Liar, Liar, Heart's Desire

by Suzie Quint

  As it was, she could practically feel Sebastian’s presence as she tested the door to Bales’ office. It swung open easily and in perfect silence. The lights came on automatically here too. Cleo crossed to Sebastian’s office. She wasn’t surprised when the room stayed dark here. Sebastian wouldn’t have liked not being in control of that minor detail in his sanctum.

  As forecast, the day was overcast, so the light from the windows had a gray quality. She turned on the desk lamp, creating a warm circle of light, then returned to Bales’ office and killed the overheads. The room went from brightly lit to gloomy, but it was the silence that got to Cleo and brought back the chill she’d felt earlier.

  “Hey, Sebastian,” she said softly, her hand still on the light switch. “I’m trying to protect the innocent here.”

  And now she was talking to someone who wasn’t there as though she owed him an explanation. If it wouldn’t have scared her to death, she’d have welcomed him telling her where to find the marker. And while he was at it, who was guilty of his murder, so she’d know where to focus once she had the marker.

  Assuming the marker was there to be found.

  “Maybe you could give me a clue where to look,” she murmured.

  She looked around Bales’ office. Remembering what Loretta said about Sebastian hiding things from his wife in her office, Cleo wondered if she should look through the filing cabinets or the desk drawers. Except why would Sebastian need to hide a marker from Liz? Especially since their divorce was nearly final.

  No, the first place to look would be Sebastian’s office. If she didn’t find it there, then she’d ransack Bales’ filing cabinets.

  When the door to Sebastian’s office opened easily, she had to acknowledge Alec was a good partner to have.

  There were no unsightly filing cabinets in Sebastian’s office, but there was a credenza. She made a quick but thorough search of that and came up empty. Not surprising. She hadn’t expected to find the marker in any of the obvious places. Sebastian’s massive executive desk was clear of clutter except for a few business books off to one side. She picked up each book in turn, holding them upside-down by the covers, and shook them, on the off chance that something might have been stuck inside.

  Nada.

  Even though the police had undoubtedly taken everything worthwhile, this was going to be her only shot at this. She needed to be methodical. She sat behind Sebastian’s desk and started opening drawers.

  ~***~

  Wearing a black dress that was indecently short for a memorial, Liz stood talking to Callum’s classy brunette. A tiny, fashionable hat with a short black veil—sequined, no less—sat atop her head.

  Alec ground his teeth. Liz’s dress was fitted but sported a ruffle at the waist, camouflaging any telltale bump that might exist. His disappointment was mitigated, however, when he recognized the man signing the guestbook.

  He nudged Callum. “That guy there. Make sure you get some footage of him.”

  Callum adjusted his aim. “Who is he?”

  “The widow’s first husband.”

  “Ah, the plot thickens,” Callum murmured as he shifted his camera to follow Dave Marsh to a seat.

  More people were starting to arrive. Another gaggle of showgirls. A bunch of suits who were probably managers.

  And Candy.

  When she’d signed the guestbook, she looked around as if searching for someone then found a seat a couple of rows behind Bales next to a petite blonde who looked vaguely familiar. She saw Alec and waved.

  He held his hand chest-high and waved back.

  This was the least grief-stricken group of mourners he’d ever seen.

  The funeral director and Liz had stepped to the far side of the doors. Liz’s back was to him and the other woman had a puzzled look on her face. Liz shook her head in a definite no. Alec couldn’t read lips but he was reasonably certain the funeral director asked, “Are you sure?”

  A group of men passed between them, blocking Alec’s view for a few seconds, then Liz headed toward the front row to take her seat.

  The funeral director’s brow puckered as she looked over the crowd. In a momentary lull, she consulted the guest book. She was still running a finger down the list of signatures when Bales walked in the door. They had a short exchange and then Bales shook her head, less emphatically than Liz had, but also answering with an obvious no. Then she, too, looked at the names in the book, apparently pointing out a name here and there. Alec watched with growing curiosity as they stepped aside and Bales discreetly pointed out a few people in the crowd.

  It was impossible to pinpoint who merited this special attention, but after Bales took a seat within a few rows of the front, the third person the funeral director spoke to was Candy.

  “What’s going on?” Callum asked.

  “I don’t know,” Alec said. “But I’m about to find out.”

  The funeral director wasn’t half a dozen steps away when Alec slid into the vacant seat beside Candy. “What’s up?”

  “Oh, Alec. It’s great to see you here. Who’s that cutie behind the camera?”

  “That’s Callum. He’s British. Very sexy accent. I can introduce you later if you like.”

  “He’s a Brit? Oh yum. Nice guy?”

  “Very. What did the funeral director want?”

  “Oh, she’s got a problem because no one wants to get up front and speak.”

  “No one?”

  “Well, neither of his kids. I suppose that’s understandable. They didn’t really know him. But Liz said she’d give some kind of eulogy, and now she’s backed out.”

  “Ah. That explains it.”

  “I’ll bet she’s pissed off that Samantha’s getting everything.”

  It was like she’d read his mind. Then he realized she knew about the will. “Were you at the reading?”

  She nodded. “Sebastian’s lawyer invited me. I didn’t expect to be in the will, but Sebastian left me some money. Well, me and his other exes. It was a chatty will. He said we deserved something for putting up with him. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He was about to ask if she’d agreed to speak when an impeccably tailored man walked down the empty row in front of them and said to the blonde next to Candy, “Teresa, would you go upstairs and get the file on the casinos history?”

  She stood. “Of course, Mr. Wasser.”

  “I’ll hold your seat,” Candy said.

  “Be sure it includes the landmark dates,” Wasser said.

  “Yes, sir.” Teresa sidled out of the row.

  Wasser nodded toward Candy and left.

  “Who was that?” Alec asked, hoping his guess about Teresa’s destination was the result of paranoia.

  “He’s the VP of marketing. He must have agreed to speak.”

  A chill ran down Alec’s spine. “And Teresa?” She could be in PR. Please let her be in PR.

  “She’s the secretary for the Admin group. ‘The first line of defense for the executives’ is what she calls it.”

  That’s where he recognized her from. He had to warn Cleo.

  He excused himself and rejoined Callum, his phone already in his hand. Thankfully, Cleo’s number was on speed dial because every second counted. He listened to it ring. Pick up, pick up, pick up.

  But it went to voicemail.

  He cursed softly. “Cleo, there’s a secretary on her way up to the suite. You need to get out of there.” He hung up and dialed again. Voicemail. He hung up and redialed. Voicemail. Where the hell was she?

  Chapter 19

  Cleo was sitting on the edge of Sebastian’s chair, bent over the bottom left-hand drawer, riffling its contents, when the lights in the outer room came on.

  Her heart leaped in her chest, and before she even had time to think about it, she was squatting behind the desk. She snaked her hand up and turned the lamp off.

  Maybe she shouldn’t have done it. Bales’ office was dark but whoever was out there might not have notic
ed the light in Sebastian’s office—but if they’d seen the light go out, she’d given herself away for sure.

  The desk was off center from the door so, even if she’d had the nerve to try, she couldn’t peek into the main room. The door to Sebastian’s executive private washroom was in a direct line from where she crouched behind the desk. She counted to three and, staying crouched, sprinted for the door.

  The door was closing behind her when Cleo realized her mistake. What she’d assumed would be a private washroom was, instead, a stairwell.

  The old bastard had a way to sneak in and out of his office.

  Once the initial shock wore off, she was surprised it hadn’t occurred to her that he would. He’d liked his privacy.

  The stairwell was of the no-frills variety with cement steps and the half lighting usually powered by an emergency generator. Eight steps led up to a landing, and presumably, eight more to the floor above.

  She caught her breath. Could this give her access to Sebastian’s suite?

  She wanted to run up the stairs, but with her luck, she’d fall and break her leg and probably her phone as well, so she forced herself to take them one at a time.

  Before she reached the top of the second landing, she could see a door. Maybe her luck wasn’t so bad after all. But when she reached it, the door had a key pad. Well, of course it does. Sebastian guarded his privacy.

  Knowing she had little chance of success, she was willing to try the obvious. She knew Sebastian’s birthday because he’d mentioned it once. She’d still been young enough to be impressed that it was exactly six months between his birthday and Christmas. With her finger, she tapped 0-6-2-5. On the last number she held her breath, hoping to hear the bolt release. Nothing. The code might be more than four digits, but she couldn’t remember the year he was born.

  It was too obvious anyway. So she punched the numbers in backward. Still nothing.

  She was afraid to try again. These things often had a lockdown if you tried the wrong code too many times. Or it might send a message to the security office. What would they do if they caught her here, trying to break into Sebastian’s suite? If they called the police, she’d face a grilling and possibly criminal charges. Great. She could have the cell next to her mother.

  Not that she was ready to give up. She’d found a back way to the suite. It would be too cruel for fate to bring her so close and not let her in. Then again, fate was a nasty bitch. Dropping this unexpected gift in Cleo’s lap and then not letting her touch it was exactly the sort of thing she’d delight in.

  Which only made Cleo more stubborn. There was a decent chance Bales wouldn’t come back into the office after the memorial. Even if she did, would she check the back stairwell? Probably not. So if she needed it, Cleo might have all night to figure out a way to hack the lock codes.

  Maybe Alec had researched a story on how to beat this kind of security. Lord knows, he’d done stories on everything else.

  When she went down the stairs to the door that led to Sebastian’s office, her heart plummeted. She hadn’t looked at it when she’d come through, but it, too, had a touchpad.

  “No, no, no, no.” She grabbed the handle and pulled, but it didn’t budge. “Damn you, Sebastian.”

  ~***~

  Ten minutes that felt like ten thousand passed before Teresa returned, carrying a thin manila file. Alec took what felt like his first breath since he’d realized where she’d gone.

  She walked to where the advertising VP sat and handed him the file. Then she turned and, from the perplexed look on her face, he knew they weren’t out of the woods yet.

  She hesitated as she glanced over the crowd then headed straight for Bales.

  Teresa hadn’t caught Cleo or she wouldn’t have been back so quickly, but if Cleo had gotten out, she would have taken the lockdown magnets with her. Even so, he was willing to bet it was one of those magnets Teresa held out to Bales.

  He asked Callum about his plans while he was in town, hoping the conversation would make him look unconcerned and thus not guilty. Callum rattled off something Alec didn’t bother listening to.

  In his peripheral vision, he saw Teresa return to her seat next to Candy. Bales headed straight for him.

  “Alec, are you listening to me?” Callum asked.

  What had Callum been saying? Alec couldn’t afford to look like he was distracted with Bales moving into hearing distance. “Sure. I think it sounds good,” he said a little louder than necessary.

  Callum threw him a perplexed look. Then Bales was in front of him.

  She held a lockdown magnet in her fingers. “Do you know what this is?”

  He took it, examining it as if he’d never seen one before. “It looks like a refrigerator magnet.”

  “Teresa found it over the strike plate of the executive suite.”

  “That’s an odd place to put a magnet.”

  Her lips tightened and he thought, I pushed playing dumb too far.

  “It kept the lock from engaging,” she said, her voice stern.

  “Sounds like someone wants to go through your offices.” He met her eyes dead on, refusing to let his gaze flick away. Liars looked away. It was one of the tells. “Did Teresa see anyone there?”

  She reclaimed the magnet from his fingers. “No.”

  He made a conscious effort to keep his breath steady, but he couldn’t control the jump of his pulse. “They could be waiting until the service starts.”

  She turned and looked across the room. “Where’s that other reporter who was in my office?”

  A laugh born from relief burbled up in his chest, but he locked it inside. In his anxiety about being caught, he hadn’t thought about blaming Martin, but he was the perfect scapegoat. “He’s sitting in the back row.”

  Bales’ eyes locked on him as she pulled out her phone. She stepped away, but he was pretty sure she was calling security. The call was brief but her eyes stayed on Martin as if she could force him to stay put with the weight of her stare.

  Within two minutes, a pair of casino security guards in full uniform stepped inside the door. Bales was back in her seat, but she must have provided a description because their attention focused on Martin before they took up positions at the back of the room.

  Alec had no doubt they’d shadow Martin if he tried to leave.

  One of them flicked a glance his way, and Alec realized Martin might not be the only one Bales had described.

  Fortunately, he had no other place he needed to be.

  ~***~

  Sitting on one of the cold concrete steps at the top of the stairway, Cleo tried to talk herself out of punching random numbers into the keypad. She’d get out one way or another. It wasn’t like she was going to starve there. The worst that could happen was she’d be found and they’d press charges. Trespassing, or maybe breaking and entering. It wasn’t like either of those were capital crimes. The breath she drew was still a little shaky, but the panic had receded.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and discovered it was off. How had that happened? She was sure—No, she wasn’t sure. Willa had caught her as she’d been changing the phone from ring to vibrate. She’d obviously stabbed the wrong icon. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  She turned it on and saw half a dozen missed calls and one urgent text message from Alec warning her someone was on their way to the suite.

  He must be freaking out.

  She texted him back: No worries just to ease his mind. Time enough later to send an SOS if she really needed to. The memorial was what he needed to concentrate on at the moment. That was his job—what he got paid for—which was something she tended to forgot too often.

  Besides, she hated the idea of him coming to her rescue. She wasn’t some helpless female. At least, not usually.

  If she really needed rescuing, Willa was at the memorial. She could be there in minutes. For that matter, so could Martin, but again, the idea of him rescuing her . . . She didn’t want to owe him for that.

  If she c
ould only figure out Sebastian’s code. Other people knew it, she was sure. Liz. Probably Bales. If either of them were sympathetic to her, she wouldn’t be in this cold stairwell. Too bad Sebastian hadn’t still been married to Candy or Loretta.

  Loretta. Hm. Hadn’t Loretta said something about the security codes? Cleo wracked her brain, but all she remembered clearly was that, like most people, Sebastian didn’t change his codes often. What else had they talked about that day? If she could remember, maybe she could pull the conversation out of the morass of her mind. They’d talked about the last time Loretta had seen Sebastian and how he’d asked her to come back to work for him. What else? They’d talked about him seeing Candy on his anniversary. And then they’d talked about . . . Cleo backed up. There’d been something about Sebastian remembering his anniversary. Some way Loretta had figured out to have the date in front of him every day.

  Cleo swiveled to stare up the steps, her heart beating double time. It couldn’t be that obvious, could it?

  She jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs only to skid to a halt at the top when she realized she didn’t know Sebastian and Liz’s anniversary. It had to be recent, though. A couple of weeks ago, Candy had said. That had been Wednesday. Cleo counted back fourteen days, calculating twice to be sure because that put it into the previous month. Plus or minus three days because it was probably more like “about” two weeks gave her a range of six days.

  Be methodical.

  With shaking hands, she punched in the first four digits then tugged on the door in case the mechanism was silent. She allowed herself three tries then stopped, afraid of triggering an alarm. A five-minute break would be prudent, but she only made it three before her patience ran out. Willa was just minutes away, Cleo reminded herself as she punched in the fourth series of numbers. She should call her if this didn’t work. It didn’t. Another set of numbers. Still nothing. One more and she’d take a break and call Willa.