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Greenberg pushes his chair back. “Think about what I said, Rebecca.”
“Oh, I will, Simon. Enjoy the fresh air while you can.”
“Hayden,” Tyler calls. “Is your bag in the office?”
“Yup.”
Meeting adjourned.
* * *
JL
I call Micki for the third time, but she doesn’t pick up. Then I make a call to the office number and ask to be connected, my eyes mist with red at the response.
“Sorry, sir, but she’s already left for the day.”
This is strange. I call Liam.
When he answers, I say, “Where are you?”
“With Ms. Press. Why?” He sounds puzzled.
I take a deep breath. At least I know nothing’s happened to her. “Where is she?”
“At her condo. On Goethe.” He says Go-ee-thee. I’ve heard it as Go-ith and Go-thee as well. And a few Chicagoans, and the CTA, use the correct German pronunciation, Ger-tuh.
“Why didn’t you tell me plans had changed? I was just getting ready to take off for her office.”
“Sorry, Boss. She got some bad news, but she said she’d let you know. Text or something.”
“She’s not answering her phone. Tell her I need to talk to her.”
He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “She told me she was going to take a nap and didn’t want to be bothered.”
“Tabarnak.” I clench my teeth briefly. “I’m coming over.” I pause. We were supposed to have lunch. She’ll need to eat, and I know she doesn’t have any food. “Did you pick up anything?”
“Nah, just wanted to take her home. We can order out later.”
“I’ll take care of it. What do you want?”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll stop at Portillo’s.”
“Italian beef, fries. And a large Coke.”
Eager as I am to leave, Micki is in expert hands, so I make sure I have everything covered for the rest of the day. Then I put on my jacket, put Case in charge, and tell my secretary and the receptionist I’ll be out for the rest of the day.
When I arrive at the condo, the concierge I helped yesterday is at the desk and tells me to go up without checking my ID or calling. Terrible security. I want to tell him that, but concern for Micki overrides everything. When I see the elevator doors are open, ready to whoosh me up to the third floor like Superman, I run over.
Liam knows to expect me, but he not only checks through the peephole, but opens the door with the safety chain fastened. I position myself where he can see me, but I can’t see him. Once he’s sure I’m alone, he takes off the chain and lets me in.
‘Good thing you’re here. That asshole at the desk waved me up with hardly a second glance.”
Shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter, Liam says, “Well, he already knows you as a good guy.”
“Sorry. I guess it’s just trotte dans la tête.”
