Chapter 7: The Other Man in the Room
I kept my voice flat.
"How did you get this number?"
"Travis mentioned you.
He speaks highly of you, actually.
Says you're smart." A pause.
"I'm calling because I think there's been a misunderstanding and I'd like to resolve it quietly."
"There's no misunderstanding, Mr.
Whitfield.
Your business partner was arrested for domestic @buse.
He made bail with your money.
That's not a misunderstanding.
That's a paper trail."
A short silence.
"I posted bail for a friend.
That's not a crjme."
"No.
But what Travis did to my sister is." I pulled out a notepad from my glove compartment.
Old habit.
"What is it you want to resolve?"
"Rachel is a wonderful woman.
Travis cares about her deeply.
What happened was — a moment of poor judgment in a difficult relationship.
These things happen." His tone stayed smooth, almost sympathetic.
"I think if Rachel had the chance to speak freely, without pressure from family members who may not understand the full picture, she'd want to work things out."
"Rachel is an adult.
She's already spoken freely."
"She's also a tenant in a building that Travis owns.
I want to be transparent with you — I think you may not be aware of that."
He wanted me to feel the threat without him having to say it.
"I'm aware," I said.
The smoothness cracked, just slightly.
"Then you understand her situation is complicated."
"Her situation was complicated.
It isn't anymore." I clicked the pen.
"I'm going to ask you one question and I'd like an honest answer.
Did Travis ever discuss a man named Gerald Watts with you?"
Complete silence.
Four seconds.
Five.
"I don't know anyone by that name," Whitfield said.
"That's interesting.
Because your company's registered address appears in Gerald Watts's civil filing from four years ago as a receiving address for correspondence." I hadn't confirmed that yet.
I was testing him.
"So either Travis used your address without your knowledge, or you know exactly who Gerald Watts is."
"I'd like to speak with an attorney before continuing this conversation."
"That's your right." I put the pen down.
"Mr.
Whitfield, I want to be very clear with you.
You called me.
I didn't call you.
Whatever Travis told you about how to handle this situation, I'd encourage you to get independent legal advice before you take another step.
Because right now you're a witness.
I'd hate to see that change."
I ended the call.
I sat in the parked car for a moment, then called Reyes.
"Whitfield just called me," I said when she picked up.
"He tried to pressure me about Rachel's tenancy.
He also went silent when I mentioned Gerald Watts."
"You mentioned Watts to him?"
"I tested him.
He lawyered up immediately."
Reyes was quiet for a moment.
"Emily, I need you to be careful.
These men have resources and they have time.
Travis has been managing situations like this for years.
He's not going to panic.
He's going to plan."
"I know."
"Does Rachel know about the lease?"
"Not yet."
"Tell her.
She needs to know the full picture before she gives her formal statement.
I don't want any surprises." A pause.
"I've pulled the Mercer Street incident report from four years ago.
It was filed as a bar fight.
No charges.
The reporting officer retired eight months later."
I felt something cold move through me.
"You think the report was managed."
"I think it's worth asking who that officer knew." Her voice was careful.
"I'm not making accusations.
I'm saying Travis has been careful for a long time.
And careful people usually have help."
After I hung up, I sat with that for a moment.
Travis hadn't just built a trap around Rachel.
He'd built one around anyone who might try to reach her.
My phone buzzed again.
This time it was a text from a number I recognized — the station's front desk.
*Travis Mercer came in twenty minutes ago.
Asked to retrieve personal property from booking.
Desk officer cleared it per standard procedure.
He was calm.
He smiled at the camera on his way out.*
I read it twice.
May you like
He knew we were watching.
And he wanted us to know he wasn't afraid.
