by Julie Miller
“They’re from a farm outside a small town in central Missouri. No K.C. connection I know of.”
“Risky behaviors?”
“I asked. Nothing. As far as I can tell, she works and…” What else? He’d seen paint cans in the spare bedroom, a basket of knitting on the sofa and plenty of papers, books and computer disks in her home office. “…works some more.”
With a sage nod, Atticus sat back in his chair. “Why don’t you start there? Could be something going on at her job. What does she do?”
Kevin read from the notes he’d jotted in the early hours when he hadn’t been sleeping this morning. “Executive assistant at GlennCo Pharmaceuticals. Works for the chief of the research and product development division.”
“I saw in the business pages that Raymond Glenn and most of his board of directors made the Forbes 500 list. Even in this economy, their business is thriving. What kind of money does she make?”
Shaking his head, Kevin closed the notebook. “It wasn’t a robbery. She’s as middle class as we are. Just bought her first house. Doesn’t have enough furniture to fill all the rooms yet. It was probably a random crazy like you said.”
“Uh-huh.” Atticus wasn’t buying the whatever tone in Kevin’s voice. “We don’t call you the bulldog around here because of your good looks. You’ll be checking out GlennCo the minute we break for lunch.”
Kevin accepted the compliment as he was meant to, then got up to retrieve his coat from the back of his chair. “Yeah, but that’s just because you leave me alone every day for your standing lunch date with Brooke. I have to do something to keep myself out of trouble.”
“Seriously, if there’s anything I can do, let me know. Like I said, the Kincaids owe you. On the clock or off, just ask.” Atticus stood and put on his coat, as well. “In the meantime, we’ve got the murder of a homeless man up by the river we need to get on before the weather hits. Ready to go to work?”
Time to set aside his fixation with the wounded beauty who’d pounded her way into his isolated life. Kevin pulled his badge from beneath his tie and let it hang squarely down the front of his open coat. “It’s what I do best.”
“YES, MR. GLENN. I’ll give him the message as soon as he’s available.” Elisabeth jotted down the reminder from Raymond Glenn, the company’s CEO. “I’ll make sure Dr. Landon copies you on tomorrow’s presentation before the board meeting.”
“Good.” He thanked her before ending the phone call. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow, then. Have a good day.”
“Thank you, sir…” But he’d already disconnected the call.
Elisabeth hung up the phone at her desk and glanced over her shoulder at the adjoining office door behind her. No rest for the weary, beat-up, missed-a-morning-at-work assistant like her. It was time.
She waited until the strains of classical music behind the door ended before she lightly knocked on her boss’s door. “It’s one o’clock, Dr. Landon.”
A giggle and a scuffle from the other side made her smile and politely bide her time before entering. Charles Landon was a fit, handsome, seventy-year-old man who’d continued to work after retirement age because he still had ideas about healing people, and skills to teach her and the other young pups at GlennCo Pharmaceuticals about turning a dream into a thriving business empire.
His early-morning trysts and lunchtime rendezvous with his fourth wife might not be the most professional of behavior, but he always scheduled their “meetings” before work hours or over meal breaks. And more often than not, he and his wife would come and go via the private elevator in his office, avoiding embarrassing Beth or anyone else with their clandestine get-togethers. If a busy man as hard-working and well respected as Charles Landon wanted to steal an hour here and there to get busy with his wife, then he deserved a little privacy and discretion from the woman who ran his office.
And Beth had quickly learned that that loyalty went both ways. When the board had argued about her boss hiring someone from outside the company—a woman as young as she was—he’d gone to bat for her, claiming fresh ideas and youthful energy were what had propelled him and his partners to success, and that it was a smart go-getter like Beth who would maintain the company’s success.
She knocked again. “Dr. Landon?”
She heard the scrape of a lock disengaging and the door connecting the suite of offices swung open.
“My, God, Elisabeth—look at you.” Charles Landon had his hand on Beth’s back and was guiding her to the leather settee in his office before she even had a chance to hand him his messages. “Please, my dear. Sit.”
Beth cleared her throat, slyly pointing to the smudge of red lipstick on Charles’s mouth.
“Oh.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his lips. “Sorry.”
Deborah Landon was pinning her long, curly blond hair into place as she sat beside Beth. “What happened? Did you have an accident? The roads are so treacherous this time of year.”
“No.”
Charles slipped his hands over his wife’s shoulders and pulled her back to her feet. His face was flushed as he guided her to the rolling chair behind his desk and the fur coat draped over it. “I’m sorry to chase you away so soon, dear. But I’d better take a look at Elisabeth’s injuries and make sure she’s all right.”
“Charles, I’m fine,” Beth insisted. “Ready to go to work if you are.”
Deborah giggled at the protest. “Charlie’s feeling a little guilty right now, hon. Let him fuss over you.” She tapped her husband’s lips with a bright red nail before giving him a kiss and a smile. “It’s what he does best.” She wriggled her fingers to make sure Beth noticed the large, yellow diamond ring she sported on her right hand. “Early Christmas present. Sometimes I think buying me goodies is the only way he can tell me how much he loves me.”
“Deborah,” he cautioned, smiling back. “I told you I was sorry I’ve had to work so many hours lately. It’s the end of the year—you know how that goes.”
“He hasn’t even taken time off to do any Christmas shopping.” Deborah straightened Charles’s tie and smoothed his collar and jacket. “I don’t know your grandchildren the way you do. How can I be sure they’ll like what I picked out for them?”
“I know they’ll love them. You’d better go, dear. I promise to take a look at those gifts tonight. Thanks for helping out.” Beth turned her face to the windows as husband and wife shared another kiss. “And thanks for stopping by.”
“You know I always enjoy when we can spend a little time together, sweetie. Elisabeth? Make sure he takes his pills.”
Summoned to join the conversation once more, Beth nodded. Heart medication was a serious thing. “I will.”
Charles walked Deborah to the back of his office and opened a closet door. Inside, he pressed a button to open the waiting elevator door. “Now who’s fussing over whom?”
“I didn’t say you were the only one who was good at it.” Deborah looked over his shoulder to say goodbye to Beth. “Make sure he doesn’t forget to do a little more Christmas shopping for me, too.”
“I’ll remind him,” Beth grinned. “Gucci purse, right?”
“She’s a keeper, Charlie. I’ll see you at home.”
Charles and Deborah traded waves and kisses as the elevator door closed. Then, with a resolute sigh, Charles shut the closet door and turned back to Beth at the settee. “Now, young lady. Tell me about last night. Were you mugged? I kept you here too late, didn’t I?”
Beth waved aside his concern and offered up an appreciative smile. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“It looks as if it hurts like hell.” His eyes narrowed with fatherly concern. “Tonight I’m having security walk you to your car. I’ll have them follow you all the way home.”
“No, you won’t.”
“You should have taken the whole day off.” She could tell by the fussy movements of his hands on his clothes and thinning hair that he wanted to do something for her—make something
right.
But he wasn’t her father, and she wasn’t about to become a basket case because some nut job had gotten into her house. Despite how inviting a long nap and some TLC sounded right about now, she knew it was important to keep moving. Sitting still allowed time for shadowy figures and unexplained noises to creep into her mind and resurrect the isolated helplessness that had plagued what few dreams she’d had last night.
“According to my list, we have a lot to do to get ready for tomorrow’s board meeting. Mr. Glenn wants a copy of your presentation before the meeting.”
“Of course, he does. What else?”
Beth set the folder she carried on the middle of his mahogany desk, and picked up the bottle of pills and glass of water waiting there. While he took his medicine, Beth nodded toward the file. “If you don’t sign off on that rough draft of Dr. Allen’s clinical trial report by the end of the day, it won’t be ready to present to Mrs. Landon for inclusion in the January stockholder’s report.”
“I wish you’d stop referring to Geneva as ‘Mrs. Landon.’” He stuffed the pill bottle into his pocket before crossing to the refreshment bar next to the settee. “I’m married to Deborah now.”
“It’s awkward to refer to the vice president of Public Relations as ‘The First Mrs. Landon.’ And because she hasn’t invited me to call her by her first name yet…”
“Geneva’s an iron butterfly. Too proud of all she had to overcome to be such a success. Too afraid of losing it all to drop her guard for an instant.” Charles poured himself a cup of coffee and stirred in two spoonfuls of sugar. Beth declined his offer to pour one for her. “You’re smart. You’re climbing the corporate ladder, and yet you’ve remained very much a lady. I’m afraid my first wife has forgotten how to be one.”
“Lady, I’m staying.”
Lady. Kevin Grove’s voice made a distracting, unexpectedly welcome entrance into Beth’s thoughts, warming her inside the suit she wore. At one point last night, his use of the term—as if he’d been rudely trying to drive her away by not even acknowledging her name—had finally eroded her patience with him. But by the time he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to leave her in her time of need, the word had taken on a different meaning.
With the intensity of those whiskey-colored eyes to back up the rich timbre of his voice, Lady became a nickname of sorts—a private joke between them. A connection.
It was hard to imagine the brawny, quick-witted detective whispering anything remotely soft or romantic to a woman. But she could well believe that the words he did utter would be unambiguous and full of emotion. If he called her a lady, it was because he saw her that way. Not because he called every female on the planet honey or sweetie or dear.
“Elisabeth, dear…” The scent of dry-cleaned wool told her that Charles had come up behind her.
She blinked away the odd feelings that had lingered since her encounter with Kevin Grove last night. “Yes, sir?”
“I don’t want you to overtax yourself this afternoon. You make me feel guilty for working you so hard.” With a firm hand on her shoulder, he guided her into the burgundy leather chair where she normally sat during their meetings. She winced at the pressure on the bruises beneath her navy jacket. “Sorry.”
“I’m fine.”
Instead of moving on, he set down his cup and pulled over the matching chair to sit close. He squinted as he leaned in to inspect her face. His silvering eyebrows arched with concern. “Is it a sharp, shooting pain or a continuous ache?”
When his long fingers hovered toward her face, Beth raised her hand and blocked him from touching her. Sympathy from the boss wasn’t how she wanted to move up the corporate ladder. “If…we could just get our work done. I’d really love to be home early and get a full night’s sleep tonight.”
“Elisabeth, I am a doctor by training. Just because I retired from my practice and went into business—”
“I went to the hospital last night, Dr. Landon. I saw a perfectly kind, extremely thorough emergency-room doctor. She gave me a list of warning signs to watch for, but said that as long as none of them cropped up and I felt fine, that I could work today.”
“We’re back to ‘Dr. Landon,’ are we?” The lines on his forehead seemed to be unusually pronounced as he swept his gaze over her face. The taut compression of his mouth seemed to reflect genuine concern. “I suppose that means I’ve overstepped my bounds again. You know my children are all grown and out of the house. I have to worry about somebody.”
“I’m okay,” she reiterated. “But I’d consider it a personal favor if you could get me out of here by six tonight.”
“Of course, dear.” He shook off the troubled thoughts that lined his face and stood, carrying his coffee cup around the desk and taking his spot in his overstuffed leather chair. “Of course.” He picked up the rough draft of the report and waved it like a rally flag. “I want to take the very best care of you I can. You keep my secrets. You don’t judge me. You’ve improved the efficiency of this office immeasurably since you started here in August. I’d hate it if I lost you. The company would hate it.”
She wasn’t so sure if the company would agree with that. But with the width of the desk and the sincerity of his compassion between them, Beth found it easy to match his smile. “It’s a bump on the head, Charles. I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Good. Because I am.” Pulling his glasses from his inside jacket pocket signaled that he was getting down to work and that she needed to, as well. “Deborah reminded me that I’m an old fart who spends entirely too much time at the office. Some time off would reduce the number of these gray hairs and lower my blood pressure. I’m thinking of surprising her with a weeklong getaway between Christmas and New Year’s. Will you check into the availability of a suite at this resort?” He pulled a colorful brochure from the same pocket and handed it across the desk. “We spent our honeymoon in the Caymans. That sounds like a nice Christmas present, yes?”
“It sounds like an expensive one.” Beth made the notation on her daily planner. “The airfare alone on this short notice will set you back a pretty penny. I assume you’ll want first class?”
“Absolutely. I’ve gotten my priorities mixed up lately. I want to spend quality time with the people who are most important in my life.” His gaze drifted to the corner of his office where the elevator had gone silent, and his voice took on an almost-wistful tone. “No matter what it costs me.”
Crazily enough, the sudden mood swing into Shakespearean tragedy sounded sincere. Had she just gotten an explanation for his recent erratic behavior? “Sir? Maybe this is none of my business, but…is everything all right—with you and Deborah?”
He blinked. Focused. “I am married to a beautiful woman who deserves better than a few office visits and phone calls telling her to go on to bed without me because GlennCo needs me to stay late at the office one more time. This is my fourth go at marriage. I think I’d better start getting it right, don’t you?”
Marrying a woman closer to his age than her own might help in that regard, too, but Beth kept that opinion to herself. “I think working to make your relationship a success is always an admirable thing, sir.” Beth stood and pushed the chair he’d moved back into its place. “I’ll find you a lovely spot in the Cayman Islands, I promise.”
“Good girl.” Running his fingers beneath his collar, he stretched his neck, as though just realizing the hand-tailored cotton had too much starch in it. He repeated the action a second time before opening the report and glancing at the first page. He closed it again just as quickly and looked up. “Elisabeth…have you run across my flash drive containing the research data for the clinical trials of Gehirn 330?”
“The Alzheimer’s drug treatment GlennCo is developing?” She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything beyond the preliminary outline for that project. I thought it was still in the experimental phase—that we were tabling its release for another couple of years.”
“No
. We’ve moved up the timetable to next summer. I know you sometimes take work home.”
“I don’t have the security clearance to remove anything that sensitive from the building.” Was this the reason for his weird behavior? The urgency of finding the missing data could explain a lot. “I saw you put your hard copy and the memory stick in your safe yesterday morning after your meeting with Dr. Shaw from the lab.”
“I looked.”
“Did you check your briefcase?”
Charles Landon’s face blanched to an alarming shade of pale before his cheeks flushed with color. “You don’t have it?”
She shook her head, wondering if he’d been worrying over the wrong patient. “Why would I?”
He grew more agitated by the second. “It wasn’t in the stack of files you were putting away last night?”
“No.”
“Could it have fallen into your purse or attaché?”
“Not that I know of.” Oh, my God. If it had, after last night the tiny flash drive could have landed anywhere in her car or garage. It could even have been scratched or erased. An inexplicable foreboding quickened her pulse. “I’m certain I haven’t seen the Gehirn 330 data since your meeting yesterday.”
“You’re sure?”
Why was he putting her on the defensive like this? “I’ll call Dr. Shaw and order another copy from the lab.”
Charles peered over the top of his glasses as if she’d spouted gibberish. “No.”
“Should I notify security?”
“No!”
Beth’s eyes widened at the sharp reprimand.
Charles was on his feet in an instant, holding his hand up in apology. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m sorry.” He tossed his glasses on top of the desk and smoothed his fingers over his hair, breathing deeply to compose himself. “I guess my wife is right. I fuss over things too much.”
