As I perused the documents, I saw again in the margin of the email the same 614 area code as in the black flip phone from Sam’s house. Why would this number appear in some random documents from my boss and a phone inside my brother’s house? I typed the number into the computer—614 was the area code for Columbus, Ohio—and I tried to do a reverse search. Nothing. I had the crushing urge to dial the number again. I was safe in this office. I dialed. It rang and rang. No answer.
I sat staring at the email thread and thinking. Libertad. What was going on with Libertad? I thought back to Nate’s party in Savannah. Jonathan and Max arguing behind closed doors. Max’s voice echoed in my head: Can we talk about Libertad for a minute? I don’t think Libertad should be part of this. It’s too risky. What was it that Max didn’t want Libertad to be a part of? And why?
I took another bite of my bagel and googled Geoffrey Gallagher. He was a name partner at Gallagher, Grant & Knight. The firm’s home page described it as a boutique white-collar criminal defense firm, specializing in defending executives and professionals who found themselves in hot water over things like insider trading and securities violations. What was Houghton doing? What the hell was Michael involved in? I scrolled through the alphabetized list of attorneys and clicked Gallagher’s name. The cursor blinked for a few seconds before Gallagher’s lengthy professional bio popped onto the screen alongside his picture.
I took one look at his photo and had to steady myself against the desk.
I slowly dropped the half-eaten bagel in the garbage can as I stared at the picture. The same dark suit and striped tie. The same receding hairline and stilted smile. The exact same picture I saw at Sam’s house. The documents from Michael’s safe-deposit box contained the name of a lawyer whose picture was on my brother’s cell phone!
I tore through my purse until I landed on my phone. I hit the quick dial button for Sam’s number. No answer. The call rang over to voice mail.
“Sam, it’s Ellie. What the hell’s going on? The police have footage of you in the lobby of my job and what’s the deal with Geoffrey Gallagher? You need to call me back right away!”
I took three deep breaths. It didn’t calm me one whit. I picked up the landline and dialed Gallagher’s number at the firm. A polite woman answered in a singsongy voice.
“May I please speak to Geoffrey Gallagher? This is Ellice Littlejohn.”
“I’m sorry. He’s not available. Can I take a message for him?”
I paced the floor behind my desk. “When do you expect him in the office?”
“I’m not sure. I’m sorry, who did you say you were with?”
“I’m the general counsel for Houghton Transportation. When do you expect him back?”
“Um . . . can I place you on a brief hold?” The woman didn’t give me a chance to respond before she disappeared behind the riffs of jazz music.
The past twenty-four hours had been a sucker punch of surprises. Sam on security footage, me getting kicked in the head at his house, and now this. Sam and I ran in entirely different circles. He had no reason to know anyone I ever knew. And I preferred it that way.
A man returned to the phone. “Hello, Ms. Littlejohn. This is Chris Knight speaking. Can I help you with something?”
“Yes. I need to speak with Mr. Gallagher.”
“I’m afraid Mr. Gallagher is out of the office. Can I be of assistance?”
“When do you expect him back?”
“I’m not sure.”
I was losing patience with this runaround. “You’re not sure? Listen, Mr. Gallagher provided some advice to my predecessor and it’s rather important that I speak with him.”
“What were they working on?” Knight asked.
“An acquisition or a joint venture maybe. Can you send me the Houghton files? Everything you have related to Houghton Transportation. Everything.”
“Absolutely. I’ll handle it personally right now. Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks.” I hung up the phone.
I looked at the documents again. Whatever was going on with the Libertad deal was bad enough to make Michael seek outside counsel from a white-collar defense firm and resign from the company. Why didn’t he tell me? What other secrets had he been keeping from me? And Sam all in the middle of this was beyond bizarre. Sam had no reason to know Michael or Geoffrey Gallagher. I jotted down the phone number from the Gallagher email and tossed the documents back inside my tote bag before locking it inside my desk drawer.