by Julie Miller
And she was poking around in file drawers, futilely searching for a word that would lead her to a clue? She should be knocking on Dr. Landon’s door, praying he and his wife were dressed, and making sure he was ready for the big day.
Beth smoothed the blue blouse she wore beneath her charcoal wool pant suit as she sat at her desk to retrieve her planner. The first thing she needed to do was close down her screen and remove the mysterious flash drive. But maybe one more try? Oh, heck. The drive had ended up in her possession, hadn’t it? Why not try…Elisabeth.
She moved her hand over the mouse and clicked.
“Oh, my God.” Her reactions seemed to slow down in direct opposition to the speed with which an endless stream of numbers and formulas and lengthy paragraphs scrolled across her screen. Test subject. Gehirn 330. Without a degree in chemistry, she didn’t understand half of what she was reading. And there wasn’t time to do more than skim the headers. Clinical trial 4210. Outcome. Side effects. “Oh. My. God.”
Her phone rang and Beth jumped in her seat.
Real time returned as her pulse thundered in her ears. She reached for the phone on her desk. Clearing her throat, she picked it up. “Good morning. Dr. Landon’s office, Elisabeth Rogers speaking.”
There was a beat of silence. And another. “I tried to give it to you.”
“What?” There was no tone, no strength. The voice was barely discernible. “I’m sorry, but I can’t hear you.”
She heard a soft rush of wind, like a shallow breath. “They took it from you the first time. I’m sorry.”
Recognition drained the blood down to her toes. “Charles?” She glanced over her shoulder at the closed door behind her. “Where are you? What’s wrong?”
“Last night…in the crowd…”
Beth glued her eyes to her computer screen, suddenly finding her own breath difficult to catch. “Are you talking about the flash drive? I have it. You put it in my bag?”
“If they suspect…” His words faded on a soft groan.
“If who? Dr. Landon, what’s going on? I don’t know what any of this means.” She set down the phone and tried his office door. Locked. Damn. She rattled the knob. Knocked. Why hadn’t she thought of this sooner? She raced back to her desk to pull her purse from the bottom drawer and retrieve her building keys. She picked up the phone and tried to get some answers. “Charles, where are you? Are you all right?” She strained to hear him over the faint echo of music. Music? “Are you in your office?”
“Too late…” He wheezed out a breath. “…make it right.”
“What?” Was that an order to her? Was he trying to make something right? The keys were in her fist now. “I don’t understand.”
Click.
“Dr. Landon?” Silence. “Charles?”
The GlennCo logo floated across her computer monitor as the screensaver kicked in. What the hell did any of this mean? And she’d thought the slower, more predictable life on the farm had been too boring for her.
She was still holding the receiver when her phone rang again. With a startled yelp, she dropped it onto her desk.
Just as quickly, she slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her panic. Stop it. Don’t be stupid. Think.
She forced herself to take a deep breath. To clear her head. To hang up.
Different phone. The ringing was coming from her purse. A personal call. While Beth sorted through keys to unlock Dr. Landon’s office, she pulled her cell phone from her purse.
If this was something creepy…“Hello?”
“Beth? It’s Kevin. Detective Grove,” he added unnecessarily. His deep voice was clear and recognizable, impossible to mistake for anyone else’s. Her breath rushed out on an embarrassing sigh of relief. But the moment’s reprieve from panic didn’t last. “I need to talk to you about GlennCo Pharmaceuticals Alzheimer’s research. Do you have any free time today?”
“No, today isn’t good.” She closed the file on her screen and sent it back to the flash drive. Biting down on the urge to tell him about Dr. Landon’s cryptic call, she found the right key and unlocked the inner office door. She was tired of turning to Kevin with stories that made no sense. Maybe he didn’t have a problem with relationships after all. Maybe it was just the idea of being attracted to a crazy lady that made him wary about things getting personal between them. “There’s too much going on at work.”
“Is something wrong?”
She pulled the elusive data drive from her computer and tucked it into the pocket of her slacks. “I’m just not having a good start to my d—”
The outside office door banged open and Geneva Landon swept into the room. “Where’s Charles?” Her dark red power suit complemented her silvery-white bun and hugged a tall, buxom figure that she used to her advantage as she advanced on Beth. “He hasn’t answered my calls. He was supposed to meet me for breakfast at seven. I won’t tolerate being stood up like this.”
“Beth?”
The phone in her hand was momentarily forgotten as Beth planted herself in Geneva’s path. “A breakfast meeting wasn’t on his calendar.”
“This was personal.” The older woman pushed past her.
“Wait.” Beth was no lightweight herself. And she was quicker. She reached the door first and grabbed the knob. “You can’t go in there.”
The older woman pulled back a step and smiled. “I know all about his secret liaisons with Deborah. She’s not the first wife he ignored at night and made it up to in the morning.”
Beth cringed. Too much information. “Yes, ma’am. Still, I think something’s wrong…ow. Hey!” Geneva Landon wasn’t a woman accustomed to hearing no. With a lucky bump against Beth’s bruised shoulder, she nudged her aside and turned the door knob. Unless Beth resorted to tackling, the woman was gone. She lifted the phone to her ear and apologized. “Kevin, I’m going to have to call you back.”
And that’s when Geneva screamed.
“Beth!” he shouted.
But she was already hanging up. She dashed into the office behind Geneva Landon, stopping in her tracks as she saw the older woman circle around the big mahogany desk.
She was going crazy. Her boss, Charles Landon, sat in his chair, slumped over his blotter, an empty pill bottle clutched in his hand.
“Charles? Charles!” Geneva snapped the order as she pressed her fingers to the side of Dr. Landon’s neck. With a shake of her head, she pried the pill bottle from his hands and read the prescription. The orchestra crescendoed in dramatic contrast to the pall of death filling the room. “Call security.”
“What about 9–1-1? The police?”
Beth rushed around the desk to help Geneva pull Charles to the floor. She unbuttoned his collar and pulled off his tie while the silver-haired woman put her ear against his chest to listen for a heartbeat. Then she was up on her knees, administering CPR.
“Fine. Call an ambulance. But no police.” She stopped to listen for a heartbeat again, and then resumed compressions. Beth thought she detected more anger than concern in the other woman’s finely lined features. “He decides to kick off on the day of GlennCo’s board meeting and the votes that have to be cast regarding the company’s future? I was counting on you, Charles.” Geneva raised her head, her dark gaze boring holes into Beth’s eyes. “We handle this internally. Go. And kill that damn music.”
Chapter Seven
A lamb among the lions.
That was Kevin’s first impression of Beth Rogers, sitting on the leather couch, arms hugged around her middle, tears drying on her cheeks, while she dutifully answered Atticus Kincaid’s questions. The rest of the players in the room either hovered around her or kept their eye on her from across the room. They were so focused on Beth that they hadn’t yet picked up on his bulk lurking outside the entrance to Charles Landon’s office.
But she did.
Those soft gray-blue eyes locked on to his.
It’ll be okay, lady, he wanted to say. But then, he didn’t make promises he wasn’t sure he c
ould keep.
No promises was the message she must have read on his face because she blinked and looked away. She tucked a wisp of mink-colored hair behind her ear and sat up a little straighter, rallying her own strength to answer the next question.
Right. One of them needed to keep things professional and distant between them. Charging across town and calling in favors didn’t exactly speak to his ability to depersonalize his feelings for Beth Rogers.
His think like a cop mantra warred with Miriam’s “Is Beth important to you?” advice.
Yeah. The woman was important, he admitted. More than she should be with what he knew about relationships. But that didn’t mean Beth Rogers couldn’t use a cop on her side right about now. Think like a cop.
While the injustice of the mismatch between executives and one lone assistant simmered in his veins, Kevin took a moment to assess the big shots of GlennCo Pharmaceuticals whom the guard at the front desk had listed for him. The big boss, Raymond Glenn, was easy to spot—rimless glasses, designer suit, air of entitlement. The silver-haired woman in the blood-red suit was Geneva Landon, the deceased’s first wife. She was stoic as she stood with her arm around a weeping blonde. Mid-twenties, big diamond on her left hand—he was guessing the current Mrs. Landon. Now that was an odd alliance. There were others in the room, as well, far too many to keep from contaminating the crime scene if, indeed, that was what this tragedy proved to be.
Oh, yeah. And not one of them was happy about having the police here. But he wasn’t about to let Beth’s harried responses to his call this morning—or a woman’s scream—go unexplained. And once the 9–1–1 call for a bus came over the wire…A quick call to Atticus at KCPD headquarters, only a few blocks from the Kansas City high-rise housing GlennCo’s American offices, put someone he trusted on the scene thirty minutes before Kevin could speed through morning traffic and get here himself.
The EMTs who’d responded to the call had already covered the body on the floor behind the desk and were packing their gear. Another guard, whose uniform matched the man’s at the lobby desk, stood over them, following their movements as much as he was protecting the dead body.
In a rarity Kevin was unaccustomed to, but refused to be intimidated by, a dark-haired man who matched him in height and brawn excused himself from his position beside Atticus and moved to block Kevin’s entrance. “I’m Tyler James, GlennCo’s chief of security. This area is restricted.”
In what sense of the word?
Taking note of the holster bulge beneath the security chief’s blazer, Kevin opened his coat and flashed the badge hanging from around his neck. “Kevin Grove. KCPD. Back off, James.”
With a grunt of displeasure, James stepped aside to let Kevin enter the plush office, but he had no intention of leaving his side. “This isn’t a police matter. From everything I’ve seen, it looks like Dr. Landon killed himself with an overdose of his heart medication and, uh, you know, those male enhancement pills. A doctor would know better than to take that combination by accident.”
Kevin spotted only one empty pill bottle on the desk. A lethal combination would require two. “We’ll let the M.E. decide that.”
“Look, I’m happy to cooperate in any way I can.” James touched Kevin’s coat sleeve, demanding his full attention as he leaned in to whisper. “But we don’t want to panic our investors. For the company’s interests, we’re trying to keep news of a board member’s suicide contained.”
“Then don’t talk to anybody but me or my partner.”
He walked away from the curse stuttering over Tyler James’s lips and met Atticus beside the victim’s body. He knelt down to uncover Charles Landon’s pale, pinched expression, noting that he seemed to have died in pain—or under protest—before pulling the plastic blanket back over Landon’s face and standing. “Anything here look funny to you?”
“Besides the standing-room-only crowd?” Atticus handed him a sheet of GlennCo stationery in a clear plastic bag. “Here’s the alleged suicide note. Neatly typed on a computer. Apparently, the brand of printer on his desk is standard issue throughout the building.”
I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I let the company down.
Love to my wife.
Charles.
Kevin read the note and handed it back to Atticus. “No signature to verify he wrote it.”
“The EMTs said Landon was already on the floor when they arrived. They tried to resuscitate him, but he was dead when they got here. Your friend Beth said she and the older Mrs. Landon found him slumped over his desk.”
That would explain the scream that had sent Kevin running across the Oak Park nursing home lot to his SUV. “I take it they tried to revive him, too?”
Atticus nodded. “Lots of hands on this body. Holly, my sister-in-law, is on her way to claim the vic and give us a T.O.D. as well as a preliminary cause of death. But I don’t know how much usable evidence we’ll find around here.”
“Keep me posted.” Kevin paused before he turned away. “And thanks, A. I know we’ve already got two homicides on our plate—”
“I said all you had to do was call.” With a nod of his dark head, Atticus went back to jotting observations in his notebook.
Inevitably, Kevin’s attention shifted back to Beth. She was on her feet now, but cornered. Raymond Glenn might have lowered his voice to a whisper, but there was no doubt that the CEO was grilling her. “You were right on the other side of that door. And you didn’t hear anything?”
“From the first day I started here, Charles told me never to interrupt him while the music was playing. I thought Deborah was with him.” She squeezed her eyes shut, stemming the pool of tears gathering there. She opened them again, a flash of fire sparking in their depths. “I didn’t know he was in here dying. Believe me, I would have called for help.”
“Sounds to me like Charles did. But you didn’t answer.”
Raymond Glenn’s veiled accusation was enough to rile Kevin. Screw this keep-his-distance crap. He reached around the gray-haired man and grabbed Beth’s hand, pulling her to his side. “If you don’t mind, my partner and I will ask the questions.” Tightening his grip around the chilled flex of her fingers, Kevin raised his voice and made an announcement to the entire room. “I need you all to wait outside until we’re ready to take your statements. Mr. James? You want to help? Find an empty office to escort these people to, and keep them contained until we’re ready for them.”
“No! I want to stay with my husband.” Deborah Landon broke free of Geneva’s hold and dashed across the room.
But Atticus was there to stop her from touching anything. “Ma’am, I’m sorry. You’ll have to go with the others for now.”
Tyler James broke away from the reluctant exodus and tucked the distraught widow beneath his arm. “Deborah. Come with me. I promise we’ll take good care of him.”
Atticus pointed to the door. “You have to leave, too, James. This is our crime scene now.”
With a defiant tilt of his chin, the security chief pulled Deborah Landon toward the door. “There’s no crime here. Just a tragic loss for the company. And Mrs. Landon here, of course.”
Atticus didn’t so much as bat an eye. “We’ll see.”
Deborah Landon paused to blow her late husband a kiss. “Bye, Charlie. I love you.”
Once the room had emptied of GlennCo personnel, Kevin turned to his partner. “You okay here?”
Atticus slipped his knowing, gray-eyed gaze to Beth before nodding and going back to work. “I’ve got this covered.”
While Atticus stayed with the body and EMTs to catalogue items in the room, Kevin took Beth out to her office and closed the door behind them. He could feel the tremors in her hand, but it might be from anger as much as fear. He wasn’t ready to let go when she pulled away and headed for the opposite door. “I suppose you want me to wait across the hall with the others.”
When she started to open the door, Kevin’s palm was there to shut it. He stayed where he was, his chest ne
arly touching her back, his arm stretched above her shoulder, his nose breathing in the enticing scents of vanilla and spice that clung to her hair. Hell. Maybe he was the one shaking.
“You okay?” he asked.
She curled her fingers into fists and rested her forehead against the door, working through a silent sob. “I just lost a mentor. And a friend.” Her fingers splayed open again, her hand looking delicate and pale beside his. “They think I called the police. I can feel it every time they look at me. Like I’m some kind of traitor.”
Kevin resisted the urge to slide his hand over hers, but couldn’t find the will to retreat. “Am I making this worse? Do you want Atticus and me to leave?”
Her shoulders trembled as she turned and flattened her back against the door. She fingered the opening of his coat, touched the badge hanging there. And then she tilted those sweet blue eyes up to his and tried to smile. “No.”
Good. Dangerous, perhaps. But good.
“If this is ruled a suicide, it won’t fall under KCPD jurisdiction and I can’t help you.”
“It wasn’t suicide.”
“Accidental death, then. A man dies of a heart attack, you call the coroner, not the cops.”
Her hands found their way inside his coat to straighten the knot of his tie. “I think he was murdered.”
Kevin captured both her hands with one of his and stilled their constant motion by holding them tight against his chest. “Did you tell any of them that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have proof. Just a feeling. But I know he didn’t kill himself. He took meticulous care of his health. Loved his grandchildren. He’d scheduled a Christmas vacation with Deborah. A man who plans ahead like that doesn’t commit suicide. And that note to his wife? He would have signed it ‘Charlie,’ not ‘Charles.’ You heard her. That’s what she always called him.”
“That’s not a lot to base an assumption of murder on.”
When her gaze dropped to their hands, he eased his grip. But she didn’t pull away. “He was on the phone with me when he died. I didn’t piece it together in time, but I must have heard his very last words.”
