I tried again.
“How about if you work in sewing and Bella works here,” I said.
Colleen froze and looked back and forth between Bella and me.
“What?” she asked.
Maybe I should have used smaller words.
“You in sewing,” I said. “Bella here.”
“You mean work someplace else?” she asked.
I tried fewer words.
“You. Sewing department.”
“And not get to work here today?” she asked, and looked horrified. “But this is our department, Haley. It’s ours. We, you know, we stocked it and everything. So it’s, like, it’s ours. Yours and mine. I can’t just leave. It wouldn’t be right. You know, it wouldn’t.”
“Those cat pictures are starting to look pretty good,” Bella said, and headed down the aisle.
Another wave of customers bore down on us and crowded into the department. Apparently, the Holt’s marketing team had managed to reach shoppers, not just protesters. They loaded up with paper products, forcing Colleen and I to do actual work by replenishing the shelves with merchandise from the stockroom, which wasn’t so bad because at least I got off the sales floor for a few minutes—well, more than a few.
For some reason, the twenty-roll packs of toilet paper were a favorite item with the shoppers. I went into the stockroom, loaded a U boat, and rolled it to the department. I grabbed a double-armful and was ready to wade into the fray when Jack Bishop walked up.
Oh my God. Jack Bishop.
He looked gorgeous.
I looked like an idiot.
Really, it’s impossible to look cool when you’re bear-hugging five twenty-roll packs of toilet paper—even if it is ultra soft two-ply.
How humiliating. Of all the times for Jack to see me. Why couldn’t he have dropped by L.A. Affairs when I was wearing one of my fully accessorized, everybody-should-see-me-in-this awesome business suit—and all the women who worked there could see him with me and be totally jealous?
Jack’s gaze dipped to take in the jeans and red sweater I had on, which fit really great—but that wasn’t the point. Oh my God, I couldn’t wait to quit Holt’s.
“Can you take a break?” Jack asked.
I can always take a break.
I tossed the packs of toilet paper back on the U-boat and led the way down the aisle and through the double doors into the stockroom.
The stockroom was my favorite place in the store—other than the breakroom, of course. There were towering shelving units stuffed with new, fresh, untouched merchandise—and, of course, no customers.
Few employees, too.
The truck team showed up on mornings when there was a shipment to unload, and the ad-set team worked overnight. Sales personnel came back here only to check on something if a customer absolutely insisted, and then sat and rested—or maybe that was just me.
At the moment, Jack and I had the place to ourselves. The store’s canned music track played softly in the background. Huge combo packs of bedding filled the shelves around us.
I was surprised to see Jack, after the way we’d parted at the restaurant when I’d asked him to get Ty’s phone records. Since he was here he must have had a change of heart—and I wondered why.
He didn’t give me a chance to ask, though. He got down to business immediately.
“I found something,” Jack said.
He pulled a folded slip of paper from the pocket of his jeans and held it between two fingers.
Several seconds dragged by. I didn’t grab for it. Finally, Jack spoke.
“One number,” he said. “One call.”
Okay, that surprised me. You’d think anything resulting in a clandestine rendezvous, fifty grand in cash, and a handgun would require considerably more prep work.
“That’s it?” I asked, and now I was tempted to grab the paper. “One call? You’re sure?”
Jack grinned his I’m-too-hot-to-make-a-mistake grin—which was, of course, way hot.
“The call was placed a few days before your ex was involved in that traffic accident on the way to Palmdale,” Jack said.
Okay, that didn’t look good. That one phone call definitely tied Ty to the location of Kelvin Davis’s murder.
“You want to tell me what this is all about?” he asked, and flipped the paper between his fingers.
I hadn’t told him about Ty’s duffel bag in my closet and I still didn’t want to. No way did I want to drag Jack into a police investigation if things went sideways and the cops discovered I’d been withholding evidence in a murder case.
So what could I do but ignore Jack’s question—sort of?
“You know that Ty’s a person of interest in Kelvin Davis’s murder,” I said. “I thought there would be more of a connection between Ty and somebody in Palmdale. One call? That’s not much to go on.”
“There could have been more,” Jack pointed out. “He might have wanted to keep the caller’s identity a secret so, after the initial contact, he bought a burner.”
A disposable, prepaid phone was a possibility—though it was hard to imagine my color-inside-the-lines ex-official-boyfriend knowing about them well enough to purchase one.
“That’s possible,” I said. “His assistant is involved with his personal finances. He might not have wanted her to know about the call.”
“Or he might have foreseen police involvement,” Jack said, “and didn’t want to leave an electronic trail.”
It hit me then that the car accident Ty had been in on his way to Palmdale might not have been his first trip there. For all I knew, he’d gone there many times. Plus, there was the possibility that whomever he’d spoken with on the phone had made the trek to L.A. to see him.
“What else can I do for you?” Jack asked.
Only he didn’t ask in his private detective voice. He’d shifted to his Barry White voice.
I’m totally defenseless against Jack’s Barry White voice.
He took a step closer. Wow, he smelled great.
“So how about it?” he asked, easing even closer. “Are there any more of your needs I can fill?”
Oh my God. Had somebody turned up the heat in the stockroom?
He braced his arm against the shelving unit behind me and leaned in.
“I behaved badly when we were at the restaurant,” he whispered.
I felt his breath on my cheek.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
My heart pounded.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
My breath came in short little puffs.
“Maybe we should kiss and make up?” he said, and lowered his head.
The stockroom door burst open and banged against the wall.
“Haley! Haley! Haley!” Colleen cried as she rushed down the aisle.
I didn’t realize what was happening—can you blame me?—but Jack whipped around and stood in front of me.
“Where’s Haley?” Colleen wailed.
I hate her.
“Have you seen Haley?” she asked. “Oh, gosh. I have to find her. She’s in charge of toilet paper. We need toilet paper. She’s supposed to be getting the toilet paper!”
Jack nodded toward the rear of the stockroom and said, “I saw her back there a few minutes ago.”
“Haley!” Colleen yelled, and hurried away.
Jack turned around and gave me a smoking hot grin, then slipped the paper with the phone number on it into the front of my sweater and left the stockroom.
I grabbed the shelving unit to keep from falling.
Oh my God. Jack had almost kissed me. But he hadn’t—because of Colleen.
I hate her.
I hate the Paper-Palooza sale.
I hate Holt’s.
Now, I even hate toilet paper.
No way was I living like this any longer.
There was no undo button I could hit that would cancel out everything that had just happened, but there was still something I could do about it.
<
br /> I charged out of the stockroom and forced my way through the throngs of shoppers who had descended on the Paper-Palooza like locusts on an Oklahoma cornfield. I didn’t slow down until I reached Jeanette’s office.
I charged inside. She sat behind her desk, studying the computer screen and tapping on the keyboard.
“I’m quitting.”
I might have said that a little too loud.
She looked up at me, her eyes wide.
“I won’t be working here much longer and I won’t be here for the holidays.”
I’m sure I said that too loud.
“I’m done!”
I stormed out of the office.
CHAPTER 16
My day at Holt’s had just ended. I was tired, hungry, and slightly out of sorts, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to start my car and drive out of the parking lot.
I’d pulled an eight-hour shift today, so it was getting dark. The big cursive Holt’s sign glowed neon blue atop the building. The store was still open, so the Paper-Palooza protesters continued waving their signs and chanting near the entrance. As the day had gone on it seemed that fewer customers were in the store, so I figured shoppers had left after seeing the commotion out front. I’m sure the management team was worried about profits and public opinion—I was just irritated by the whole thing.
I didn’t feel so great about screaming my resignation at Jeanette this morning. I was glad I’d told her I was quitting, but I should have handled it differently. I doubted she’d thought much about it, given the protesters and what could be a sizable drop in store sales and her monthly bonus.
And, of course, there was that moment in the stockroom with Jack.
From the pocket of my jeans I pulled the folded paper that he’d slipped into the front of my sweater. It felt warm to the touch and still carried his scent—or so it seemed, anyway.
I sat there staring down at it.
Of course, Jack hadn’t provided just the phone number. There was also an address and a name—a woman’s name.
Seeing the words and numbers printed on the slip of paper still made me feel kind of icky, even though I’d read them as soon as I’d blasted out of Jeanette’s office this morning. Ty had been in contact with a woman in Palmdale. Once, for sure; maybe—probably—more than that.
And he’d done it while he and I were dating.
I had no real reason to think there was anything romantic going on between her and Ty. This Brianna King could have been anyone—a cousin, an aunt, a mentor, an old friend. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal that had been bearing down on me all day.
Why else would Ty not have mentioned her to me?
Why else would he have kept her a secret?
And how could she not be connected to the murder of Kelvin Davis, which Ty had become involved with?
I’m not big on suspense—usually. But right now, at this moment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know exactly who Brianna King was and why Ty had kept her presence in his life hidden from me.
Of course, I could have called my best friend, Marcie, and talked it over with her. She had a way of making me feel better about things—as only a BFF can. But this ache in my chest and around my heart couldn’t be eased, soothed, or calmed with a maybe-she’s-this-maybe-she’s-that conversation.
Still, I had to find out.
I knew my limitations, and only a venti mocha Frappuccino with extra whipped cream and double chocolate drizzle would get me through the rest of this evening. I started my car and drove to Starbucks.
The drive-through was quick, so I got my Frappie in record time, parked, and pulled out my cell phone. I figured that if anybody would recognize the name Brianna King it would be Ty’s personal assistant. Even though I’d asked Amber if Ty knew anyone in Palmdale and she’d said no, there was a possibility that Amber had heard the name but not made the connection.
It was prime let’s-hit-a-club time on a Saturday night, but Amber answered right away. I heard music and voices in the background, so I figured I’d interrupted her evening—which was just the excuse I needed to keep this conversation short.
“Hi, Haley. What’s up?”
Amber didn’t sound rushed or anxious to get rid of my call, which I appreciated. I came right to the point.
“Does Ty know anyone named Brianna King?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
I was always amazed at how well Amber remembered every detail of Ty’s life and kept up on absolutely everything.
“Why?” she asked.
I hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “You don’t want to know.”
“I can live with that,” Amber said.
I was also amazed at how she could be so deeply involved in Ty’s life, yet separate herself from everything personal.
“She must be someone from back in the day before I started working for him,” Amber said.
“Yeah, probably,” I said. “Thanks anyway.”
“Sure,” Amber said. “And did we have this conversation?”
I’d never put her in a tough spot by asking her to keep anything from Ty, but I really didn’t want him to know what I was doing.
“No, I’d rather we hadn’t,” I said, “if you’re cool with that.”
“No problem,” Amber said.
I thanked her again, ended the call, and took a long sip from my Frappie.
Only one person remained whom I could call for info. I scrolled through my contact list and hit the button for Ada, Ty’s grandmother.
Ada was a hoot. We’d gone shopping and sightseeing together back when Ty and I were an official couple. I liked her a lot and we’d had a great time together.
I’d run into a friend of hers at a wedding who’d left me with the impression that Ty hadn’t told his grandmother we weren’t together any longer. I really hoped that situation had been remedied; I didn’t want to be the one to break the news to her.
“Haley, dear, how are you?” Ada said, when she answered my call.
She sounded upbeat and cheerful, as always.
“I’m hanging in there,” I said. “How about you?”
“Troubled,” she said. “I know that you and Ty broke up.”
Hearing those words spoken aloud sent an unpleasant jolt through me—still, after all this time.
“Oh, that boy,” Ada muttered.
Ty was in his thirties, ran an international corporation on two continents, was responsible for hundreds of millions of dollars and a vast number of employees, and Ada still referred to him as a boy. Oh well, I guess grandmas were allowed.
“I don’t know what he’s thinking sometimes,” she said. “Typical of the Cameron men. Thinking something completely to death—then doing the wrong thing.”
I couldn’t help smiling, knowing that Ada was still in my corner.
“Ada, I was wondering if you knew anyone named Brianna King?” I asked.
She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “That name is vaguely familiar. Let me think for a minute and I’ll remember—oh, dear.”
Her “oh, dear” made my heart lurch.
This couldn’t be good.
I braced myself and asked, “You know her?”
“I knew her,” Ada pointed out. “I haven’t heard her name mentioned in a long time. Years, really.”
I started to feel kind of icky.
“Ty met her in Europe the year after he graduated college,” Ada said. “She was touring with friends, the same as he was.”
Now I felt really icky.
“Turned out, she was from right here in the L.A. area. She came around for a while with his other friends, then . . . well, I don’t know what happened, exactly,” Ada said. “She just disappeared and Ty never mentioned her again.”
Yeah, okay, now I felt super icky.
“Why are you asking about Brianna?” Ada said. “Is Ty involved with her again?”
I mentally scrambled, desperate to come up with a reasonable excuse for asking her about Br
ianna.
Jeez, I wish I’d thought of that before I called.
Luckily, my tricked-out Frappie had pumped up my brain cells to peak performance levels.
“Ty’s assistant called me,” I said. “She’s organizing a function and she came across Brianna’s name for the guest list. She didn’t know who Brianna was, and I don’t know, so I thought you might.”
“What sort of function?” Ada asked.
She sounded a little suspicious now—not that I blamed her.
“Some sort of award,” I said. “Ty doesn’t know about it yet, so please don’t say anything.”
Okay, that was an outright lie, but what else could I say?
I didn’t want Ada to know the reason I’d asked about Brianna. I wasn’t even sure she’d been told that Ty was a person of interest in the Kelvin Davis murder investigation—and no way was I going to be the one who broke that news to her.
“I see,” Ada said, in that I’m-not-sure-I-believe-this tone.
I decided it was better to let Ada think I was checking out a possible girlfriend in Ty’s life rather than that I was investigating his involvement in a major crime.
“And,” I said, “I wondered if she was somebody Ty was dating now.”
“I see,” Ada said, and it sounded as if this was something she understood.
“But, please, don’t say anything,” I said. “I don’t want Ty to think I’m . . . well, that I’m checking up on him, like some crazy psycho ex-girlfriend.”
“I’ll keep this to myself,” she promised, then shifted topics. “And you and I must go shopping again soon.”
“You bet,” I said, and was relieved because I really liked Ada. “See you soon.”
“Take care, dear,” she said, and hung up.
I sat in my car a while longer, thinking as I finished my Frappuccino. My next move was obvious, but difficult to commit to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to learn exactly what had happened between Ty and Brianna King in Europe after they’d both graduated college.
I knew what had probably gone on, but I didn’t want to think too much about the details.
But I did wonder why, after returning to Los Angeles, Ty had introduced Brianna to his family and brought her around often only to have her suddenly disappear from their lives. Bringing a girl to meet the family wasn’t a decision made lightly—and Ty never made a decision in that fashion.
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