Stolen Secrets

by Nancy Radke

“Yes.”

  “Super. I’ll park in the last row if there’s a spot— there should be— furthest away from the entrance. Good night, and thanks, and have a happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Wait. Patti.”

  He hadn’t spoken soon enough. The line went dead, leaving him angry at himself for not interrupting her. Still, even if he had asked about the robbery, would she tell him the truth?

  * * *

  Thanksgiving morning Angie went through her stretching routine. Even though she would never compete again, it kept her limber. Then she showered, dressed and applied her new make-up, feeling the confident sparkle and soft glow that surrounds a woman who feels cherished.

  After seeing Grandma Miller off with one of her grandchildren, Angie walked to Ryan’s place carrying the pumpkin pie. He didn’t say much, just drove her to Robyn’s apartment, then left to go pick up his mother. Icy snow remained on the ground. The weather had stayed below freezing, but the roads were clear and dry.

  Angie had wrapped a silk scarf around her neck to hide the bruises. Wearing a new dress of soft lamb’s wool, the colors of sea-mist and heather, with its light gray-greens highlighting her gray eyes, she both looked and felt like a new person. So when she opened Robyn's apartment door to Scott Sunderstrom, he stopped, uncertain, and stepped back.

  "Well, hello and hello! Are you a friend of Robyn's?" He handed her his coat, never taking his eyes off her, a wide smile spread across his rugged face. He wore a beautifully tailored charcoal gray suit, his fair hair curling at the collar.

  Should she tell him who she was? She hadn't thought the change had been that drastic.

  Maybe not, but the situation had greatly changed. He wouldn't be looking for the girl from his office here at Robyn's apartment. Still, he might figure it out, so she should probably tell him first.

  Then Robyn stepped into the room with a bowl of fruit in her hands and the moment passed. Robyn was as voluble as Ryan was quiet, with shoulder-length hair swept back to reveal sparkling brown eyes, a smooth complexion and wide, generous mouth.

  "Hi, Scott. You're looking sharp today," Robyn said, setting the bowl on the table and walking over to greet him. "Angie, this is Scott Sunderstrom, Ryan's partner, and Scott, this is Angie Reid." Even her name didn't seem to cue him in. He must’ve forgotten it.

  They murmured “hello” again as Robyn continued. "Angie's just started to work as Ryan’s assistant. But maybe he’s already told you."

  “No, he hadn’t.” The information seemed to please him, his face brightening even more. "So you'll be working with us, eh?"

  “Yes.”

  He swept a comprehensive glance over her, seeming to like what he saw. "I thought he'd given up looking. He's been needing someone to help him, he's always got more work than he has day, and if he's going to hire someone, she might as well be pretty."

  Pretty. Angie smiled at the compliment. Ryan had never said that. It felt good to hear. "Why, thank you," she said.

  "I mean it. Which is probably why he never said a word to me." He took a deep breath of the delicious aroma that filled the apartment. "Man, that smells good. I'm looking forward to someone else's cooking. Restaurant food loses its appeal after a year."

  "We're glad you could join us, Scott," Robyn said. "We've everything ready; we're just waiting for Ryan to bring mother. They should be here any minute now."

  “Where’s Alison?” he asked, looking quickly around.

  “She’s spending today with her mother and brother.”

  “The paralyzed kid?” He sounded disgusted. He had probably hoped to see her here.

  “Yes.”

  “How did that happen?” Angie asked.

  Robyn grimaced. “A football game. College football. Broke his neck. Just never mention football to Alison. She hates it.”

  "She can’t stand anyone connected to football,” Scott added. “Avoids it like the plague. Her mother’s third and fourth husbands were really into the game. Encouraged her brother to play. The kid was good, too. Major. He could’ve been somebody. Now he’s nothing. Ruined everyone’s life.”

  “That’s not true, Scott,” Robyn protested, looking ready to shake the big man. “He has a life ahead of him. You haven’t seen him lately. He’s got a motorized wheelchair and gets around by himself. He’s finishing college this year and looking forward to a career at Microsoft.”

  “Yeah, well... did Ryan tell you about the break-in at the office?" he said, wisely changing the subject. "I'm beginning to wonder if I should get a new secretary."

  Robyn gave Angie a warning look before she answered. "Yes, we all heard. Will you have to fire Patti?"

  "I don't know." He shrugged, drawing a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, rumpling it from its well-combed state into its more common disarrangement. "I don't know what to believe anymore. It's crazy. If that girl hadn't been leaving the office and mentioned the conversation Patti supposedly had on the phone, I wouldn't have suspected anything.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  "As it was," he added, baffled, "we lost only the one CD. Maybe that girl simply made up a story to use as protection if she got caught... you know, to divert attention from herself. I never did find out if she was legit or some no-good vagrant trying to find shelter for the night." His disgusted tone made Angie squirm. "Patti said she talked to Ted before she left, but didn’t know the CDs had been left behind. I think that vagrant took it."

  “How about the break-in at Ryan’s place the other night?” Robyn asked. “Doesn’t that prove there was—”

  "It could’ve been unconnected— some dope-head out for drug money," Scott reasoned.

  "A dope-head? But who prompted him on what to steal? And who told him Ryan was a black belt?”

  “I don’t know. But Ryan’s picture’s been in the paper several times. Maybe the nut keeps a file.”

  “Well," Robyn said, with another warning glance at Angie, "we'll never really know the true situation, will we— about that girl or the thief— unless Patti manages to spirit away something else. Why don't you build more burglar-proofing into your office? You and that genius brother of mine should be able to come up with something that would foil any amateur thief. Maybe a siren that goes off if you enter the room after hours."

  "That's in place, but it wasn’t armed. What's hard is to protect against your own employees, if that's what happened. I’m sure I locked the door when I left. I can't imagine how that girl got in."

  At that moment Ryan arrived with his mother, a charming lady with spun-silver hair. She was as gracious as her children, seeming to delight in getting to know Angie.

  As for Angie, her skin immediately acquired eyes of its own, aware of Ryan's movement around the apartment while she talked to his mother. Soon his soft-toned voice joined Sunderstrom's louder rumble as they speculated on what could be done to prevent theft from their own offices.

  Angie excused herself to help Robyn with the table. She waited until they were alone in the kitchenette before asking Robyn, "Why’d you say what you did... about not knowing about me? Shouldn't I tell Scott I was the ‘vagrant’ he mistrusts?" She kept her voice low, so others would not hear.

  Ryan's sister shook her head fiercely. "Don't you dare! That man’s got a phobia about security,” she hissed. “He insists upon references a mile long before he trusts anybody. If he suspected you were the ‘vagrant,’ he would never let the matter rest— he'd be suspicious of everything you do." She picked up a knife and started slicing the turkey, accentuating her words with determined strokes.

  "I suppose so... but why should it bother him? Ryan's the one I’m working for."

  "Yes, and it's taken Ryan a long time to find someone. He doesn't need Scott's suspicious mind giving him any more doubts."

  Confused, Angie slumped against the table, knowing Ryan already felt that way. Scott’s doubts couldn’t make it any worse. "I don't know. What if Scott figures it out someday? That could be awkward. He'd wonder why I never said anything."
<
br />   "It's Ry you have to please, not Scott. You really won't see too much of Scott anyway, they go their separate ways most of the time." She waggled the knife in front of Angie. "You won't find my brother volunteering the information, I tell you."

  "Why not?"

  "Because... because he... well, he wouldn't want to degrade you in Scott's eyes. He knew it wouldn't bother me, that's why he told me. But Scott is sort of a connoisseur. He wants everything brand new, untouched. You saw how repelled he was by Alison’s brother. He wants perfection. Nothing else is good enough for him.” She paused. “I think. I don’t want to judge unfairly. He's hard to read, sometimes. He's extremely possessive about the things he owns. It's a wonder he didn't tear you apart that night."

  If it hadn't been for Ryan, he might’ve. Angie still had some remnants of the bruise marks on her shoulders where Scott had yanked her to her feet and shaken her. "He did, somewhat."

  "Ryan says he has a hot temper. So my advice is to not mention the office. At least let him get to know you, then if it ever comes up you could laugh it off as unimportant. You want to beat the potatoes?” She raised her voice to normal.

  "Sure. I like your mom.” Angie took the hand mixer Robyn handed her and plugged it in.

  “She’s a sweetie. Dad would be here, but he’s stuck in Germany on a business trip.”

  “That’s too bad.” She stopped talking as she turned on the mixer and focusing on the job. When finished, she took the beaters to the sink, then asked, “Do you have any other brothers or sisters?"

  "Three— two older brothers in New Mexico and Illinois, and one sister in Florida. When my folks got Ryan and me at the same time, they stopped. We’re twins, you know."

  "Really? Ryan never said. What's it like, being a twin?" Finished with her task, Angie took off her apron.

  "Frustrating when everyone expects us to act alike, but it's fun most of the time. There's a special closeness we don't share with the rest of the family, even though we aren’t identical. I understand him. When we were little, I used to talk for both of us."

  She finished carving the meat and laid the knife aside. "We'd better start before this cools off. Take the dressing while I carry the turkey. Then we’ll call Mary. They gave her a sleeping pill to take after I brought her home last night. She’d fallen back to sleep this morning, last I looked."

  “I’ll get her.” They carried the food out to where the table was set up in the living room. Then Angie cajoled Mary into joining them, and they waited for her to wash up. Once they were seated, Robyn asked Ryan to offer thanks for the food. Angie agreed wholeheartedly to his prayer, especially to his ending. "Thank You, Father, for bringing Mary and Angie to us, and thank You for our families.”

  It made Angie think about her own parents. Even though she was hurt by some of the things they said and did, they were still her parents. She was fortunate in having them.

  Mary would soon be without anyone.

  Eyes misted in emotion, Angie added her own silent words of thanksgiving. Thank You, dear Lord, for my family. Help me to not judge them so harshly. And thank You for bringing me a job, a place to stay, and Ryan.

  During the meal Scott carried most of the conversation, seemingly adverse to silence. He had an easy flow of words, a slightly loud congeniality that dominated the conversation. His eloquence reminded Angie of a famous television talk-show host she admired, ever ready with a comment to keep the topic going, having a wide range of jokes and stories to draw on. It contrasted sharply with Ryan’s lack of conversation today.

  Scott’s comments and attention flattered Angie although she couldn’t help thinking each time he complimented her of what he might say if he knew the truth. And some of his more personal questions were hard to answer.

  The others tended to the business of eating, except for Mary, who merely moved her food from one side of her plate to the other. Robyn cast worried glances at her, and Angie, sitting next to Mary, started mentioning how good each item of food was, suggested she try it, and in the end succeeding in getting her to eat about half of what she should have.

  They had finished the meal and Ryan had left to help Robyn carry in the desserts, when Scott asked the question Angie had been dreading.

  "How did you and Ryan meet? He hadn't advertised the position, so what caused him to hire you?"

  16

  Angie took another sip of coffee to give herself time to come up with an answer to Scott’s question. She had met Ryan while she worked for Scott. But she didn’t want to say that. That would just open the conversation to a lot more questions. She needed to keep things near enough to the truth so her answers would be easy to remember, and still not lie to him.

  "I was looking for a job and got to talking with Ryan and he saw my résumé. Well, one thing led to another. He asked me some questions and then took me on for a trial period."

  "He checked your references, first, surely?"

  "I assume so," she added, trying to look innocent. "I can't imagine why he wouldn't."

  "Ryan says he’s fortunate in finding you for his assistant," Mrs. Duvall remarked as Ryan entered the room. "He's been saying for ages that he needed one. I'm surprised someone finally met his standards."

  "Angie came highly recommended," Ryan declared, his glance daring her to contradict.

  "She must’ve!" Scott exclaimed, then complimented all the ladies, turning more and more of his attention on Angie.

  Her gaze swung to find Ryan and seek his support. The warm glow of his approval lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, instilling confidence. She could do anything if he believed in her, and she turned back to Scott's questioning with renewed spirit.

  Still, some of his questions became too personal, and Angie looked over to Mrs. Duvall. That lady took over the conversation by asking Scott a number of questions about his life at the moment, letting Angie finish her dessert in peace.

  * * *

  Ryan ate slowly, enjoying the conversation around him. He felt relaxed, knowing he didn’t have to keep it going. By inserting a comment now and then, he did all the talking he wanted to. After dinner, he jumped up and cleared the table, getting Scott to join him. He started to fill the dishwasher, but Robyn stopped him.

  "You two go watch your football game. I'm sure it's started by now. Angie and I and the dishwasher will finish. We can only manage two in this tiny kitchen, and that's just because I've worked out a system."

  “Fine with us,” Ryan said, heading for the sofa while Scott located the remote. He tossed a pillow aside and sat down. “Say Scott, did you see a messenger in our building the other night?”

  “Uh, yeah. Just as I was leaving. One came to my door, asking for Gordon’s office. I sent him on.” He joined Ryan on the sofa and switched on the TV.

  “I was wondering if he might have carried the CD out.”

  “Hmmm.” Scott looked at him. “He didn’t stop at Patti’s door. And the CDs were still on my desk while I talked to him. Although...” He changed channels until he found the game, second quarter, fourteen to ten.

  “What?”

  “He could’ve seen the stack on my desk. I left as he walked away. Maybe he came back.”

  “Did you recognize his uniform?”

  “No. But it’s worth checking out.”

  “Why wouldn’t he have taken the whole stack?” Ryan asked, putting his feet up on the edge of a small hassock and leaning back.

  “Maybe Patti sent for him. Just gave him the one.”

  “I’m to meet her tomorrow night at seven. I’ll ask her about the messenger.”

  “Good. I’ve been unable to reach her. When did this happen?”

  “She called. Said some bookie— a friend of Ted’s— was threatening her.”

  “A bookie?” Scott leaned back on the sofa and laughed. “That can’t be right. She must be imagining things. Can you picture a bookie being a friend to anyone?”

  “You’ve got a point. He could be using the term sarcastically. But
if Ted owed him a lot of money—”

  The quarterback got sacked and the network showed a replay. The trainers helped him off the field.

  “True. If Ted owed him money, the bookie might go after Patti.” Scott frowned for a moment. “Looks like he’s out for the rest of the game. Too bad. Hope they don’t send in Donaldson. He’s second rate as well as second string. Does she want you to hide her?”

  “No. She offered to show me where the guy lives so I can find out who it is and take care of it if I can.”

  “Where’re you meeting her?” Scott asked.

  “Yep. Donaldson’s in. Bellevue Park & Ride.”

  “Donaldson will lose the game for us. You watch.”

  “I don’t need to. This one’s over.”

  “You want I should go with you? Just in case she isn’t imagining things?”

  “No thanks. I’ll just get the address. The guy might’ve moved. Or she might show me the wrong house. She didn’t sound too sure. And it never pays to rush in.”

  * * *

  Angie walked over to see how the game was progressing, content to be with Ryan and his family. The men pointed to the score— thirty-six to seven— and turned the game off. Robyn got out a deck of cards and Mrs. Duvall took Mary into the bedroom to talk about Mary’s work as a cartographer. She came out soon afterwards saying that Mary had fallen asleep again, and sat down to watch the card game.

  Cold turkey snacks kept everyone stuffed. It was growing dark when Scott followed Angie into the kitchenette long enough to ask her out to dinner. She stammered, not knowing what to say and how to turn this aggressive man down without insulting him. Finally she said, “I don’t feel I know you well enough. Thanks anyway.”

  A flash of disbelief glittered in his eyes before he turned away, and soon afterwards he excused himself and left.

  The more Angie thought about a date with Scott, the happier she was that she had refused. She didn’t need to entangle herself with him. He acted so overbearing, so self-absorbed, so determined to have everything his own way. Scott lacked the sensitivity that made Ryan so precious to her.

  Dating him might push Ryan away, and that was the last thing she wanted. Ryan had been strangely quiet today whenever she had singled him out. Had Scott’s presence— and the way he had looked at Angie— bothered him? Or had something else happened to make Ryan suspicious again?