by Ward, Alice
“There must be some mistake,” I insisted, pushing myself up on the headboard. “I didn’t book a massage appointment.”
“I know, Mrs. Reynolds. A Mr. John Rogers made the appointment for you yesterday. He explained you were recently in an accident. I can avoid your ribs and I think the massage will help with the whiplash and residual soreness. Will you be able to get her within the hour, or would you like me to reschedule you for this afternoon?”
I pushed off the comforter and stumbled to the closet, searching for something to wear. It was eight-thirty. If I hurried, I could make it to the spa on time for the surprise appointment.
“No, there’s no need to reschedule. I’ll be there by nine,” I promised.
“Fantastic. I’ll be waiting.”
The line went dead and I tossed the phone on the bed. I pulled on a baggy pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. I reconsidered and changed into one of Asher’s custom tailored white button-ups. I knew there was a good chance I’d encounter a news crew or two. If Asher was able to see their footage, I wanted him to know I was thinking of him.
I surveyed myself in the mirror; the yellowish grey circles beneath my eyes made me look ten years older than I actually was.
I guess if Asher sees the footage, he’ll know I’m thinking of him and I’m exhausted.
I transferred my wallet to a large canvas messenger bag and shoved my phone into the front pocket. I had no idea what was waiting at the spa, but I wanted to be prepared to sneak out anything the mysterious John Rogers may have left for me.
I slipped my feet into ballet flats and silently crept toward the living room. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized no one was up to see me leave. I scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen island before slipping through the door.
Gabe was standing guard with a member of the security team and they were more than happy to escort me down to the valley. I’d have rather gone by myself, but I knew Mom, Kennedy, and Claire would all pitch a fit if I left without a guard.
“We’ll be right here when you’re ready to go home, Lauren,” Gabe promised as they let me out at the spa entrance.
“Thanks, guys,” I replied with an easy smile.
I slid out of the car, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I pushed my hair over my shoulders, said a prayer that I’d finally learn something about my husband’s whereabouts, and stepped through the spa door. I was greeted by a bubbly brunette with wide eyes and a friendly smile.
“Lauren?” she asked.
“Yes, are you Lindsey?” I replied, scanning the room for cameras. I felt fairly confident that the massage rooms were private, but I wasn’t sure it was safe to speak freely in the lobby.
“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ll be working on you today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled in your room and then give you some time to undress.”
I guess I’m actually getting a massage. Maybe there’s nothing secretive happening here at all. Maybe this is my consolation prize. “Sorry I can’t tell you where I am, sweetheart, but try to relax and forget about all that while this strange woman rubs you.”
I followed Lindsey into a small, warm room that smelled like lavender and honeysuckle. The massage table took up three fourths of the floor space, and a small table near the wall held a single bottle of oil and a small MP3 speaker dock. Lindsey attached her phone to the speaker and hit a few buttons, filling the room with the sounds of a thunderstorm.
“Complete these forms, then undress to your comfort level and then lie face down under the sheet,” she instructed. “I’ll knock before I let myself back in.”
“Thank you,” I replied, taking the clipboard from her hand.
She left the room and I stood rooted to the floor for a moment, considering my next move.
This was a total waste of time. If this was a set up to give me information, she would have done it already, But I guess there’s no harm in having the massage while I’m here.
To be honest, the idea of relaxing for an hour was incredibly appealing. I made a mental note to thank Mr. Rogers if we ever spoke again and filled out the forms before stripping down to my underwear. I folded the discarded garments and stacked them on the room’s single chair before climbing beneath the sheet. A few moments later, a soft knock echoed through the room and the door creaked open.
“Are you ready?” Lindsey asked, her voice an octave lower than before.
“Yes,” I mumbled, my face pressed into the table’s opening.
She dimmed the lights and moved beside me.
“I’m using an all-natural, organic almond oil,” she explained, lowering the sheet. She tucked it beneath the waistband of my underwear and covered my back with oil. I felt the tension in my muscles start to melt away beneath her hands.
“Are there any particular areas you’d like me to focus on?” she asked, pressing her thumbs firmly into a knot beneath my right shoulder blade. “You feel awfully bound up.”
“In addition to the car accident, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” I explained. “It’s wrecking my back and shoulders.”
“That’s understandable. I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but I’ve been following your story on the news. Mr. Reynolds was my first client after I got my license. He used to pay me thirty dollars an hour to come to EnvisionTech and massage the executive assistants. I’ve always known him to be a kind, considerate man. I hate what they’re doing to him in the press. I called up the Nancy Baker show and offered to give them my opinion of Mr. Reynolds. They were thrilled by my offer until they heard what I had to say. Now, they’re not taking my calls.”
“Thank you for trying, and for your kind words. It has been very difficult. But I have faith in my husband. Asher’s innocent and we’ll find a way to prove it.”
“Well, when things get rough, just remember that anyone who really knows Mr. Reynolds knows better than to believe the garbage some of these reporters are spewing. Now, you just relax and let me work my magic on these knots.”
She walked her fingers up and down my back, taking note of all of my knotted muscles. Then, she started at my shoulders and worked her way down, releasing more tension with each stroke of her hand. I fell into an almost trance like state, letting my mind go completely blank. I was just about to drift off to sleep when Lindsey covered me with the sheet again and asked me to roll over.
I complied, and she wove her oiled hands through my long, blonde hair. The scalp massage felt so good I didn’t even care I’d be leaving the spa looking like I hadn’t showered in a week. Lindsey worked her way down my arms, then moved on to my hips. From there, she moved down my legs, ending the massage at my feet.
“Feel better?” she asked, pushing her palm into my left heel.
“I feel fantastic,” I mumbled. “I’m glad I brought a driver. You almost put me to sleep.”
“Lots of my clients nap during their sessions. I try to take it as a compliment,” she laughed.
“You definitely should. Can I go ahead and book another appointment with you for the same time next week?”
Her voice suddenly became hesitant. “I’m on vacation next week. But I have some great aromatherapy products to help deal with stress. I’ll go get them while you get dressed.”
“Okay… thank you,” I replied, puzzled by her odd behavior.
I waited for the door to click shut before climbing off the table. I dressed quickly and perched on the edge of the chair. Lindsey returned a few moments later with a thick manila envelope in her hands. Her eyes darted back and forth down the hallway before she finally shut the door and turned to me. She spoke so softly I had to ask her to repeat herself.
“This came from Mr. Rogers,” she hissed, thrusting the envelope into my hands. “He left very specific instructions. You’re to open this in Mr. Reynolds’ office, nowhere else. Make sure you’re alone and the door’s locked. And follow all of the instructions on the first page before reading through the rest of the information.”
/>
I knew this was a lead. Thank God. With any luck, I’ll know where my husband is within the hour.
“I thought… I hoped… but then you went ahead with the massage,” I stammered.
“I wasn’t supposed to do that,” she confessed with a blush. “Mr. Rogers asked me to call about the phony appointment and then give you the envelope as soon as you arrived. But when you got here, you looked like you were in so much pain, I figured there was no harm in going through with the appointment.”
“Thank you, Lauren. For the massage and for this,” I whispered, clutching the envelope.
“You’re more than welcome.” She leaned in close and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“That comment about my vacation was a lie as well. If you’re still in town next week, by all means come in for an appointment. Or if you’d like, I can come to the house.”
Where else would I be next week?
Ordinarily, it would have bothered me that a stranger knew more about what was going on in my life than I did. But at the time, I was so relieved that someone had reached out to me that nothing else mattered. I thanked Lindsey again, slipped the envelope into my messenger bag, and returned to the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
CHAPTER 3
During the trip home, I brainstormed excuses to lock myself in Asher’s office. Everyone at the house was sure to be suspicious after I snuck out without explanation. After all, I’d preached the importance of staying behind the wall just the day before. And after the conversations I’d had with Mom and Kennedy, there were sure to be on the lookout for any sign that I knew more than I was letting on. To make things extra complicated, there were so many crawling around the house I felt lucky to be able to pee in private. Mom and Dad were staying in the guestroom while Kennedy and Jackson were on a roll away bed in the living room, and Claire had taken up residence in the office.
I’m going to have to wait until lunch. Everyone will be gathered around the table or, please God, on the terrace. I’ll say I don’t have an appetite; no one will question that with everything going on. If I can’t slip into the office unnoticed, I’ll say I finally feel up to returning some personal messages. Which reminds me, I should probably send Deacon a quick email and let him know that I’m okay and his townhouse is still standing.
I knew my luck had run out the moment the driveway came into view. The lawn in front of the gate, which had been blissfully empty when I left, was now teaming with news crews.
“Damn it,” Gabe growled. “I thought they’d finally given up their posts. We only had three crews yesterday. Someone must have tipped them off that you left the house.”
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I’m actually glad they’re here.”
Kennedy had warned me not to say anything, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity when it was literally right in front of my face. I was desperate to talk to Asher and the news cameras were as close as I was going to get.
“Stop the car,” I directed.
“Are you sure?” Gabe asked.
“I’m not sure this is a great idea,” Mitch, the security guard, warned.
“It’ll be fine,” I insisted, refusing to take no for an answer.
Gabe slowed the car to a stop and killed the engine.
“Give us a few minutes to corral the—”
I opened the back door and stepped out of the car before Mitch could finish. The reporters swarmed me, holding giant microphones over my head while their cameramen vied for the best angles. I held up my hands, backing them up as I addressed them.
“I will not be answering any questions,” I announced firmly. “But since you all insist on camping out on my grass, I’d like to take the opportunity to go on record about something.”
I took a deep breath, stared directly into the nearest camera, and continued. “You’ve all made up your minds about my husband and I won’t even attempt to change them. But as certain as you are that Asher is guilty, I’m twice as certain that his actions have an understandable explanation. Asher Reynolds is the best man I know. I love him with everything I have and I can’t wait until we’re together again. Thank you for your time.”
“Mrs. Reynolds, do you really expect us to believe you have no idea where your husband is?”
“Can you comment on Cynthia Goins’s recent arrest?”
“Lauren, how do you feel about the SEC’s decision to shut down and audit EnvisionTech media?”
What?
The last question hit me like a slap to the face. I knew the feds had been investigating the company before we proved Rachel was behind all of the illegal activity. But I’d expected them to close the investigation once she was behind bars. I stumbled for a moment, then righted myself and continued back to the car, ignoring the reporters.
Something must have happened while I was gone. Kennedy will explain when I get back to the house. Asher will be devastated. But what did he expect to happen if he split town?
I held my head high and continued to ignore the reporters until we were safely through the gate. Gabe cleared his throat and we locked eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Did that reporter just say the SEC has seized the entire company?” he asked, his voice grave.
“Yeah. That’s what she said,” I replied between pinched lips.
“Mr. Reynolds isn’t going to be happy when he hears that.”
“Mr. Reynolds has bigger problems to worry about,” I reminded him as we slowed to a stop at the house.
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed with a nod.
“Thank you for escorting me, gentlemen. I’m going to go inside and find out what the latest catastrophe is. You’re welcome to join me.”
“We’ll leave you with your family, Mrs. Reynolds,” Mitch insisted. “We’ll get briefed at the gatehouse.”
I nodded goodbye to them and slipped out of the car. The front door swung open and Kennedy stepped outside. She planted her feet shoulders width apart and put her hands on her hips.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” she demanded.
I sighed and moved past her into the house. “I take it you’re watching the news.” I paused at the couch and kissed my mother hello before moving on to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee.
“Of course we’re watching the news,” Kennedy snapped. “The sky is falling again. But you wouldn’t know that because you snuck out this morning without a word to anyone. Then you fucking refused to answer your phone.”
I filled a mug and returned to the couch while Kennedy paced the living room floor. The television was on but muted and the closed captioning had been turned on. I sat down between Mom and Claire and read the words out loud as they flashed across the screen.
“After finding evidence of multiple forms of corruption occurring on the executive level, government agencies have frozen all holdings of EnvisionTech Media. The Securities and Exchange Commission will be auditing the company’s records, while the FBI and an assortment of other agencies investigate further accusations against Asher Reynolds, his longtime associate Rachel Finley, aka Cynthia Goins, as well as other members of the board.”
I turned to Kennedy, eyebrows raised. “I thought the investigation was closed after we proved Rachel was the one behind the embezzling.”
“The original charges against Asher are still active. The authorities are acting under the assumption that Asher and Cynthia were working together. With the amount of fraud they’ve already found, going through the company records is the next logical step,” she explained.
“Is there anything I should be doing? Should I call Brian and offer my support? What’s going to happen to the employees while the company is closed down?”
“Corporations have insurance to protect their employees if something like this happens, so you don’t need to worry about that. There’s really nothing you can do right now. Asher already surrendered his seat on the board, so there’s no need for you to step in in his absence. And the last thing you should do is ca
ll Brian. He’s one of the board members being investigated. Looks like he may have been skimming from the company cash as well.”
“You’re kidding me,” I gasped. “He was working with Rachel?”
She shook her head. “I doubt it. The sad truth is a lot of people aren’t honest. You should probably brace yourself. There’s no telling how much theft the feds will uncover now that they’re looking.”
I sighed and stared at the television. The footage showed men in polyester suits carrying large cardboard boxes out of company headquarters.
“You know, I’m having a hard time caring about this,” I confessed.
“Honey, what are you talking about?” Mom asked, her face turned up at the screen. “This is a disaster. And it isn’t fair. With all of the bad publicity, Asher may never be able to get the company up and running again once this is all over.”
I took a sip of my coffee and shrugged. “I’m sure this will seem like a huge problem if the rest of our lives ever get back to normal. But at the moment, I’m no worse off today than I was yesterday. The feds froze Asher’s accounts weeks ago. And I couldn’t care less about the money. All I care about is finding my husband.”
I took another drink of the steaming liquid and turned to Kennedy as I swallowed. “Think about it. If Montgomery Enterprises was suddenly taken away from Jackson, would you care?”
She shook her head. “I’d be upset for him. But I completely understand what you’re saying. The money is nice, but without Jackson nothing else would matter.”
“Do you want to keep watching this?” Claire asked, pointing the remote at the television. I looked up and saw my face on the screen. It was then that I remembered Lindsey had covered my head in oil during the massage.
“Good lord, I look like I haven’t washed my hair in a month.” I cringed and turned back to Kennedy. Claire hit a button and a cooking show replaced the news.
“Look, I’m sorry I went against your advice and talked to them. I tried not to say too much, but I couldn’t say nothing. If Asher’s out there somewhere watching—”
“I get it,” she assured me. “And you didn’t say too much. I overreacted. I was just so worried when I came out this morning and realized you’d left.”
