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“Sue me. Go ahead. I’m late for a meeting.”
Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens and shuts, making her look like a fish. I shake my head at her in disgust and start to turn away.
She grabs my arm to stop me, her nails digging through the fabric of my suit jacket.
I look at her closely. She's a beautiful woman, probably what a lot of people would consider stunning. Blonde, blue eyes, flawless skin, incredible figure, ridiculously talented in bed. But that’s where her beauty stops.
I snatch my arm away. I don’t want her contaminating the good Milly’s touch has left on me. Her touch feels like a taint, and I don’t want it anywhere near me.
“How can you do this to me?” she wails.
“You came here to blackmail me. I called your bluff. Sue me. Let’s see what happens.” I don’t have to feign my boredom at this point.
“I know you’re seeing someone. There was a picture in a shitty little tabloid of you kissing some woman in DC. I mean, Dean, she can’t be anyone of note because it was in a magazine no one even reads anymore. It’s obvious you’re slumming. I thought you’d get over this and come back to me. If you don’t stop this, I’ll move on!”
I'm too shocked to hold back my laughter. Fucking tabloids. “You think I’ll come back to you? Nicola, move on. I’m in love with that woman you saw me kissing. I’m moving to DC. This is my last trip to New York.” She steps back, aghast; her tan skin suddenly pale.
“What?”
“You have until June to find a place. If you want to try suing me for whatever fantasy some lawyer put into your head, go ahead. I’m late.”
I turn and walk toward the elevator. When I step in one and turn to push the button for my floor, I see her walking hurriedly toward the entrance of the building. I hope it’s the last I see of her.
31
* * *
I’m livid. The FBI has been playing us for fools.
I called Agent Walker after I spoke to Addie and Lilly about what Mom had shared. They were as upset as I was. Lilly, in fact, is making her first trip back to Maryland in almost five years. Addie wanted to come, but is in the middle of a major domestic abuse trial.
When I called Agent Walker to ask her to see the footage they had gathered of my dad, the footage which has convinced them that he was in Syria, she at first said she would have to get back to me.
When I didn’t hear from her for almost a week, I called her again only to be told they couldn’t show us the footage because it’s classified.
When I told her that my sisters and I wouldn’t be willing to do the press conference without some sort of proof that he was in Syria, or that they knew where he was at all, she went silent for a full minute. I thought she had hung up.
“Hello,” I said into the phone, to see if she was still there.
“What has brought this on?” she asked me.
“Nothing more than thinking about this a little. We want to make sure we are doing the right thing. We want to see our father, make sure it’s really him. How are you so sure? You said it’s CCTV, how clear is it? We don’t want to expose ourselves to that kind of attention unless we are sure.”
“I see,” she said slowly. “Have you heard from your father? Did he tell you where he is?” she asked suddenly.
My heart immediately started to race.
“What do you mean? I thought you knew where he was!” I asked her sharply.
“We do. But you have been the most cooperative of your sisters. Your sudden reluctance makes me wonder why.” Her tone is combative.
“I told you why. And if you can’t show us what I asked for then you can forget the press conference. We can all go back to what we’ve been doing for the last thirteen years,” I snap.
“I told you, I can’t show anything,” she says in a placating tone.
“Okay, well thank you for your time. I have to go and pick up my son from school. Have a good afternoon.”
I hang up before she can say another word.
