CHAPTER 3-REUNION
As Melissa continued to look on, Nicole heard Robert's phone ring once, twice, and then finally, his answering machine kicked in: 'Please state the nature of your problem, and a contact number, and I will get in touch with you.'
There was no mistaking Robert's smooth English accent, even though he didn't mention his name in his recorded message. Momentarily, she, not for the first time, wondered exactly who this man actually was, and then she spoke, quickly and quietly, leaving her message for him.
When she hung up, she immediately turned to go back to college, and Melissa had to hurry to catch up to her, but Nicole still heard the question she'd been expecting:
"Wait-who's Robert?"
As it happened, McCall had been in the shower when Nicole called, and moments after she'd left the message, he came padding into the kitchen, wrapped in a robe, having heard the telltale beep of the machine. He might be getting older, but his hearing was still impeccable. "Honestly," he muttered under his breath. "I sometimes think these people wait until I've left the room to..."
Robert let the sentence trail off with a sigh, knowing that he was being ridiculous, then pressed 'Play' on his machine. There was a brief moment of static, and then:
"Mister McCall?...Robert?" The voice was familiar, and had addressed him by name; he was instantly more alert. "You probably won't remember me, but my name is Nicole Baker. I need your help with something. You can reach me at The Gallery, the art college? The number is five-five-five..."
McCall automatically made a note of the number, even though he'd already decided to go to the college in person. Of course he remembered Nicole-less than twenty-four hours ago, he'd been reading about her upcoming art exhibition in the paper. He wondered if her call concerned the exhibit, and then shook his head, marvelling at the fact that after only two years, this young lady needed his help again...
Back at the college, the whole place was up in arms because of Amy's vanishing act. However, much to Nicole's chagrin, the police had got in contact with the assistant manager, Rebecca Monroe, before she and Melissa got back, and the entire staff, small though it was, now seemed to be buying the whole 'impromptu vacation' crap. It never ceased to amaze and appal Nicole, how blindly some people trusted the police department.
The general mood in the place was of anger and disappointment, directed at the absentee manager and owner, who, Nicole increasingly felt, was in some sort of danger. She hoped that Robert would reply to her message soon.
Rebecca seemed annoyed that Nicole had been so 'rude' to the police, and she was sorely tempted to show Rebecca, who was often too egotistical and patronizing for her own good anyway, her scars, and explain to her exactly why she didn't like cops. But she wouldn't give her the satisfaction of displaying any kind of weakness.
Nicole had only been sitting in her room for a few moments when there was a timid knock and Melissa poked her head around the door, still looking slightly bewildered. She waved her friend in, and Melissa entered, quietly closing the door behind her. "You really think something bad's happened to Amy, don't you?" She enquired. Nicole smiled slightly, and, standing up, gestured to her bedroom window, which faced the street. "I spent a large portion of my life out there, Mel." She replied. "I had nobody looking out for me, and nothing to rely on except my instincts. She's in trouble. I can feel it."
Melissa nodded slowly, then said, "It's just nobody else seems to think..." "Mel, I'm not asking you to believe me." Nicole interrupted sharply. "I'm not asking anyone to believe me. But I know how I feel." A pause, and then she added, more quietly, "I just hope Robert agrees with me."
"Ok, who is Robert?" Melissa had persisted with this exact line of questioning, since she had left the message on his answering machine, and Nicole now figured she may as well answer. Picking up that morning's newspaper, she flipped to the advertising section, then tossed it to her. "Have you seen this ad?" She asked. Melissa studied the paper for a moment, then seemed to see what Nicole was talking about, and her eyes widened. "You called The Equalizer?" She exclaimed. "I called The Equalizer." Nicole confirmed.
"You really think this guy will help?" Melissa asked; she had that damnably doubtful expression on her face again, and Nicole had to struggle to keep her voice calm. "He helped me once before." She replied tightly, without explaining further; while she liked Melissa a lot, usually, she had told her almost nothing of her life on the streets, and nothing at all about the fact that she had been shot. Melissa shrugged, then smiled. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing." She said casually. "I mean, imagine how embarrassing it'll be if Amy shows up alive and kicking..." Nicole's glare brought that sentence to an abrupt halt, and Melissa turned to the window, shaking her head. "Okay, okay." She ceded. "Just saying."
Nicole went over the whole thing in her head again. No forced entry, overturned lamp, open window...and the note in Amy's handwriting. All of this led to a simple explanation, that Amy had simply and suddenly decided to take off, on an unannounced holiday.
Only, Amy wasn't buying that. Not by a long shot.
There was talk of the exhibit being at least postponed for the time being, but she wasn't even thinking about that. All she cared about was Amy's safe return. She only hoped Robert could help.
Over by the window, Melissa suddenly gave a long, low whistle, interrupting Nicole's thoughts. "Nice car." She breathed, and Nicole sighed. "I've seen nice cars, Mel." She countered. "Yeah, I know." Melissa replied. "But...I think this is a Jag, Nicki."
Nicole practically threw the chair aside in her rush to get up, and raced to the window. Sure enough, there was a black Jaguar XJ6 parked at the curb right outside the college.
She'd know that car anywhere.
"It's him, isn't it?" Melissa stared at her friend. "The ad guy?" As if on cue, Rebecca threw open the door after a cursory knock. "There is a Mister McCall in the exhibit room, Nicole." She said coldly. "He says you're expecting him?" Her expression clearly told Nicole she expected her to elaborate on why an older English guy was looking for her, which Nicole had no intention of doing. It also gave her great pleasure that Rebecca, someone who had ideas far above her station, had been forced to play messenger girl. And she knew from experience that Robert McCall wouldn't have taken any of her crap.
"Thanks, Rebecca." She said, just as coldly. "I'll be right there." As Rebecca left, Nicole turned to Melissa. "I won't be long. " She told her, and then, when her friend tried to protest, added, "I have to talk to Robert alone, Mel. I'll be back."
Robert was standing with his back to her, hands clasped behind his back, when Nicole entered the exhibit room; he was staring up at one of her most recent works, a portrait of a homeless man who frequented the nearby streets, and played violin. Nicole felt a particular affinity with people on the streets, for obvious reasons.
She felt embarrassed that he was looking at her work; other than that picture she'd drawn of one of the men who had attacked her, he'd never seen any of her art. Honestly, though, she wasn't even half as embarrassed as she was happy to see him.
Slowly, she approached him, then said gently, "So. What do you know about art?" Robert didn't turn or even flinch, but merely replied, amusement clear in his voice, "You'd be surprised."
"Oh, no," Nicole chuckled, finally standing next to him. "Nothing about you would surprise me." He finally looked down at her with a gentle smile and look of affection, and hugged her briefly. When he pulled away, he told her, "Hello, Nicole. You look wonderful." She felt herself blush, but still responded, "Oh, yeah? You don't look so bad yourself." There was a short comfortable silence, and then she added, more seriously, "Thanks for coming."
He made no comment for a moment, but merely nodded slightly, turning away again, then said, "Nicole, please don't tell me I'm here because somebody else wants to kill you." She smiled at this, then replied, "I'm sorry, I wasn't clear on the phone. It's not me, Robert. Not this time."
He smiled briefly when she reverted to using his Christian name, then swept his arm across the room in an expansive gesture. "Are all of these yours?" He asked, as if he hadn't heard her. "Most of them." Nicole told him. "All of the portraits are mine. Like I told you, I'm better with faces than anything else." "You have an extraordinary gift." Robert's tone was openly admiring. "I saw the article in the paper about your exhibition. Is that why you called? Has something gone wrong?" Nicole paled at his astute observation, but did not answer, and then, quick as a flash, he sounded his usual authoritative self as he asked, "Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?" Nicole, her sense of deference to this man returning, replied meekly, "Sure. We can talk in my room."
Melissa's eyes were as wide as saucers when Nicole walked into the room with McCall at her heels, and Nicole hid a smile when she immediately stood up. When she'd lived on the streets, she'd known a Vietnam vet named Rick, who, while he wasn't entirely sane, had still had the aura of a man used to being in charge. Robert had that same aura-he just had a way about him that demanded total and unquestioning obedience. Hence Melissa's reaction. And hence Nicole's own sense of deference and respect for this man.
"Robert, this is my friend, Melissa Roberts." Nicole made the introduction, watching as Melissa hesitantly shook hands with the older man. "Mel, this is Robert McCall. He's gonna help find Amy."
Of course, Nicole had made no mention of Amy to Robert yet, but he never said anything, merely nodded. She knew from her own experience with him that he was the kind of man who would bide his time, would give nothing away until the appropriate time. And right now was not the appropriate time-because Melissa was still here.
"Mel, would you mind-?" Melissa didn't even let Nicole finish, but rushed to the door, seemingly delighted to be dismissed. "I'll be downstairs if you need me." She said, outwardly cheery, but Nicole didn't miss the cautious, even fearful, glances she threw in Robert's direction. And she doubted he missed them, either.
"I think I make your friend nervous." Robert didn't speak until Melissa was gone and well out of earshot, and Nicole looked at him, arching an eyebrow. "Robert, I bet you make a lot of people nervous." She shot back, and she saw the ghost of a smile whisper across his mouth. "Touché." He murmured, touching fingers to his forehead in a salute. If anyone else had made this gesture, Nicole would have thought they were mocking her, but not Robert. And not with her.
McCall straightened the lapels of his jacket, a fidgety habit he couldn't quite overcome, regarding the young woman in front of him. The Nicole he had met two years ago had been thin, undernourished, unkempt. This Nicole was glowing with health, sturdy, clean...and, if he could admit such a thing to himself, beautiful. The transformation was incredible-or, at least, the physical transformation was incredible. Because Robert could still see that hardened, cynical, mistrusting look that glimmered in her eyes. An expression that was not directed at him, but at others. She and that girl Melissa might be friends...but it was clear to Robert that she didn't quite trust her. But that would take time. After what Nicole had endured, trusting anyone would take time.
He was just grateful that the girl trusted him.
"So," Robert sat on the nearest chair, situated by the window, politely declining Nicole's offer of tea or coffee. "What seems to be the problem? And who is Amy? I presume she's the reason you rang?"
Nicole told him the whole story, that Amy now owned The Gallery, and that she had disappeared. She omitted no details, telling him about her encounter with the police, the commotion the neighbour had heard, how she had seen Amy's apartment, with the open window and carelessly broken lamp...and the note, which, inexplicably, was in Amy's handwriting.
Robert stared hard at her when she brought up the note, and she bowed her head. "I know what you must be thinking." She said. "If she left a note, she must be okay, but...it doesn't make sense, Robert. None of this makes sense. Amy wouldn't just leave...especially not with this exhibit coming up. She's worked so hard for this." McCall continued to look at her contemplatively, and she felt tears threatening. If he didn't believe her, nobody would.
"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" She felt defeat come crashing in, and self-doubt along with it. Maybe everyone else was right; was she completely over-reacting?
Her musings were cut off when Robert held up his hands, smiling slightly. "Nicole," he said briskly. "You called me because your instincts told you something was amiss. Am I right?" When she nodded, he continued, "If you never trust anyone, always trust your instincts. They may not always be a hundred per cent correct...but they will always lead you in the right direction." There was a brief pause, and then he said, "Nicole, I think you were right to call me. Everything about this seems off to me." He looked her right in the eye and asked, "You believe she was kidnapped, don't you?"…
(Next-Nicole and Robert theorise about what may have happened to Amy, and then he calls in some backup to formulate a plan. Also, sparks fly when Nicole meets McCall's son Scott. Please R&R!)
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