusted, worried, exhaustion overwhelming him, Chase relented and sat down. This was all so insane. Ned settled across from his client and heard everything starting from when Laura had been escorted out of the diner.

Ned shook his head, amazed. “I always told my wife something crazy would get you hitched, but never did I envision this scenario,” he said when Chase had finally finished.

Chase leaned forward. “What time is it?”

Ned glanced at his watch. “Almost nine o’clock.”

Again Chase appealed to call his wife.

Ned frowned. “Let me see what I can do.”

The attorney left the room, and returned a few minutes later with Special Agent Saunders.

“My client has a permit to carry the weapon you found on him,” Ned stated. “Not only in this state, but New Jersey and New York. I’m sure you’ll find that information if you check your computers.”

“Computers are down,” Saunders said indifferently.

“My client also tells me you failed to identify yourself,” Ned said.

Saunders shrugged before speaking. “Didn’t think it was necessary. Your client and I met before, but as a courtesy, I was reaching for my ID.”

“I wasn’t paying attention to you in the diner,” Chase said, his tone tight. “I was concentrating on the woman you were intimidating. If I’m not mistaken, I believe your rule book requires you to have your identification out and in my face as you approach me.”

Saunders expelled a breath as if bored. “Tell me something, Donovan. What is it you do at the warehouse?”

“Tell me something, Saunders. Why are you stalking my father’s business?”

“Chase, let me talk,” Ned chided.

Chase ignored his friend. “Why are you harassing my wife?”

“Where’s Laura Roberts?” Saunders asked straightforwardly.

“Her name is Laura Donovan,” Chase replied sharply.

Saunders tightened his lips. He didn’t appear surprised or impressed. “What have you done with her?”

“Done with her?” Chase’s groan was a caustic laugh. “Laura is with my aunt.”

“Where? I need to speak with her,” Saunders said.

Chase hesitated. If he told Saunders Laura was in Sea Tower, and how she had gotten there, an agent from the Baltimore office would be dispatched to Lonnie’s. Maybe with a warrant to search the boat. They would find the remnants of Laura’s encounter with Ron and Lou, and bombard her with questions. Chase was convinced she remained too distressed, her wounds still too fresh, to discuss the incident with the likes of Saunders.