Part 17 (1/2)
”Sure.” She opened her laptop, and a minute later said, ”San Diego. Her GPS coordinates match up to a motel in Pacific Beach. The Otter House. Small place. Eighteen rooms.” She looked up. ”I could call her if you want. She'll talk to me.”
He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. ”No. She needs time to think.”
Orlando frowned.
”What?” he asked.
”I know what you're doing. You're hoping this might break them up. You think it's better if she's not involved with someone in the business.”
”Don't you think that, too?” he asked, surprised.
”I am involved with someone in the business.”
”Yeah, but you're in it also.”
”You can't decide her life for her.”
”Who says I am? I'm not telling her to leave him. I haven't told her their relations.h.i.+p is a bad idea. All I'm saying now is that we give her some time for herself.”
”And if she comes back and still wants to be in a relations.h.i.+p with him?”
”That's her choice.”
”You'll support it?”
He paused for a moment. ”Yes.”
”If you honestly mean that, fine.”
”I do.”
”Then fine,” she said, though the look she gave him was less than certain.
CHAPTER 21.
QUINN ROSE AT five a.m.
Careful not to wake Orlando, he put on a clean T-s.h.i.+rt and pair of gym shorts, checked his phone and was surprised to see there was still no return call from Peter. It was already eight back in DC, and Peter-who not only stayed up late, but woke early-would have certainly listened to Quinn's message by now.
He headed upstairs, and tried calling his old employer again, but was once more sent to voice mail.
”Peter, this is an emergency. I need to talk to you right away.”
He hung up and thought for a moment. Peter had given him a number once for use only in an emergency and Peter could not otherwise be reached, but that had been before the Office had disbanded. Quinn wasn't even sure the number worked anymore.
He found it on Peter's phone in the notes section of contact page. He punched in the number and listened, fully expecting to receive a ”this number has been disconnected” message.
One ring. ”h.e.l.lo?” A woman's voice.
”I think I might have the wrong number,” Quinn said, almost sure of it. ”I'm looking for Peter.”
”Who is this?” There was a surprised tone to the voice, a voice Quinn realized he recognized.
”Misty?”
”Tell me who this is or I'm hanging up.”
”It's Quinn.”
Dead air for a second. ”Quinn? How did you...how did you get my number?”
”I didn't know it was your number. Peter gave it to me a few years ago in case of an emergency.”
”Typical. That man...” He could almost hear her shaking her head.
”I've been trying to get ahold of him, but he hasn't responded. I thought I'd give this number a try, but I don't suppose you've seen him lately.”
”Not for a month or so.” Misty had been Peter's a.s.sistant back in the Office days, and one of the few people Peter fully trusted. Since the end of their organization, she had been shuffled off to a far less interesting government job, while Peter had been labeled a consultant and stuck behind a desk. ”When did you call him?”
”Last night, probably around midnight your time, and again just before I called you.”
”And you left messages?”
”Yeah.”
”That's not like him. He should have called you back by now. Are you sure you have the right number?”
Quinn read off the number he had for Peter.
”That's it,” she said, sounding concerned. ”Let me check and get back to you.”
”You don't have to do that.”
”No. I do.”
Quinn knew it didn't matter who was officially paying her salary, Peter would always be her boss.
”I appreciate it.”
”I'll call you right back.”
Quinn put on the coffee, and made a bowl of instant oatmeal. He'd only taken two bites when his phone rang.
”I can't get through to him, either,” Misty told him. ”I'm about to head into work, so I'll swing by his place first and see if he's even home.”
”If you don't mind, that would be great.”