chapter one hundred and two

After witnessing the rather hurried flight of Ms. Whitehall, I called Cameron again, this time from the safety of the conference room.

“Michelle just left in a hurry. I’m sure she was listening to our conversation.”

“Good work, Billy. Pretty gutsy move.“

“You said it was time to blow this thing out of the water,” I reminded him.

“Not my exact words, ” he corrected, ”but you captured the sentiment.”

“You think she knows where Viola is?”

“Undoubtedly, but I don’t think she’s stupid enough to drive right over there.”

“Oh?” I had hoped that she would do exactly that. “So what now?”

“I’ve got a car on her tail. We’ll track her movements and see what comes of it.” Cameron said.

“But if she isn’t going to where Viola is being held, what’s the point?” I sighed a bit too loudly.

“Listen, Billy. These things take time. We have to wait and see where she leads us. You did well to unsettle her, but now we’ll probably have to wait until she feels clear to contact the kidnappers. We can’t force her next move or we’ll lose any advantage we have. You understand.”

I tried not to let the impatience show in my voice. ”Yes, detective.” Viola had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours. Who knew what they could have done to her by now? "But I can’t just sit here!” The last few words were high and pitchy with frustration.

Blair’s voice became decidedly more even and calm. “Then sit there and pray. I know you can do that. I’ll let you know if we come up with anything, okay?”

His suggestion was not entirely to my satisfaction, but I couldn’t discredit it’s merit, so I left him to his work while I paced the length of conference room windows, taking my complaint to the most powerful person that I knew.

“Well, God, I don’t know what’s happening with Viola. Maybe I should never have let her leave the shelter, but she just wanted to come to church. How could I have known this is how things would turn out? It looks like it’s my fault again, so I’m sorry. I’m not very good at helping people, but I know you are. Could you please let someone know where Viola is and rescue her before it’s too late?” I stopped pacing and leaned my forehead against the cool glass, at a loss for any more words. A moment later, to my surprise, I saw Michelle Whitehall walking through the park towards city hall. What was she doing back here?

I took two giant steps over to the phone and called Cameron to see what he knew about it. After I spent a few minutes on hold, he filled me in on the latest details. Apparently she had driven the car to a nearby garage, left it there, and hoofed it back to city hall at a rather brisk pace. When the service manager was questioned by a detective, he had replied that the car was in for a regular maintenance. The officer’s request to see the car was refused. The police were in the process of getting a search warrant, but Cam was sure the car was being wiped clean of all evidence as we spoke. I had to hand it to Michelle Whitehall. She was one smart woman.

“Oh, shit, We’re still always a step behind,” I muttered and then quickly added the obligatory, ”Sorry, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Mrs. Wheeler?” Cam questioned.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime when we’re not busy trying to save someone’s life,” I explained.

“Right.” The detective let it drop and got right back to the matter at hand. I loved that about him! ”We’re also keeping tabs on Tait and Applewood, so if any one of them goes near Viola, we’ll find her.”

“Not likely they’ll do that anytime soon, if I know them.” I let the air out of my mouth to match my sense of deflation.

“Oh, by the way, Sanders told me he knew nothing about Michelle Whitehall’s involvement,” Cameron informed me.

“Really?” It took a moment for that to sink in. “So the three were keeping secrets from each other?” I asked.

“There's not usually a whole lot of trust between criminals. It always proves to be their downfall.” Cameron added.

“Hmmm,” was my only reply.

“If we don’t get any leads in the next few hours, I’ll bring Michelle Whitehall in and see if we can get anything out of her.”

“I hope she’s talkative,” It was more sarcasm than hope speaking.

“Me too,” he agreed, both in word and tone.

”Oh-uh, and Cameron,” I hesitantly added. ”There’s one more thing.”

”Go ahead,” he responded quickly.

I grimaced to myself. I knew he was busy on a case, and it was a totally inappropriate moment to bring my personal stuff up, but I needed to get at least one thing off my chest so that I could stop obsessing about it.

”Billy? You still there?” The detective's voice reminded me that while I was busy with my inner dialogue, he was waiting for me to get to the point.

”Uh, sorry, yeah, just trying to gather my words.” I grimaced again and bit my nails. Just jump in, Billy, I coaxed my timid soul.

”Sure you don’t want to call me back when you’ve got it figured out? I’m kind of busy here –“

”No! I got it! Here it is. Um, listen, when I said no the other day, in the bathroom, I didn’t mean no. I meant no, but yes. No, I don’t want to be your personal assistant like someone you hire. I just meant that I don’t want to take money to help you, that’s all. I will, I would be happy to, if you still want me, that is – “

“Got to take a call, Billy. Sorry.” The detective abandoned me mid-sentence, and I was left holding the phone and a fair bit of embarrassment. I smacked myself on the forehead with my right palm, deriding myself for yet another bungled attempt at getting the man to respect me as a person and see me as more than a bewildering and unreliable friend. It was becoming evident that any high hopes for this relationship were mostly in my head. And speaking of my head, I should have known better than to smack myself in annoyance, because sharp pains were now shooting down my broken nose.