Protecting the Boss

by Beverly Long

  He seemed surprised that she’d given in so easily. He’d likely been prepared for a fight since she’d been so reluctant to report the odd voice mail to the police. But now he wasn’t wasting any time. He turned back to the manager. “Please don’t do anything with those tapes until the police have had a chance to respond.”

  “I regret that you feel it necessary to involve the police. But I certainly understand that it is your right. And we will, of course, cooperate with the police in any way possible.”

  Jase Hall clearly wasn’t happy. She understood. It was going to take him time and energy to deal with questions from the police. He’d likely known that was a possibility before he’d shown them the tapes and had already weighed that out against the possibility that a disgruntled guest would post all over social media that she’d found a snake in her room.

  Seth stood up. He motioned for Megan to precede him out the door. When they were in the lobby, his concerned eyes searched her face.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “Peachy,” she said.

  “You want to call the police or do you want me to?” he asked.

  “I will. I suppose it’s not a 911 call but rather one to their nonemergency number.” Somehow that seemed to diminish the episode, which was still making her head pulse.

  “That sounds right,” he said. “Let’s call from my room,” he said.

  She glanced at her watch. “It would be nice if they could respond quickly. We’ve only got a couple hours before we need to head over to the luncheon and then the fashion show. Then I need to be at the store for a couple hours and then off to the evening reception. Unfortunately, we don’t have a lot of flexibility with our schedule.”

  He didn’t answer. She understood. There was no reason to discuss it until they knew what the police response would be. They rode the elevator in silence and once back in his room, she used her phone to find the nonemergency police number in Sedona. She put the phone on speaker so that Seth could hear.

  She got transferred twice but finally got a chance to tell her story. The woman on the other end took down the details without comment. She asked for a callback number and when Megan provided it, she said that a responding officer would contact her in advance of coming to see her.

  “My schedule is only free for the next couple of hours,” Megan said.

  “I’ll add that information to the report,” the woman responded in a way that made Megan think “not my problem.”

  “Thank you for your help,” she said. She hung up and looked at Seth. If and when the police arrived, she suspected that he was going to want to be there. And if she told them everything, he was going to be very surprised. And likely a little pissed off.

  He’d been genuinely nice and helpful the previous night and she’d repaid him by lying.

  Well, maybe not lying, but certainly not being forthcoming about the troubling things that had occurred over the past several weeks.

  It wasn’t right.

  “I think I need to tell you something,” she said.

  Chapter 7

  Seth took a seat on the couch and she sat on the bed, her back resting against the headboard. She didn’t look relaxed, however, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what she had to tell him.

  But he wanted to hear all of it. The image on that computer screen had made him mad as hell. It hadn’t been chance or bad luck that she’d ended up with a snake in her room. It had been deliberate.

  And even if the snake wasn’t deadly, a snakebite was never not serious. And what if she’d awakened and it had been in bed with her? She might have had a damn heart attack. The manager might have wanted to pass it off as a bad joke but it was no laughing matter.

  “I haven’t been exactly truthful with you.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “I dismissed the cab shooting as random, that it couldn’t be anything else.”

  He said nothing.

  “I don’t know if it was anything else but I should have been more forthcoming about what’s been going on in my life. Odd things have been happening.”

  He kept his eyes steady and his mouth shut. He wasn’t going to interrupt.

  “A couple times, I’ve thought I was being followed as I walked home from work. I live about six blocks from my office in Carmel so I walk to and from work most days. I have for years. And have never had any issues. Even when I walk later at night. It’s very safe.”

  No place was safe anymore but that wasn’t the point.

  “But just because it’s very safe and I’ve never had any problems in the past, I don’t take it for granted. I’m careful, aware of my surroundings. And usually make a point to look behind me a couple times, just to make sure that nobody is approaching from behind. One evening in June, I left later than usual, about eight. But because it was June, there was still some daylight left so I wasn’t too worried. However, I noticed a man walking behind me. Light-colored hair, slim build. I couldn’t tell his age but he moved as if he was pretty agile. After I turned around, he moved to the other side of the street, always staying about fifty yards behind me. When I went inside my apartment, he kept walking. I felt uncomfortable but told myself that I was imagining things. I ate something and showered and decided to go to bed. I turned out my light, lay down for maybe five minutes and just couldn’t relax. I got up, leaving the lights off, and I looked out the window. And I saw the same man, still across the street. He was looking up, at my apartment.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I called the police.”

  “Good,” Seth said.

  “They came and by that time, the man was gone. The officer who took the report was pleasant but I could tell that he thought there were bigger fish to fry somewhere else. He told me to call again if I saw something similar.”

  “Did they investigate, talk to people in the area?”

  “I don’t think so. But I felt better that I’d reported it. And I kept watch but didn’t see anybody again for almost three weeks. So by now it’s early July and I’d gone to watch the fireworks with a friend from work. It was after ten when we walked home but we were together so I wasn’t concerned. We were still at least a half mile from my apartment when we crossed under an overpass. Once we were through, I had this sudden feeling that I was being watched. I looked over my shoulder and didn’t see anyone. Then I happened to look up. The blond man was standing on the overpass. I could see him under the light. I grabbed my friend’s arm, to have her take a look, but by the time she turned, the man was gone.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No. Maybe I should have but really, I could just imagine their response. Our fireworks attract a huge crowd so now there’s crazy traffic everywhere and it’s likely that many people driving have had too much to drink. The police department would have been stretched very thin that night. Me catching a brief glimpse of somebody on an overpass was not going to be met with much concern. Plus, my friend couldn’t even back up my story.”

  He understood but still, it was always better when everything was reported.

  “That week I started to get hang-up calls on my office phone. I rent space in a building and expenses for basic utilities, like electricity, gas and telephone, are shared by the tenants. As a result, there is a small information services team, which maintains our phone and internet connections. I asked them if the calls could be traced. I was told no.”

  He suspected there might have been a way but it would likely have involved some work and it might have simply been easier to tell her it was impossible.

  “Then my door buzzer started ringing at odd hours of the night.”

  “Door buzzer.”

  “I live in an eight-unit apartment building. Our last names are on the door buzzer unit that is outside the main door of the building. Multiple times, usually sometime between two and f
our in the morning, the buzzer would ring, waking me up.”

  “Who was it?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. I can’t see the front door from my apartment building. When I would answer the buzzer, there would never be anyone there.”

  “Cameras?” he said.

  “No. I asked the landlord but he thought that was an unnecessary expense. I think he was afraid of the technology. The man doesn’t even have a cell phone.”

  “Idiot. Obviously doesn’t understand he has a responsibility to his tenants to not be a Luddite. Cameras are basic security tools.”

  “Well, I went even more basic and spent several nights in my car, down the street from my apartment, watching my front door. It was low-tech and yielded no results with the exception that I was exhausted at work. Fortunately, the door buzzer episodes ended after a couple weeks.”

  “Then it was over?”

  “No. Something scarier happened about two weeks ago. It had been very hot for weeks. But the heat had broken and we had a wonderfully cool evening. I went to bed and left my windows open.”

  He opened his mouth.

  “My apartment is on the second floor and there’s no balcony or fire escape access,” she said. “I’m not stupid.”

  He closed his mouth. He had an idea of what was coming based on what Bobby Bayleaf had told him.

  “I woke up because I heard voices below my window. It was two people. A woman and a man. I didn’t recognize either of their voices. They both had an accent. I... I swear to you that they were talking about the best way to kill someone. I heard the woman say her a couple times. The man favored strangulation because it was a quiet, clean death. The woman was concerned about DNA and she thought a gunshot was much better.”

  Good Lord. “What did you do?”

  “I called 911. The police came very quickly, without lights or sirens. But still, by the time they’d arrived, there was nobody there. This time I know they talked to other people in my apartment building but nobody else had heard or seen anything.”

  “So let me summarize to make sure that I’ve got it. On two occasions, you saw a blond-haired man watching you. You had a series of telephone hang-ups. You had middle-of-the-night door buzzers. You overheard a man and a woman talking below your window about killing someone. We were shot at the other night as we exited the cab. You get a strange call on your voice mail about a plane accident that happened fifteen years ago. And somebody lets loose a snake under your hotel door.”

  “Kind of a jumble,” she said.

  “Is there anything else?” he said.

  “Well, actually yes. The night of the party at Wingman Security, I took a cab from the hotel. But as I was entering the building, I happened to turn around and I caught a glimpse of somebody across the street, who hurried out of view when I turned.”

  “Blond guy?”

  “I don’t know for sure.”

  He remembered thinking that she’d seemed a little off when she’d stepped from the elevator. He really wished she’d said something. He and his partners could have torn the building apart.

  “I think that’s it,” she continued. “But given that several of those things have happened within the last forty-eight hours, I think somebody wants my attention. And they have it.”

  “They’ve got mine, too,” he said, his voice hard, maybe harder than necessary when he saw her wince.

  “I am sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said.

  He waved a hand. “Based on your two confirmed sightings of the blond-haired man, do you think that’s the same person who put the snake under your door?”

  “I can’t say for sure but I think it could be. The build, sort of slim and not too tall, seems right.” She paused. “Both times that I saw him, he was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans.”

  “A flannel shirt on the Fourth of July?”

  “Weird, I know. It was a stifling hot day, too. I was in a tank top.”

  He could just imagine her in a tank top. Reluctantly, he let the image go. “But on the hotel video, it looks as if he’s wearing white jeans, similar to painter’s pants, and a white lab coat.”

  “And the hat makes it impossible to see whether his hair is blond.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s almost nine o’clock. I can wait here until ten thirty for the police but if they haven’t shown up by then, we need to leave for lunch.”

  “Talking to the police is more important than lunch,” he said.

  “Listen, I get that this is serious. If it’s the same guy who was watching me outside my apartment and from the overpass, that means he drove a couple hundred miles to yank my chain some more.”

  “And that doesn’t concern you?” he asked.

  She drew back. “It scares the hell out of me. But I can’t dwell on it. I reported the other things to the police and I’m going to report this. I don’t know what else you’d have me do. I’m not stopping the grand opening events.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I simply want your head in the game.”

  “I imagine you think this makes your job more difficult,” she said.

  “I’m not concerned about that,” he said.

  “I’m sorry that you’re getting sucked into my drama.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “You’ve...you’ve been great,” she said.

  He felt about a hundred feet tall.

  “Maybe there will be a really good dessert at lunch,” she said.

  He smiled. “Tell me where lunch is again?”

  “At the Women’s Art Club in Sedona.”

  “Can’t wait,” he said. “Love a pretty tea sandwich.”

  She laughed. “Do you even know what a tea sandwich is?”

  “Yes. A sandwich made out of...tea leaves.”

  “That’s right,” she said, her tone deliberately placating. “Once lunch is over, we’ll go to their auditorium, where we’ll do the fashion show.”

  “Just gets better and better.” He glanced at his watch. “I think I’m going to call Lana.” He picked up his phone.

  “Oh. Well, I guess you can have the room, then. I’ll just...wait in the lobby,” she said, moving quickly from the bed.

  That was confusing. “I don’t need privacy. You can listen.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  He stared at her. “I’m calling her to ask what she might know about somebody knowing that you were in room 402.”

  She said nothing. Then finally she said, “I thought it was something personal between you and Lana.”

  And she hadn’t liked that idea. “There’s nothing personal between us.”

  “She gave you her number.”

  “I didn’t ask for it,” he said.

  “But you didn’t refuse it, either,” she countered.

  He gave her a slow smile. “That’s true.” He wanted to tell her that the idea of spending time with Lana paled in comparison to being with her but he didn’t want her to think that he was a freak. It looked as if she already had one stalker.

  He was a little frustrated that she hadn’t trusted him with the truth from the get-go but he understood. He was just glad that she’d finally come clean. Now that he knew there was a threat, nobody was going to get close enough to harm her.

  He pulled Lana’s card from his pocket. Dialed the number. Put the phone on speaker.

  “She’s probably sleeping,” Megan said.

  “I doubt it. You don’t jump immediately into bed when you get home from work, and I suspect she doesn’t, either. She probably needs a couple hours to wind down.”

  “I could never work nights.”

  In the air force, he’d flown a lot at night. You got used to being up when everybody else was sleeping.

  “Hello,” Lana said, her voice cautious.

  “Hi. It’s Seth Pike, from th
e hotel.”

  “Oh, hi, Seth.” Her tone sounded guarded.

  “I know you’re at home and I don’t want to bother you but I’ve got a couple questions about the video that we watched in your manager’s office. I’m assuming you also saw it.”

  “I did.”

  “It seemed to me that the person carrying the snake deliberately picked out room 402, as if he might be targeting the person in that room. We had just checked in hours earlier. My question is how would someone have known who was in that room?”

  Silence.

  Seth waited. “Lana?”

  “I have no idea,” she said. “I certainly didn’t give out the information.”

  He hadn’t suggested that. It seemed to him that Lana might be a little defensive. “I’m sure you didn’t,” he said. “But can you help us think of any way that information could have been available to someone?”

  “Listen, I worked all night and as you know, it was sort of an eventful night. I’m going to bed.” She hung up.

  Seth put his phone down.

  “I don’t think that’s the call she was anticipating when she handed you her card,” Megan said.

  “Probably not. Listen, while we’re waiting for the police to show up, I’d like to look at your luggage.”

  “My luggage?” she repeated.

  “Yeah. That’s that bag on wheels and the thing with the strap that goes over your shoulder,” he added.

  “Thank you,” she said sarcastically. “Why?”

  “We need to make sure that you didn’t lead Snake Charmer to your door. That he didn’t somehow plant a device on you that made it easy for him to know exactly where you were. People are sneaky. Not that long ago, somebody planted a tracking device in Kellie McGarry’s boot and let me tell you, it caused a problem. So, we’re going to check. The luggage and all—” he waved his hand “—your things.”

  “Things as in all my clothes.”

  “Yeah. And by the looks of it, you’ve got a fair amount of those.”

  She licked her lips. Made no move to answer or to get her luggage. After a long moment, she said, “Fine.”

  “I’ve noticed that when you’re really irritated and maybe feeling pushed into a corner, that fine is your go-to word. But it’s a tough one. Open to interpretation. Fine day? Fine weather we’re having? Fine way to whittle away—”