by Kimberly van Meter - A Sinclair Homecoming (The Sinclairs of Alaska)
He could tell she was choosing her words carefully as she shared, “Well, sir, you were certainly a boss who knew how he wanted things done and you were fairly rigid in how you would expect people to do them. I’m sure some’ve chafed under that kind of leadership, but to be fair, you’re very good at what you do and with that skill takes a certain level of confidence, which can be off-putting for some.”
“But not for you?”
“Oh, goodness, no, I appreciate a firm hand. I like guidelines and structure. You have always provided both.”
There was something about the way she looked at him, both adoringly and shy, that made him wonder if Jeana had a secret crush on him. From what he knew of Jeana, she would never act on it even if she went to bed with a life-size pillow with his face plastered on it.
Unrequited love could be dangerous.
He regarded Jeana with quiet speculation. “Jeana, may I ask you a personal question that may sound out of line?”
Jeana’s expression faltered but she nodded. “If you think it will help, of course.”
“My memory is still spotty in some places... Did we ever...what I mean to ask is...well, I don’t remember if we ever...had...”
Jeana’s eyes widened as she caught where he was fishing. She blushed harder and shook her head vehemently. “No, sir, never! You’ve always been the picture of a gentleman. Never improper with any of your employees. I can say with authority that your moral character is beyond reproach.”
He breathed a short sigh of relief. God, it was shocking how worried he was about her answer. “Good, good,” he said, tapping the top of his desk lightly. “Very happy to hear that. Thank you, Jeana. I appreciate your candor.”
“Will that be all, sir?” she asked, lifting her chin, returning to the efficient assistant within a blink, as if she clung to that persona as a life raft when the seas turned choppy.
“Yes, thank you.”
Jeana smiled and nodded, turning on her heel, click-clicking out of his office with short efficient steps filled with purpose.
Jeana was an odd duck but was she a killer?
Either she was the world’s best actress or Jeana was exactly as she seemed—a stellar assistant with a possibly mild but ultimately harmless crush on her boss.
Being wrong could prove to be a fatal mistake.
Chapter 25
“A blind date? Are you insane?” Jordana asked, staring at Reese as if he’d grown a second head. After that disastrous dinner with her parents, the fire to solve the warehouse murders was burning bright, but Reese was too interested in setting her up with a buddy to be serious for a minute.
“You need to get out there, shake things up a bit,” Reese said, undeterred.
Good grief. Jordana made a concentrated effort to return the conversation to solid ground. “Oh, I talked to my dad about the warehouse, and it was built in the 1970s. He couldn’t remember the exact date but it doesn’t matter because the EPA didn’t ban CCA until 2003 so the point is moot.”
“C’mon, Jordana. The best way to get over a guy is to get onto a new guy,” Reese said, stubbornly refusing to drop it. “His name is Blaine and I think you’d dig him.”
“First of all, gross. Second of all, I would never agree to a blind date with a guy named Blaine. Where’d you meet him? The country club?” She’d had her fill of wealthy men.
“Does Braxville have a country club?” Reese asked, momentarily distracted.
“Yes, of course we have a country club. Even people in Braxville like to golf,” she answered, exasperated, gesturing back to the case on her desk. “Can we please talk about the case? We need to focus. I think we should go over what we know, a recap of the facts to refresh our memories. Sound good?”
He groaned. “No, it does not sound good. You might’ve taken a break but while you were gone I did nothing but eat, sleep and dream about these bodies and that damn warehouse. Maybe I need a break this time.”
“Well, playing matchmaker isn’t going to help you relax. You should stick to something you’re good at.” She paused to question, “What exactly are you good at?”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Sighing, he swiveled back to his desk and pulled his research file. “Fine. Here’s what we know so far—two bodies, one male, one female. The male, approximate age mid-to early fifties, and the female, mid-to late twenties. Both suffered blunt force trauma to the head, which suggests foul play. The male, Fenton Crane, was a private investigator related to your John Doe, later identified as Clint Broderick, and the female, Olivia Harrison from Kansas City, was reported missing by her mother, Rita Harrison, but never found. Dental records were used to positively identify both.”
Jordana rubbed her forehead. It was impossible to untangle her family’s connection to all the players in this case. Gwen Harrison, Olivia’s daughter, showed up in Braxville looking for answers and instead fell in love with Jordana’s younger brother, Brooks.
Not the most convenient love match but she supposed you couldn’t help who you fell in love with. Tiptoeing around all the conflicts of interest in this case was turning into a tap-dancing competition.
“And Fenton was hired by Rita to look for her daughter, Olivia, which unbeknownst to her had been walled up in an abandoned warehouse owned by my father.”
“Yep.”
“And it would seem that Fenton met the same fate as Olivia, possibly by the same perp, seeing as both died from blunt force trauma.”
“The evidence would suggest as much.”
“The question that keeps bouncing around in my head is why someone would kill a young mother?”
“Statistically, probably the father of her child, but seeing as Olivia was tight-lipped about who she was seeing, I don’t know how we’d figure that out. Rita is too old now to remember much detail from back then.”
That was true. They’d questioned Rita Harrison about the disappearance of her daughter, Olivia, but twenty-plus years was a long time to hold on to small details that could make or break a case.
The sad fact—and one she wasn’t ready to embrace—was cold cases with murdered women were hard to solve without DNA left behind at the scene. Forensics hadn’t pulled anything from the body aside from the chemical CCA and those bones weren’t doing much talking.
“We’ve taken DNA samples from Gwen and put it into the database, but unless the DNA of the father pops up somewhere, we’re poking around in the dark,” Reese said.
“It bothers me that whoever killed these people has been walking around scot-free. It’s not right,” Jordana said. “I hate injustice. There’s too much of it in the world. Sometimes it’s overwhelming. Are we making a difference at all?”
Reese’s gaze met hers with conviction. “Of course we are. Little things add up to big things. Sure, maybe we’re not the FBI or some bigger municipality but we make a difference here, in Braxville. People look to us to keep them safe and that’s what we do every day to the best of our ability.”
“But that’s just it, Reese... I’d say Fenton Crane and Olivia Harrison might disagree that Braxville is a safe place. Right now people are looking for answers, not so much because they care about the case but because they need to feel safe again. If we can’t solve who killed those people, we’re going to lose the faith of people we are about.”
“We’re going to do our best,” Reese maintained, refusing to let Jordana’s pessimism leach into his belief. “Jordana, you’re one of the most stubborn, most dedicated, officers I know. It’s the reason you’re lead detective on this case. The captain believes in you but so does everyone in this station.”
“I appreciate the vote of support but let’s be honest—the reason I’m in front of this case is because we’re short-staffed. You and I both know, the conflicts of interest are so complicated and entangled that there’s no way I should be lead detective.”
“Don’
t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Reese warned with a half smile. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you should be involved at first but you’re incapable of being shifty. Your need to seek justice is part of your spine. I do not doubt that you’d haul in your own father if it turned out he was involved.”
A shiver slithered down her spine at Reese’s supportive statement. She murmured her thanks but in her mind’s eye she saw her dad’s obvious agitation from dinner and that chill turned to a cold freeze.
What if her dad knew more than he was letting on?
And if her dad was guilty, could she put handcuffs on her father and take him to jail?
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.
Please don’t make me cross that bridge.
* * *
Alex strode into Clint’s office, a storm crossing his features that didn’t bode well. “Do you want to tell me why a security agency is snooping around my personal affairs? Is there something I should know?”
Ty was making discreet inquiries but it was just a matter of time before Alex found out. That time was now.
“I hired Ty Colton for personal security. He’s just doing his due diligence. It’s a formality. I’m sure you’re fine. Once he can scratch you off the list, it’ll be like it never happened.”
“I don’t appreciate being watched,” Alex growled. “You should’ve given me a heads-up that my privacy was going to be compromised.”
He could understand Alex’s ire but he couldn’t tell Ty to back off. “If you can do me this favor, I’ll owe you one.”
“This is more than just buying someone a beer for a favor. He was asking questions that implied I might be a criminal or something. I’m a cofounder of this company. I’m not going to stand by and let some jerk-off disrespect me like that. I’m insulted that you would even suggest such a thing.”
“C’mon, Alex. No one is asking you to stand naked in front of a stranger so he can give you a cavity search. I think you’re overreacting a little bit.”
Alex’s nostrils flared. “Easy for you to say. It’s not happening to you.”
Clint knew Alex wasn’t going to let this go unless he gave him some backstory but he was taking a risk sharing the full details of his time in Braxville before Ty could clear Alex. He supposed in the interest of keeping the peace, he had to try.
“Sit down for a minute,” he said, gesturing toward the open seat. When Alex dropped into the chair, his expression still hard, Clint said, “I wasn’t entirely honest about my time in Braxville.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, something happened to me while I was there that I tried to keep under wraps for the company’s sake.”
“What happened?” Alex asked, frowning with confusion. “I thought you went to Kansas to talk about your estranged uncle, the one they found walled up in a warehouse.”
“Yeah, I did, but before I could talk to the detective, I was waylaid. Someone bashed me in the head and left me for dead. It was pure dumb luck that someone saw me crumpled on the side of the road.”
“You were attacked?” Alex repeated, dumbfounded. “What the hell, man? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I could’ve put a security detail together.”
“I wanted to handle it privately. I didn’t want anyone to lose confidence in my abilities to run the company. You know how scared investors can get when something upsets the status quo. I didn’t want you to worry about me when you had to work on landing Nortec.”
Alex waved away Clint’s answer. “You’re my best friend, not just my business partner. If someone was harassing you, you should’ve told me. I hate that you thought you had to shoulder that alone. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, all good. I was bruised and battered for a short while but I recovered and now I just want to make sure whoever attacked me isn’t looking to finish the job the next time.”
“Wait, you think this was more than just a random attack?”
“Honestly, I don’t know, but in this case, I’d say it’s better to be safe than sorry, right?”
“Sure, sure,” Alex agreed, nodding. “Hey, I’m sorry I came in so hot. I didn’t realize what you were going through.”
“I know, it’s okay. I wanted to tell you but I also wanted everything to go back to normal. Business as usual. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the aftermath. I don’t want to deal with my business landing on shaky ground because of it.”
“Our business,” Alex corrected him with a wink.
“You know what I mean,” Clint said. “Of course it’s our business.”
Alex accepted Clint’s correction and said, “Okay, well, I think it’s safe to say I’m not a threat. We’ve been in business together for too long. If I was going to kill you, it would’ve happened before now.”
They chuckled together. Clint adding, “Yeah, a lot of water under that bridge.”
“Damn straight. Remember when we were first starting and you didn’t want to take that contract with Greger Corp? It would’ve been our first big contract and we needed the money, bad.”
“Yeah, because when you get in bed with dogs, you end up with fleas,” he said. “Besides, we ended up getting a better contract with a better class of people right after.”
“Lucky break. Aaron Greger might not have been the kind of guy you wanted to share a dinner table with but that account would’ve put us on the map far earlier than we had on our own.”
But Clint had dug his heels in and threatened to walk if Alex continued to chase after that contract and eventually Alex caved, which probably saved their friendship.
“See? If we could come out the other side after that major blowup, we can handle anything,” Alex said.
Clint smiled, nodding. “Yeah, everything else feels like smooth sailing.”
“We work well together,” Alex said. “I mean, I wish you’d let us take some more risks, but you know, that’s an old argument that we’ll probably never resolve.”
“You’re already a wealthy man.” Clint chuckled, shaking his head. “What’s a little more in the bank going to do for us?”
“More is always better.”
“Not always.”
“And that’s where we agree to disagree,” Alex said, rising. “About that security detail...would you mind sending them in a different direction? I don’t usually let someone that far up my ass unless they’re paying for dinner first.”
“I’ll talk to Ty,” Clint agreed, waving him off. “Get out of here and do some work, you heathen.”
Alex laughed. “Takes one to know one, brother.” He left Clint’s office.
But once Alex was gone, Clint wondered if he’d just made a big mistake sharing that intel with his oldest friend. He didn’t know who he could trust.
Damn, he missed Jordana. She was the one person he knew had his back.
If only his pride would allow him to beg for her return.
Chapter 26
Jordana did anything she could to remain busy, even if it meant doing busywork at home that only a lunatic would jump feetfirst into—such as organizing her spice rack by alphabetical order. Her justification was that she didn’t want to search for what she was looking for when cooking. She wanted to be able to go straight to the spice in question. Quick and efficient.
But then that job turned into a consolidation of spices, making sure that she didn’t have duplicates, checking expiration dates and making a list of replacement spices as well as adding new ones. Her small project had turned into a major ordeal but she was happy to keep her mind occupied with anything other than fighting her urge to pick up the phone and call Clint just to hear his voice again.
As if summoned by her subconscious, her cell rang and she nearly ran to it, hoping against hope that it was Clint calling her.
When she saw it was Ty, her hope turned to dread.
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“Hey, Ty, are you calling me with good or bad news?” she asked.
“Depends on your outlook. It could be considered good news but then it could also be very bad news.”
“You know I hate ambiguous answers,” she said with a groan. “Spit it out.”
“I found the embezzler, if not who attacked Clint.”
Her heart stopped. “Yeah? Who is it?” Someone he knew? Someone in his business circles? A past lover? The suspense was killing her. “C’mon, don’t drag it out.”
“Alex Locke is the one siphoning from the business accounts and he’s been doing it for a long time. I’m talking millions. The guy has been living large on Broadlocke’s purse.”
Jordana let out a breath of disappointment. Clint was going to be crushed. “Have you told Clint yet?”
“No, not yet. I was going to do that this afternoon but I wanted to tell you first.”
“Don’t tell him yet. I’ll deliver the bad news. He should hear it from a friendly face.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea? You left for a reason. I’m not sure you ought to rip open that wound all over again. Not just for you but for him, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“The guy’s been a mess since you left. He’s only just now starting to pull it together. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to come out here when he’s finally doing better.”
“I wouldn’t be coming to reignite anything romantic. I just know that this news is going to devastate him. He should hear it from someone he knows has his best interests at heart.”
Ty sighed, knowing that Jordana wasn’t going to listen. “Fine. That works out. I have to cut things short here, anyway. I’ve got another case that’s blowing up and needs my attention. My flight leaves tonight. How soon can you get here?”
She checked her watch and then her gaze met the spice mess on her counters. Forget the spice project. It could wait. “I’ll take the next flight out.”
