by Paige Tyler
He glanced at her, his expression suddenly serious. “That’s what friends are for. Remember, you can call me anytime, okay?”
She nodded. “So you know all about my weekend. What’d you do?”
He shrugged. “Nothing much. Just hung around the beach taking some pictures. Spent a lot of time in my darkroom.
Hayley chewed on her lip, feeling a twinge of guilt about having such an amazing weekend while her friend sat alone in a darkroom essentially watching paint dry. She wondered if now might be a good time to mention Jillian wanted to go out with him, but quickly rejected that idea. Brad and Jillian had already met several times, and if he found out Hayley and Jillian had been openly discussing his unattached status, he’d lay an egg. No guy on the planet wanted his female friends playing matchmaker for him.
That really only left her only one alternative. If she wanted to get the two of them together, she’d have to arrange a blind date. Of course, she’d have to make sure Brad didn’t figure out what she was trying to pull or more egg laying would ensue. Maybe a whole chicken.
She was still thinking about how she’d pull off the blind date when Brad turned into the parking lot of Alpha One Construction.
“How’d you wrangle a personal interview with Jack Yates on such short notice anyway?” Brad asked as they got out of the car and headed for the front door.
Hayley shrugged. “It actually wasn’t hard. I told his office assistant how much I would love to talk to Mr. Yates about the new facility he’s building out at Imperial Beach.”
“And he said okay, just like that?” Brad asked with a dubious expression on his face as he held one of the big glass doors open for her.
“Pretty much.”
“Any chance that during your conversation with Yates’s assistant, you happened to mention your personal connection with the local SEAL Team?”
She smiled at her photographer sweetly. “Nope, I never had to say a word about it.”
“Because the assistant already knew exactly who you were,” Brad finished.
“Maybe,” she said. “I might as well get some use out of my fifteen minutes while it lasts.”
“Uh-huh. Remember to throw a crumb down to all us little people now and then,” Brad said as they approached a receptionist counter positioned across half the lobby. There was a well-dressed young man behind it and Hayley tried to imagine if this guy could possess the voice of the office assistant she’d talked to earlier this morning. Before she could ask, Brad interrupted.
“Hayley Garner to see Mr. Yates,” her friend intoned dispassionately.
The man behind the counter hit her with a megawatt smile. “Ms. Garner, such a privilege to meet you. I’ll let Mr. Yates know you’re here.”
The guy turned and darted down a central corridor leading back deeper into the office space. Hayley guessed the man was the receptionist she’d arranged the interview with.
She turned and gave Brad a look. “What was that all about? Hayley Garner here to see Mr. Yates?”
Brad tilted back his head and looked down his nose at her then sniffed. “A woman of your station does not go about introducing herself.”
Hayley laughed then punched Brad in the arm. “And don’t you forget it.”
A few minutes later, they were seated in Jack Yates’s very comfy office with its indoor water feature, putting green, and a scale model of the new SEAL facility that was twice the size of a pool table.
Brad had already taken a few public relations photos, standing in front of the facility model, Yates’s desk, etc., etc. He’d probably delete half of them the moment they left the man’s office.
There had been the requisite small talk, with Yates asking about her rescue and her heaping all the praise on the Navy SEALs while not actually telling him anything.
“I can certainly understand why you would want to get involved with the local SEALs,” Yates said. “I doubt they have a better cheerleader for how important this new construction project is for the Department of Defense.”
“I certainly have a special place in my heart for them, that’s definitely true.”
There was one particular SEAL who had the potential to find an even more special place in her heart, but she’d keep that little tidbit to herself.
She started with easy warm-up questions, like whether this was the largest contract Alpha One had ever been part of, what it was like when the Navy had told him his company had won the bid, and how long the entire project would take.
Yates seemed like a relatively warm, charismatic business man. Hayley had to admit her sleaze radar was barely registering anything at the moment. That would change soon enough, she was sure.
When she had Yates completely relaxed, she shifted gears into the area she and Brad had really come here to talk about.
“That’s some excellent background information for my article, Mr. Yates, but of course my readers are going to be much more interested in hearing your side of the story on all these rumors swirling around.”
Yates suddenly looked confused, which was the exact moment Brad snapped a picture of him. They really had been working together for a long time.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Yates said, his face starting to take on a guarded look as he realized he’d been set up. “What rumors?”
“That you and Councilman Nesbitt have some kind of kickback deal going where you slide subcontracting work on this Imperial Beach project toward his most ardent political supporters in return for services rendered.”
Hayley deliberately kept it vague because they still didn’t know what was going between Nesbitt and Yates. The first part of the equation seemed simple enough. The odds were good the subcontractors were slipping Nesbitt money through his political campaign structure, which was still very active even though the man wasn’t even close to the end of his first four-year term. It was the second part that had her and Brad really stumped. What the heck was Yates getting out of this situation?
The moment that greasy smile slid across Yates’s face, her sleaze radar started pinging off the charts.
Here comes the bullshit.
“Ah, now I see,” Yates said, that patently fake politician smile stuck on his face like fly tape. “You must be talking about those vicious rumors being spread by those nasty Internet mongers. What do they call themselves…The People?” His smile turned patronizing. “As a journalist, I’d expect you above all others to understand how important it is to vet your sources.”
Brad snapped a few more pictures, which earned him a nasty look from Yates.
“Oh, I definitely value a good source,” Hayley said. “Since there are currently about a half dozen city politicians under investigation due to the information provided by The People, I figure if they say there’s smoke, I should start looking for the fire. I thought you might want to get in front of all this, get your side of the story out before everything breaks.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Ms. Garner,” Yates said, irritation creeping into his voice. “The People are wrong in this case. There’s no story here.”
“Really?” Hayley lifted a brow. “So, it’s pure coincidence that nearly ever local subcontractor you selected is a known political contributor to Councilman Nesbitt? Do you really think anyone is going to believe that? You don’t think these Internet hacktivists are going to find the link between you and Nesbitt?”
“There is no link between Bill and Alpha One,” Yates snapped, getting to his feet.
“Bill?” Hayley said, giving Brad a quick look. “So you and the councilman are on a first name basis? No link between you, huh?”
The man’s face darkened. “Get out! Or I’ll call security and have you dragged out.”
Both Hayley and Brad stood at the same time. They knew when they’d worn out their welcome.
“Okay, we’re going,” Hayley said. “But remember, if you ever decide to get in front of this before it’s too late, you can always call me.”
It looked like
Yates was about to say something in reply—or explode. But then Brad turned and clicked off about a dozen shots of the man as they were leaving, and Hayley thought Yates might detonate right on the spot. She grabbed Brad’s arm and hurried him the rest of the way out the door, not wanting to get covered in sleazy business stew when Yates blew.
The guy at the front desk looked confused as they passed him, apparently not sure if he should scowl at them or wave.
“Was there a point to all that?” Brad asked as they headed for his Camry. “Or were you poking him for fun?”
“I’m hoping accusing him like that will provoke some kind of reaction and get him or Nesbitt to make a mistake.”
Brad shook his head as he climbed behind the wheel of his car. “Yeah, it will probably provoke a reaction all right…as in a lawsuit.”
* * * * *
Hayley looked through her handwritten notes then tapped out a few more lines on the draft article she was putting together on her laptop. In between reading her notes, doing searches on the net, and writing her article, she did her best to eat, but the truth was, even though it was late in the day and she hadn’t had a thing to eat since breakfast, she didn’t have much of an appetite right then.
She and Brad had stopped at the small grill for a late lunch, early dinner after a seriously long morning and afternoon of getting doors slammed in their faces. She’d told Brad it was too beautiful a day to eat inside, so they should sit on the patio, but she doubted he’d believed her. In reality, she’d taken one look at the gray concrete block walls in the café and her heart had nearly jumped out of her chest in the panic attack that followed.
Okay, no more gray concrete block walls for her. Ever. Again.
She finished the article she’d been reading on The People, closed the search page she’d had open on Jack Yates, then took a small bite of her chicken quesadilla and forced herself to eat it. That little flashback she’d gone through had done a number on her.
“Find anything good?” Brad asked, acting like he didn’t see the effort she had to put into chewing food she normally would have been wolfing down.
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” she admitted. “If there’s direct connection between Yates and Nesbitt it’s well hidden.”
“Maybe one of the people we talked to today will call us and that one tip will change everything.”
She took another bite of food and shrugged. “Maybe.”
She and Brad spent hours going from one construction company to the next on their list of Alpha One subcontractors. From excavation and heavy equipment specialists, to cement and brick masons, to carpenters, metal workers, electricians, heating and air people, even simple laborers, the reception had been the same everywhere. They’d tossed her and Brad out as soon as they figured out what she wanted to discuss. Every one of them claimed Alpha One had selected their particular company because they had long track records of getting jobs done right, on time, and on budget. According to them, the fact that every one of the subcontractors was apparently in deep with Nesbitt was purely coincidence.
After a couple of hours of that, they’d changed tack, instead spending some time visiting those companies who’d lost out on their attempts to get on board the subcontractor gravy train. They’d ended up learning a whole heck of a lot more from the “losers” than the “winners.” According to them, the fix had been in from the beginning.
“I know it sounds like sour grapes,” the manager of an electrical supply house told them. “But I heard guys from some of those other companies crowing about getting the jobs before I even put our offer in. The only way that happens is if Alpha One already knew who they were going to use before the process started. As the prime contractor, they have the right to use anyone they want, but they sure as hell went to a lot of effort to make it look like they were going to make it a fair and open competition.”
Quite a few people told them similar stories, but at the end of the day, other than some interesting background data, they didn’t have anything solid to go on. Everybody might know that only companies with a solid connection to Nesbitt had gotten those jobs, but no one had any proof. Worse, not a single person could offer up even a theory on why a major contractor based out of Escondido would do favors for a councilman in San Diego.
“Man, I wish we knew how to contact The People,” she said in frustration. “I bet they know something.”
Brad didn’t look like he thought that was such a good idea, but he was smart enough not to say anything. He knew she could get snappish once she started getting frustrated.
She was about to take another bite of her quesadilla—kind of surprised at how much she’d eaten when she wasn’t paying attention—when she looked down at her laptop and saw the search screen she was sure she’d closed on Jack Yates was back open. She reached over to close it again, but the screen changed to the article she’d been reading on The People. Then, in quick succession, window screens started tiling across her desktop, the various drafts of her article on Nesbitt, her notes and timeline page, even the browser history.
She tapped her on her mouse pad to close the windows, but the cursor on the screen didn’t even move.
“What the heck?” she said, poking at the keyboard next.
“What’s wrong?” Brad asked, looking across the table at her.
“My stupid computer is going haywire.”
He sighed then reached across and picked up her laptop so he could check it. “What the heck did you do now?”
“I didn’t do anything,” she insisted. “It’s doing stuff on its own.”
He nodded as he put her computer on his lap. “Right. Like that time you reformatted your hard drive because you thought it would fix the margins on your articles.”
She winced at the memory. “They shouldn’t use any word that looks like format in relation to anything so destructive. Anyone could make that mistake.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, handing her laptop back to her. “There’s nothing wrong with your computer.”
She was about to tell him there most certainly was, but then she saw there was nothing on the screen but her open article. No jumping windows or Internet pages.
“There was something wrong,” she said softly, picking up the last bite of her quesadilla.
“Uh-huh.”
* * * * *
Hayley had unlocked the door of her apartment when her cell phone rang. She smiled when she saw Chasen’s name on the screen.
“Hey!” she said. “You on the way over?”
There was a slight delay, and a whole lot of noise in the background. “I wish. But our platoon has been called up for a training exercise tonight, so I won’t be able to swing by your place like planned.”
“Do you think you’ll get done at all tonight?” she asked hopefully. “I could wait up.”
“Don’t,” he said softly. “This thing is likely to last all night, maybe longer. I’ll call as soon as I know something.”
Hayley would have been lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, but she understood. She’d certainly worked more than her share of late nights. So she told him to be safe and to call when he had a chance, then hung up.
The moment she closed the door behind her, that familiar unease came over her again. She’d never had a problem being alone before, not since before coming back from Nigeria.
She changed into shorts and a tank top and curled up with her laptop on the couch, hoping that digging some more into The People, Nesbitt, and Yates would take her mind off the creepy feeling she had that she was being watched, but it didn’t. After messing around and not getting much of anything done, she finally got up and went to check the door and windows, making sure everything was locked. It didn’t do much to reassure her.
Hayley turned away from the window in the kitchen and looked around her apartment. No one was there. No one was watching her. It was her imagination. Unfortunately, she had a very vivid one.
Maybe everyone was right and she really did
need to get some help.
She walked around the island separating the kitchen from the living room and picked up her cell phone from the couch. Scrolling through her list of contacts, she quickly found Chasen’s number, but then paused, her finger hovering over the button. It had only been an hour or so since he’d called. He was probably hip deep in some awful training involving guns, explosives, and lots of water. He didn’t need his new girlfriend calling to say she needed to hear his voice—or something equally clingy—even if she desperately wanted to.
Cursing her wussy paranoia, she finally dialed Jillian’s number instead.
“Hey,” she said when her friend answered. “Can you come over?”
Jillian didn’t ask why. Or say she was too busy. She simply did what best friends did. “I’m on the way.”
Hayley felt terrible dragging Jillian over here again like this, but she also had to admit she felt more relaxed knowing she wasn’t going to be alone tonight.
Chapter Seven
WHEN CHASEN PUSHED his way through the typical Friday night crowd around the entrance of the bar and grill where he was meeting Hayley, he was surprised to see her waiting with a guy over by the hostess table. Tall and lanky, the guy had dark-blond hair and gray eyes, and was standing way too close to Hayley for Chasen’s liking. He felt a little stab of something that took him a second to recognize.
Jealousy.
Okay. That was kind of new for him. He couldn’t remember getting jealous over a girl since high school when his date to the spring fling dance had bailed on him to go hang out with the mascot of the football team.
He walked over, wondering if he’d misunderstood Hayley when she’d asked him if he wanted to get together this evening. She had meant this to be a date, right?
Then again, he had pretty much left her completely in the dark for nearly a week while he’d been gone on training. Chasen wouldn’t be the first SEAL to find out a woman he was into had dumped him over her inability to get him on the phone.
The one night of low-stress training he’d expected on the beautiful beaches of Coronado had ended up turning into nearly a week of running around the mountainous terrain of the Army National Training Center in the heart of the Mojave Desert. One thing he could say about the Army. They never let a piece of crappy real estate go to waste. Chasen was pretty sure if cacti could figure out how to buy bus tickets, there’d be nothing left living in that damn place.
