by Kyra Jacobs
“Mailroom.”
“Lauren?”
“Speaking.”
“Hey, Lauren, it’s Jessica Hartley.”
“Jessica! How are you? I haven’t seen you in the lunchroom lately. They didn’t scare you off, did they?”
I felt the color drain from my face. “Who?”
“The creepy IT guys that are always staring at you. You know, they really don’t bite. They just don’t get upstairs much. In fact, none of us down here do.” She laughed. “Why do you think we always invade your kitchenette?”
“Uh, gee, I hadn’t really thought about it.” I uttered a nervous laugh. “No, they didn’t scare me off. I’ve just been really busy working to, I mean, working on a special project. And I was actually hoping you might be able to help me with something.”
“Sure, whattcha need?”
I opened my mouth to speak, then snapped it shut and looked around the room. If Marcus was in here leaving me notes, what was to say he hadn’t bugged my office as well? “A few minutes to pick your brain. Can I come down and see you?”
“Well, I’m just getting ready to make my first floor rounds. But if we shoot for ten o’clock, that should work.”
I glanced at my desk clock. Forty-five minutes wouldn’t kill me. “Great, see you in a bit.”
* * * *
While Lauren did her mail route, I decided to do some actual work. Nice of me, since that’s what I was getting paid to do. Unfortunately, all I had left were those dreaded customer callbacks. I made my last call at 9:45, thinking it’d be a quick, “Hi, how are you, how are we doing?” kind of call.
No such luck. That customer was pissed. Something about getting ten dozen boxes of purple gel pens when they’d ordered red. It took me over twenty minutes and a promise to get the correct ones overnighted to them to calm them down. When I finally set my desk phone back onto its cradle, it was ten after ten. I was late.
So I hurried down the hall, an empty coffee mug in hand to give the illusion I was on a coffee run. Vanessa was involved in an animated conversation with someone in the lobby, and ignored me as I passed. When I reached the kitchenette, I made a beeline for the stairs.
I skidded to a stop at the door, torn. Nothing good ever happened in the stairwell. Please don’t let there be anyone lurking in there today.
I opened the door. Listened. Nothing.
Relief washed over me. I scurried down the steps without my usual fear of falling, thanks to the soft, leather flats I’d selected this morning. Vanessa wasn’t the only one who’d opted out of high, clickety-clacking heels today.
I paused at the landing for the basement, to catch my breath. Even with the stairwell door before me closed, I could hear some sort of commotion coming from the other side. People shouting directions, hurried footsteps.
“She’s over here!” a woman cried.
“Can she walk?” a deep voice boomed.
“No. It had her pinned pretty good. Her ankle took the brunt of it.”
The shouting diminished, but a pair of onlookers remained in the hall just outside the stairwell. They continued their conversation in lower tones. I moved closer to the door and strained to listen in on them.
“Can you believe it?” The woman’s voice held a mixture of shock and fear.
“No,” responded her friend. “We’ve never had an accident in the mailroom before. What caused the shelves to tip over like that?”
“You’re buying that story? Sorry, but no way it tipped—that thing is solid. It had to have been pushed.”
More sabotage? The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.
“But…who would do something like that?”
“I don’t know. But they sure as hell aren’t going to talk me into covering for Lauren while she’s off.”
Shit. There goes that idea.
No Lauren, no leads on where the MCG reports might be stored. I turned around and began the long climb back up to the second floor. And while I climbed, I mulled over the latest accident. Poor Lauren. What were the chances that she’d get hurt just as I was coming to see her?
I stopped dead in my tracks. Checked my watch and bit back a scream. The heavy shelves weren’t intended for Lauren.
They were meant for me.
Chapter 31
“And then once you’ve finished with that… Jessica? Are you alright?”
My eyes snapped away from the windows. “Yes, Michael. Why?”
He leaned back in his chair and set his bifocals on his desk. The man was simply too handsome. I couldn’t help but melt a little each time he cast his gaze upon me. “You’re thinking about what happened to Lauren McCauley, aren’t you?”
I looked away. Of course I was, but not for the same reasons as everyone else. I knew damned well that shelf falling on her wasn’t some fluke accident. Even worse was having to sit here, helpless, riddled with guilt and fear. Whoever bumped those shelves wouldn’t find the wrong target a second time.
He sighed. “I know there are rumors going around, but I don’t want you to be worried. This building has always had its fair share of gossipers. Shit-stirrers, if you will, pardon my French. They live to mess with the heads of everyone else. Why, even Lauren was known to do that from time to time. But the fact of the matter is, we’re perfectly safe here. There is no crazed employee out there trying to knock off our mail lady.”
He was right. The crazed employee wasn’t after the mail lady—he was after me.
“Okay, Michael.”
He gave me a nod and picked his glasses back up. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Once you finish updating that memo, I need you to go on a little recon project for me.”
“Sir?”
He looked up over the top of his glasses at me. “Recon, you know: go out and retrieve something for me. When you were going through that vendor list with me yesterday, it reminded me that I’ve been meaning to go back over some of MCG’s market predictions from last year. See how close they really were.”
I could hardly believe my ears. Was my luck finally turning around? “Um, yeah, sure. I’d be happy to grab them for you. Where are they?”
He pursed his lips in thought. “Hmm. I think the last person I loaned them to was Frank Pitzen. Up in accounting. You might as well start there.”
Frank Pitzen? Nope, my luck was definitely maintaining its status quo.
* * * *
I hurried out to Nate’s car, glad to be out of my personal hell, formerly known as Maxwell Office Solutions.
“Thank God you’re here.” I leaned across the front seat and planted a kiss on Nate’s cheek.
“That bad?” he asked as he turned the car around.
“Yeah, pretty much. Though, it could be worse. I’m still breathing.” And not buried beneath any lethal shelving units. A shiver ran up and down my spine.
“Well you’re safe now. Make any progress today?”
I tried to push the mailroom debacle from my mind. “Actually, yes. I made copies of all the Morrisson invoices. And I think you’re right.” I fumbled in my bag to produce the ever-growing stack of notes. “There’s a tiny black spot in the exact same spot beside the signature on all but two.”
Nate glanced over, nodded. “Let me guess…those two were the ones you think had Grace’s actual signature?”
“Yep. And even better? Our culprit was sloppy. Michael prefers using a blue pen. All but these two were done in black.”
Nate chuckled. “What about their reports? Did you find them?”
“Yeah, by a total fluke.” I shook my head. “I didn’t have a clue where they were, or if they even existed in hard copy, so I thought I’d go to the one person who sees everything coming and going. That Lauren gal, from the mailroom.”
“And what did she tell you?”
“She didn’t.”
Nate cast me a confused, sideways glance.
“I headed down the stairs to see her, and—”
“I thought we’d decided you were going to sta
y out of the stairwell.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I had to so no one would see me. I called ahead and she told me to come down after she finished her mail run at ten. But I got tied up on a phone call. Man, I hate those customer callbacks!”
“Anyway…”
I threw Mr. Impatient an annoyed look. “Anyway, I was running late. Hurried down the stairs, but when I got to the bottom, I heard people shouting and running around. I stayed in the stairwell, listening. Seems some big shelving unit tipped over and landed on her.”
Nate ran a hand through his thick hair. “Shit.”
“I know, it’s just awful. Someone must have overheard our phone conversation. Poor Lauren, I’m sure those shelves were meant to fall on me.”
Nate muttered something under his breath and retrieved his cell phone. “Did anyone call her kids?”
“I don’t know, I—” I looked over at Nate. “Wait. How do you know she’s got kids?”
Nate didn’t answer. Instead, he dialed his phone. “Chaz? It’s Nate. Have you heard from your mom today?”
Nate had Lauren’s home number in his phone?
“Okay. I’m headed over there now, just found out.” He cursed under his breath. “You and Marney going to be alright? ...Yeah, I’ll swing by your place after that. Keep the doors locked and call me if you need anything … Love you, too.”
I watched him hang up, completely flabbergasted. “You…her…kids…wha?”
Nate pulled to a stop at a red light, and turned to face me. “Yes, I know she’s got kids. Lauren’s my cousin.”
I sat there, trying to process what he’d just said. “But Nate—you, you have a cousin that works in the mailroom? Why on Earth did you need to send me into Maxwell?”
He swiveled away from me in his seat. “I told you. We needed you to be the bait. You’ve seen Lauren, heard about the reputation she’s earned there as a trouble-maker. All her attempts at whistle-blowing never amounted to a damn thing. After a while, even I stopped believing her stories about harassment and corruption behind those walls. And when she started telling me someone was leaving her threatening notes, taunting her that he was the one who’d blown away her husband, Joe, well, I thought those were just stories too.” He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “But after what happened to Grace, and the clues you came up with, I knew there had to be some truth behind what she’d been saying.” The light turned green, and Nate’s cruiser sped from the intersection.
“You…you sent me undercover…to find your cousin’s murderer?”
“No. I mean, I asked for your help for Grace’s sake. And if we found out the guy responsible was in fact the one who—”
“Killed somebody, Nate? You sent me in, clueless as hell, to track down a murderer?”
“You’re not listening to me, Jess. I did this for Grace. We are doing this for Grace.”
I shook my head. No longer able to believe anything coming from his mouth. How could he have so recklessly, so carelessly, set me in the direct path of a murderous psychopath?
“I… But Lauren’s supposedly got connections.” The puzzle pieces slowly began to fall into place in my brain. “That means you’ve got connections as well!”
“Not enough to make a damn bit of difference. Our uncle is a Councilman. Likes to butt heads with the Administration. Every time we get a case built against Maxwell, the politicos downtown storm in and put the kibosh on it.”
Another red light. The cruiser came to a screeching stop.
Nate slammed a hand down on his steering wheel. “Dammit! I bring you in to keep her out of the fire and she still gets burned.”
Heat flared on my cheeks again. “Well, excuse the hell out of me. You know, had you just told me all this up front, I would have known to stay away from her.” I glared out the passenger window. “Would have known to stay away from all of it.”
“No, that would have jeopardized everything. And this hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park for me, either. I’ve been busting my ass to keep you safe.”
The light turned green and Nate punched it. I clutched the edge of my seat as he wove in and out of traffic. Blinked back tears of anger and betrayal.
Is that all he’d been worried about? Keeping me safe? A viable option?
Nate spared a quick glance in my direction. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You mean the world to me, Jess, but right now I need to take care of Lauren and the kids. “
I tried to take the high road, focus on her instead of me. “Is she alright?”
“She will be. Broke her ankle in two places and bruised a few ribs. She’s over at Glenview. Sounds like they’re getting ready to release her.”
“So we’re headed to the hospital?”
“No. You can’t go there. Whoever did this to her—they’ll be expecting that.”
“Why? She wasn’t their intended target… Wait. Are you telling me the bad guys know you and Lauren are related, too?” My voice rose well above the roar of his engine. “Hell, am I the only one in this damned city that didn’t?”
Nate said nothing.
I threw my hands in the air. “Unbelievable. So what, you gonna stuff me in the trunk while you go in and check on her?”
Nate’s jaw tightened. “Don’t tempt me.”
I snorted. Crossed my arms.
“No, I’m taking you to my house. Where you’ll stay until I get back. My security system’s on—if an intruder shows up, I’ll be alerted before they ever make it inside. And you’ve got Brutus there to protect you, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, that makes me feel better.”
Another red light. Nate turned to me, eyes pleading. “Mad at me or not, I need you to stay in that house. Do you hear me? It’s the only way I can keep you safe.”
“Loud and clear.” Wouldn’t want to lose your prized bait, now would you?
He watched my face a moment more. “Good. If you hear any strange noises or see anything unusual, you call me.”
I agreed, but only to silence him, not because I planned on following any of his damned instructions. This decoy was done.
* * * *
“Thanks for coming to pick me up, Charlie,” I said, climbing down out of his Hummer.
I hadn’t told Charlie that having him pick me up was the exact opposite of what Nate had told me to do. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, I had better things to do than sit trapped in that traitor’s house. Like coming home to bury myself in work on my real job so I could stop beating myself up for actually believing Nate cared about me.
I should never have stopped with my business-only plan. Hell, I never should have agreed to partnering up with him in the first place. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“No prob. And thanks for letting me know about Lauren. Don’t know why Nate didn’t call.”
I looked away. Kicked at a pebble near the curb. “Oh, you know Nate. Probably all distracted with concern and forgot to call you.”
Charlie shrugged. “Nate’s a good guy. If there’s anyone I trust to take care of my friends and family, it’s him.”
Guilt jabbed at my subconscious. If Charlie trusted him so much, why had I found it so difficult? It didn’t matter, though. After tonight, I was done.
Done with Charlie. Done with Maxwell Office Solutions. And definitely done with Nate.
“Thanks again.” I headed toward the house, climbed the steps of my front porch, and unlocked the door. Then I offered him one last wave and stepped inside.
The Hummer pulled away from the curb, and I actually felt a little safer. Emotionally, anyway. I wasn’t sure how I’d break the news to Nate. Over the phone? A simple text message? Something along the lines of “your bait decided she wanted her life back,” or maybe “you can take this tracking device of yours and shove it up your @$$.”
I tossed my purse down, and made for the kitchen. Rummaged through the pantry for something to eat. Unfortunately, it was nearly as bare as Old Mother Hubbard’s, what with m
e having to hide out at Charlie and Nate’s half the week. I couldn’t wait to get my life back to normal.
I settled for a bowl of cereal—my favorite meal, anyway—and set it on the table. Then I headed back to my room to retrieve my laptop. During the day, I liked to work at my desk. But at night, I found more comfort in our bright, yellow kitchen.
When I walked into my room, I found an even better reason not to work at my desk. Nate’s cologne still clung to some random piece of my clothing in the room, tickling more than just my sense of smell.
No, I refused to think about him. I was done.
So I held my breath. Snatched up my laptop, mouse and power cord and raced for the kitchen. Made a mental note along the way to spritz an entire bottle of Febreeze in my room before bedtime.
I got everything set up at the table and wolfed down my cereal before it had a chance to get soggy. Nothing worse than soggy cereal. Except maybe soggy cereal eaten alone. By someone depressed because they found out their boyfriend was using them.
Once my bowl was empty and cleared, I pushed the whole undercover debacle from my mind and began work on my real job. Responded to emails, immersed myself in programming code. It was there, in my element, hidden from the world behind an illuminated screen, I ever truly felt safe.
I’d only surfaced from that world twice in the time since high school. Once last summer with Daniel, and once this fall for Nate. Both times I’d been burned. Made me want to move to Alaska, so I could write code and live far enough away from the rest of civilization so as not to be tempted to surface ever again.
A knock at the front door finally broke my concentration. I glanced at the clock on the lower right on my computer screen. 8:00. Nate must be back. With a sigh, I rose from my chair and headed for the door. And all along the way, I tried to prep myself for The Talk. Sorry, but it’s over. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not you, it’s me.
I swung the door open. Found not Nate, but Vanessa standing on my porch.
