by Erin Hayes
Martina gulped and swiped at a stray tear dangling from her eyelashes. She glanced hesitantly across at Rick. “I think an angel saved me today, but who’s going to believe that? They’re just going to lock me up if I say anything.”
“I believe you.” Rick said quietly. “They walk among us.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“So get me the estimates on the print materials, and I’ll run the numbers.” Don glanced at his watch and stood. “I’m late, gotta wrap this up. Make sure I have all the information by noon tomorrow.”
“Absolutely.” Kyra stood and gathered her paperwork as her boss raced out of the conference room. She dug in her purse to unmute her phone and froze when she saw the text.
Grandma Hobson passed. Call me.
She leaned against the glass wall of the conference room and stared at the message, trying to remember the last time she had seen her grandmother. Or any of her mother’s side of the family. Apprehension churned her stomach as she tapped the speed dial to call her dad back.
“Hey. Just got your text. When did you find out?”
“Yesterday. I got a package from the lawyer handling her estate. Apparently, she left some personal items, jewelry mostly, for you and Bridget.” He paused and cleared his throat. “And there’s a card for you, from your mother. Postmarked the month you turned eighteen.”
She flinched, the screen on her phone suddenly cold on her ear. One lousy card in twenty years.
“Kyra?”
“Bit of a slap in the face after all this time. Why didn’t Grandma mail it to me?”
“Maybe she thought it would upset you, hearing from your mother again. Anyway, I put everything in my safe deposit box. If you want, I can meet you at the bank at lunch.”
Shortly before noon Kyra parked outside the bank and pulled out her compact. Beneath the seamlessly powdered face were cleverly camouflaged dark circles. The sleepless nights were claiming more than her mind. And now, this card from her deadbeat mother. She climbed out and locked her car, a headache brewing in her temples as she watched her dad walk across the parking lot toward her. This wasn’t going to be easy for either of them.
“I don’t know why she bothered sending a card when I turned eighteen,” Kyra mused as they walked toward the bank.
“Maybe she wanted to apologize.”
“For bailing out on my childhood?”
“That,” said her dad, hesitatingly, “and the affair.”
Kyra stopped in her tracks, suddenly feeling nauseous. She turned and fixed her gaze on him. “What are you talking about?”
He let out a resigned sigh. “Your mother left me for a guy named Bruce Gibson, a buddy of mine since high school …” His voice trailed off.
Kyra forced herself to take a breath. “Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”
He threw her a helpless look. “I didn’t want you and Bridget any more hurt than you already were.”
“Then why tell me now?”
“Because, I don’t know what’s in that card. There could be photos. Maybe she married Bruce. Maybe you have … siblings. I don’t want you finding all this out in a two-dollar card.”
Kyra’s heart thudded inside her chest.
“She came to see you, the day you turned eighteen,” he continued. “When I told her you’d gone to Las Vegas for the weekend she stormed out and that’s the last I ever saw or heard from her.”
“You should have let me know.”
Her dad’s shoulders slumped. “She was unstable. Manipulative. I didn’t want you to get suckered into her games. You were just starting your life.”
“She might have had some mental problems, the delusions and—”
He flung his arms out. “The only delusions she had were alcohol-induced. Your mother was a drunk, Kyra. She drank through both pregnancies, and she was drunk out of her mind the day she stopped by to see you.”
Kyra turned, and stared at him in shocked silence for a moment. “All this time you let me believe she was mentally ill. You let me feel sorry for her. Now you tell me she was an alcoholic.
“You adored her, honey. It broke your heart when she left. I couldn’t make it any worse for you than it already was.”
“I’ve heard enough. I want to see what’s in that card.” Kyra turned on her heel and marched inside the bank.
While her dad waited in line for the teller, she traced her index finger aimlessly up and down the emails on her iPhone. The screen blurred. Her mother was a drunk. She had abandoned her husband for his best friend, and her own children for the bottle. It wasn’t mental illness after all, it was her own choices that had driven them apart.
“Kyra, isn’t it?” a voice asked.
She looked up, and studied the vaguely familiar blue eyes—eyes that seemed to see right through her.
“Danny Riordan. We met at The Bagel Bite. You were lost in thought when I jogged in and invited my sweaty self to sit at your table.”
“Oh, right. I’m sorry, you look ... different.” Her cheeks flushed as she ran her eyes over his pressed polo shirt and khaki pants. Danny wasn’t her usual type, but for some reason her heart hadn’t picked up on that, and was fluttering a little faster than it should.
His grin broadened. “I clean up now and then. Still musing on life’s big issues?”
She grimaced. “Trying not to. I don’t like what I’m digging up so far.”
Danny laughed. “Keep those questions coming. My offer still stands. I deal in life and death issues all the time.” He winked. “Part of my job description.”
She glanced away and to her relief spotted her dad walking in their direction.
“Gotta run,” she said. “Good to see you again, Danny. You do clean up surprisingly well.” She regretted the off-the-cuff remark before it even left her lips, but he waved amiably and strolled toward the teller line.
“Looks like Brian has some competition,” said her dad, hiking up an eyebrow as he joined her.
“I barely know the guy. Bumped into him in a coffee shop a few days ago.”
He handed her a sealed, white envelope with her name sprawled across in faded cursive.
“I’ll open it later,” she said, averting her eyes. “I have to get back to the office.”
“We need to talk, Kyra. I should tell you—” He caught himself mid-sentence, and then gestured a quick good-bye. “Call me later.”
Kyra stared after him as he hurried out the door. I should tell you what? What else was he hiding?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Back in her office, Kyra set her keys on the desk, and reached inside her oversized purse for her mother’s card. She rummaged around, quickly becoming frustrated. Heart racing, she tipped the contents out on her desk and dug frantically through the pile. Makeup bag, phone, iPad, notepad, credit card bill, pens, sunglasses, hairbrush, tissues. The card must have fallen down the side of the passenger seat where she’d thrown her unzipped bag.
She slumped heavily into her leather swivel chair and hit the voice mail button with more force than necessary. Her eyes widened as she listened to the first message from Don’s assistant, Linda. Her boss wanted to see her. She bit her lip, weighing the odds as she quickly shoved the items scattered on her desk back into her purse. The quarterly board meeting was tomorrow. If Don was planning to notify the board of his resignation, this could be show time.
She sucked in a breath and played the message through several more times, as if some subliminal clue in Linda’s voice would confirm her hunch. But even at half-speed, Linda’s deadpan tone didn’t waver. Kyra tapped impatiently on the table and then hit the delete button. After a few, deep, calming breaths, she dialed the extension.
Calm and confident, she repeated to herself as she waited for Linda to pick up.
“Linda, it’s Kyra. You left a message.”
“Don wants to see you right away. He needs to meet with you before he leaves for New York this afternoon.”
“I’ll be right there.�
�� Kyra hung up in a Zen-like daze. Don must be going to recommend her to the board. Why else was it imperative he spoke to her before the meeting? She wrapped herself in a congratulatory hug and shivered with excitement. Kyra Williams, Vice President of Marketing.
For a few moments she luxuriated in images of herself presiding behind Don’s desk, outlining the day’s agenda for the department. Deferential eyes looking up from their cubicles as she emerged from her corner suite on the executive level. The men, reluctantly acknowledging the brains behind her stride; the women whispering that she’d bedded Don somewhere in the process. Let them speculate.
The jubilation was intoxicating. Every cell of her skin tingled as she made her way upstairs, drinking in her surroundings with a heightened awareness. This was the nucleus where power resided. Her face flushed with excitement.
She paused at the etched-glass door to the private gym, admiring the tropical fish gliding through the oversized tanks on either side of the entrance. No more schlepping smelly gym bags in her car. Or lugging clothes to the dry cleaners. Buffington’s executives had their own laundry service that picked up and dropped off twice a week.
Linda was on the phone when Kyra knocked on the door. She gave Kyra a quick nod of acknowledgement and buzzed her in to Don’s office.
Her boss sat hunched over his desk, his brow deeply trenched. Gripped with pain, no doubt. By all accounts, pancreatic cancer was excruciating. So much for retirement on that cattle ranch of his back in Texas. He mightn’t live long enough to enjoy it.
“Afternoon, Don. Off to New York this evening, I hear?”
He looked over the rim of his glasses and gestured her to a chair. “That’s the plan. Still some loose ends to wrap up before I go.” He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, and tented his fingers in front of him, studying her face. “You’ve heard I’m retiring at the end of August?”
Her heart beat faster. He certainly wasn’t wasting any time getting to the point, but his question put her in a pickle. Officially, no one in the department knew he was leaving, other than Linda.
“That’s the rumor,” Kyra replied. “If it’s true, we’ll certainly miss your leadership acumen.”
“Is that so?” asked Don. Suddenly more alert, he straightened up. “I hadn’t planned on retiring this year. But this dang cancer’s eating me alive. Time to let someone else corrode their arteries running this place.”
Adrenalin shot through Kyra’s veins. She tried to suppress the smile that ached to explode all over her face. “I’ve learned a lot from you, Don,” she said. “You’ve made me the manager I am.”
A startled look stole across his features. He glanced down at his planner and massaged his brow. It was hard not to feel sorry for him. His seamed face had hollowed out considerably, probably from the grueling treatments.
“To say you’re ambitious would be an understatement, wouldn’t it, Kyra?”
She laughed and nodded, almost giddy. “I’m glad my performance on the job relays the right message.”
Don creaked back in his chair. “Frankly, I’m not sure it does, judging by some of the actions you’ve taken in the department lately.”
She blinked a few times, trying to get her bearings. “I ... don’t understand. What are you referring to?”
He rolled his pen between his fingers, his keen eyes boring into her. “One-upmanship. Hogging projects, jeopardizing accounts to make sure your name comes up in the credits. Todd’s expressed concern that your independent brokering of projects has a negative long-term effect on our accounts.”
She swallowed hard. “That’s … preposterous. I’ve worked around the clock to make this department successful, sacrificed my personal life for the past three years, met or exceeded every deadline. If Todd interprets that as negative, it’s only because it exposes his inadequacies.”
Don threw his pen on the desk with an exasperated snort. “Todd’s got a good handle on his own strengths and weaknesses. My concern is that you don’t demonstrate the same level of perceptiveness. The way you undermined Todd at the department meeting was exactly the kind of behavior he tried to alert me to. It takes a team, Kyra, to properly execute the scale of projects undertaken by this company, and you’re not a team player.” He paused, as if to let the import of his words sink in. “Not to mention the fact that you sent those proofs off to Chevron last week without my approval.”
“But—”
He cut off her protest with a wave of his hand. “I’m afraid I don’t have a choice, Kyra. You’re a liability. I’m pulling you off your critical accounts and reassigning them to Todd. And I expect you to cooperate fully in assisting him during the transition.”
This can’t be happening. A clammy feeling crawled across her scalp. She cleared her throat in a desperate bid to buy some time, to unscramble her thoughts, but Don appeared to be wrapping up the meeting. He stood and pushed some files into his leather briefcase. She stared dully at its flap as he clicked it closed. Well-worn. Like Todd’s. Her jaw quivered.
“The board has voted in my successor—Ralph Jennings, former head of WRP Advertising. He starts Monday. He’s a mover and a shaker with a proven track record in bringing in new accounts.” Don paused and looked her straight in the eye before continuing in a softer tone. “You have potential, Kyra, and you’re young. You can turn this around.”
A vortex of rage swirled inside her. He couldn’t possibly think she was going to accept this. This was everything she had worked so hard for going up in smoke. She shot up and slapped her palms on the table, her polished nails spread-eagled in a desperate power pose.
“Don, you are making a huge mistake. I need you to reconsider. My track record speaks for itself.”
He slammed his briefcase on the table and raised his brows.
“Open your eyes, Kyra. I have a department to manage. You’ve clearly demonstrated that the company’s overall performance is not your top priority.”
She straightened up and folded her arms. “This is outrageous. My career’s been hijacked, and I know exactly who put you up to this.”
Don looked at her, his eyes radiating a mixture of pity and aggravation.
Face blazing, she turned her back on him, wrenched the door open, and glared at a wide-eyed Linda on her way out.
She stomped down the hallway, not caring who was watching. She knew exactly how Don had arrived at such a gross misunderstanding of the facts. Todd’s rendition of her contributions to the department must have been very convincing. Smooth-talking piece of trash. Congratulating her on her performance, while building a case behind her back to take her down.
She grabbed her Louis Vuitton from her office and stormed out to the lobby. She would take it to the board, They would have to side with her. Three years of evidence documenting her performance couldn’t be ignored. She rammed the button on the elevator repeatedly until the doors retracted. All rational thoughts turned to mush, when she saw Todd leaning against the back of the elevator munching on a sandwich.
“Going down?” he asked.
Going down? Her rage tumbled out before she could stop herself. “You set me up, didn’t you? You knew about this.” She inched closer and wrapped her hand around the edge of the elevator door to prevent it from closing. “You were probably even in on the new hire.”
“Whoa, slow down Kyra. You give me way too much credit. Everyone knows you were willing to step over corpses to get Don’s job. He wanted you out. It was me who persuaded him to keep you on.” Todd carefully wiped his fingers on a napkin. “I like you, Kyra, despite your inflated sense of your own importance. I put my neck on the line to save your classy hide. So get over yourself.”
Her shoulder muscles tensed. “And what about your hide, Todd? It’s not like Don recommended you for the position either. You’ve been rotting here for six years, if I’m not mistaken. You nauseate me, you double-crossing low-life!” She stared him down with all the disgust she could muster and stormed off in the direction of the stairs, shoving
past several gape-mouthed colleagues clustered around the elevator.
Grabbing the handle on the steel door to the stairwell, she shot one last remark Todd’s way. “Good luck with the new assistant, ‘cause you’re not looking at her.”
She let the door slam behind her and fell back against the wall of the stairwell. Dropping her briefcase, she pressed her trembling fists to her eyes. Her chest heaved in erratic bursts, and the crazy thought crossed her mind that she might be having a heart attack. She’d just made a fatal error. Of all the bad luck, bumping into Todd in the elevator.
She should have gone home and calmly devised a proposal for the board, turned the situation around to her advantage. She’d blown that possibility, coming undone in front of her colleagues like that. She’d as good as quit in a blind rage.
She choked out a laugh when her phone vibrated in her pocket. Ironic, considering she’d muted her phone so she could savor the news of her promotion without any interruptions. She fished it out and glanced at the screen.
Brian.
She sank down in a heap on the step. How would her stockbroker boyfriend feel about dating her now without her six-figure salary? An icy fear gripped her. What if he left her, right when she needed him most?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Thank you for believing me,” Martina mouthed at Rick. Her eyes brimmed with tears, blurring his face and the floral curtains fluttering at the window of the tiny room at Pine Haven.
Rick edged his chair closer, a somber look on his face. “Martina, do you want to tell me exactly what happened today in Dr. Brenner’s office?”
She reached for another tissue and cleared her throat. “I only let him hypnotize me because I thought he cared about me and Taggert. But ...” Her voice trailed off as the chilling memory returned—the doctor’s steely eyes boring into her when she came to, his shiny-suited arms folded across his chest, lips spread wide in a feral grin. Something had happened in his office, something so awful she wasn’t sure she wanted to continue dredging up the memory. She shuddered and slid her gaze in Rick’s direction.
