The sound of footsteps in the hall made him switch from Max’s message to a Google search of camera equipment that he could put on the screen if needed.
Glancing at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of the screen, he saw that it was nine thirty. Late for someone to be in the building, besides the security guards.
When he looked up, he saw the bulky form of Bert Iverson standing in his office doorway.
“You’re working late,” his second-in-command said.
“I could say the same for you.”
“I had a few things to finish up.”
“Me, too.”
“I was about to leave. Then I saw the light on in here. You need any help?” Bert asked.
“No. You go on home. I’ll be leaving soon.”
He watched the big man head for the elevator, then reread the email from Max on Lansing and Newman.
Next he checked their office emails, looking for patterns that would clue him in to suspicious activity. When he found none, he went back to another office email account—that of Elena Reyes. At first he found nothing interesting. But when he scrolled back to a year ago, he stared at the screen. There had been a fair amount of correspondence between Elena and Arnold Blake.
A lot of it had been work related, with the new employee running questions by the old hand. She could have mentioned that at lunch. She could also have mentioned that Blake had sent her jokes and asked for advice on puzzles that he was working on. He’d called them SIMon Sez. There had been quite a lot of back and forth between them, so she’d known Blake better than she’d let on.
Could the puzzle stuff be some kind of code he was sending her? Why? And a code for what?
Shane made note of the puzzle queries and saved them into a work file.
Then he pushed his chair away from the desk and leaned back with his hands laced behind his head.
Was he looking at evidence of suspicious behavior on the part of Elena and Blake? Or was he looking for more reasons to question her? Translated—spend time with her.
With a snort, he shut down the computer and got up, thinking about his next move in the game they were playing. Or maybe he was the only one actually playing, and she was perfectly innocent.
But he knew that he couldn’t stay away from her. She might be a suspect, but it had been a long time since he’d found a woman so appealing. Maybe it was the combination of innocence and strength he sensed in her. Or was he making up the innocent part?
He’d asked her to lunch. What if he asked her to dinner?
Would she go with him? Or make it clear that there wasn’t going to be anything personal between them?
Chapter 9
Elena called a car-repair service the next morning, took a cab to work, and met the auto mechanic in the S&D parking lot. She’d expected that he’d have to tow the car away, but after looking under the hood, he fiddled with some stuff and told her to try and start the car.
It started right up, and she was grateful that the problem had been easy to solve.
“You had a couple of loose spark plugs,” he said.
Not knowing much about cars, she answered with a small nod.
“Kind of an uncommon problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t usually happen spontaneously.”
When she didn’t answer, he asked, “Could anyone have fooled with your vehicle?”
She felt the hair at the back of her neck bristle. Why would anyone fool with her car? But she only answered, “I don’t think so.”
Of course, Shane had fiddled with her car, she reminded herself. But that was only after it wouldn’t start.
Still, the mechanic’s assessment was unsettling.
Could someone have arranged the incident? And why?
She flashed back to a few days ago when she’d thought she’d seen a car following her. Was this related? And were there security tapes that showed what was happening in the parking lot? It crossed her mind to ask Shane—or was that a good idea?
She hadn’t intended to get involved with him again. In fact, she’d intended to stay away from him for a lot of reasons, including last night’s talk with her brother, which she was trying to push to the back of her mind.
But her life had a way of changing rapidly these days, starting with the hostage situation in the personnel department. That had thrown her into contact with Shane. The next day he’d asked her to lunch. And today he came to her office again.
She looked up in surprise when she saw him.
“I was wondering what happened with your car,” he said in the deep voice that set her nerve endings tingling.
“It’s okay.”
“What was wrong?”
“The mechanic said it was loose spark plugs. He said that was unusual.”
He kept his gaze on her. “Do you have any reason to think someone could have…tampered with your vehicle?”
She’d wondered the same thing, but she only said, “I hope not.”
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. “Not just because of the car.”
“I have, too,” she heard herself say, then blushed furiously. “I mean—about you.”
“I was hoping we could go out to dinner,” he said.
She had wondered if he was going to make another move. She’d thought she’d make up an excuse if he did, but she heard herself saying, “All right.”
“Are you free tonight?”
“Yes.”
His face lit up like he’d been worried about her answer, and she had the feeling that this wasn’t all that easy for him, either.
“What’s a good time for you?”
“Maybe seven.”
“I’ll pick you up at your apartment.”
As soon as he walked away, she had the impulse to call him back and say she’d changed her mind. But she didn’t do it. What was she supposed to say—that she’d remembered a previous engagement?
Besides, she was in a mood that felt strange. Perhaps even unique. She’d focused on her career goals for so long that maybe she’d forgotten the reason for them. What was the point of getting ahead in the world if your life was all work and no play? Hadn’t she imagined that she’d get married some day and start a family? And raise her children differently from the way her parents had raised her.
She pulled herself up short. Shane Gallagher had asked her out to dinner—and she was already entertaining fantasies about marrying him.
That was certainly getting ahead of herself. But she wanted to spend time with him, and there was nothing wrong with doing it. Yesterday she could have told herself that and believed it. But then her brother had shown up and asked her to do something so totally at odds with her moral code that she could hardly wrap her head around it. And now she was going out to dinner with the head of security?
She forced thoughts of her brother out of her mind and focused on work until she left the office promptly at five. She rushed home, where she took a shower, brushed out her hair, and stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear. She should have asked where they were going. Then she’d have a better idea of what outfit to choose. Not something she wore to work, she decided. Instead she picked a royal-blue sundress she’d bought on sale. It was almost the color of the blouse Lincoln Kinkead had given her. And that had looked good on her.
As seven o’clock approached, she stood in front of the mirror, wondering if she should change into something more buttoned up. When she heard a knock at the door, she knew it was too late for second thoughts.
She walked down the hall in the wedge sandals that she’d chosen to go with the dress, then looked through the spy hole before opening the door.