77 - Undiscovered Soul

His productivity evidently didn't spread to the rest of the world.

“What do you mean, you can’t find her?” Jon asked, one hand crudely massaging the tension from his neck as his eyes squinted shut.

The late afternoon sunshine should have improved his disposition, but the glare through his study windows was harsh, and only served to further sour his disposition.  His disposition couldn't sour much further without curdling into cottage cheese.

“She has a fucking cell phone, he needlessly pointed out, yet again.  "Can’t you trace them or some such shit?”

“We did,” Mark, the private investigator, assured him wearily.  “She hasn’t used it since Sunday night.  We tracked the last signal coming from the Pittsburgh regional area, but the phone is now either dead or she has it turned off.  She doesn’t have credit cards, and her debit card hasn’t shown any activity since last week.  It’s making things difficult.”

He sighed with pent up frustration.   Four days.  Five really, if you counted Sunday, that he had exhibited the patience of a saint.  By his standards, anyway.  

After his talk with Stephanie on Sunday, he had rounded up the number for Mark Delossantos, a private investigator who had successfully produced for him on a couple of other occasions.   Jon gave Mark all of the information he personally knew about Petey and, as the result of a long  chat with Tony, he also provided all of the vital statistic info from her employment records.  Two hours later, Mark had confirmation that she had flown to Pittsburgh, but that was it.

It was now Thursday and Jon's sainthood was now set to be revoked.  It was to the point that if he found her, he may kill her for putting him through this.  Didn’t she know what she was doing to him?

No, asshole, because you got sidetracked and didn’t tell her she was more than a fuck buddy.  To top that off, you let her walk away full-well knowing that you didn’t have a way to find her.  You’re a fucking idiot.

“So we’re just dead in the water?" he belligerently demanded of Mark.  "She doesn’t want to be found, so she isn’t going to be?” 

“That’s kind of where we’re at Jon.”

Why was he paying out the nose for this useless piece of fuck?

“Unacceptable.  You have until the morning to get me something useful, or I’ll find somebody who can.”  He disconnected the call with a string of creative obscenities. 

The only thing remotely useful to come out of the last four days was from Matt.  Security footage at his club revealed a tall, skinny male slinking out of the shadows of the building about the time of Petey's incident. They hadn’t made out the license plate out his silver sedan as of yet, but they were working on sharpening the image enough to decipher it.

It didn't matter.  Jon didn’t need the DMV’s help to pin this on the Lone Lover.  Tony’s description of him – tall and skinny with a big nose, calling himself Petey’s fiancé – was enough to know who it was, and his name.  Daniel. 

Although it would be nice to get Daniel’s last name, he thought maliciously.  If he was the one responsible for Petey’s split lip, as they suspected, Jon wanted to be able to hunt the bastard down at his pleasure.  God, it made him furious to think of that guy even touching her. 

I bet he’s not smart enough to hold his own in an argument with my imp.  The only way he can quiet her is to smack her in the mouth.

The thought made his blood boil hotter.  He would either personally visit the putz or send one of his ‘friends’ to teach Daniel the proper way to treat a lady.  Whichever it was, the sexually repressed prig would regret ever touching Petey.

Jon flipped his watch around to check the time.  He had a commitment tonight that he couldn't get out of, no matter how much he'd like to.  When he first scheduled the event, it was something he'd genuinely been looking forward to, but that was a distant lifetime ago - before Petey.  Now the political fundraiser he was obligated to attend seemed more of a pain in the ass than anything, especially since it required a flight to DC.

You wanted your voice heard, Rock Star.  This turns up a lot of hearing aids on the old men in Washington.

Grudgingly, he pushed himself up out of the chair and went to dig out a suit and tie.  If there was a God, they at least wouldn't ask him to sing.

☠ ☢ ☠

Jon slid the wool overcoat down his arms and gave it to the coatroom attendant outside the Carlton Ballroom with an absent smile.  The historic St. Regis Hotel was a prominent landmark in Washington, having been visited by every President since Calvin Coolidge.  Politicians, dignitaries and foreign heads of state were commonplace at the St. Regis, which was located a mere two blocks from the White House.  It personified the political world, making it the ideal locale for tonight's event.

Next, Jon stepped into the line for security, which seemed to take an eternity for a man with no patience.  He understood the precautions and would go through the process without complaint, but he grew antsy while waiting for them to pass him through the metal detector. He just wanted to get in, make his appearance, and get out.

A pang of guilt struck him at the thought.  He should be feeling a buzz of excitement at the potential here tonight.

Senator John Kerry had recently announced that he was tossing his hat into the Presidential ring again, and Jon was here to offer both his money and his moral support.  He had hit the campaign trail with the Senator when he made this same bid back in 2004, but the timing hadn’t been right.  Hopefully, this time would prove more successful for the Massachusetts Democrat.

By the time Jon entered the ballroom with its hundred or so large, round tables, the salads were being served.   An usher helped him locate his table from among the sea of white linen, and he found that he was seated with Kiefer Sutherland and his wife, Gwyneth Paltrow and several other 'public figures' with whom he had at least passing acquaintance.  Jon nodded politely to his table companions and took his chair, not even remotely interested in the meal he’d paid $5,000 for. 

The meal itself went smoothly, and he fell into a pleasant enough conversation with Gwyneth, who was seated on his right.  He asked about a new movie that she was filming, and she returned the interest and inquired about his album.  They were just discussing children – her oldest child, Apple, was the same age as Romeo – when the applause began.  The Senator was taking the platform.

Subtly checking his watch, Jon saw that it was early yet.  He would have to stay and listen to the speech, but he could probably slip out once he’d spoken to Kerry afterward.  He was feeling exceptionally introverted tonight, and lingering until hours to schmooze the politicians held no appeal. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming,” the Senator was greeting the audience.  His wife, Teresa Heinz Kerry was standing just behind his right shoulder, beaming at the guests.  “I trust you found that dry piece of chicken was worth the price of admission.”

Obligatory chuckles trickled through the room and he dove directly into his speech, outlining his vision for the campaign.

Half-heartedly listening, Jon’s eyes drifted along the back of the stage, where the Senator’s daughters were positioned with their professional smiles in place.  He’d met them briefly once.  Once had been enough. 

Sliding his attention to their right, he spotted Teresa’s sons Chris and Andre.  He’d had occasion to work with them both on different projects.  They were passionate about what they did, particularly Andre, who was a staunch environmentalist.  He should make a point to speak to them as well. 

To Andre’s right was a taller man with the same dark hair and olive complexion as the two Heinz sons.  Jon had a fleeting curiosity as to whether this was the elusive third, and eldest, son - John Henry Heinz IV.  Henry, as Jon had heard his mother refer to him, preferred to stay out of the limelight and keep his family tucked away with him.  If it truly were Henry on the stage, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere else, it was a major concession to Senator Kerry and his mission.

There was one other figure on the platform that Jon didn’t recognize.  It was a woman.  She was much shorter  and fairer skinned than Henry, whose hand she was clinging to, but they shared the same inky hair.  From this distance, he couldn’t clearly make out anything distinct about her features – until the Senator offered an amusing quip that sent the room into peals laughter.  The woman joined in the laughter and her dimples lit up the stage. 

Jon’s heart clutched in his chest.

Holy shit.

It was Petey.  Four days of absolutely useless searching by paid professionals, and there she was, standing idly in front of hundreds of people as if she hadn’t a care in the world.  She was safe and looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, with her hair secured into some kind of elegant twist.

But why was she up there with the Heinzes and Kerrys?

“Is that Henry Heinz on the left?” Jon murmured quietly in Gwyneth’s ear.

She shook her head.  “I’ve never met him.  I couldn’t tell you.”

“So I guess you don’t know who the woman beside him is?”

A smile turned up the corners of Gwyneth’s mouth.  “That’s Patience Heinz, Teresa’s daughter.  She hates these types of events and rarely ever makes an appearance.   I wouldn’t know who she is either, if we hadn’t met at a few MENSA gatherings.”

His gaze was transfixed to the woman whose own eyes, that he now knew were the same color ice blue as her dress, were trained politely on the Senator.

Patience.  No wonder this has been so damn difficult, he thought wrly.

“They must be going all out with the family support,” Gwyneth continued in a low voice, “if they have both Patience and Henry here.”

Jon made a quiet noise of agreement before rudely prodding his seat-mate for more information.  “You said MENSA.  Patience is a MENSA member?”

“Yes.  Has been since she was nine.  She graduated high school at fourteen and went to MIT, where she got her bachelor’s, master’s and Ph.D. by the time she was twenty-one.  Patience is a brilliant woman, and surprisingly sweet.”

The brief dossier was beyond impressive, and while the information was unexpected, he couldn’t say he was shocked to find that his imp was a certified genius.  Tony had always sung praises of her brilliance, and Jon had seen evidence of it on so many occasions. 

“What does she do for a living?”  He figured as long as Gwyneth was willing to talk, it would save him time Googling later.

The beautiful actress’s forehead creased briefly.  “Up until a couple of years ago, she taught at Carnegie-Mellon University.  For some reason, that no one knows, she resigned very suddenly and then fell off the map.  I heard she even left behind a long-term fiancé with no explanation.”

Daniel.  You bastard, I’m so close to finding out who you are that I can taste it.

“Oh?” he feigned casually.  “Any idea who the guy was?”

She shook her head twice, before her eyes lit up.  “Actually yes, now that you mention it.  Daniel Lewis.  I remember thinking that his name brought to mind the actor, Daniel Day Lewis, when I first heard it.”

Your ass is mine, Daniel Lewis.

“One more question and I’ll leave you in peace,” he promised with his most charming smile.  “Do you know what Patience’s area of expertise is?”

It was a totally frivolous question, but he wanted to see if his guess about her being a history professor was right. 

“Her degrees are in engineering, if I remember correctly – both electronics and bio-engineering.   I think she was teaching electronics when she quit, but she’s an expert in just about everything.  One of the benefits of a photographic memory, I suppose.”

Photographic memory?  That explained the variety of material she could recite at will, but Jon would be lying if he said he wasn’t now a little bit intimidated.  He suddenly felt about as gifted as a dyslexic penguin next to Petey’s – Patience’s – documented brilliance. 

Now is not the time to get an inferiority complex, you megalomaniac.

“Thanks for the family history lesson,” he said appreciatively, leaning thoughtfully back in his seat.  The actress nodded and smiled, turning her attention back to the front of the room.

Jon’s eyes never left the stage, but they were trained on Petey, not the Senator's words of hope and promise.  He was drinking her in, and for the first time in days, relaxing just a bit with the knowledge that she was okay.  She still owed him an explanation for all the duplicity about who she was, not to mention the vanishing act, but he would wait until later in the evening to collect those explanations.

First, he had to exchange pleasantries with the Senator and Mrs. Heinz-Kerry.  Maybe they would be so kind as to share their insight of why Petey left New York and quit her job.

Lord knew it couldn't be any more difficult than getting the information out of Petey.