A huge thanks to my wonderful BETA Dragonmaster65 for her continuous support and encouragement in this endeavor of mine.
A/N: Thank you so much for all your wonderful and generous reviews. Much appreciated!
Chapter 6
"Frank! What happened?" Joe froze as he spotted at his brother.
Frank had just walked into their apartment and had gone straight into the fridge to retrieve a frozen bag of peas. "Didn't find anything, and got beat up. I guess there were men watching Obler's place," he grunted, pressing the makeshift ice pack to his face.
"I'll call Det. Riley," Joe replied, furious.
Frank shook his head. "Don't bother. I already did. Besides they are long gone. What about you guys? Any luck?"
Joe felt a small shred of relief that his brother hadn't just staggered home. He held up their one bit of good luck for the evening. "We found the flashdrive. Frank, we should have gone together. What were we thinking splitting up like that," Joe said. He still felt guilty that they'd taken steps to protect Vanessa and then completely disregarded that Frank was just as vulnerable going alone to James' place.
"Don't worry about it. I'm here now. Besides, some good did come out of this evening after all," Frank said, gesturing at the flashdrive. He joined the pair on the couch and carefully booted his laptop with his one free hand. The other was still holding the peas to the worst of his injuries on his face.
"Shouldn't you go to bed?" Vanessa asked gingerly.
"This is nothing Van. We're used to some cuts and bruises," Frank said as he smiled ruefully. "I'm fine. Now give me the drive and let's hear it."
"Do you want me to drive you to Callie's?" Joe asked quietly.
"Nah, I'll drive myself in a bit. But first let's get cracking on this, shall we?" Frank was getting impatient.
Joe wanted to argue, to tell him that he was in no condition to drive and that he needed to rest, but he recognized the stubborn look on his brother's face. Frank was angry - very angry - and needed to keep busy to calm down. Sighing, he booted his own laptop and sat down. He and Vanessa had only been here for a few minutes before she'd come rushing in with the chip. They hadn't even had the chance to plug it in to see if it had the information they hoped.
As Frank slowly navigated his computer with one hand, Joe and Vanessa leaned forward in anticipation. The file directory popped up; there was one .mp3 saved to the device.
I can't hide it anymore. What we're doing is wrong.
It was a poor recording. After that one line everything else was a lot of static and vague noises. There was clearly a conversation ongoing, but only the woman's first remarks were audible. The rest had been drowned in the gamut of other noises.
They played the recording a few more times but could not make out anything further.
Joe frowned. "What do we do Frank? This isn't going to get us anywhere." He got up and walked towards the kitchen island and pounded his fist on it muttering under his breath.
"This is it? This is the recording that ruined my life? James Obler had to die over this? A shitty recording of a woman," Vanessa cried. "You can't even tell who she's talking to. James gave them a copy of this recording; they had to know there is nothing on it!" Vanessa was distraught.
I can't hide it anymore. What we're doing is wrong.
I can't hide it anymore. What we're doing is wrong.
They played the recording a few more times but got nothing out of it. Frank looked at Vanessa and asked, "Do you know this voice? Can you identify this woman?"
Vanessa shook her head. She only seemed more upset now. "No, it is a huge company. There are so many women, it would be hard for me to know who she is. She could even be an outsider," she replied, aghast.
Joe spoke up from the kitchen where he had been pacing like a caged animal. "If she is an outsider, people would notice her. She wouldn't make the threat in his office." He was beginning to feel annoyed that the evening had turned into a bust. He knew that Vanessa had gotten her hopes high with the discovery of the flashdrive, given that the entire case was dependent on the contents of it; now it felt like the evening had been a colossal waste of time.
They fell silent for several minutes with the only noise being the continuous typing. Frank was working feverishly on the recording. "I can continue to work on this recording and see if I can clear it up a bit. But for now, interference suggests it was made on an old P.C.S. cell network, making the recording at least two years old," he explained.
"I didn't know static had a vintage, " Joe said wryly.
Frank ignored Joe's comment and said, "If James was killed for being in possession of this flashdrive, it is possible the maker of this recording dealt a similar fate."
Joe went over to his laptop. "I had Callie send me a list of people who were employees of Ophelia Pharmaceuticals and died since the inception of the company from the obituaries. Even if I limit it to the last two years that is still a lot of people and everyone here died of natural causes." He was going over the list in his laptop.
"So another dead end," Vanessa piped in.
"I think it is time to call for a face to face meeting with Michael Emerson," Frank said darkly.
Joe's mind raced, he remembered a particular case where the wife of a wealthy socialite was cheating on her husband but was very careful and discreet with her affairs. It had taken the brothers a long time to get evidence on her infidelity. The recordings had been few and of very poor quality. "Say Frank, remember the Broacha case? Phil had given us a software that could cut off the background noises and clean the recording? What if we used that again?" he suggested.
Frank nodded slowly "It might be worth a try. I'll give Phil a call tomorrow morning."
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Deep breaths, deep breaths. This is no different than what you do every day.
Callie was at the waiting area of Ophelia Pharmaceuticals. She had called and requested for an interview for her cover piece at Bayport times. Given that the company was on track to release a new drug in the market, this had served a perfect opportunity to bag an interview and tour the facility. While this was a typical day on the job, coming face to face with a potential killer had her worked up. She clenched and unclenched her fists trying to calm down.
She looked around at the plush office with large comfortable couches in the waiting room, sleek polished floors, art pieces arranged strategically giving a great vibe, and the view outside of downtown Bayport in the morning. Callie shuddered at the thought that some cold blooded killer worked in this very company. A killer that had come close to hurting Frank last night.
Frank had walked in to her apartment a little after 2am and startled her. His face was purple and his eyes dark and angry.
"Frank?" She had surged up from the bed, concern making her heart race to life. He gathered her in his arms, his anger falling away as he murmured quiet consolation to her.
"I'm okay, really am. It looks worse than it actually is," he said softly.
He was bruised but whole. Callie took a deep breath and shook her head. "Oh Honey! It isn't actually very different than what you look like everyday," she teased despite her worry.
"I always knew there was more than my looks for you to keep me around." Frank's dark mood softened and he smiled back. He joined her back on her bed.
Callie traced his face gently as he sat facing her on her bed. He took her hand in both of his, caressing it softly from the inside of her wrist to her fingertips. Locking his gaze with her honey brown eyes, he cupped her cheek in one hand as the other reached back to tug the ribbon holding her hair. Her hair fell free and fast around her shoulders, and he ran his fingers through it as he kissed her tenderly.
Callie pulled back after a minute. He wouldn't distract her so easily. "At least let me get you some pain killers, heat packs, and water. It will make me feel better," she insisted. Frank absolutely hated when his mom or Aunt Gertrude fussed over him and his brother, but he always indulged her when she worried over him. And this had been cause for concern.
Grateful that Frank had obliged she had left the room quickly. When she got back she found him fast asleep on her bed and his clothes rumpled on the floor. Rather than wake him she had placed everything on the side table, thrown his clothes into the laundry hamper, and pulled the covers on him, her gaze lingering just a bit at the purple bruise in his abdomen.
Coming back to the present, Callie turned to see an elderly gentleman approach the reception desk. She heard him give the name Mr. Steven Ranella. She had heard of him; he was a self-made millionaire and was always looking for good investments.
Brushing all other thoughts aside, she walked excitedly to meet Mr. Ranella, one of the top one percentage in the country. "Mr. Ranella, I am Callie Shaw. I am a reporter with Bayport times. It is an honour to meet you," she said as she offered him her hand.
"The honour is all mine Callie Shaw. And how do you even know me?" Steven shook her hand enthusiastically.
"I cover investments and real estate. I wouldn't be doing a good job if I didn't know you," Callie replied.
"I am impressed. So what brings you here today?" Steven wanted to know.
"I am covering a piece on the new drug, Bryonia. I am hoping to interview Mr. Emerson and Mr. Virtanen," she explained.
"Aaah! Get the inside scoop as you youngsters call it. Bayport times is lucky they have such talented and beautiful people working for them." Steven had a twinkle in his eyes.
Callie laughed easily and then offered her arm to the elderly gentleman to guide him toward the couch. "Are you thinking of investing here? Is that why you are here?" she asked. Seeing his amused expression Callie smiled. "Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Ranella."
Steven nodded slowly. "They say this new drug is the ultimate cure for migraines. Having had quite a few bad migraines in my lifetime, this seems like an investment that would be personal. I have already bought 8% of the company's shares," he replied.
"Eight percent? Wow! You don't do anything small do you?" Callie was impressed. Young people usually went in for aggressive investments as they have the time and chance to make up for their losses, but older investors rarely took this approach and played more conservatively. Steven was clearly not one of them.
"My investments have served me well my dear and I have a good feeling about this company. What do you think about sharing your findings, Ms. Shaw? One can never be too careful," Steven pressed.
This was the opening Callie was hoping for desperately since she got here and knew she had to grab it. "I would be thrilled to. Why don't you let me tag along with you in this meeting of yours?" she countered with a smile.
"I'd be delighted to my dear."
