That was completely opposite from her previous job. Sterling Foods was so much larger than the small, family-owned software company she’d gone to work for right out of college, she’d assumed the hierarchy there would be far more rigid. Shouldn’t executives focus on long-term strategy and keep themselves removed from the real work? That was certainly David’s approach.
An unpleasant taste assaulted her mouth at the reminder of her ex-boss, and she pushed the thought from her mind.
“So, did you and Frank work out anything?”
He did think she was involved with Frank. She set her tone at a subzero temperature. “Pardon me?”
“The workshop,” he explained in a gentle voice. “Did you prepare a formal presentation?”
“Oh.” Flustered, Lauren practically dove for her briefcase, which she’d placed on the floor beside her. “Yes. Or, actually, I did. I’m not sure what Frank planned to say. We were going to take a tag-team approach. First I’d describe the business need, then he’d take over and cover the technical details of the implementation.” She extracted a copy of her presentation outline and handed it to him. “Then we were going to do a demo. That’s the equipment Keith referred to. Frank shipped some computers and handheld devices ahead of time, and we were planning to set them up in the front of the room.”
Pages flipped, and his eyes moved as he scanned the document. Then he shuffled them back into a semblance of order and handed them to her.
“Sounds like a plan. I can handle that. Let’s go look at the equipment.”
He stood and headed for the door. Lauren stuffed her presentation back into her briefcase and rose to follow him. A flutter erupted in her stomach. With all the anxiety of Frank’s death and Detective Gaines’s veiled insinuations, she hadn’t had time to get nervous about presenting her first conference workshop. Hopefully she’d have time to go over her presentation again before the session began.
When his hand touched the knob, Brent paused. His lips pressed together, relaxed and then tightened again, as though he struggled with whether or not to say something. He finally spoke, though he didn’t look at her when he did.
“When this session is over, you and I need to have a serious conversation about your previous job.” He pulled the door open and left the room without looking back at her.
Lauren’s mouth dried in an instant. The door slid closed behind him, but her feet refused to move.
There was only one reason he would want to talk about Reynolds SofTech. He’d heard about her and David.
And that would certainly make him suspicious about her and Frank.
FIVE
When Brent was about to step into the storage room, his cell phone rang. He slipped it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. Good. Mason had returned his call quickly. He spoke to Lauren as she exited the staff room.
“I need to take this. Why don’t you go ahead and make sure everything we need is there?”
The nod she gave was a bit shaky. Her knuckles were white from the grip on her briefcase strap. Maybe continuing with this session wasn’t such a good idea after all. He peered at her closely, trying to see the thoughts behind those lovely eyes. Was her nervousness a result of guilt? He couldn’t tell.
She went into the room without a word. He tapped on his phone’s screen while walking down the carpeted hallway to find a quiet corner for his conversation.
“Hey, buddy. Thanks for calling me back.”
“Well, what did you expect after leaving a message like that? What are you doing in Las Vegas, and who is this ‘damsel in distress who might be a killer’?”
Brent had met Mason Sinclair several years ago at the fitness center where they both worked out. Mason had just moved to Atlanta from New Mexico, where he had been a police officer, and hung out his shingle as a private investigator. They’d discovered a mutual enthusiasm for racquetball and enjoyed a friendly but highly competitive weekly game. Though they rarely discussed business, Brent guessed that maybe Mason could help him ferret out a few things.
Brent found a relatively quiet corner and leaned against the wall. “I’m out here at a technology conference.”
“Oooh, sounds exciting in a geeky sort of way.” Sarcasm dripped through the phone. “All I can say is, what a waste to send a religious guy like you to Vegas. You won’t partake of any of the charms of Sin City. Should have taken me with you.”
Brent shook his head. Mason was a great guy, but he had a sharp tongue and frequently used it to jab at Brent’s faith. Sometimes it took a steel resolve not to take offense, but Brent knew that wouldn’t win the guy over. Instead, he laughingly jabbed back and prayed faithfully for Mason.
“I wouldn’t come within a hundred miles of this town if you were here,” he responded with a laugh. Then he grew serious. “Actually, I had to fly out here unexpectedly this morning. Two of my employees came to the conference, and one of them was shot and killed last night. I think the police suspect the other one.”
“Ah, the distressed damsel.”
“Right. I arrived when the detective was questioning her, and it sounded like he was hammering at her pretty hard.”
Mason’s voice lost the sarcasm. “Describe the interrogation. What questions did he ask, and what was his tone like?”
Brent did his best to relay the details: Gaines’s accusing tone, his posture, specific questions he asked and the argumentative responses to Lauren’s protestations of innocence.
“Yeah, she’s a suspect all right,” Mason confirmed. “He was using the Reid Method of Interrogation. I’ve been trained in it. It’s used by police all over the country when they’re pretty sure the suspect is guilty. They set up an atmosphere of confrontation from the beginning and immediately turn every word into an argument. They’re even taught to insult the suspect to keep the atmosphere as hostile as possible.”
Brent nodded. “That’s definitely what Gaines was doing.”
“He was trying to wring a confession out of her. The Reid Method is extremely effective, but one of the criticisms is that it causes people to confess when they aren’t really guilty.” Mason paused. “So, do you think she did it?”
Brent didn’t answer for a long time. What did he think? She certainly had opportunity and access to Frank’s room. But did she have a motive? For some reason, Gaines’s assertion of a relationship gone sour didn’t strike him as likely. Even if the two had been romantically involved, Lauren didn’t seem like the kind of person who would kill someone in a jealous rage.
On the other hand, that dealer sure sounded positive that Lauren and Frank had been at his table last night.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “I don’t think so. I’m a pretty good judge of character, and there’s something about her that makes me want to believe her. But I have to say, there’s enough circumstantial evidence that I can see why the cops would suspect her.”
“So you think she’s being framed?”
Did he? Was that dealer paid to make his accusation? Remembering the man’s face as they talked, he didn’t think so. And, yes, Lauren’s expression had been equally truthful, equally convincing. It just didn’t make sense.
“I wish I knew what I thought,” he said.
“Well, here’s one you can answer. Is she pretty?”
An image of Lauren swam into focus. Soft, honey-colored hair, green eyes, narrow face with full, pink lips. He swallowed. “Yeah. Really pretty.”
“Uh-huh.” The sarcasm returned to his friend’s voice. “And you don’t think that might be affecting your judgment?”
Since that question had plagued him from the time he was jolted awake this morning, Brent couldn’t think of an answer.
“Tell you what.” Mason sounded all business again. “Give me her name and any details you know about her past. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Exactly what Brent had hoped for. “Thanks, buddy. I’ll owe you for this one.”
“Yeah, if I save your sorry hide from getting killed b
y a gorgeous black widow, you’re going to owe me big-time.”
A laugh huffed out of Brent’s chest. “I’ll buy you a hamburger when I get back to Atlanta.”
“Make that a steak,” Mason retorted before the line went dead.
Brent sent a quick text with the information, then pocketed his phone and headed toward the storage closet to give Lauren a hand with those computers.
Lauren wheeled a cart with boxes piled on top into the workshop room where they would conduct their session. For a moment, her breath stalled at the sight of row after row of empty chairs. There had to be a couple of hundred chairs facing a podium and a large projection screen at the far end of a huge room. Correction—two rooms. A collapsible wall between two smaller rooms had been opened to form a single large one. Were they expecting that many people to attend this session? Nerves flip-flopped in her stomach.
Brent let the door close behind her and grabbed the other end of the cart. “I’m not sure how Frank intended to perform the demo, but I say we set up on that long table over there—” He pointed to a conference table to one side of the podium. “—And then set the laptops across the room, on that smaller table. It’ll have more of an impact if people see them physically separated.”
She schooled the nerves out of her voice. “Sounds good.”
Together they rolled the cart down the center aisle and rearranged the furniture. As she unloaded a pair of smaller boxes containing laptops onto the second table, her glance strayed repeatedly to the podium where she would stand during her presentation. What if she stammered or lost her place? It was one thing to look like an inept fool in front of a few computer nerds, but two hundred? And her boss? She dug a fingernail into the packing tape on one of the boxes and worked at prying it off while a list of things that could go wrong formed in her mind. What if she tripped and fell in the middle of the demo?
“Here, let me help.”
Brent’s voice at her elbow startled her, and she jumped. He gave her an odd half smile, then produced a pocket knife to slice through the tape on both boxes. Again she was struck by his powerful build, his commanding height that made her feel small and helpless. The flutter in her stomach intensified, this time fueled by something more than nerves.
I will not allow myself to develop a crush on my boss, no matter how handsome he is.
She took a sideways step away from him. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” The knife blade closed with a snap and he re-pocketed it. A question formed on his brow. “I thought you said Frank shipped the equipment.”
“He did.”
“Then why is your name on the address label?” A strong finger tapped the box.
Lauren looked where he pointed. How weird. Why would Frank ship the equipment to her instead of himself?
“I have no idea.” A sense of unease prickled at her thoughts as she tried to come up with a logical explanation. “Maybe he just packed up the boxes and let the mail-room guys handle the labeling and shipping. And maybe the guys in the mail room knew I would be here with him?” She tried to shrug, but the movement felt jerky, nervous. Too many strange things were happening today. Her brain couldn’t make sense of them all and deal with a growing sense of stage fright at the same time.
Brent peered closely at her face. “Are you okay? You look kind of pale.”
“I’m fine.” She attempted a calm smile, but the effect was probably spoiled by her trembling chin. “Actually,” she admitted, “I’m a little nervous. I haven’t done many public presentations.” Like, zero. But she saw no need to admit that to him.
“Is that all?” He blew a puff of air in a no-big-deal gesture. “Nothing to be nervous about. Just follow your notes about the business stuff, then let me take over.” His fingers waved in the air like a magician. “I’ll dazzle them with a bunch of important-sounding words, and they’ll eat it up. Trust me—I know how to speak techno-talk. And I know this application. There’s nothing they can throw at us that we can’t answer.”
“You, maybe.” Lauren folded her arms across her middle and attempted a joke to relieve her tension. “If someone asks me anything, I just hope I don’t faint from nerves.”
“You won’t. But if you do get nervous, you can always picture the audience in their underwear.”
The image brought a hesitant smile. “I think that would make me even more nervous than before.”
“Yeah, it never worked for me, either.” He shrugged and placed a hand on her upper arm. “Don’t worry. If you slip up, so what? It’s not a disaster. I’ve got your back.”
Warmth spread over her, resonating from his fingers. He was so close, her every breath was tinted with the masculine scent that clung to him. With an effort, she tore her gaze from his and fought against a resurgence of the flutter in her stomach.
No! I’m not doing this. It’s a false feeling, an attraction to his position, not to him. I’m just feeling vulnerable right now.
What was the matter with her that she always fell for her boss? Was it the authority that guys like Brent exuded like strong cologne? Or the masculine protective instinct she sensed in him? I’ve got your back. The words sent a ripple of relief through her.
But that was wrong. She didn’t need to rely on some guy to watch her back. As her new stepmother, Lisa, had told her six months ago, it was time to pull up her big-girl pants and stand on her own two feet.
She straightened her shoulders and managed a quick smile at Brent. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once I get started. I’m just feeling a touch of the jitters.”
“Good. Now, would you give me a hand unpacking these other boxes? It’s going to take me a while to get everything connected and the network up and running.”
“Sure.”
Together they opened the first of two big boxes. Inside was a desktop computer and monitor, secured amid Bubble Wrap. Brent unwrapped the machine and set it in place in the center of the long table.
“There ought to be a bunch of cables in there and a couple of smaller pieces of hardware,” he said as he positioned the monitor next to the system unit.
Lauren felt around the bottom of the box. “Nothing else in here. They’re probably in the other box, or maybe they’re in one of the laptop boxes.”
She flipped open the top of the second carton and peered inside. “Yes, there’s a bunch of other stuff in here.”
A thick plastic bag nestled inside packing peanuts held a half dozen or so neatly wrapped cables. Two smaller pieces of equipment that looked like routers had been wrapped in Bubble Wrap and secured neatly beside another desktop computer, also wrapped in Bubble Wrap.
“Do you want me to set up the other computer?” she asked as she handed Brent the cables. “Or unpack the laptops on the other table?”
Lines appeared between his eyes. “There’s another computer?”
She nodded and put her hand on the box. “It’s right here.”
“We only need one desktop and the two laptops. I wonder why Frank brought that one?”
“A backup, perhaps?”
His forehead cleared. “That’s probably it.”
He began connecting cables, and Lauren scooted the second box to the end of the table. If this was a backup, there was no need to unpack it unless Brent had trouble with the primary one. She’d just store the box in the corner until the workshop was over, then ship it back to Sterling Foods in Atlanta.
She lifted the box off the table, surprised by the unexpected weight. Nothing she couldn’t handle, but this computer was a lot bigger and heavier than the other. She put the box on the floor in the corner and stood looking down into it.
“That’s strange,” she said.
Brent looked up from his work. “What’s strange?”
She gestured toward the box. “This system is a lot older than the others. Heavier and bulkier, too. I wonder why Frank would send something this old to a technology conference? Seems like he’d want to show off the latest equipment we use.”
He le
ft his work and came to stand beside her. “Hmm. Let me take a look.”
Bending at the waist, he picked up the Bubble-Wrapped computer and straightened. “It’s heavy, too.” He hefted the bundle in his hands, testing the weight.
Suspicion created an itchy tingle in the back of Lauren’s mind. Something felt wrong about this. “Do we have time to power it up, just to see what’s on it?”
The expression on Brent’s face mirrored the unease she felt. “It’ll only take a minute.”
His knife came out of his pocket again, and he tackled the packing tape that secured the protective wrapping around the computer. When they peeled away the Bubble Wrap, Lauren saw that this was, indeed, an older-model system. Its square, boxlike shape looked like an antique next to the smaller, sleeker unit.
“Where in the world did he dig this old thing up?” Brent muttered as he wadded the wrap and tossed it into the box.
Lauren searched the bag of cables for the power cord. Nothing looked right. She checked the power outlet on the computer to make sure she was looking for the correctly shaped cable.
“There’s no power cord,” she told Brent. “Maybe it’s in one of those smaller boxes.
She started to cross the room toward the laptops but stopped when she caught sight of the suspicion etched on Brent’s face. His eyebrows lowered as he stared at the old computer.
“What?” she asked.
His head shook a tiny bit. “I don’t know. But something’s not right here. The weight, the balance—it’s all wrong. I’m going to open it up.”
At least it wasn’t just her who had a bad feeling about this computer. Lauren returned to his side and watched as he once again used his pocket knife, this time as a screwdriver to loosen the screws that held the cover in place.
When he removed the last of the screws, he pocketed his knife again. With a glance at her, he said, “Now, let’s see what we’ve got here.”
When he removed the cover, Lauren couldn’t hold back a gasp. Without a doubt they’d just uncovered another clue in Frank’s murder, though how this piece of the puzzle fit into the whole picture, she couldn’t begin to imagine.
Dangerous Impostor Page 4
