The rest of the groups had debated what they should do. Some argued that sitting around doing nothing wasn't helping anyone, and they should also start a search. Others argued that the three missing men were probably all sitting out the storm somewhere safe.
In the end, they agreed to continue on with solving the murder mystery. At least it gave them something to do, and they could keep their eyes open for Jake, Stuart, and Wes, wherever they believed the three men were sitting out the storm. It appeared that most of them believed that I'd hit Faith, and other than a shoe, what evidence was there to suggest anything suspicious had happened to the men?
I noticed Arthur whispering something to Sam. When I questioned Sam, he explained that a few people were worried about my temper and the notion that I'd hit poor Faith because I was jealous of her.
He told them he would keep an eye on me, which appeased them enough to not lock me in the dub room. Sam placated me by saying that those who'd suggested I'd do such a thing didn't know me at all. They'd worked here long before I'd started, and if they did know me, they would know I wasn't capable of harming anyone. Well, at least he knew me well enough.
My intuition still buzzed about the missing men, but I had no real reason to think anything awful had happened to them, so I took a few more calming breaths and followed Sam. All I had to do was stay within the view of his camera, and all would be okay.
Oh, and in case you're wondering, I did ask Georgie and Dawn to stay with Faith. If the earlier attack on her was pre-planned, there was a small possibility the attacker would try again. As much as Faith and I didn't really like each other, I would hate to see her hurt.
"Where should we start?" I asked, admiring the view of Sam's backside walking ahead of me.
"I think reception. We'll work our way down the offices and into the boardroom. If we don't find anyone or anything there, we can go back up the hallway and search the storage room and the area under the stairs." Sam had his camera on his shoulder, pointing ahead of him. I guess you'd be able to hear my voice in the footage, so that was enough proof I was with him.
"Hopefully, we'll find them before then."
We made a left turn into reception. For a television station, the reception area was pretty ordinary. The latest receptionist, Tiffany, had pretty cramped quarters. The front of her long timber desk faced a small foyer that held two black leather chairs and a glass coffee table. The six-month-old copies of Vogue and Australian Photography sitting on top of it proved this area didn't get too much new traffic through its doors.
I sat in her high-backed, black leather chair and spun around, looking at Sam as he placed the camera on the desk. I played my fingernails in the cracks in the leather as he opened the first of the timber-clad cupboards lining the wall behind the desk.
It revealed a lot about Tiffany. On the surface, her work area appeared pristine and organized, but her cupboards revealed the mess underneath. Good to know. I'd only met her for the first time tonight. She looked all of nineteen, gorgeous figure, flawless skin, and massive brown eyes that sparkled as her tinkling laughter floated through the air. It was a relief to know that underneath her perfect exterior lived a very normal person. It gave hope to the rest of us.
I stood and moved to the cupboard on the opposite end of the wall and opened it. I looked at mounds of envelopes and reams of paper, all stacked haphazardly. I was actually a very organized, neat person when it came to my work and living areas. Seeing this, I felt an itch start around the back of my neck, but I reminded myself why we were here and ignored the urge to tidy.
Sighing, I moved things aside, looking for a phone cable or the handsets. I didn't think Stuart, Wes, or Jake would fit in this cupboard, so at this point in time, they were off my radar.
"Why such a big sigh?" asked Sam, smiling at me.
"I just wish we could hurry up and find what we are looking for."
"But we've only just started."
"It'll be in the last place we look."
"Of course it will. If it wasn't, we would keep looking, and then it wouldn't be the last place, would it?" That actually made sense.
"I hate this. I just want to get to the finish line."
"Alex, life is about the journey. One must enjoy the journey, or what's the point?"
"Not for me, sorry. I'm more of a destination kind of girl."
Sam stopped what he was doing and smiled a wicked smile. "I bet I could make you enjoy the journey."
Oh boy. I bet he could.
Blood rushed to areas I am definitely not naming, so I quickly turned back to the cupboard. I heard Sam's chuckle, and the blood rush kicked up a notch.
I cleared my throat and forced my mind to move to other areas. After a minute of awkward silence, Sam moved toward me, stopping way too far into my personal space for me to feel comfortable.
"Sorry," he said. "I can be inappropriate at times. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
I looked up into his sparkling blue eyes and saw a softness and compassion that actually took my breath away. Wow, this man was gorgeous. And I couldn't remember the last time a gorgeous man had been this close.
I gulped in an attempt to swallow the saliva threatening to drown me. "It…it's okay. I…I don't mind. I know you're only joking."
The world stopped for a beat whilst he looked deep into my eyes. I heard his breathing deepen and become more rapid. My heart beat erratically behind my ribs, causing my breath to shallow. When I couldn't handle it anymore, I looked away. I'd never had a man make me feel like that before, and it was pretty intense.
Thankfully, Sam moved back to his end of the cupboards as lightning flashed through the glass facade behind us. I racked my brain to think of something clever to say that would make me look worldly and smart.
"Can't believe this weather!" Okay. That wasn't clever, worldly, or smart, but it was out there now. What could I do?
"Yeah, it's full-on, but summer storms are often like this."
"I hope the dog is okay," I added, thinking of Baxter and how Rachel had taken him away.
"He'll be fine. If he turns up again, we'll take him to the pound tomorrow and see if he's microchipped."
"The pound?" My heart raced for a whole different reason.
"Yeah, they have a scanner there, so they can check if he's microchipped. If he is, they'll contact his owner."
"But, if he's not microchipped, won't they put him to sleep?"
"No, if he has no chip they will keep him for a couple of weeks to see if his owner calls looking for him."
"What happens after the two weeks?"
"Well…"
"Sam! You can't do that to him!"
"Well, what do you suggest?"
"Maybe we can take him there, but if he's not microchipped maybe they'll let us keep him."
"I thought you lived in an apartment?"
"I do."
"Can you have a dog that size in your apartment?"
No, I couldn't. Unless it had gills or feathers, my body corporate wouldn't allow it. I know this for a fact because my downstairs neighbor, Dean, had spoken to them when I dog sat for my mum. True, that could have had more to do with the fact that a Saint Bernard was a little large for my one-bedroom apartment, but I think they meant it when they said absolutely no dogs! I sighed.
"Don't worry, Alex. We'll sort it out. I'm sure its owner will come looking for him."
"I don't understand why people can't lock their dogs up properly in a storm. I mean, it's not like they don't know. The RSPCA advertise it all the bloody time." Thinking of poor Baxter made me agitated. Or that could have been the two large glasses of Coke I'd downed before leaving the studio. "Do you have a dog, Sam? Maybe you could have him if his owner doesn't come forward?"
"Let's see what tomorrow brings, okay?" said Sam, smiling at me.
"Didn't you say earlier your sister has a dog?"
"Yeah, he's a bit smaller than Baxter though."
"Maybe she can have another one?" I felt a
need to protect Baxter. I didn't know why. I didn't think maternal instincts covered animals, but maybe I was wrong.
"Maybe."
"Does your sister work, or does she stay at home all day with kids or something?"
"She works for the post office."
"Really? What does she do there?"
"Delivers parcels." Sam had moved on to the next cupboard and was now pulling out boxes of pens, pencils, and erasers. I looked at the piles he placed on the desk behind him and wondered how a workplace could need that much stock of stationery and how Tiffany actually functioned in the chaos.
"I used to work for the post office delivering parcels," I commented, shaking my head.
"Really? She used to work for Gary. Do you know Gary?" he asked.
"Yes! I worked for Gary. What's your sister's name?"
"Chloe."
"Chloe?"
"Yep. That's her name."
"Is she really pretty, dimple, and at the moment, her hair is light blonde?"
"Yeah, that's her. Do you know her?"
"Yes," I replied, unable to form any other words.
Chloe was always trying to set me up with her brother, but I'd had a lot of bad experiences with being set up with brothers, so all I'd ever done was change the subject when she mentioned it. I looked at Sam and sighed. I really needed to start listening to people.
"That doesn't sound like a good sigh," said Sam, stopping what he was doing to look closer at me.
I really wished he wouldn't. It now seemed that every time he even so much as glanced my way, my stomach did somersaults.
"Oh, Chloe's…ummm…lovely. She still delivers my parcels, so I…ummm…I see her quite a bit," I said, shaking my head again.
I couldn't believe that Sam was her brother. I'd never connected the Sam I used to know with the surname he shared with Chloe.
"I…ummm…definitely put her in the…umm…friend category."
"Wait a minute. She didn't try to set you up with me, did she?"
Oh crap. "Ahh…maybe," I answered as I busied myself looking through a box of envelopes. Yes, I knew that half a dozen radio handsets wouldn't fit in a box of DL-sized envelopes, but it was the closest thing to me.
"And you said no."
I felt the heat start around my ears as blood flooded my face. Why did I say no? Sam was so incredibly hot! But I didn't know that then. Every friend I'd had, at one time or another, had tried to set me up with her brother. And some I had gone out with. I learned pretty quickly there was usually a reason they needed their sisters' help. I looked at Sam out of the corner of my eye and figured he wouldn't have trouble getting a date, so Chloe must have had another reason for setting us up. Damn. If only I'd listened to her. Better late than never, though, right?
I turned to face him, resisting the urge to fan myself to cool my burning cheeks and maybe ask if now was too late to agree to a date, when I noticed he seemed a bit red in the face too. "You said no, didn't you, Alex?"
"Ummm…" I felt the air around us change with Sam's mood. Lightning flashed as I saw the disappointment in his eyes.
"Well…yes, but…"
"Okay. Understood." Sam picked up a box of pens and threw it back into the cupboard.
"Sam, I didn't know…"
"It's okay," he said, cutting me off before I could say anymore. "Chloe has a really bad habit of setting me up with her friends. I keep telling her not to, but she doesn't listen. She means well enough, but really…why would I want to go out with one of her friends? I'm not desperate. I can get my own date."
Sam then scooped the remaining boxes up into his arms and almost threw them back into the cupboard.
"I don't doubt that," I said.
"What does that mean?"
"What?"
"You don't doubt I can get a date? Do you think I pick up women all the time?" he asked, his eyes challenging me. The jovial Sam who had stood so close to me before now seemed annoyed. "I'll have you know I'm not like that…well, not anymore."
"You don't have to explain anything to me," I added, quietly.
"No, you're right, I don't. And please ignore my sister. I would never go out on a date she set up." With that, he slammed the cupboard door shut, turned his back on me, and stomped off toward the nearest office.
I felt the lump form in my throat. Did this mean Sam wouldn't flirt with me anymore? I kind of liked that he flirted. And I kind of liked him. Yes, he was gorgeous, but there seemed to be more to him than that. He radiated goodness and kindness. And compassion. Oh, and humility. And if I was completely honest, I'd admit that he radiated an enormous amount of sex appeal. An amount that was causing all sorts of emotional reactions in me tonight.
I quickly picked up the envelopes and pushed them back on the shelf, shivering with the desire to clean. At least that's what I thought the desire was about. It definitely wasn't a desire to run after Sam and kiss him. No, it was definitely a desire to clean. I hoped.
I quickly closed the cupboard door, pushed the chair back under the desk, and ran after Sam. His long legs managed to cover a lot more ground a lot quicker than mine could.
I found him in the nearest office. The nameplate on the door said it belonged to Vanessa Tompkins, Program Manager. I didn't know Vanessa, but I'd heard someone talking about her earlier this evening. And if I was right in my assumptions, she was the lady who was nine months pregnant. I wondered if her job would be available shortly.
Walking in, I found Sam with his head down, rummaging through the drawers of her desk. I stood at the door and watched him.
He didn't seem angry. I figured he was more upset. His shoulders hunched forward, his eyebrows pulled close together in a frown, and a sadness shone in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" I asked. "I didn't mean to upset you."
He stopped what he was doing and sighed. When he looked up at me, he smiled. Only it stopped at his lips. Sure, I'd only reconnected with this man—what, five hours ago now—but I knew that when he smiled, his eyes couldn't help but join in. And when they did, they sparkled. Right now, his eyes looked dull.
"It's all good, Alex. You haven't upset me. I'm just tired."
Fair enough. The clock now read ten forty-five pm.
"Yeah, me too."
"We need to hurry up and find these cables. How about you take the next office over? That way we can speed up the process?"
I'd enjoyed spending time with Sam. Now, it felt like all he wanted was distance. As he turned his back on me to open the cabinet behind him, I felt the disappointment sit heavily in my stomach.
Bloody Chloe. Why did she always have to be setting him up? I guess it was as humiliating for him as it was for me.
* * *
I decided to start in the boardroom at the opposite end of the hallway and work my way back toward Sam. Eventually, we would meet in the middle and wouldn't overlap.
I shivered against the cool night. Thank goodness the lighting was bright, and for the first time since finding Faith, I didn't feel like I was being watched.
My mind flicked to Sam's sister, Chloe. Now I knew they were brother and sister, I could see the family resemblance. They both had twinkling blue eyes and an adorable dimple in their right cheek. Not that I thought it was adorable on Chloe. No, that wasn't really my thing, but it was definitely adorable on Sam.
I shook my head, hoping to clear thoughts of Sam's dimple, but it only served to give me a headache. Although the headache could have been because I was so damn tired.
I often thought I could have been closer friends with Chloe. We were alike in a lot of ways, and when I'd worked at the post office, she was the reason I'd stuck it out for as long as I had. Sure, that had only been a month. Apparently, people were picky about getting their own parcels and not someone else's. My boss, Gary, had suggested the job probably wasn't for me.
Fine by me. It was damned hard work. And with the weather in Westport, it was either extremely hot or raining. Neither of which were the best conditions to be
running around delivering parcels.
I yawned and rolled my neck, reaching the boardroom door. Unlike the rest of the station, this door was painted high-gloss black, just like the other doors that ran the length of this hall. It was showy and meant to make visitors and important business executives believe the station was high-class and affluent. Ha. If only they walked a few meters past the newsroom, they would soon see that the walls changed to whitewashed cement, and the doors were basic and white. No excess money spent on the workers.
Placing my hand on the door, I pushed it open, taking a step to walk through it. Immediately, it slammed shut in my face, hitting my nose as it came back on me. I let out a small squeal, my heart rate instantly picking up. I took a step back, rubbing my nose and looked at the closed door, wondering who was on the inside, and hoping it was Jake, Wes, or Stuart.
As my heart rate settled, I looked at the door. I could hear murmured voices on the inside, so I gently knocked and called, "Hello."
A second later, the door opened slightly, and Rachel stuck her head out.
"What?" she snapped. "Oh, it's you," she said, disdain dripping from every syllable.
"Rachel!" I said, stunned.
I didn't know why I was stunned, but I thought we'd left her in the studio. I'd thought wrong.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Ummm… I wanted to check the boardroom. We're looking for a phone cable we can use to get the main switchboard up and running. Or maybe a radio handset."
"Well, there're none of those in here."
"How about Wes, Jake, or Stuart?" I asked hopefully. If Wes were in there, Kelly would be pissed.
Rachel sighed and looked at me like I was an idiot. "No, they are not here," she snapped.
"What are you doing? Can I come in and look?"
"No, you cannot! Go and do something useful, like solving the murder mystery. That's what you are supposed to be doing. I didn't go to all this trouble to make tonight a success for you to just ignore it and go wandering about the station like you own the bloody place!"
Invitation to Murder Page 11
