Free Hush by Jess Wygle Page B

said, bursting into my office.  “She left here a couple of hours ago.  I called the front desk and they don’t have an Olivia checked in.  No Dr. Reinbeck or Mrs. Tate either.  She used her card there, but put a DNC on her room with an alias.  We can do one of two things.  We can go down there on third shift and rough up the concierge until they give up her room or we can ask the boys to hack their system and get the info for us.”
    I sat back, pleased with the information he’d presented me, but unsure how to proceed.  “As freaked out as she is, I don’t see her going to the police or a lawyer.  Legally, she can’t turn me in for anything as my wife and I honestly don’t think she’ll involve the police.  She’s probably worried about getting herself in trouble by doing so.  Let’s give it a day, see what she does.  I feel better knowing where she is, you know, that she didn’t skip town.  She won’t leave Erin, and I’m sure she’s probably already called her.”
    “Let’s just hope she didn’t tell Erin anything,” Red added.
    “If I don’t hear from Liv or see her tomorrow, we’ll go pay Erin a visit, see if we can shake anything out of her easily.  If not, we’ll revisit the plan.”
    I had to be careful about this.  I couldn’t let things lead down the wrong path, though I didn’t see Olivia going that far.  She was stronger than that.  She was a fighter.  Though I would normally be nervous about that, the fact was comforting.
    “So what do you need me to do tonight?” Red asked.
    I rubbed my forehead.  I still hadn’t looked at him since our little tiff.  I hadn’t lied when I said I wouldn’t forget what he’d said.  It was on the forefront of my mind, stuck there like a fly trapped in a web, squirming to get free.  “Can we get a tap on the phone in her room?”
    I heard Red suck in a deep breath.  “I couldn’t do this without knowing what room number she was in.  And even then, it could be tricky.  Those phones are on their own internal system.  It’s possible, but would take some time.”
    “What about a call log?  She doesn’t have her cell so anyone she wants to call, she’ll have to call from there.  If we can’t hear what she’s saying, can we at least know who she’s calling?”
    “That’s going to be easier, but still will take a bit of time.  Let me see if I can at least get into their internal system and start going through their guests.  Maybe I will be able to narrow her down that way and then get to work on her phone.”  Red swept out of the room as quickly as he had come.
    I was in for a long night.

2006 - Olivia
     
     
     
     
    I tried to engage myself in the conversation around me, but my eyes were on the doors.  I felt so out of place, I just wanted to flee, but I couldn’t just yet, not without my chariot.  I was chatting with Dr. Stephanie Quint, who I had met before at Berkeley and, coincidentally, we bumped into each other at the day’s first seminar.  She was kind enough to introduce me to a few of her colleagues.
    My anxiety kicked in something fierce.
    I had called Callem nearly half an hour ago and he still wasn’t here.  I needed an escape.  I avoided their eyes; Dr. Gary Bayliss, a younger surgeon with a faint Australian accent, who worked at the University of Iowa Children’s Hospital, Dr. Albert Frese, a seasoned anesthesiologist from Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Dr. Karen Podell, the oldest of the group, an orthopedic surgeon from right here in Chicago, and Dr. Quint.  I read so much in their down-nosed expressions as they practically demanded my résumé in the most courteous, yet slightly condescending way.
    Finally, my lungs expelled the thick, murky air of discomfort in a long exhale as Callem appeared at the door.  “My ride is here,” I announced, stepping my foot into a conversation I hadn’t really been a part of.  “It was wonderful meeting you all.  I hope to see you again