Page 79 of Crowe
“What?” I asked.
“It’s Caden.” He picked up. “Yeah.” A pause. “Put her on hold.” Another pause. “We’re just a few minutes out, so don’t lose her.” He hung up and looked at me.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Imogen Corvane,” he said. “She called the main line. Caden says she’ll only talk to you.”
“She kept the card,” I said, mostly to myself.
“She kept the card,” he said in agreement.
I looked at the road. “Do you think he knows she’s calling? She could be calling because he told her to,” I said. “To find out what we know.”
“She could be,” Jackson said. “We’ll find out.”
Wolfe was in his office waiting for us when we got there. He was standing at the window with his glasses on and an expression that said something important had happened, and he was trying to decide what it meant.
“She’s on hold,” he said when we came in. “Caden says she sounded scared but controlled.”
“Then Corvane either isn’t there or put her up to calling,” Jackson said.
Wolfe looked at him. “I agree.” He looked at me. “You talked to her at the Gala. What’s your read?”
I thought about the corridor outside the ballroom. The way she’d held her champagne glass in both hands. The smile that didn’t mean anything. “She was afraid of him,” I said. “Like actually afraid. She would call if he told her to.”
Wolfe nodded once. “We take the call on speaker. Noah, you lead. She called for you.” He looked at Jackson. “You and I stay quiet unless there’s a reason not to.”
Jackson nodded.
Wolfe pressed the button on his desk phone. “Caden. Put her through.”
We waited.
The silence in the office while we waited was heavy. Like it knew that the next few minutes could change everything. I stood beside the desk with my hands loose at my sides and breathed slowly in and out the way Dr. Reyes had taught me.
The phone rang once.
I picked up. “This is Noah.”
A pause. Then, quietly, “I know you probably didn’t expect to hear from me.”
Her voice was different from the Gala. It was softer, calmer, resolved like she’d made a decision about something. I recognized what was underneath it. I’d heard it in my own voice in the months after my rescue.
“I wasn’t sure if you would call, but I’m glad you did,” I said. “Are you safe right now?”
“Yes. He’s traveling. He won’t be back for three days.” Another pause. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. On the stage. About theafterbeing long.” Her voice wavered slightly and steadied. “I’m going to have a baby.”
The room went very still.
“I found out two weeks before the Gala,” she said. “And I sat there that night listening to you talk about what it means to survive something, and I kept thinking I cannot raise this baby in that house. I can’t let my child grow up watching what I watch.” She stopped. “I’ve been collecting things. Documents. Financial records. Communications I was never supposed to see. Things that would be very useful to the people who are looking for reasons to hold him accountable, but I would need assurances that I would be protected.”
I looked at Wolfe. He was very still, his expression giving nothing away, but his eyes were sharp.
“Imogen,” I said carefully. “The people in this room with me are good people. They’re going to want to help you. But I need to ask, does Anton know you called?”
“No.” No hesitation. “He trusts me completely. That’s his first mistake.”
“And the documents? Are they somewhere safe?”
