Part 24 (1/2)
”Jack, I've been trying to call you. I just got back from Miami. George told me what happened, are you all right?”
”I'm fine. Just a little bruised.”
”Where are you?”
”On the plane back to New York, we just left Rio.”
”How the h.e.l.l did you get taken hostage by a drug gang?”
”It was a misunderstanding. I'm fine as long as we run the story I just filed. It's critical that the desk doesn't cut the Blue Brigade stuff.”
”I'll tell them.”
”Turns out the hostage thing was the price I paid for a strong lead into the bombing. Did you read the material I sent you, the ten attachments of the secret files?”
”I did.”
”This is shaping up to be a major story.”
”Bring me up to speed.”
Gannon related everything he'd learned on Maria Santo, the law firm, Sarah Kirby and the human rights network, and how Marcelo's incredible photos of Maria and the bombing helped advance the story.
Lyon listened, asked an occasional question, then concluded the call.
”Jack, the first thing you're going to do when you get to New York is your laundry. Then pack again. I'll authorize and clear the way. I want you to follow this story to London and wherever else it leads us.”
31.
Laramie, Wyoming.
Emma sat at the big polished oak table in the conference room at the Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation.
Shadows on the wall drawn by the midday light bled through the blinds. As Emma studied them she blinked back tears, trying not to scream.
Nearly two agonizing days had pa.s.sed since she'd received the mysterious nighttime call, and police were still no closer to telling her who had made it.
For two days Emma had repeated the circ.u.mstances of the call to every official she was referred to. She recounted every detail and answered every question while they took notes. But she soon realized that their concern was just pretense.
Because they don't believe me.
She'd do better to search for answers in the shadows on the wall.
”Emma?”
She s.h.i.+fted her focus to the people around the table, who, at her insistence, had convened this meeting here in Laramie to report back to her on their ”investigation” into the call.
She looked into the faces of Aunt Marsha, Uncle Ned, Darnell Horn with the county sheriff's office, his supervisor, Reed Cobb, Henry Sanders, the coroner, Dan Farraday with the highway patrol; and Dr. Kendrix, the psychiatrist from the hospital.
Jay Hubbard, special agent with the Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation who was running the meeting, repeated his question.
”Would you like a tissue or some water?”
”No, thank you.”
”As I was saying,” Hubbard continued, ”we've responded to the request to a.s.sist in this inquiry from the Big Cloud County Sheriff's Office.”
She knew this. Was Hubbard being officious for her benefit?
”And, we've used all the records and information you volunteered. Working with authorities in California we have confirmed that you did receive a call at the time you reported.”
Emma inhaled.
”The call originated from a public phone in Santa Ana, California, in Orange County,” Hubbard read from his notebook.
”It must have something to do with the clinic,” she said.
”No, we don't think that's the case.”
”Then something to do with Dr. Durbin's letter. Did you talk to him?”
”We're coming to that,” Hubbard said. ”The phone is located near a Burger King outlet some thirty-five miles south of West Olympic Boulevard, in Los Angeles, the location of the Golden Dawn Fertility Corporation. So we've ruled out that it was a call from the clinic.”
Emma said nothing.
”With your permission and using your volunteered material we spoke with Dr. Durbin and with officials at the clinic in Los Angeles.”
”What did they tell you?”
”They acknowledged receiving delivery of Dr. Durbin's letter confirming Tyler Lane's death. But they've closed their file. They also stressed that no one at the clinic called you or would have reason to call you.”
”That's it?”
”The clinic expressed its sympathies,” Hubbard said.
Looking into the faces studying her, Emma felt like she was falling.
”But how do you explain a woman calling me, telling me Tyler is alive?”
”We can only surmise what happened.”
”And what is that?”
”That you got a wrong number call from California and in your semiconsciousness, in your grief, and with Dr. Durbin's letter fresh in your mind, you got confused about what you heard.”