The two mulled that over.
“She was pretty upset when she came here,” Enrique said. “I didn’t hear her talking to Tristan, but I did see her leave. She was crying.” His accent drew out the last word.
“The news said the knife used to kill Kirby was found in a Dumpster near Sabrina’s house. Her prints were on it,” Jasper said.
“Of course they were,” Sajal argued. “It was her knife. It came from her kitchen. Anyone could have put it there.”
“Like the secret woman,” Enrique said.
Or someone else. Sajal thought there was more going on than any of them knew. If Kirby’s murder would ever be solved, he’d bet they’d all be surprised by the outcome. But it was nothing the three of them would solve over espresso. And Sajal had a wife to go home to.
“Well, I should get going. My wife said she’d wait up for me tonight. I don’t want to be late.”
“Ah,” Enrique teased. “Sajal’s gonna get lucky tonight.” His accent accentuated lucky tonight. It sometimes annoyed Sajal.
Jasper said nothing, his face turning somber. He’d recently finalized his divorce, and he wasn’t the one who’d wanted it. His wife had declared she’d grown beyond what their relationship could give her. Jasper hadn’t known until after she’d served him that she’d met another man. He was devastated. Sajal was concerned his friend and coworker wouldn’t be able to overcome it and move on.
Enrique, on the other hand, had yet to be married. “Someday you’ll understand.” Sajal finished his espresso and threw out the small cup. Then he gave Jasper a pat on his shoulder. “Try to distract yourself with your work. If you’re going to think of her, think of the good times and don’t regret.”
Jasper’s sorrow lifted just a little. “You always know what to say, Sajal.” He checked his cell phone. “Too bad it isn’t as easy as it sounds.”
Turning, Sajal went to his cart. “See you both tomorrow.”
“Have fun tonight,” Enrique said, drawing out tonight.
Without responding, he kept his annoyance to himself and left the cafeteria. He pushed his cart toward the executive and management offices. He cleaned those last since the executives and managers were always the last to leave at night.
Thinking of Maeve, Sajal finished the executive offices and headed for the storage closet down the hall for more supplies. He’d clean the managers’ offices and then he’d be finished. A man passed him in the hall as he unlocked the door. Sajal glanced at him, but the man paid him no heed. Tension deepened otherwise shallow wrinkles on his brow and around his mouth. He was perhaps in his early fifties. His strides were long and purposeful. He wasn’t a tall man. Average. In pretty good shape, with only a slight protrusion in the stomach area. He had green eyes and fine, medium brown hair that had yet to go gray.
The man reached Tristan Coulter’s office and pushed the door open without knocking.
“We need to talk.” The man intended to close the door behind him, Sajal thought, but it stopped an inch or so from doing so completely.
Any other office, Sajal would have moved on out of respect for privacy. But this was Tristan’s office, the very one visited by Kirby’s secret lover. Sajal wasn’t one to give in to gossip, but he found himself curious nonetheless. He dallied in the supply closet, which was directly across the hall from Tristan’s office. He didn’t understand Tristan’s job. As account manager, he was part of customer service and had a team of representatives who reported to him.
“The chief came to see me this afternoon,” the visitor said.
Sajal heard Tristan’s chair move as though he leaned back against it. He didn’t know what kind of man Tristan was, but he’d heard rumors that he had a bad temper, that most of those who reported to him didn’t like him and even feared him.
“Have a seat, Archer. Calm down and tell me what’s got you in such a lather.”
“Don’t patronize me. It’s easy for you to sit behind that desk and tell me to calm down. This whole thing is blowing up, and I want nothing more to do with it.”
“Sit down, Archer.”
“You son of a—”
“Sit down!” Tristan shouted.
Archer must have gone to sit down. Sajal leaned to peer through the open supply-closet door. The windows on each side of the door to Tristan’s office had blinds on the inside that were closed. He could see a sliver of the back of Archer’s head through the barely open office door. He had gone to sit in front of Tristan’s desk. Sajal couldn’t see Tristan. His chair was blocked by the door.
“He suspects something,” Archer said. “He asked me why I was so convinced Sabrina Tierney killed Kirby when the crime scene suggests there were more than two people involved. Fibers were found that aren’t linked to either Kirby or Sabrina. He knows there was a third person there, Tristan. I can’t keep insisting Sabrina Tierney is my primary suspect. Nobody will believe me.”
Tristan remained silent for a beat or two. “What fibers were found?”
“Clothing. A green cotton fiber.”
Tristan didn’t say anything at first. “That doesn’t mean anything. Fibers alone can’t convict someone. You have to be able to prove someone committed the crime. Let the chief speculate. Tell him you’ll look into it.”
“I did. But he asked why I hadn’t yet.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I missed it. He looked at me funny and told me to report to him after I finished checking it out.”
“So check it out. It won’t lead anywhere.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because you won’t let it lead anywhere.” Tristan paused. “Right?”
Archer now paused.
Sajal heard Tristan move. Archer stood from the chair, and Sajal saw Tristan’s hand go to his back.
“You worry too much,” Tristan said. “This will all work out. You’ll see.”
“I should have never listened to you.”
“You had no other choice. You did the right thing, Archer. Now, go home and relax. Tomorrow you can check into the fiber and report it to the chief. He’ll forget all about it then, and all of this will be a thing of the past.” He guided Archer to the door.
Sajal turned his back and pretended to be busy in the supply closet. He put some window cleaner into his cart. When he emerged from the closet, Archer was gone, and Tristan stood in his now-open doorway, slightly graying hair belying his sixty years. He was in shape and looked younger than he was. Sajal only knew his age because one of the administrative assistants had told him.
“Oh,” Sajal said. “Mr. Coulter. Working late tonight?”
“How long have you been in there?” Tristan asked.
Sajal shrugged. “Not long. Just restocking for tomorrow.”
Tristan merely studied him, picking him apart. Sajal could feel him wondering if he’d heard any of the conversation between him and Archer.
“Did you see the man that was just here?”
“I heard someone leave your office, but I didn’t see anyone, no. Is there a problem?”
“No.” Tristan’s lined mouth turned down in false nonchalance. “No problem.”
Sajal pushed his cart down the hall, eager to get away. “Have a nice evening, sir.”
“You, too.... I didn’t catch your name.”
Sajal stopped, his heart jumping into apprehensive beats. “Sajal Kapoor, sir.”
“Mr. Kapoor. You have a good evening, as well.”
Sajal smiled. “Thank you. I will.” He was certain this would be the one and only time Tristan Coulter would remember a low-level employee’s name.
* * *
Sajal shut the door after arriving home and saw his wife come to greet him. “How was your day?” Maeve asked, kissing him when he leaned down. She usually
waited up for him. She had the day off tomorrow so he didn’t feel too badly about keeping her up past her bedtime.
“Strange.” Straightening, he looked into her brown eyes and noticed that she’d done her hair and wore one of her favorite sundresses that smoothed her slightly overweight frame. “You look beautiful.”
She beamed, her subtly crooked teeth flashing. “What was strange about today?” She turned and led him into the kitchen.
He didn’t really want to talk about it. “Let me get comfortable.”
“Meet you in here.”
It smelled wonderful. He walked down the hall of their three-bedroom ranch and called, “Where are the kids?”
“At Mom’s for the night. She’s taking them to school in the morning.”
They really had the night to themselves, then. Sajal changed into shorts and a Yosemite National Park T-shirt and went into the kitchen where his wife was stirring spaghetti sauce. She made it with sausage and lots of tomatoes, just the way they both loved it. Spaghetti was the first dinner they’d had together. He’d taken her to a local place, not a chain. And when she’d ordered spaghetti, he’d known he’d met his soul mate.
He leaned over her shoulder and kissed her behind her ear.
After she giggled softly, she asked, “What was strange about today?”
Sighing, still not wanting to talk about it but compelled to share with his wife, he answered, “I heard a conversation that disturbed me today.”
As her mouth opened to probe, he shushed her and held his finger up, pressing it to her lips. He saw her eyes register his concern.
“Sajal.” She swatted his hand away.
Now her brow lowered, and those lovely eyes admonished. She knew something was amiss. He almost smiled. Worry kept it at bay. He loved her so much. Strong, beautiful woman.
“My darling.” He kissed her cheek.
She pushed his chest. “You tell me now!”
He stepped back, adoring her, calmed by her. “I love you even when you’re mad.”
She poked him with her finger, not hard enough to hurt, just demanding.
“I heard Tristan talking tonight to a man I don’t know. It was about Kirby Clark’s murder.”
Her hand flattened on his chest. “You’re worried. What did they say? Tell me all.”
He didn’t want to.
“Sajal...”
He sighed again, this time with more reluctance. “Maeve. It is work.”
“Work? The CEO was murdered, Sajal. Now, you tell me what you heard.”
He contemplated refusing. Would he put her in danger if he did as she asked?
“Sajal...?”
He knew that tone. There was no getting around answering her. “I heard Tristan talking in his office tonight.” His wife turned the burner to simmer. The water for the noodles was just beginning to boil, and the smell of baking French bread began to fill the house. “A man came to see him. He called him Archer. They talked about Kirby Clark’s murder, about evidence Archer was concerned would come to light.”
“Evidence?” Maeve put noodles into the water.
“Fiber evidence. Archer must be a detective because he mentioned his chief.”
“And this Archer person is hiding evidence?” Maeve faced him, grave confusion and worry filling her eyes. “What does Tristan have to do with it? Why is he involved?”
“That I don’t know. He was supporting Archer, who seemed afraid he’d be caught.”
“Why? Does he know who killed Kirby?”
“Oh, I definitely think he does.”
“Do you think it was Tristan?”
The way Tristan had spoken made Sajal say no. He was supportive of Archer. But then, Tristan was known for his ruthless ways, his fearlessness. In business, he was successful. He’d probably worked his way up to the executive ranks.
“What were you doing outside his office?” she asked.
“I was in one of the supply closets. It was across the hall.”
“Did they see you?”
“Tristan did. He asked how long I’d been there. I pretended not to be aware that he and Archer had talked.”
His wife’s eyes searched his face. She was worried. He didn’t like seeing her that way. “Did he believe you?”
Sajal replayed the exchange in his mind and had to answer honestly. “I don’t know.”
Chapter 5
Lincoln believed her.
Sabrina leaned against the window frame of their Newport Beach hotel, gazing out at the city lights and darkness beyond where the ocean began. They’d left Denver this afternoon, as soon as Lincoln had been able to make flight arrangements. Maddie was at his house and Arizona was going to dog-sit.
His trust had shifted something in her, something too warm, something she rarely had the privilege of feeling.
Turning from the window, she watched him pore over the papers that had been waiting for him in an envelope when they’d arrived at the hotel. He sat at the dining table in the top-floor, spacious suite, more like an apartment. His blond hair hung in uncombed spikes over his forehead, neatly trimmed over his ears and at his nape. His shoulders sloped down to strong arms resting on the table. She’d stayed in nice hotel rooms before, but not this nice.
Lincoln’s long fingers holding the paper recaptured her attention. Clean and masculine, they made her imagine naughty things. She’d blame his trust in her. Growing up without a father and seeing her mother so lonely had impressed upon her greatly the importance of choosing well in a man. Sabrina had dated a lot. Most of them never went beyond meeting once for coffee. That was because she’d gotten so good at recognizing a waste of time when she encountered one. Lincoln didn’t resemble any of them. So why was she going down this path? Lincoln wasn’t a prospect.
She wandered over to the table. She was spending a lot of time with him, that was all. Her radar was fuzzy. Maybe that was because she wasn’t dating him. Theirs was a chance encounter. She hadn’t studied him or looked for key flaws or asked him the list of questions she asked every man she took an interest in.
“How old are you?” she asked. Blurted, more like. It was the next thought she’d had after the last.
His blue eyes lifted. And, oh, were they blue.
“Forty-two. You?” One brow lifted higher than the other and his head cocked a little. He probably wondered why she’d asked.
“Thirty-six.” He didn’t look forty-two. She didn’t look her age, either.
He put the paper down and leaned back against the chair. “My mother didn’t tell you that?”
“No. She said you were a bounty hunter.” She sat on the chair beside him.
The reason why he’d become a bounty hunter hung between them. He knew his mother had told her.
“Is she the reason you aren’t married?” She didn’t have to explain it wasn’t his mother she was talking about.
“Do I have to have a reason?”
“Everybody has a reason.”
He glanced down at her ring finger. “What’s yours?”
“I haven’t met anyone worth the risk.”
She watched him wonder why marriage was a risk to her.
“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” he said. “Did someone break your heart?”
“Everyone gets their heart broken.” She didn’t want to bring up Chet, the man she’d seen before OneDefense had come into her life.
“Who broke yours?” he asked.
She tapped her fingertips on the table, seeing the challenge in his impossibly gorgeous eyes. Why were they talking about this? Oh, yeah, because she was the one who’d started it. “An insurance executive who neglected to tell me that he was married.”
He winced. “He lied? Sorry.”
She was
glad he wasn’t teasing. There was nothing humorous about that experience, especially since she’d always been so careful.
“His name was Chet. We weren’t engaged,” she said, tapping her fingers some more. “And it couldn’t have been as bad as it must have been for you to see that woman shot and killed. If anyone’s sorry, it’s me.”
He looked down at her fingers, which she stilled with a caught smile.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“No.” She couldn’t hold still. And her curiosity was to blame.
“Bored?”
She laughed once. “No.” With him? Never.
He lifted the paper again, but Sabrina wasn’t finished with this conversation.
“What was she like?” she asked.
He looked up from the paper with a stone mask keeping deeper emotions at bay. “I’d rather not talk about that.”
It had happened so long ago, and still he closed the door on the pain. His mother’s worry was more than validated. Would he never get past the grief? He probably felt guilty, too. He hadn’t been able to save Miranda. She’d been shot and he’d walked away. And now he was a bounty hunter because of it. He chased bail jumpers, criminals who shot people like the woman he’d loved. He kept them from running free. He made sure they faced the justice they deserved.
“Have you been with anyone since then?” she pressed.
“A few. Not many. That isn’t important to me right now.”
He was forty-two. Would it ever be important? She grew apprehensive over her feelings, or those she might have for him if she continued to allow her curiosity to seek answers.
“Were any of them relationships?” she couldn’t help asking.
He stared at her. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
She lowered her eyes, unable to voice the truth.
“I did see one woman for a few months.”
Only one had lasted months? “What happened?” Had she gotten too close?
“It ended up not working out.”
“How did you meet her?” She should really stop this feeding of her curiosity. What about him lured her? She took in his masculine body and handsome face. Aside from that....
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