“Safe? From…?”
“From Catherine!” Tony’s volume rose. “Tom, you need to pay attention. I said that before. Catherine London, she’s crazy. The woman is a psychopath. She’s responsible for so much.” He spun in a circle, as if his pacing was no longer sufficient. “Brent!” His movements stilled. “She’s responsible for Brent’s death.”
“Tony, calm down. You’re not making sense. You’re talking about the executor of your estate, the woman who’s worked for you for as long as I can remember, and one of the gentlest women I’ve ever known.”
The small room shrunk as the walls closed in, threatening to suffocate, to steal the very air from his lungs. Appearance—the lesson Tony had learned and the one he’d taught—was mocking his every move. He was perceived as the tyrannical businessman, and Catherine was the kindly housekeeper. Tony took a deep breath, sat back down, and steadied his voice. “Tom, I can’t explain everything right now. Just find out if they plan to charge me, and what those charges are. Then get me the hell out of here. I need to find out what’s happening with Claire and Nichol. I need to help Courtney, and I don’t want to spend another minute in this damn room, much less a jail cell.” His voice deepened with determination. “I don’t fuck’n care how much it costs. You’re my attorney. Get me the hell out of here.”
“You were gone for six months. I can’t promise that we can get a judge to agree to bail. They’ll consider you a flight risk.”’
“I’ll surrender my passport.”
Tom lifted a brow. “Did you use your passport the last time you left the country?”
Tony squared his shoulders. “We’re in Iowa for Christ’s sake. Any damn judge better grant me bail, or that judge will never achieve a higher bench in his or her whole damn career. I don’t care if they want to make the bail excessive for appearances. I’ll pay it. Just make it happen.”
Tom nodded. “What about the FBI? Are you sure they’ll corroborate this story?”
“Agent Jackson, with the Boston field office,” Tony bristled, “or Agent Baldwin, with the San Francisco field office. They’ve been our contacts. Get a hold of one of them. They knew where, or approximately where Claire and I were residing. They know more than I’m willing to—or have time to—say right now. Just make it happen. I need to get to my wife and daughter.”
“Tony, I’ll do what I can. Wherever you were, did you hear that Meredith Banks’ book…” Tom didn’t need to finish the sentence. Tony understood what he was implying.
Exhaling, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Get me out of here. Then we’ll talk.”
“I can’t promise it will happen today. I need to make some calls…” Tom’s voice trailed away as they both turned toward the opening door.
Tony glared, expecting another interruption from Hastings or another of Iowa City’s finest.
“I heard you were here,” Brent said with a sad gleam in his eyes.
Both Tom and Tony stared: their conversation momentarily muted by the appearance of their friend. The hope that had been wilting at Tony’s feet found new life as Tony and Tom simultaneously stood in amazement.
After a moment, Brent clipped, “Are either of you going to say anything?”
The three men collided as Tony and Tom slapped Brent’s back and fought the battle of their raw emotions. “But…how?” Tom managed.
Suddenly, the dull, pale room filled with the brilliance of optimism. “The plane didn’t go down?” Tony asked. “Everyone is all right? Derek Burke?”
Darkness overtook their reunion. “No,” Brent replied. “I wasn’t on the plane. It did go down.” Raising his brows, he asked, “So, you really know Burke? You wanted him brought to corporate?”
Tony shook his head. “I did know him and his wife. It’s a long story, one that seems to keep getting longer by the minute. However, I didn’t want him at corporate.”
“He deserved to be here, Tony. He was good.” Tom interjected.
Brent concurred. “Yes, just today in Chicago…” His voice trailed away.
Tom refocused the conversation. “I’m sorry about Burke and Michaels, but,” he slapped Brent’s back again, “I’m thrilled you’re here. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Tony was just telling me a little about his time away and a connection with the FBI.”
Brent turned to Tony. “I just got off the phone with Agent Jackson.” Tom shot Brent a look of disbelief as Brent continued, “Part of your agreement was to not return to the US. He said you nullified your agreement.”
“What does that mean?” Tony demanded. “They’re going to throw our whole agreement out the window? What about Claire? They promised that she wouldn’t—”
Brent interrupted. “One step at a time. Let me see what I can do.”
“Get me out of here. Get any and all charges removed from Claire and anyone else. I’ll take responsibility for what I’ve done, but my list of crimes is miniscule in comparison to what I learned today at the estate. It’s all recorded. The cameras in the office should have gotten it all. Make sure you get that evidence.”
“This is so farfetched, yet obviously you both know more than I do,” Tom said.
“Tom,” Tony’s dark eyes turned toward his friend. “It was a need-to-know basis. The FBI wouldn’t allow—”