Page 40 of The Business Trip

“Hello, my name is Dorothy Robinson and I’m the news director at ABC7 in Boston. I’m sure you’re going through a lot right now. I just wanted to reach out on behalf of my colleague Alan Kozinski and myself. We were at the News Coverage Summit in San Diego last week with Trent. Sat at the same table with him. We’ve already shared our observations with police, but I thought you might want to know that Trent skipped out on part of the conference. He just got up and left during a break and never returned that day. Missed the entire mental health discussion, arguably the most important piece of the entire conference. If I could be so bold, sir, to also explain some of the other things we observed, please call me back. I just think his boss needs to have as many pieces to the puzzle as possible.”

I couldn’t dial her number fast enough.

Hearing how he glommed on to Stephanie from the get-go turned my stomach. Dorothy said Trent never took notes at the conference, left before the mental health session without so much as a word, returned for cocktail hour and got increasingly drunk and loud, telling off-color jokes that made people uncomfortable, and then looked hungover the next day. I was filled with rage by the end of the conversation.

Trent had lied to me about attending the mental health session. How was he going to prepare that report for me? Would he just google “mental health”? And he had also lied about seeing Hannah in the field. That made two times he said he was somewhere and it turned out he wasn’t. Plus, Trent’s assistant, Mary, had contacted me to say that Trent asked her to lie Monday and say he was on a flight even though he was sick.

Lying was an absolute no-no in my book. If someone made a mistake, they should be honest about it. I drew the line at lying. And where was he during these times he was lying about? Was this when he was doing criminal activities? And even if he wasn’t guilty of murder, he’d still contributed to the loss of the Mega Mattress account.

I picked up my desk phone again and called HR.

“Fire Trent McCarthy. I’m not waiting for a trial. Fire him now.”

Letting someone go had never felt so good.

CHAPTER 32Trent

The Wednesday After the Conference

I was still in my bathrobe and underwear when we got to the station, but the police at least did me the dignity of offering some jail-issued clothes and moving my arms around so they weren’t cuffed in back anymore, just in the front, slightly more comfortable. Then they sat me in an interrogation room.

My head couldn’t compute what was happening. I was numb. Going along with their orders like a robot, I figured Bill would show up soon and rescue me and this whole giant mess would be cleared up. I couldn’t wait to get out of here, to get a lawyer and hold a triumphant press conference where I made them look like absolute shit. I’d be the hero. I just had to survive this craziness first.

Plopped in a hard-backed chair, I was across a small table from two detectives. I decided to speak first and not wait for them.

“This is a terrible misunderstanding. I haven’t done a thing. Not one thing. It’s unbelievable. I’m an innocent man and you’re making me out to be a criminal.”

“Be quiet and answer our questions,” said the first detective.He had a portly belly and thinning brown hair flecked with gray. His partner, who had a full head of dark hair and an accent that sounded as if he was from some Latin American country, started in.

“Is your name Trent Jonathan McCarthy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you live at 4240 Horizon Lane in the Peachtree Village neighborhood of Atlanta?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know a woman named Stephanie Monroe?”

“No. I mean I met someone with that name at a conference last week, butI never saw her again!We barely crossed paths.”

“So you have no idea how her wallet and cell phone might have been buried in your backyard?” Officer Spanish sounded combative now.

“No! Good God, no!I told you that already. This is a giant setup or a hoax or something. Is she trying to frame me? Is it my ex-wife, Katrina? Have you asked her, for fuck’s sake? She’s after my money.”

“Trent, why don’t you start by just telling us what happened when you left the conference?” Officer Portly Belly said in a gentler tone. That calmed me for a minute, and I took a long, ragged breath.

“OK, nothing happened. I got on a plane, came home, went to a bar that night for a couple of nightcaps, came home, fell asleep, felt sick actually on Sunday and stayed in. I even had to call in to work Monday I was so sick, and I never do that. Then I went to work Tuesday, and all this shit started happening. Police showing up at my door and dragging me out of bed and accusing me of something I didn’t do. It’s fucking bullshit, and you all will pay through the nose!I’m going to sue your asses off!”

My blood pressure was rising again, and I thought of my doctor and his warnings.

They ignored my comment about suing and just kept going.

“So you never saw this Stephanie again?”

“No!!”

“She didn’t return to Atlanta with you?”

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