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Chapter Fifteen

Phoebe unbuttoned the top of her blouse while readjusting her bottom in the swivel chair as she reached for the desk phone. It was ringing for the fifth time in a row as the interns working with her on the Weatherby case called with information or questions about their assignment. From the moment she’d entered the firm, Phoebe knew everyone was hard at work as the office was compact with boisterous activity.

Phoebe had gone straight to her office and removed her jacket; since then, she hadn’t had a moment to think or check-in with Quentin. Whenever her thoughts crossed over to him she’d smile and bite her bottom lip but just as quickly an interruption would cause her to go from one emergency task to the next.

“Yes,” she said as she answered Christian, her intern’s question. “Stay with that, if you can get information don’t switch up, get as much as you can, then report back to me.” She paused. “Yes, thank you.”

Phoebe dropped the phone in the cradle just as a swift knock on the door pulled her attention.

“You got a minute?”

Phoebe nodded. “Of course, what do you have?”

Jordan slipped into the room with a disc in his hand, giving it over to Phoebe.

Interested, Phoebe took the disc and pressed a button on her computer that pushed out a door for the CD. She slipped it inside and waited for the information to load, crossing her legs with a slight bounce. Jordan stood at the window with his hands thrown in his pockets, his heavy gaze overlooking the skyscrapers.

“So, you and Quentin are really doing this,” he blurted.

Thrown off a bit by the question, Phoebe turned slowly. “This?” she said. “You make it sound like we’ve agreed to rob a bank or something. Get over yourself.”

Jordan turned and strolled to her side to stand in front of her.

“Get over myself?”

“I’m not doing this with you here.”

“Then where should we do it, sis, because I can’t seem to talk to you any other time.”

“This is not something we’re going to discuss because this is not a topic of conversation. This…” she reiterated, “is my life, and you are completely out of line for interfering or shaming Quentin as if he’s not good enough for me. Totally out of line.”

“Okay,” Jordan traipsed to the door, “but for the record, I’m not shaming him, I’m just calling it like I see it.”

“Whatever, just leave if you will.”

“Damn it, I don’t like this anymore than you do.”

“Then why don’t you drop it?”

Jordan glared at Phoebe. “Fine, whatever you like, sis.” He left the room with an air of finality.

“Ugh,” Phoebe grumbled, rubbing her temples with her fingertips. She grabbed her cell phone to send Quentin a quick text when the disc began to play.

It was foggy to begin with. It appeared to be someone entering a cellar with a recording device, but the room was dark, so the only thing that could be seen was the red blinking recorder indicator. Without notice, a man began to speak, he sounded much like their defendant’s father Allen Weatherby. He casually spoke his name, time, and date that the recording was taking place.

“I, Allen Weatherby, have spent nine months crafting this beauty.” A light flickered on, and the camera zoomed in on a metallic like device reminisced of a bomb. I’ve been given direct orders, and my mission on this plane will end whilst my journey to the next world begins.”

Allen Weatherby stepped out in front of the camera with a sinister smile. As he moved so did the video, following him around as if he was not the one recording himself. The picture froze, and a reflection could be seen bouncing off a mirror leaning against the wall. Phoebe leaned into the film, trying to make out the person in the image. When the revelation hit her, she gasped and jerked back against the seat. Her mind whirled, and she jumped from her chair, removing the disc and heading straight for Jordan’s office.

She knocked swiftly then opened the door and strolled inside without hesitation.

“So I’m just supposed to forget about you boning my sister!” Jordan barked at a calmly posed Quentin.

They both turned as she entered the room and became silent.

“Oh please,” she said, “don’t stop on my behalf.”

Jordan cleared his throat. “Did you watch the disc?” he asked, ignoring her statement.

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