Eyes on You (27 page)

“I wonder if I should have her stay at my place to keep tabs on her,” I said. “But that could also be a little awkward.”

“Agreed. Are there any small hotels near you, ones that aren’t so public?”

“You know, a friend of mine from Seattle just rented an apartment here for a week, one she found over the Internet. I’ll look into that. It would be close but private.”

“Sounds good. The sooner we move on this, the better.” He glanced quickly toward me, just a quarter turn of the head so his eyes weren’t off the road long. “Once they figure out the truth and oust Vicky, you’ll want to be back on the show, right?”

“Yes, of course,” I said. I’d waited a beat to answer, but I wasn’t sure why.

“You hesitated,” Alex said.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable at first, I’m sure. Unlike you, most people didn’t reach out to me, though I suppose I can hardly blame them. I was fired under a black cloud. But what bothers me most is that one person there betrayed me, and I don’t know who it was.”

“Betrayed you how?”

To explain, I would have to tell Alex about Janice. That was okay. He’d more than stuck his neck out for me and had led me to Sharon. He deserved to know everything.

“Gosh, Robin, it must have been awful to go through all that,” he said after I’d shared the story. “Do you think Vicky knew about your history and tried to pull similar stuff?”

“At first I saw that as a possibility, but now, especially after talking to Sharon, I think it was coincidental. Those were just the vicious tricks in Vicky’s arsenal. But I told a few friends at the network about my past, and someone tipped off Potts. It helped undermine my credibility.”

“Could he have found out another way? Was there any press about what happened to you as a girl?”

“There was a small item a few months after I returned from the first summer at my aunt Jessie’s. I didn’t know until I was home that Janice had convinced my father I was behind everything. I guess he thought that being banished for the summer would have taught me a lesson and that we could all make a go of it again, be the sweet happy family of his dreams. As soon as school started, Janice began locking me in a closet when I returned home each day, and she’d only let me out a few minutes before my father was due back from work. Said it was for her protection. She knew I wouldn’t dare tell him because it would seem like I was fabricating things again. One day I ran away, and there was a search for me. That ended up in the papers.”

“Will Oliver might have found it and explored things further.”

“I almost hope so. That would be easier to accept.”

Alex glanced at me again. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through these past weeks,” he said. “It must have triggered a lot of scary memories.”

“Yes. It’s as if the old and new got tangled up somehow. I’ve felt at times as if I’m coming unglued. There was even a moment when I wondered if I
had
done those things at work without knowing I had. I worried about that as a little girl, too.”

“Is Janice still with your father?”

“I believe so. I have a couple of relatives from Buffalo whom I still talk to—Maddy’s mother, for one—but they know not to bring her up to me. And my father never mentions her.”

“You talk to him?”

“Now and then. In the years since I lived with my aunt, I’ve seen him on only a dozen occasions, and the last time was probably five years ago. He emails me sometimes. And once in a blue moon, we speak on the phone. What’s really sad is that for years I waited for him to tell me he’d figured out the truth and to ask for my forgiveness. I would have given it. But I saw that it was never going to happen. He’ll go to his grave believing Janice.”

Abruptly, I felt drained from sharing so much, and I rested my head against the seat.

“Take a catnap if you want,” he said.

“No way. You need a copilot in conditions like these.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve had enough caffeine to keep me alert till Miami.”

I didn’t sleep. I stared out the window, thinking about Sharon, trying not to let my faint hopes magnify into something they didn’t deserve to be. As we drove through the foothills of the Catskill Mountains, I saw a huge buck standing undecided on the side of the highway.
Don’t cross
, I wanted to yell.

Finally, the rain let up, becoming a drizzle. Alex turned down the window wipers so that they made their hypnotic swish every few seconds. Because of the weather, night seemed to come early. Even in the dark, Alex’s light skin was luminescent.

“You know . . .” I said. The sound of my voice made him jerk in surprise.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep,” he said.

“No, just thinking. We’ve spent so much time talking about me and my situation in the past few days, but I’ve asked you practically nothing about yourself.”

He leaned his head back and smiled, staring ahead at the gleaming wet highway. “There’s not much exciting to report,” he said. “I landed in TV pretty late, so I’ve been trying to make up for lost time and not let myself be distracted.”

“How old are you, anyway?” I said, smiling. “I’m not interviewing you for a job, so you can’t sue me for asking.”

“Thirty-three. I’m the oldest senior producer on the show.”

“I had to play the catch-up game, too, since I’d come from the outside like you did. Would you want an EP job at some point?”

“Definitely, though I’d prefer politics or news in the future. Don’t take this the wrong way: Topics like pets on planes and badly behaving rock stars leave me cold.”

“Even underboobage?”

“Okay, that’s probably an exception.”

“What made you want to switch into TV?”

“I majored in journalism in college, but I took the law boards as a lark. When my parents saw how well I’d done—a total fluke—they put a lot of pressure on me to go. I have to admit, I had a bit of Jack McCoy syndrome.”

“Meaning?”

“Justice for all, that kind of thing.”

“You didn’t like it in the end?”

Though the inside of the car was dim, I could see his expression cloud.

“No,” he said flatly. “Definitely not the right fit. But I picked up a few decent skills, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

Though I sensed there was more to the story, I decided not to push. I didn’t want to alienate him, and I, more than anyone, knew about the desire to keep the past private.

Alex dropped me off just after seven-thirty. For a moment I wondered if he was going to suggest that we grab dinner, but I didn’t give him an opening. I felt exhausted from the long ride and churned up from hearing Sharon’s story. Besides, a guy who looked like him surely had a girlfriend waiting on a Saturday night. I thanked him profusely, and he promised to text me contact info for the lawyer, which he did about an hour later.

Her name was Lisa Follett, and I spoke with her briefly by phone the next day, the quick response facilitated by Alex’s friend in the firm. Follett agreed to meet with me early Monday afternoon.

For the first time in days, I dressed the way I used to for the show. It was almost painful to put on one of my TV outfits, which just three weeks ago had seemed to be the bold emblem of my new success. I also felt vaguely ridiculous, like one of those married guys who’s been fired from his job but, too much of a wuss to confess to his wife, leaves the house every morning dressed in a suit and tie. But I wanted to impress Lisa Follett, convince her I wasn’t a nut job. What I needed most was for her to say that Sharon’s story was strong enough to open a door for me with Potts and Carey.

Her office was all the way downtown in Battery Park Plaza. Even the reception area had a drop-dead view of New York Harbor. Based on Alex’s description of Lisa as a fierce, unrelenting warrior, I’d been expecting Glenn Close in
Damages
, but that wasn’t the woman who stepped out from behind her desk to greet me. She was about five-three, slight in build, with a small heart-shaped face and fine brown hair. She had a pleasant, easy talking style with a hint of a Southern accent.

“So tell me again why you need a lawyer?” she said after I’d taken a seat across from her.

Kind of a funny question, considering I’d given her the broad outlines on the phone; but I guessed it was part of her technique to obtain a read on me. I went through everything: all the incidents, the advice the employment lawyer had volunteered, what Alex had seen, what we’d learned from Sharon. She was a good listener, nodding, watching me closely, and fielding questions at various points.

“Since you don’t want to sue, what exactly would you want a lawyer to do?” she asked.

“Take my case to management. Hopefully, once they hear what happened to Sharon and acknowledge how similar it is to my situation, they’ll be willing to find the botnet on my computer. That will prove I never did those searches. And then I want them to give me my job back. I’d love it if you could take this on.” I was certain about hiring her. After almost an hour, I’d begun to sense the tiger crouching in her.

She nodded slowly, as if still deciding.
Please
, I thought.

“It’s a challenging situation,” she said, “but I feel this new information from the television reporter makes all the difference. I’d definitely be willing to take on the case.”

I exhaled with relief.

“I need to put the issue of money on the table now,” she added. “This isn’t going to be cheap.”

“Can you give me a rough estimate?”

“We’re looking at about thirty hours of work on my part, and that’s at seven hundred dollars an hour. I would also have to involve both an associate and a private detective I work with, an ex-FBI guy. He’s easily another ten grand. And I’ll need a retainer of twenty-five thousand. All of this is nonnegotiable.”

It would take a huge bite of my savings, but I didn’t have a choice. “Okay,” I said, nodding. “What’s the next step?”

“You’ve only one shot at going in there and making your case to this Potts fellow, so let’s be sure what we have is as strong as possible. What Sharon is offering sounds good on the surface, but my detective and I need to sit down alone with her and evaluate her story, make certain she’s trustworthy. My guy will also have to drive up to Albany and try to corroborate what she’s saying.”

Damn. That meant a slower process than what I’d anticipated. Also, though Alex and I had told Sharon that she’d be required to talk to people at the network, now I’d be adding a preliminary interview with a former FBI agent, which might spook her. And she’d have to make two trips to the city, not one.

Again, I didn’t have a choice. Lisa’s strategy sounded smart; I would just have to pray that Sharon wouldn’t flinch. I assured Lisa I would try to arrange for Sharon to be in New York as soon as possible.

She walked me back toward reception and shook my hand. “I know this has been difficult,” she said. “But I’ll work hard to make it right.”

I flagged down a cab and had the driver drop me a block from my apartment building at a small café. I picked a table at the back. Being out in public, especially in one of my “Brand Robin” dresses, could trigger renewed press interest, but I was sick of being cooped up in my apartment.

I ordered a light lunch and, for the first time in days, actually tasted the food. The last words Lisa had uttered kept running through my head:
I’ll work hard to make it right.
This was the best I’d felt in days.

As soon as I returned home, I checked on the availability of the apartment my friend had stayed in. It was free over the next week. Then I phoned Sharon on her cell number. When she didn’t pick up, I left a message saying I was ready to arrange her trip to Manhattan. I’d no sooner ended the call than I saw Bettina’s name on my cell screen.

“Darling, how
are
you?” she said when I answered.

“Hanging in there. Have you discovered anything on your end?”

“Not very much, unfortunately. The Westport police have turned up nothing, so we still don’t know who was skulking around that night. I’m coming up empty with Potts, too. I called him myself, on the pretense of trying to make him see the benefit of the sale, and he seemed truly shaken about you being gone. I know I told you he might be responsible, but I’m sensing now that he isn’t.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “I have other leads.”

“Wonderful. What are they?” Pussyfooting wasn’t one of Bettina’s particular talents.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I’m free to talk about them. Why don’t I call you in a day or two?”

“All right. Just know I’m here for you.”

At around five, I tried Sharon’s cell again. Still voice mail. I couldn’t help feeling a pinch of worry. Alex and I had conveyed on Saturday that the situation was urgent and that things might begin to move quickly. She’d said that was fine, that her job afforded her flexible hours. Maybe her office would know her whereabouts. I dug her business card out of my purse and tapped the number for the real estate agency.

“McLaren Realty,” a woman answered.

“Hi, I’m trying to reach Sharon Hayes.”

“Is it about a listing?”

“No, actually, it’s a personal call.”

“Well, I can give you her cell, I guess. You don’t sound like a crazy person.”

That was funny. “She’s not coming into the office today?” I asked.

“Nope. Or tomorrow. She resigned this morning.”

Panic welled in me. “Did she take another job?”

“I don’t think so, love. She said something about heading to California.”

My stomach dropped. No, please, this couldn’t be happening. Without her, I had nothing. The lawyer had made that utterly clear.

I sent Alex a text urging him to call me right after the show. Then I paced my apartment, my nerves on fire. What if Sharon was taking off not because she’d developed cold feet but because something had alarmed her? Vicky might have learned that Alex and I had made contact.

Whatever the reason, I needed to find her. Maybe the person who had connected Alex to Sharon had information.

My phone rang, and to my shock, I saw Sharon’s name on the screen.

“Sorry not to ring you back right away,” she said casually when I answered.