Episode 127
Scene 1:
"Says his name is Chris Mason," the policeman offered.
Jude glanced over at Jamie quickly before returning his attention to the
cop. "My nephew's name is Chris Mason. Are you sure this is the same
person?"
"As sure as we can be without an ID from you."
"I'll ID him," Jamie said through gritted teeth.
"And you would be?"
"If he's Chris Mason, then I'm his father. Jamie Mason." The cop flushed
darkly, embarrassment flooding his features.
"I'm sorry-"
Jamie waved off the man's apology. "Don't worry about it. You couldn't
have known I would be here. I'm curious though, why you brought him to Mr.
Fontaine instead of to his home or his grandmother's home."
"He said you were off on vacation with your wife. We tried Mrs. Mason, but
she was at the Country Club. When we passed by here on our way out there,
he saw Mr. Fontaine's car," he explained. "That's when he said Mr.
Fontaine would be able to vouch for him and take him off our hands. He
wasn't really doing anything wrong..."
"Just dangerous and stupid," Jamie said cutting the man off impatiently.
"Well, I guess I need to go take my son off your hands."
Jamie was gone before Jude could say anything about being cool or giving
him any advice at all. Probably for the best, Jude decided getting
comfortable at his new desk. What did he know about raising a kid anyway?
Especially a teenager. He shifted his attention back to the matter that
had been weighing on him all day, all week if he was honest with himself.
Maura Conlan. She occupied his mind despite his efforts to concentrate on
other things. What was it about her that made him behave like an idiot,
throwing himself at her constantly only to be rejected when he got too
close?
That was an easy one. She was beautiful. Not beautiful like Jillie or Liza
Gennaro, who looked like models no matter what time of the day. Maura's
beauty was further down. When she smiled at him, she meant it, even if
those smiles were rare as of late. When Jillie smiled at him, she wanted
something. That was the kind of woman that turned him away. Maura was
never like that.
Of course, who could deny that all men wanted what they couldn't have.
Maura had taken herself out of his reach too many times to count but he
still wanted her. He paid attention the last time she had pushed him away
and left her alone as best as he could. Fate, though, was being unusually
cruel by throwing them together again and again. Fate. That was funny. Try
Kevin Conlan. Kevin had it in his head that his daughter and Jude should
be together despite what they each told him separately.
He leaned back, lost in thought, oblivious to his new visitor at the
doorway until he spoke. "Place looks good. Almost like you're king of the
world."
Jude started at the voice, shaking his head with a grin at the sight of
Kevin Conlan in his doorway. Thank you again, Fate. "Hello Kevin," he said
half rising from his chair.
"No, no.. Don't get up," Kevin replied waving him back down. He took a
step into the office, admiring it briefly. "I just thought I'd drop by and
have that meeting with you now."
"Now? What about Maura? Shouldn't she be a part of it?"
"In theory. May I?" Kevin nodded to the sofa just inside the doorway. He
sat down with a heavy sigh, enjoying the comfort of it. "Now this is a
couch."
"Yes, it is," Jude noted dryly. "So, in theory Maura should be here....and
yet...here you are, alone."
"Yep. Look, I'll be blunt with you Jude. I like you, I think you know
that. Maura likes you...you know that too. I want Maura to be happy and I
don't think she's happy at all running Connie's. She's there because I
needed her to be there ten years ago. In the meantime, she's wasted her
life away taking care of me. It's time she stopped taking care of me and
taking care of herself."
"I agree."
Kevin grinned in response. "I knew you would. I want to take Connie's over
from Maura so she can have her own life. She's got plenty of money saved
she won't have to work for a while...at least until she figures out what
she wants to do. But if I take over without Maura thinking it was her
idea, she'll think it was because of Gina or something stupid and not
budge."
"She has some strong feelings about Ms. Corelli," Jude offered. "I would
be inclined to agree with you on that point as well."
"Well, this is where I need your help Jude. Maybe you could talk to her
about leaving Connie's? She listens to you. She used to listen to me but
ever since Gina..."
Jude sighed, rubbing his eyes. Thank you Fate. How could he say no to
Kevin, especially when he knew that, fundamentally, Kevin was right? "All
right. When?"
"Tomorrow night."
"I can't. The Mason Foundation is hosting a charity ball...," Jude began.
"I know. We're going. You can pick up Maura at the house around seven,"
Kevin interrupted getting to his feet. Jude's head jerked up in alarm.
What did he just say? "She's wearing pink...so maybe a rose or something
wouldn't be too inappropriate. Butter her up a bit too. See you
tomorrow...and thanks Jude," Kevin added, giving Jude a wink while he was
still dumbstruck.
Fate 3, Jude Fontaine 0.
Scene 2:
"Absolutely not!"
"Why not? It's my right to choose who I want to take and I choose to take
Tiffani as my date to the charity event," Dane insisted trailing after
Gwen into her office. All he wanted was to take someone to the Moonlight &
Roses Ball who would keep him entertained. It wasn't as if he had suddenly
announced that he was going to start dating his cousin. Gwen was just
being stubborn. And...and imperial! Yes that was it. Acting like she was
Queen of Everything.
"You are not going to take that...girl. What could you possibly thinking,
Dane?" Gwen whirled on him, her hand twisting the diamond bracelet on her
wrist in an endless circle. "Are you trying to embarrass me? It's bad
enough I have to deal with your sister's abominable behavior. And Jamie's
poor excuse of a wife has gone and disappeared on him..."
"I thought she was on vacation," Dane interrupted.
"Oh, I'm quite sure she has taken my granddaughter and hidden her away in
the Canadian wilderness. Honestly, she has not been the same since Jamie
brought her here..."
"Oh you're so full of it, Gwen. Now come on, Michaela would not do that.
It just isn't in her," he argued. "You're just annoyed because she won't
behave the way you want her to."
"That is not true. But Michaela is not what we are discussing is she? No,
we're talking about your new friend, Tiffani. She spells it with an i
doesn't she?" Gwen shook her head disapprovingly. "Honestly Dane, what
happened to Vivian Marek? Why couldn't you have asked her?"
"Because...I doubt she would have said yes for starters," he pointed out.
He liked Vivian well enough, she was easy on the eyes, but she had made
her distaste for "men like him" quite clear.
"That's ridiculous. You don't know that she would have said no. Dane, I
know you're still upset about that reporter dying but it's getting a
little out of hand here."
"Leave her out of this," Dane snapped, letting his defenses take over.
"She has nothing to do with this and you know it."
"Fine. Call Vivian and ask her to go to the ball with you." Gwen pushed
her phone towards him. Dane stared at it for a moment before shaking his
head.
"No. She doesn't want to date me, Gwen. Have you been listening at all?"
"Why wouldn't she want to be seen with you? I think you're making
excuses," Gwen scolded. She picked up the receiver and handed it to him.
"I'm not 'street' enough for her," Dane replied. He set the receiver back
down. "And I'm not about to go ghetto for Vivian Marek."
"Street? What does that mean exactly?"
"It means, Gwen, in plain language that I am not her type, all right?" He
threw himself onto her divan. He had made an attempt to ask her out once
but she had rebuffed him quite nicely. He hadn't even realized she had
turned him down until he had walked away. That had been a blow but
probably all for the best. Vivian wasn't his type any more than he was
hers.
"That is absurd. You're handsome, wealthy, amusing...I don't understand
why any woman would turn you down," Gwen maintained. She sat next to him
and patted his knee affectionately. "Let me help you, Dane. Let me find a
woman worthy of you. This Tiffani will not do at all."
He gazed at her suspiciously, trying to gauge whether she had some scheme
in the works she wasn't telling him about. God knew she was capable of
them. "I happen to like Tiffani," he muttered.
"Of course you do. But she'll embarrass you in front of your friends. Do
you want that?"
Dane rolled his eyes at Gwen's line of reasoning. Tiffani might be a
little on the dumb side but she had taste. Okay, a little taste. A sudden
image of her answering her door in an animal print dress assaulted him and
he squeezed his eyes shut rid himself of it.
"All right, you win! I won't take Tiffani. But I'm not calling Vivian
Marek either," he declared.
Gwen smiled and patted his cheek. "Of course not! I have someone else in
mind anyway."
"Who?"
"Liza Gennaro," Gwen answered. She stood quickly and went to her desk,
picking up the phone once again. Dane leapt from the sofa grabbing the
phone out of Gwen's hands.
"What?! Are you aware that is the woman Luke has been making a fool of
himself with?"
"Yes. But Liza deserves better than Luke Conlan. She deserves someone like
you. I happen to like her and I think she would make a far more
interesting date than Tiffani. Will you let me make this happen or not?"
He released the phone handing it back to her. Hallie wouldn't like it at
all. But he was dying of curiosity about Liza Gennaro. What exactly was it
that she had over Hallie? He shrugged his assent to Gwen. Let her make a
date for him. It might prove to be the most interesting thing that would
happen to him all year.
Scene 3:
Dr. Albert Adams was an imposing man of middling stature. At fifty-nine,
he was mostly bald, though a few white tufts of hair grew right behind his
ears. He wore bifocals, and he could often be seen cleaning them with the
corner of one of his cardigan sweaters. It wasn't so much a nervous habit
as it was an absent-minded task he went about whenever he was deep in
thought. All in all, he resembled someone's sweet, aging grandfather. A
man of benevolent nature, who might offer you a glass of iced tea while
you sat and listened to him reminisce about the days of yore.
In truth, Dr. Albert Adams was anything but. His beverage of choice was
rye whiskey, and he was about as likely to reminisce on the "good old
days" as he was to strap on a beret and make an appearance at the Friday
Night Poetry Slam at the coffee house on the north side of campus. In the
classroom, he demanded no nonsense from his students. In the field, he was
positively ferocious when it came to details.
But despite his overbearing attitude, there were a few people around the
world who held the professor in very high esteem. One such person was his
very own colleague, Leo Kingston.
Looking around Dr. Adams' office, Leo lifted an aboriginal fertility
carving from a shelf of random artifacts.
"Keep fondling that and Anjea just may smile upon you."
He set the carving down and cast a glance at his mentor. "Last thing I
need," Leo murmured. "Though not of much consequence, since my love life
seems to be D.O.A."
"What about that visit from the pretty little blonde?" Albert asked,
folding his hands over his stomach as he leaned back in his chair. "Don't
look like that, boy. News around her travels like wild fire."
"That pretty little blonde just happens to be my worst nightmare," Leo
grimaced. "I wouldn't wish her on my enemies."
"Thus the heart speaks," Albert quipped wryly.
"You're a crotchety old man, and obviously going senile."
"Methinks you doth protest too much," the older professor chuckled.
"I wasn't aware you'd switched your field to literature."
"Romanticism is not delegated to literature alone," Albert stated. "If
anything, art often imitates life."
"You must lead one hell of a life," Leo told him.
"I've had my share of loves," Albert grinned.
"One of them being the Eye of Hunab Ku?" Leo asked, lifting an aged book
from the shelves that lined the office.
"The Eye of Hunab Ku," Albert repeated, his gaze taking on a mesmerized
gleam. "Cast in solid gold, its vortex a diamond of singular perfection,
rumored to have harnessed the energy of the Heavens. A mystical amulet
touched by the gods and given to the Mayans as a prophetic tool." He
smiled slightly and shook his head. "It is but a myth."
"You believed in it, at one time," Leo pointed out.
"At one time, I was a foolish young man - much like yourself," Albert
countered.
"I remember a time when you would have staked your reputation on its
existence."
"I did stake my reputation on it. And look where it got me. I was a fool
to dedicate so much of my life to its pursuit. A pipe dream. That's all it
is. All it ever was."
Scene 4:
The glory of putting together a charity ball had disappeared. Liza stared
around the partially decorated country club ballroom with a bored eye. So
what if she had a great job at last? What good was it if she was miserable
because of the lie she had told Luke? What good was it if she allowed
people like Hallie Lennox to bully her? Then again, Hallie had every right
to be upset. Her husband was falling in love with Liza. If the tables were
turned, Liza would have to admit that she might act the same.
"It's coming along," Gwen Mason said just behind her. Liza jumped
nervously but offered a friendly smile while recovering from the
unintentional scare. "I'm sorry, dear, I thought you heard me come in."
"You caught me daydreaming, Mrs. Mason."
Gwen arched an eyebrow, studying her face. "Did I? I hope it was a
pleasant daydream at the very least."
"Ah...well, not exactly but it doesn't matter. So, you like the
decorations so far?" Liza asked dodging any more inquiries into her
thoughts.
"There are certainly a lot of roses," Gwen answered looking around the
room. "Max Jency will be a rich man after this affair."
"He already is. But I think they are lovely." She took a few tentative
steps toward the center of the room. "The buffet table will go here," she
said pointing towards the back wall. "And the bandstand on the opposite
side with the dance floor in the middle. If the weather holds, the doors
to the terrace will be opened and the terrace will have tables and chairs
for anyone wanting some air."
"It looks wonderful, Liza." Gwen walked to where she stood in the center
of the room, surveying it with a practiced eye. "I don't think anyone
could have done any better."
"I'm glad you think so," Liza answered.
"There is something I wanted to ask you about though...and I hope you
don't mind. It is a rather personal question."
"That's all right," Liza said warily, wondering what exactly Gwen could
possibly want to know. Any number of things were likely too personal for
an honest answer. "Go ahead."
"I was wondering if you had an escort for tomorrow night, actually."
Liza breathed a small sigh of relief and shook her head. "If you count my
big brother as an escort, I have one. I think he'd rather not show up at
all, but I'm trying to drag him out of his anti-social mood."
"I see. Well, that is too bad," Gwen replied.
"If you don't mind me asking...did you have a reason you wanted to know?"
"I'll be honest with you Liza," Gwen smiled. "I was hoping to set you up
on a blind date."
Liza grinned back, relief making her giggle. "Oh! Well, is he cute?" She
joked.
"I think so. But then, he's my nephew, I'm a little biased."
Her nephew? That would be Hallie's brother... And Hallie wouldn't like
that at all...
"You mean Dane Lennox?" Liza asked, hoping that she wasn't telegraphing
her thoughts to Mrs. Mason. She would like nothing more than to give
Hallie back a little of what she gave. And if being seen with Hallie's
brother would do it, she was game. A brief flash of Luke crossed her mind,
but she pushed it away. Thinking of him only made her resolve weaken. "I
didn't think he would be without a date."
"He's not, but the woman he's chosen is entirely inappropriate." Gwen
swept an appraising gaze over Liza. "You, on the other hand, would be a
nice change for Dane. That is...unless you have a significant other to
consider?"
Liza met Gwen's gaze head on, wondering if Gwen knew of her relationship
with Luke. If she did, she was a superb actress. Somewhere, in the back of
her mind she heard Luke telling her that Gwen and Hallie were both
dangerous and manipulative. She would worry about that later.
"No, no one special for me. On second thought, Mrs. Mason...I think I will
take you up on that blind date. Showing up at my first function as
Director with my brother might be a tad embarrassing. I'm game as long as
he is."
"He is," Gwen answered. "I think it'll be an interesting night for
everyone involved."
Scene 5:
Jillie slammed the front door behind herself, thankful for the moment that
Georgia was still at work. It wasn't that she was regretting her decision
to be roomies. Not yet, anyway. The same might not be able to be said of
Georgia herself. At least, not after she heard Jillie's latest news.
She hovered in the living room, mentally debating whether to grab a pint
of Ben & Jerry's or try to drown her sorrows elsewhere. She opted for the
latter, trudging towards her bedroom door. She kicked off her shoes once
inside, her clothes following in a similar pile on the floor. Padding
lightly into her bathroom, she turned on the hot water and let it begin to
fill the bathtub, generously pouring in lavender bubble bath from a small
decorative vial.
Pinning up her blonde hair, she grabbed a book - some trashy bodice-buster
romance - as well as a couple of towels. Draping the towels over the
shower rod, she gingerly stepped into the steaming water before sinking
down into the vast foam of iridescent bubbles. She flipped through the
pages of her book, but not even the troubles of a lovelorn, vapid
eighteenth century heiress could take her mind off of the day's
proceedings.
Sighing, Jillie tossed the book aside. There were more important things to
think about, even if she didn't want to think them. Her mind reeled back
an hour, to when she'd been standing in Rick's office as he reamed her a
new one. Who knew her work as a photojournalist would call for so much
time spent inside the four walls of an office? He'd never had a problem
with her hours before. Of course, ever since he and Maura had returned
from New York, she seemed to be the target of his ire. Every complaint
laid on The Observer somehow could be traced back to something she'd done.
Imagine that. He'd accused her taking advantage of her employment
position. She'd accused him of being pissy because she wasn't sleeping
with him anymore. That hadn't gone over so well. He'd told her he was
putting her on probation for a month. Relegated to public relations
pieces. First up, the Moonlight and Roses Ball. She'd told him...well,
after a few well-placed expletives...exactly where he could shove his job.
She'd quit.
Georgia was going to kill her.
She was going to kill herself if she had to go back to Connie's.
At least she'd saved up enough to live off of for a few months. She'd
blown her job at the paper. Somehow, she got the feeling Maura would be
highly amused. Well, by the time she found out, Jillie planned on having a
new job. Something much more exciting than covering the Conlan's Glen
social event of the year. Just what it would be, however, she had no idea.
Scene 6:
Jamie didn't speak until they were back at the house and walking inside.
He'd been preparing his speech during the drive, too angry to really let
it out without thinking it through very carefully. His son had left the
camp he was supposed to be staying at until school started in September
and then had hitchhiked from North Carolina back into Virginia. He was
damn lucky he hadn't gotten killed.
Chris brushed past him hurrying to the stairs in a rush to get out of
Jamie's way. "Uh uh. You're not going anywhere until you explain yourself
to me," Jamie said grabbing his son's arm and pulling him back into the
foyer. "First of all, thank god you aren't dead, Christopher!"
"Don't call me that," Chris muttered. He scowled darkly at Jamie but
planted himself firmly in the hall in front of Jamie. "I wasn't in danger,
Dad," he added.
"No? You call hitchhiking with strangers all the way from Wilmington safe?
I'm disappointed in you, Chris."
"What else is new?" Chris pulled himself free of Jamie's reach and stared
defiantly back at his father. "I'm not the perfect kid you always hoped
for, Dad."
"I never wanted you to be perfect. Responsible, yes. You have a lot of
responsibilities whether you like it or not. You owe it to me and your
mother to take care of yourself no matter what. You owe it to Jesse and
Lily to be around while they grow up. Or would you rather put us all
through that kind of grief?"
"What kind of grief? Geez Dad, all I did was catch a ride..."
"With strangers!" Jamie bellowed. "You are lucky to be here right now.
What possessed you to leave camp in the first place? And why didn't you
call me?" Chris stared at his feet, unwilling to offer an explanation.
"So, you aren't going to tell me? Fine. Go up to your room and stay there
until I call you down. Stay off the phone and I don't want to hear a sound
coming from up there. Do you understand?"
Chris glared at him, " Yes sir," he muttered turning on his heel. He
stormed up the stairs and slammed his door hard enough to make the
pictures on the walls rattle. Goddammit, what had gotten into his son?
Chris was a reliable, dependable boy with a good natured disposition. But
now...now, he was angry and sullen about something. Jamie went to his
office and picked up the phone dialing the home of Michaela's parents in
Toronto. Her mother answered after three rings, sounding breathless.
"Oh Jamie!" She exclaimed loudly. "How have you been dear?"
"I'm fine, Gayle. Look, I really need to speak to Michaela. Please put her
on the phone," Jamie said. He wasn't going to play games this time.
"Oh, I wish I could, but her father just took her and Lily to the mall..."
"Really? What's going on Gayle? And don't lie to me...just tell me the
truth. Why is my wife avoiding me?" There was a short pause on the line.
"Gayle?"
"Jamie, it's Gary." The deep baritone of Michaela's father hit him harder
than he expected it to. But what had he expected? After weeks away from
him and worse, weeks of being put off and ignored, he had half expected to
continue being stonewalled.
"Gary...what's going on?"
"She doesn't want to talk to you," Gary replied.
"Why not?"
"I can't tell you that...that's not my place. Michaela will tell you in
her own time...for now, son, I think you need to leave her alone. Give her
some time to sort things out."
"Wait a minute! Sort things out? Have I done something wrong, Gary? Come
on, I'm in the dark here. The last time I saw Michaela everything was
fine."
"I can't tell you any more than I already have, Jamie. I'm sorry." Jamie
dropped to his chair, bewildered and confused. "She's staying here
indefinitely with Lily and Jesse. Maybe you could send Chris here for
Christmas?" Jamie stared at his desk dumbfounded by the conversation. What
was going on? "Take care Jamie. Give Chris our love," Gary added before
the line went dead.
Jamie dropped the phone still not sure of what to think or do. Michaela
wouldn't talk to him? And now she was planning on staying in Canada
indefinitely with Jesse and Lily. Something wasn't right. He heard a small
noise from the hallway and caught Chris staring at him with a strange
expression on his face. He knew Chris well enough to see the guilt written
in his eyes, mixed with sadness. Chris took a step back and turned slowly
towards the staircase with a sorrowful backwards glance filled with pity.
Scene 7:
"What?"
"I said, I won't be taking you to the Moonlight and Roses Ball," Ian
repeated carefully. Ellen's face flooded with color but her eyes remained
calm and clear. "I'm sorry, but I've decided to take someone else...I hope
you don't mind."
"You realize of course, that I'm not going to give you my proxy now,"
Ellen replied with a careful toss of her hair.
"Yes, I'm well aware of that. But I have bigger fish to fry, Ellen. It was
a nice offer and, trust me, if this opportunity hadn't come up, I would
have followed through. But this is a can't lose situation for me. You
understand that I have to take it right?"
"Of course." Ellen's mouth tightened into a thin line. "But if you didn't
want to go with me, Ian, you should have said something instead of making
me think you would take me. You haven't changed a bit!"
Neither had she, Ian thought. He scratched his forehead trying to avoid
her eyes. He really didn't want to see that look she had in her eyes
whenever they spoke; the look that made him wonder if anyone was really
home in her head. Just don't let her go psycho on me right now, he prayed.
"I don't know why I thought you had! You're still the same self-centered
creep. I hope this woman that you're taking sees you for what you are!"
Ellen hissed, before stalking away. Ian breathed a sigh of relief and
watched her disappear down the hallway. Ellen Mason was certifiable, he
decided shrugging off the thought of her and heading back to the ER. All
that mattered was he finally had a woman who could get him into the right
circles.
Rounding a corner, he heard a familiar laugh and held back a moment.
Georgia was there, helping someone into a wheelchair. Ducking into an
alcove where he could watch unnoticed, he listened to Georgia talk to the
man with a familiarity that she didn't have in the ER.
"See, I told you you'd be out in time for that Ball tomorrow night, Jory!
Now, won't it be exciting to show up there and thrill your family?"
"No, Georgia. I'm not going to that party. Don't lay your guilt trips on
me," Jory replied sharply.
"Come on, don't be that way. What I went with you? Would you do it then?"
She asked kneeling next to him. "I can be your support and your private
nurse. That way when you're tired of it, all you have to do is tell me and
I can act all official and sweep you out of there."
"You want to go don't you?"
"Am I that transparent? Yes, I do. And I want you to show your family that
you're as strong as you ever were."
"You know if it were anyone else, I wouldn't do it. But I happen to think
you've saved my life in a number of ways, Georgia. So I'll go. But the
first sign of it being lame, we're leaving."
Georgia threw her arms around Jory's neck kissing his cheek. "Thank you
Jory! This means so much to me. I promise you, we leave when you say so."
She got back to her feet and pushed the wheelchair down the hall, past
where Ian was hidden. His stomach lurched uncomfortably at the idea of
Georgia with another man. Jory...
Had to be Jory Conlan, the saint of the ME fire. From all accounts, Jory
Conlan was perfect and blameless. It was enough to make you sick. If
Georgia wanted to be associated with that kind of nauseating do-gooder,
what business was it of his, he fumed, stalking away in the opposite
direction. He stopped at the end of the hall and glanced over his shoulder
at Georgia and Jory who waited for the elevator chatting pleasantly. It
wasn't his business, he reminded himself tearing his eyes away from her.
Not at all.
Scene 8:
Leo slammed the front door behind himself, walking straight to the living
room and tossing his work onto a chair before slumping down onto the
couch. Sunlight streamed in through the open blinds, and he flung an arm
across his eyes to block it out.
Almost as soon as he'd begun to breathe a little easier, the phone rang.
Eyes still closed to soothe the pounding in his head, he reached across
the cushions for the phone, remembering he'd tossed it aside earlier. His
fingers curled around the cold receiver and he fumbled with the buttons
for a moment before bringing it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Leo. You've been avoiding us."
The sound of that voice sent an unwanted chill down his spine. In the span
of a second, the world seemed to stop. Which was a good and bad thing, Leo
figured, since the pulsing in his skull ceased momentarily.
"I've been busy."
"Working, I hope."
"What else?" he asked.
"Oh, I don't know," the voice replied wryly. "Does the name Jillian Conlan
ring a bell?"
What was it today? Was she on everyone's mind? He knew firsthand how easy
it was for her to get under someone's skin, but this was ridiculous. "She
has nothing to do with anything."
"Pity.... She caused quite a diversion in the beginning, didn't she? Sorry
to hear she wasn't worth it. Tell me you haven't fallen behind schedule."
"Everything is proceeding just as I promised," Leo assured.
"And Dr. Adams? Did you get the information you needed?"
Leo hesitated. Had he gotten the information? No. Trying to get anything
out of him was like pulling teeth. The man wanted to talk about anything
but the diamond. "It's going to take a little more time. He knows where it
is. I know he does. I just...I just need more time."
"Time...is of the essence, Leo," the voice reminded him. "Don't forget our
deal."
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