Chapter 7
Dim gray light was starting to come up over Los Angeles, and Don rubbed his face and stared blearily out of the FBI office window. It was nearly six a.m., and he was the only one there.
The evening before, after he'd left the Craftsman he had come straight in to the office. One of the afternoon-shift techs was still there, and Don had him start a scan for hits from Charlie's credit and bank cards, and told him to leave notes for the day turn tech when he left at midnight. He'd also called LAPD Chief Sam Winston at home, and asked him to put out a BOLO for Charlie's car. He was stingy on details – just that Charlie was having marital difficulties and had fled L.A. and that they were worried about his state of mind. Moments later the BOLO was in the system – Sam had his people code it as a potential suicide to make sure it got the attention it needed. The code put a name to the unspoken fear in Don's mind, and he spent the next several hours waiting for news. Finally at about one in the morning, he suspected that Charlie had stopped to rest somewhere and there wouldn't be much chance of anything coming in – although he had left instructions for LAPD or the CHP to reach him on his cell phone, if anyone spotted him. He stopped in at the lab to see if the afternoon tech was still there, but he'd gone when his shift was up, at midnight. So Don had gone home and tried to sleep for four hours, tossing and turning. Finally he had gotten up, showered, shaved, and dressed, and come right back in, somehow hoping for news, even though he knew they would have called him on his cell phone if they had found anything.
He felt physically ill, sick to his stomach, and he dragged into the break area and started a pot of coffee, planting both hands on the counter while it brewed, leaning wearily on his arms. As soon as he talked to his boss – thankfully the man usually got in early – Don was going to swing by Robin's apartment and tell her what happened. She was taking the day off today to continue to shop for wedding dresses with her sister, so at least she didn't need to go into the office right after she got the news. He was dreading the conversation - he could only hope that she'd believe his story and give him the benefit of the doubt, or he might be losing a wife, as well as a brother.
He shook his head, still pondering the surreal set of events. Amita had completely floored him – he would never in a million years have seen that coming from her. He was sure she had been head over heels in love with Charlie while they were dating, especially as they got more serious. What in the hell had happened? The whole thing was unfathomable.
He drank a cup of coffee, and at about seven a.m., as some of the earlier starters were streaming in, he went up one floor to see his boss – Assistant Director Wright. He met him as he was coming in, just unlocking his office door. Usually, office protocol demanded that a person let someone coming in have a few minutes to get settled – turn on their computer, grab a cup of coffee – before they approached. Don's presence there – standing, waiting until Wright unlocked the door, spoke volumes.
Wright picked up on the urgency; he looked at Don with concern and waved him inside and over to his desk. The door swung shut behind them. "Yes, Agent, what is it?"
Don said, "Sir, I have an issue – a family issue. I have to tell you that I used the Bureau's card search tracking system last night, and I called in a favor for a BOLO from LADP, and LAPD also put it into the CHP system. I plan on continuing to use those resources today, with your permission."
It didn't cost the Bureau much for an automated card search, and the BOLO costs were also relatively minimal for the other two agencies, so it wasn't as though he was asking for a lot, but Don still felt relief when Wright said, "It's not a problem, agent. I trust your judgment. What's wrong – can I help in any way?"
Don took a deep breath. There was no way in hell anyone outside of family (and just a very few others) were going to get the ugly details. He left out the worst of it. "Charlie's wife delivered annulment papers to him yesterday. I'm sure he wasn't expecting them, and he took off – he's disappeared. We're worried about his state of mind."
Wright's face darkened with concern. "That's terrible – they were married less than a year ago, right? I had seen them at the office together not too long ago – they seemed so happy – what happened?"
"I wish I knew," said Don heavily. "I just wanted to let you know – and that I may take some time off today and go try to find him. I'm hoping it's a false alarm and he'll show up – but we're worried."
"No problem – do what you need to do."
"I'll put David in charge while I'm gone," said Don. "I'm going to let him and Colby know what's going on – I'd like to keep it quiet, otherwise."
Wright nodded. "Certainly. Let me know what happens."
Don nodded, and let himself out.
He left the office at seven-fifteen and headed for Robin's apartment. He felt like he was a kid getting ready to jump off the high diving board for the first time as he walked down the hallway – dreading the jump, but knowing he had to do it sometime, and sooner was better than later. He had sent her a text that said he was coming over and had to speak to her privately, and so she was expecting him when she opened the door, a question in her eyes.
"Ree is out at the gym," she said. "She wanted to get a workout in before we went out shopping today." She led him over to a sofa, and sat, leaving room for him. "What's going on?"
He sat next to her. "You know I love you, right?"
Robin's brow furrowed. "Of course I do."
"Okay," he said. "Something happened yesterday – it was weird and unexpected, and got out of control in a hurry." He took a deep breath and jumped off the dive – head first. He told her everything – about Amita's visit, her strange remarks, the kiss, the fact that Charlie had seen them. Throughout the story, she kept her eyes carefully on his, her expression neutral, except for biting her lip at the description of the kiss and displaying a worried expression when he told her about Charlie. He ended with a plea for forgiveness, and when he was done, she was silent and he scanned her face anxiously, looking for a clue. Was he still in, or out? God, this couldn't end their relationship – it couldn't. His stomach knotted. Please, Robin, please…
"I believe you," she said finally. "Amita was acting strangely at dinner last Saturday, and I heard her make a really insensitive comment to Charlie when we were walking in. I can still see the look on his face – he looked hurt and bewildered, and then he turned red to the roots of his hair, and tried to smile and pretend it was a joke. She kind of shocked me. And then at dinner she ignored both me and Charlie – was actually very rude – and kept staring at you. The whole thing was so strange. I don't think you really noticed because her comments to you were friendly, and Charlie – well Charlie noticed, but I got the impression that he was used to it somehow – confused and a little upset by it, but it seemed like he just accepted it – like he didn't know what else to do. It didn't seem like it was just a fight, because it was one-sided – he didn't seem angry at her. And then she was rude to me too, in addition to him. And it wasn't that she was just in a bad mood, either, because she was civil, even friendly, when she talked to you. It was a weird situation."
She looked at him, her eyes holding his. "Am I happy that you let her kiss you? No. And a few years back, this would have been a problem. The old Don didn't commit, and was more than happy to play the field. But you've changed over the years, which is why I said yes to you when you asked me to marry you. I know you're committed to us, and I can see how badly you feel about this. And I get how strangely Amita is acting, and thanks to your text, I got to prepare myself a little. After that text, I honestly expected something worse – I wasn't sure what, but it sounded bad."
Don hung his head. "It is bad," he mumbled.
Incredibly, she managed a smile. "I know you're not cheating on me, Don – you don't have time. You're either at work or with me - and that has been the case almost every night since we've been engaged. It's not your words, but your actions, that have let me know how you feel. And I'm glad you came over right away and told me what was going on."
Unexpectedly, and to his mortification, Don felt tears come to his eyes. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, and he reached for her and hugged her, hard, desperately. Maybe he shouldn't have been surprised, he thought to himself. That calm, analytical, thoughtful, measured response was so completely Robin. But he'd been on the wrong side of the analysis years before with her, and he was terrified of going back, and damned grateful that she hadn't sent him there, because back then, she had dumped him. She would have been justified had she decided to do that now.
Finally, they sat back, and she reached out and ran a hand through his hair, sympathetically. "I think right now, you need to focus on Charlie. I can tell that you're pretty worried about him, and I am too. Go do what you do – go find him. I'll be fine – I'm still going out today with Ree, just like we'd planned. Just send me a text or call me once in a while today and tell me how it's going."
"Okay, I will," he said. "Thank you." And he kissed her, gently, and he was so very, very grateful that she kissed him back.
Charlie stirred and groaned; he was lying on a hard surface, twisted, and his neck and especially his ribcage protested. He managed to separate his eyelids and realized he was lying on a bathroom floor in a strange contorted pose, sandwiched between the wall and the toilet. He dimly remembered being sick; his head throbbed and he frowned, trying to remember how he'd gotten there as he struggled to sit up.
As soon as he was sitting upright and got a look out the bathroom door at the living room he realized where he was, and the memories of the evening before came flooding back, hitting him like a freight train. He gasped involuntarily, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes. That was a mistake – the image of Don and Amita, standing there, kissing, seemed to be burned on the back of his eyelids, and he opened them quickly.
After two attempts, he managed to pull himself to his feet and staggered out into the living room. There was a partially full glass of bourbon sitting on the end table next to the sofa, and he grabbed it and took a swallow, grimacing as the liquid burned down his throat. He half expected it to come right back up but it stayed down, and he took another swallow. He put the glass down and, swaying, squinted out the huge window at the early morning sun glinting on the water. He was probably still drunk, he decided, but not drunk enough.
Don got back to the office at eight, and the workday was in full swing. He had another hurdle in front of him, and decided that he was going to limit any further information to just Colby Granger and David Sinclair. He liked Nikki Betancourt well enough and she was solid member of his team, but she hadn't been there as long and he didn't know her as well. She had a tough, street-smart demeanor that made him suspect that she wouldn't take too kindly to men who cheated – and even if he wasn't really a cheater, he still felt like one, and he was well aware he might look like one to her. It was going to be bad enough to admit to what had happened to David and Colby. And since he was limiting it to just the two of them, he was going for full disclosure. They both knew Charlie well – they'd all worked together for years, now, and Colby had been a confidant for Charlie in the past. Don was hoping that once he'd found him if Charlie refused to speak to him, that maybe either David or Colby might be a good go-between. So as painful and embarrassing as it would be to tell them, he figured it might be the best course of action.
He pulled them down the hall into a small conference room. It wasn't used much because it only seated a half dozen people and it was out of the way. They already knew something was up because of the venue and the fact that he'd only called in the two of them, and their expressions were somber and watchful.
Don sighed and ran a hand through his hair, and cleared his throat. "I ran into an issue yesterday evening – it's a family matter. I already talked to Wright and he gave me the go ahead to take some leave. The rest of the office can just think I'm taking a couple of vacation days. While I'm off, David, you're in charge – Colby, you're second in charge if the situation warrants it."
They nodded, a question in their eyes, and Don shook his head. "I'm not sure how to say this," he said, but then he did, going through the details again.
When he got to the part where Amita had told him that Charlie had seen them, David uttered a low uncharacteristic swear word, and Colby gasped and said, "Oh, man. He saw you? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," said Don grimly. "I realized I couldn't trust anything she said, so I ran downstairs to check for myself – he was already in his car and was peeling out of the parking lot. I didn't think you could even make a Prius' tires squeal, but he did. He rushed home and packed a bag – he couldn't have been there more than a few minutes, because I was almost right behind him – and then he ran out. My dad was there. He said he looked pretty upset. I'm sure Charlie doesn't realize that it was one-sided." He paused, and sighed.
"We haven't heard from him since. He didn't take his phone, so the best I could do was start a card trace and put a BOLO out on his vehicle. I'm going to check in with the tech on the card trace after we get done here, and if I get any information I'm going to hit the road and start heading that general direction. Maybe a BOLO sighting will come in, and I'll be that much closer to him when it does."
He could see the dismay on their faces, and David said, "Man, I can't believe it. They seemed like the perfect couple. What in the heck got into her?"
"That's what I'd like to know," said Don, grimly. He looked at them. "You guys know me – you've seen Amita at the office. Be honest with me – have you ever thought it looked like I was flirting with her? Did I give her the wrong impression?"
They both looked at each other and shook their heads. "Never," said Colby. "Although come to think of it, a few weeks ago when she was here it kind of looked like she was hitting on you. We were setting up for a meeting and she was out by your desk, and it looked like she just kept getting closer and you kept backing up. I think Charlie noticed it too – he kept looking out the door at both of you, and was kind of distracted when he was setting up his computer. In fact, that's why I noticed – I looked out the door to see what he was looking at."
Don winced. He remembered that encounter now that Colby mentioned it, remembered Amita invading his personal space, and that he'd side-stepped her with a pat on the arm and escaped to the conference room. Don remembered also that he'd smiled at her, teased her a bit – but he hadn't meant anything by it. Had she read something into the encounter? He thought about his father's assertion that he turned on the charm when he talked to women. Had he led her on unintentionally? And more importantly, how had that exchange looked to Charlie? Colby had picked up on the fact that it was Amita who was trying to close the distance between them, but she was Charlie's wife – to say nothing of the fact that Charlie wasn't gifted at picking up social nuances – he very well might have perceived it differently. If Charlie thought that they had been flirting with each other, it might be that much harder to convince him that nothing was going on – that Don hadn't encouraged her behavior.
He sighed. "Okay – I guess that's it – except that if Charlie tries to contact one of you, please let me know immediately."
After the meeting, Don found out from the tech that there was a hit at a branch of Charlie's bank, and another on his credit card, both in Santa Clarita. Charlie had gone north then, and so Don left the office and he headed north, too, stopping by Cal Sci on the way and briefly meeting with Larry. He'd filled Larry in, as well; as Charlie's best friend, it was conceivable that Charlie might try to contact him, or maybe even had before he left.
Larry hadn't been contacted and was shocked at the news, but he confirmed that he'd found out that morning that Charlie had left a message for Dean Willis the evening before, and had called off work, indefinitely. Amita had come in that day – did Don want to talk to her?
"Not in a million years," muttered Don after he had politely declined and walked away. He had asked Larry to let him know if Charlie got in touch with him, and now, Don was heading to Santa Clarita.
He had spent the last several hours letting his father, his fiancé, his two closest co-workers, and Charlie's best friend know what an ass he was, but he knew that thankfully they all understood that he hadn't initiated the encounter, and at worst, in a moment of shock, he'd been guilty only of bad judgment by not stopping her before she acted. The only person who didn't know that was Charlie – and he was the one who needed to hear it the most.
End Chapter 7