36. Anna
ANNA
The other side has three lawyers.
My mother and I across from them.
We've been at this clause for five hours. The coffee went cold two hours ago. Someone from the other side has checked his phone four times in the last twenty minutes. My mother hasn't looked at hers once.
Their lead counsel, a man named Driscoll who has the particular confidence of someone who has never been told no by anyone he respects, keeps circling back to the indemnification language like if he says it enough times we'll cave.
We're not caving.
"The language as written exposes our client to unlimited liability," Driscoll says. "That's not something we can accept."
"The language as written is standard," my mother says. "We've used it in twelve comparable agreements in this jurisdiction."
"Comparable isn't identical."
"No. But it's instructive."
I slide a page across the table to my mother without interrupting. She glances at it. The case I found last night, going through the files after midnight when I couldn't sleep. She picks it up. Sets it down in front of Driscoll.
"Johnson versus Meridian Holdings," she says. "2019. Similar indemnification clause. Upheld on appeal."
Driscoll looks at it. Looks at his associates. One of them is already typing.
The room goes quiet in the particular way rooms go quiet when one side realizes the other side came prepared.
Twenty minutes later they accept a modified version of the clause. Not our version exactly. Close enough.
Hands across the table. Driscoll shakes mine last. His grip is firm. Professional. The grip of a man recalibrating.
"Good meeting," he says.
"Yes," I say.
In the hallway my mother puts her hand briefly on my arm. Doesn't say anything. Doesn't have to.
I go back to my office.
I pour myself water. Sit down. Let the stillness of the room settle over me for a moment.
Then I open the afternoon files. A vendor dispute. Straightforward. The kind of thing that just needs someone to read it carefully and mark it up cleanly.
I'm halfway through when Margot appears in my doorway.
She has her phone in her hand and an expression that says you need to see this.
"What?" I say.
She hesitates.
"Margot."
"Okay." She comes in and closes the door behind her. Sits down across from me. Sets her phone on the desk facing me.
An X post. One of the big entertainment accounts.
brEAKING: Luke Wolfe has not reported to set in over a day. Production on The Sentinel has halted. Studio has issued no statement. Sources say no one knows where he is.
I pick up my own phone. The fan accounts are already compiling. Posts going up every few minutes. Photos of the Morocco set with equipment sitting idle. A source inside production saying he is not in his hotel room. No note. No call to his team. Phone going to voicemail.
I search his name.
I keep scrolling.
The police in Morocco are looking for him.
I put the phone down.
"I'm sure he's fine," Margot says. Her voice does the thing voices do when they're not sure.
I check my phone. Nothing from him.
I call Luke.
Voicemail.
I call again.
Voicemail.
I set the phone on the desk and look at it.
Morocco.
I call Jen.
She picks up on the first ring.
"Anna. Hey."
"Jen, what's happening? Where is he?"
"We don't know yet." Her voice is calm. "The production team is looking. The hotel has been in touch with local authorities."
"The police are involved."
"Anna. He's okay. I really believe that."
"How do you know?"
"I don't know it for certain. But Danny and I both think he's okay. We really do."
"Is Danny?—"
"Danny's fine. Frustrated but fine."
"Jen—"
"Anna. Listen to me. He's going to turn up. Okay? Just breathe."
"Okay," I say.
"Are you with your mom?"
"I'm at the office."
"Good. Stay there. Call me if you hear anything."
"You too," I say.
"I will," she says. "He's okay, Anna. I really think he's okay."
I sit there for a few moments.
Then I get up and go down the hall to my mother's office.
She's on the phone. She sees my face and holds up one finger. Wraps up the call in under a minute.
"What happened?"
"Luke is missing. He hasn't shown up to set in over a day. Nobody knows where he is. The police in Morocco are looking for him."
"Missing how?"
"He's not in his hotel room. No note. His phone is off. Production has halted."
"Anna, hasn't he done this before?"
"This is too important to him. He's not going to disappear on his own. He could be taken. He's famous, he has money?—"
"Alright. Alright." Her voice is steady.
"Where is he, Mom?"
She looks at me for a long moment.
"I don't know," she says.
I go back to my office.
I try Delia. Voicemail.
I try again. Voicemail.
I sit at my desk with the vendor dispute open in front of me and I cannot read a single word of it.
My desk phone rings.
I answer immediately. It’s Lucy.
"Anna?"
"What?"
"Luke Wolfe is here to see you.”
I stop. Everything stops.
I can tell from her voice she’s serious.
Through the glass I see everyone is looking toward the reception area.
I go to the doorway.
Luke Wolfe is standing in front of the Hartley and Simons logo.