by Jove Belle
When they were comfortably seated, Trinity said, “So, what brings you to Open Doors? An investigation, you say?”
Laila scrunched up her face and cocked her head to the side, clearly puzzled. It was adorable, and Trinity wanted to giggle at the unfiltered honesty in Laila’s expression.
She shook her head. “Right, right. I’m conducting an investigation for Archer Securities. Their records show several significant donations of goods to this organization.”
“Oh really?” Trinity blinked innocently. “Well, that’s certainly generous of them. Please thank them on my behalf.” She smiled sweetly.
“What? No, you don’t understand.” Laila’s tone was tinged with frustration. “They didn’t donate them.”
“Well, that doesn’t make any sense. How did they get here if they weren’t sent here?”
Laila made a slight growling noise under her breath, and Trinity internally squealed with delight. Laila was exactly the distraction she needed to take her mind off things with Ornella.
“That’s my point. They shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m sure they’re not here anymore. Most donations go out as soon as they come in.” Trinity folded her hands on the table and gave Laila a satisfied nod.
“You are very frustrating.” As soon as Laila finished speaking, a panicked look crossed her face. “I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to say things like that.”
That was interesting. Who would encourage this delightfully refreshing person to do anything other than be herself? “Why not?”
“It’s rude?” Laila paused. “Isn’t it?”
“I suppose some might see it that way. I don’t.”
“Seriously?” From anyone else, Trinity would read that question as sarcasm, but the crack in Laila’s voice and the confused tint in her eyes made Trinity pause.
Something shifted inside Trinity with that question. She was happy to toy with Laila over her investigation, but the distress in that single word took the fun out of teasing her otherwise.
Trinity nodded, for the moment dropping the plastic shine from her expression. “Very much so.”
Laila almost smiled, one side of her mouth pulling up slightly. Trinity stared at her for a beat longer and then slipped back into the role of vapid tormentor. “So, why are you here looking for things that aren’t supposed to be here when they aren’t even here?” She was right. This was fun.
“Let me start over. You see, over the past few years, several pallets of goods have been shipped to this organization from Archer Securities. The items weren’t donated by Archer, but they were shipped with a zero balance invoice nonetheless.”
“Well, that’s certainly a conundrum.” Trinity couldn’t help it. She was impressed that Laila Hollister, Investigator, had made it this far. She decided to up the ante. “Are you sure they weren’t doing some routine housekeeping?”
She put just the slightest emphasis on the last word. To anyone not in the know, it would have been undetectable. Laila, however, was definitely aware of the significance. Her eyes opened wider for a fraction of a second.
“Trinity, was it? What did you say you do here?”
“Yes, Trinity. Trinity Washington.” She pulled her own business card from her pocket. “And I’m doing it. Or rather, I’m done doing it.”
Laila took the card. She glanced at it and back to Trinity. The moment of realization was so beautiful. It couldn’t have been better if Trinity had scripted it. All it took was the slightest of seconds, and Laila did a double take. She looked at the card again, slightly slackjawed, then back to Trinity.
“Trinity Washington. IT Specialist. Archer Securities.” Laila’s voice was almost deadpan, but the light in her eyes betrayed the speed with which she was calculating the importance of this new information. “That’s interesting.”
“Isn’t it?” Trinity nodded along, careful to keep her expression blank. “What are the odds that you, a contractor for Archer, and me, an employee of Archer, would meet here? A place where Archer has apparently not been donating goods. That’s one for the record books.”
“It really is.” Laila gave her a predatory smile.
If Trinity hadn’t spent time verifying that there was absolutely no way to trace her code at Archer back to her, the look on Laila’s face would have been terrifying. As it was, Trinity had to remind herself to breathe properly and not look away.
Laila stared at her for several moments, clearly waiting to see what other information Trinity would volunteer. Trinity forced herself to meet Laila’s calculating stare. With every second that passed, the light of understanding sparked a little brighter in Laila’s eyes. Perhaps this wasn’t as much fun as she originally thought.
Finally, Laila tapped Trinity’s business card sharply against the table. The sound echoed around the room. “It was nice meeting you, Trinity. I’ll let you get back to whatever it is that you do here.”
They stood at the same time. Laila was slightly shorter than Trinity, and she held herself with a tight energy that buzzed close to the surface. She was compelling, and Trinity was drawn to her. She offered Laila her hand again. “It was very nice to meet you. I hope to see you again.”
Trinity watched as Laila turned, walked across the room, and with one last glance over her shoulder at Trinity, left the building. She smiled to herself for a moment until what she’d just done started to sink in.
She hadn’t just teased a cute girl. She’d baited someone whose immediate goal was to expose Trinity on behalf of Archer Securities.
Fuck.
* * *
By the time the door swished shut behind her, Laila had her phone out and was dialing Max.
“Hollister Investigations, Justin speaking. How can we be of service today?” Justin had a natural way about him that put people at ease and drew them out.
At this moment, however, Laila didn’t want to be put at ease. She smelled blood in the water and couldn’t wait to sink her teeth in. She needed Max to help her get there. She took a deep breath before speaking. All those phone manners she practiced were primarily for Justin’s benefit. It would suck if she blew it now.
“Justin, hey. It’s Laila.”
“Oh hi! How’s the investigation going? We sure miss you around here. Max has been insufferable the last few days.”
“Is that Laila? Give me the phone.” Max’s voice came through the line as a distant growl.
“Keep your pants on. I’m talking to her right now,” Justin scolded. Max huffed, but didn’t demand the phone again. The two of them had an interesting working dynamic. They were like siblings, vicious toward one another, but equally ferocious in the defense of the other. For her part, Laila stayed well and clear of their arguments. She didn’t need that kind of drama.
“Actually, Justin, I need to speak to Max. I’m chasing a lead and need her help.” Laila watched for a break in traffic and then sprinted across the road to where her car was parked.
“Okay, boss. Here she is.” Justin sounded as chipper as a Disney character.
“Told you to give me the phone,” Max said, her voice slightly muffled. Then, “What’s up?”
Trinity pressed the button on her fob to unlock the door. As she climbed in and started the car, she said, “I have a name for you. I want a full bio by the time I get to the office, and I mean everything. I’m on my way now.” She read Trinity’s information from the card, including her job title at Archer. “Ten minutes, Max.”
“Got it.” Max disconnected before Laila could go through her usual good-job spiel.
Laila pulled into the lot outside Hollister fifteen minutes later. Max’s sporty red roadster was in its usual spot next to hers, and Justin’s bicycle was chained to the rack just outside the glass doors that led into her building.
She engaged the alarm on her car and hit the lobby at a sprint. Trinity Washington had handed her the golden ticket, and all she had to do was cash it in. However, knowing something and being able to prove it were rarely the sam
e thing. When she got this close to solving a puzzle, the rest of the world fell into a blur, and she couldn’t wait to wrap her brain around the win. For her, it was the ultimate high.
She pushed the call button for the elevator about fifty times and stared at the indicator arrow. It was pinned at the top floor and moved in a slow arc across the indicator as the car descended. After it paused for the third time, she mumbled “Fuck it!” under her breath and hit the stairs.
Her office was only five flights up, but it was enough to make her breathe a little bit harder by the time she cleared the door to the stairwell. The door to her office stood open, and Max waited for her there, legs crossed at the ankles as she leaned against the frame. She had her iPad in her hands and a smirk on her face.
“You’re late.”
Laila took the iPad as she passed by on her way into the office. She tossed a greeting to Justin without slowing. Max kept pace.
“Tell me everything.” Laila glanced at the main profile page. It told her what she already knew. Trinity was in her mid-twenties, black, stunning to look at, and employed by Archer Securities as a computer support specialist.
Rather than sit in her swivel chair, she leaned against the front of the desk. She tended to think better when vertical. Max stood equidistance between the door, which she’d closed when they entered the room, and the desk. With her feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind her back, Max somehow managed to look both relaxed and coiled at the same time.
“Trinity Washington, no middle name. She lives in a respectable part of the Rancho Verde district.” Max recited her address. “Raised by a single parent, Ornella Washington, from Jamaica. Ornella owned a small bakery downtown until two years ago. Trinity works from home in IT services for Archer Securities, but I suspect you know that part. She started there nine years ago and has received glowing evaluations from her supervisor since.”
Laila swiped the screen for the next page. It was blank. She tried again. Still nothing. Surely Max hadn’t stopped looking so easily. Where was her credit history? Employment and education data? Hell, it wasn’t uncommon for Max to include when a person lost her virginity and to whom. So, where was the rest of the information on Trinity Washington? She looked at Max, exasperated. She shouldn’t have to ask.
“What else?” She pushed a stack of bridal magazines to one side as she took her seat behind her desk. A row of garment bags hung on a rolling clothing rack to her right. Clearly, Sia had dropped by with a little wedding homework for Laila.
“That’s it.”
“What?” With that little information, Trinity might as well have been a ghost.
“She doesn’t have an online presence. She lives in her childhood home, which was signed over from Ornella to Trinity via a quitclaim deed around the same time that Ornella sold her business.
“Trinity gets paid electronically and pays her monthly bills the same way, such as they are. She doesn’t hold any credit cards. Doesn’t own a car. Doesn’t have a cable bill. If she has a cell phone, it’s a burner, because I can’t find a record of one. The house has phone and Internet, both billed to Ornella. Beyond that, she pays her monthly utilities, and that’s it.”
“Seriously?” Laila was stunned. Nothing about this made sense. Once, a wealthy, young tech CEO had hired them to find his estranged father. As part of that investigation, they’d researched homeless people with larger digital footprints than Trinity Washington.
“I searched all the regular social media outlets, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram. Nothing. Same for all major retailers. She doesn’t belong to a single loyalty program.” Max looked at her, one eyebrow arched. “Are you sure she’s real?”
“Oh, she’s real. And I’m pretty sure she’s responsible for the losses at Archer.”
“Well, that’s interesting.”
“Education?” Laila didn’t reserve much hope for a useful answer. If Max knew about it, she would have shared by now.
“Nothing past high school, no. She graduated from Jefferson with mediocre grades. She didn’t participate in any sports or clubs.”
Laila tapped her desk, wheels spinning. “Have you ever come across anything like this before?”
Max stood a little straighter, shoulders squared up. “I have. Nothing this extensive, though.”
Laila waited. There were parts of Max’s history that she was very guarded about, and Laila had learned not to push.
“I would expect to see something like this for a spook. But even then, those profiles generally include more information. This looks like someone took a giant eraser to her history, as if she’s been rubbed out of existence. It’s…unsettling.”
This couldn’t be where the investigation ended, so close to cracking it open, but unable to bridge the information gap. She had no doubt, especially after Max’s report, that Trinity was the answer to the questions she’d been asking. But if she was this effective at removing herself from…everything, then how in the world would Laila tie her to the losses at Archer?
She couldn’t accept that it might not be possible.
“Okay.” Laila returned the iPad to Max. “Keep looking. Let me know if you find anything.”
Max took the iPad with a tight nod that didn’t make Laila feel good about her chances for learning more. Without a word, Max turned and left.
Laila picked up her phone. She needed to check in with Sia before she lost herself to this completely. Then she would decide how to proceed.
CHAPTER 9
“Your mom is adjusting well, Trinity.” The charge nurse assigned to Ornella spoke in a calm, reassuring tone. Her smile was just sympathetic enough to set Trinity on edge.
Carol shifted in her seat next to Trinity, her wide hips just a smidge too much for the sleek office chairs. “She’s allowed to bake, right? Without that, Ornella isn’t Ornella,” Carol said, so earnest in inquiring about her friend despite the still-healing wound on her arm.
For her part, Trinity was glad she asked. Ornella might have forgotten all about her daughter, her friends, and her whole life after she moved away from Jamaica at the age of sixteen, but she would never forget her need to be in the kitchen. That was engrained in her, set deep in her personal code and indelible against the ravages of Alzheimer’s. When she stopped baking, she would likely die very soon after.
“Oh yes. She’s become a favorite among the staff and clients alike. She’s quite talented.”
Prior to sitting down in this cheerful little office with the equally cheerful charge nurse, Trinity and Carol had visited with Ornella. She hadn’t recognized either of them, but she had asked politely about the bandage around Carol’s arm. She was heartbreakingly concerned about Carol’s health while being completely oblivious to the cause of the injury.
Trinity closed her eyes and took a deep breath. These people were good. They cared about the patients here. She could tell that in the way they smiled, in the polished gleam of the windows and floors, and in the warm sounds of laughter and community that surrounded them. Ornella was safe and cared for.
Knowing all that should have made this easier, but it didn’t. Trinity hoped that, with time, the sharp edge would fade away, leaving behind only the dull ache of loss rather than the overwhelming wave of grief that enveloped her.
Ornella, were she able to, would tell Trinity to stop with all the fuss and get on with living life. There was no point dwelling on things that can’t be changed. For Ornella, Trinity was trying, and would try harder.
In her lap, Trinity held a brown paper grocery bag with the top folded over. She gripped it in both hands, squeezing hard enough to crinkle the paper and wear it down until it was soft to the touch. Carol placed a calming hand on her arm for a moment and offered her an understanding smile. Trinity gave her a tight nod.
“Will you make sure she gets this?” Trinity stood and thrust the bag out toward the nurse. That bag held items that were intrinsically linked to her memories of her mother. “It’s her apron and pie pans and a few o
ther things.”
The nurse nodded. “Of course.” The look in her eye said she doubted Ornella would know the difference, and Trinity swallowed the urge to argue.
Ornella would recognize these things. She would. Even when she remembered nothing else, she remembered the feel of the apron as it rested against her neck, the heft of the glass bakeware as she lifted it out of the oven, the carriage of the wooden rolling pin as she rolled out pie crust.
Trinity nodded again, an embarrassingly curt motion that would have resulted in a serious scolding from Ornella. If Ornella was able to remember that Trinity was hers to scold.
“Would you like to see her one last time before you go?” The nurse stood. Their allotted fifteen minutes was clearly over.
Trinity looked past the nurse, through the glass wall that led to a community room where the patients were gathered. Ornella sat on the couch between two other women. The three were chatting and laughing and carrying on as if they were lifelong friends. She shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. Carol?”
“No. We should get going.”
The nurse escorted them out. It was a secure facility and required an electronic fob to exit through the main door. That feature made the building feel just a little bit prison-like, but Trinity couldn’t deny the need. She would be unimpressed to learn that Ornella had gone off alone for an unsupervised midnight stroll.
Trinity turned to look at Ornella one last time before stepping out into the bright sunshine. It was a beautiful, cheery day, a stark counterpoint to Trinity’s heavy and dark mood.
She walked with Carol to Ornella’s ancient Volvo wagon. It was a 1960s-era beast that ran on diesel and good intentions. Ornella had bought it used from a retired postmaster a year after coming to the United States. She’d kept it, maintained it, and driven it right up until Trinity had parked it in their detached garage two years ago. She’d padlocked the door and hidden the key. It had been the only safe thing to do at the time.
