by B. J Daniels
Everyone stared at it for a long moment like it was a bomb about to detonate. Liam made the first move. He opened the folder.
“She has a juvie record?” Liam closed the file. “Wouldn’t that record be sealed?”
“Not in this room, it isn’t.” They needed her history to create the best-possible profile on her. Do that and they would learn the way she thought. Learn the way she thought, and they could come at this from her perspective. “Open it.”
On a sharp sigh, Liam picked up the manila folder and then opened it again.
“Go ahead,” Dash urged. “Read it out loud so everyone can hear.”
“Is that really—”
“Yes. If you’re going to help, you need to know her past.”
“She works in the financial industry. Don’t they perform background checks?” Lorelai asked.
“Good question. Layla hacked into the juvenile justice system and finagled her records. The one in Liam’s hands is probably the only correct piece of information you’ll ever find. That’s the reason you need to hear it. See it. Memorize it. When I leave this room, it goes with me and that’s the last you’ll ever see of it.”
“She spent time in juvie for petty burglary at sixteen years old,” Liam noted.
“That’s right.” Dash wasn’t one for words and he’d already spoken more than he cared to in a day. A dull ache was forming behind his eyes. And this day was just getting started. “Our dad died in a car crash. Things got out of hand at home. Layla went down a bad path and got herself into trouble. She started with small stuff and moved up to petty burglary, which is when she got caught.”
“Everyone processes pain differently,” Liam said defensively.
“Yes. But not everyone acts out by committing a crime.” Dash hadn’t been there for her in the way he should have been.
“Your sister is a good person,” Liam stated.
“I won’t disagree with you there. She became a handful in her teen years, and I’m lucky all she got caught for was the burglary.”
“Is that when you stepped into the picture?” Liam asked.
“Yes.” Dash had inherited his very sullen, very bullheaded younger sister, who came to him cool on the surface and a mess underneath. She had more walls erected than a construction site. Dash wasn’t so great with words, which made helping her that much more challenging.
“How’d she turn it around?” Miguel asked.
“I did for her what the military did for me. Gave her structure and enough physical work every day for her to flop into bed every night exhausted. Then I’d drag her out of bed every morning before the sun for a workout.” Dash hadn’t known what to do with her emotions. She wasn’t one to talk either. No sitting up all night braiding hair at sleepovers for that kid. All he knew was physical labor, and she had responded to it.
“You have my assurance that if your sister is innocent—and we have to operate as though she may not be—we’ll find the proof and clear her name,” Miguel said. “In the meantime, keep us up to date with everything you find.”
“Yes, sir.” The may not be echoed in Dash’s head. As far as probabilities went, he was 96 percent certain Layla was innocent. It was the 4 percent that worried him. His baby sister had always had that edge to her, and he’d gone through hell and back to get her on the right side of the law when she was sixteen. The 4 percent that would keep him awake at night was that Layla really did like the finer things. She’d been keeping to herself lately. Secretive. Something was going on with her and, again, he’d had no idea how to approach the subject with her.
As the room cleared, Dash had another realization. Dammit, he was going to need to talk to Raina Andress—not only was she Layla’s BFF but she was also a tech guru. She must be trying to clear Layla, too, and he needed all hands on deck for this assignment. Plus, he didn’t want them accidentally tripping over each other or duplicating work.
After what had happened between them, would she even talk to him? He could swing by her office and try to force her into a conversation. She worked at the same firm as Layla, just in a different department. Dash picked up the manila folder and stuffed it inside his jacket. Raina wasn’t going to be happy about seeing him again. He’d made sure of it during their last conversation.
First up, though, he needed to speak to Layla’s boss.
* * *
RAINA ANDRESS’S HEELS clicked against the marble tiles of the bank’s lobby as she crossed the room. The four-story lobby and floor-to-ceiling windows had always looked sophisticated to her in the past. Walking across the room and past the security desk to the bank of elevators had always made her feel like she’d made it to exactly where she wanted to be by age thirty-one. The opulence reminded her that her life was on track.
A café to her left, tucked on the side of the lobby, that served all the popular lattes was where she’d spent countless hours in meetings. Like the aftermath of a rock being thrown through a window, her world had come crashing down around her when her best friend, Layla West, was arrested for embezzlement. Now, she looked at everyone in the building with suspicion. She was reminded how fragile glass could be.
Considering it was common knowledge the two were close, Raina’s career didn’t have solid footing. An internal security investigation that led to her boss checking her computer revealed she wasn’t involved. But neither was Layla. Raina would bet her life savings on her friend’s innocence.
Halfway across the lobby, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a linebacker of a man leaning against the glass. He wasn’t more than a shadow in dark pants and a collared shirt. On first blush, she thought he might be FBI.
She shouldn’t look. She reminded herself not to do anything that might come across as an invitation to talk to her. All she wanted was to get past security without making a scene and slip inside the elevator.
Her heart thumped so loudly there was no way everyone in the bustling lobby didn’t hear it. And then it dawned on her. She knew why the figure seemed familiar. He had a name: Dashiell West. No amount of security could keep him out of the building.
Raina picked up the pace. The click of her expensive heels echoed through the lobby. Dash was making a beeline toward her, so she hurried.
The timing would have to be perfect, but hey, miracles happened. Right? She barked out a laugh. Not for her, they didn’t.
In a stroke of luck, she hopped onto an elevator just as she heard the swish behind her.
“Wait.” Even the man’s voice caused her arms to goose bump. His deep timbre traveled all over her body, bringing parts to life she couldn’t afford to acknowledge.
With a whoosh, the doors closed.
“Ha.”
She realized she must have said it out loud since all five people in the elevator turned toward her.
Raina gripped her computer bag. She always carried her laptop with her to and from work. She never knew when she’d need access to the sensitive files that were kept only on this device. Not even with all the encryption in the world could some of these files be shared over a network or stored in a cloud.
She tightened her grip on the laptop case and got off the elevator on seven. She stepped off long enough for the doors to close before pushing the down button, figuring she could face Dash another time. Maybe when she could get her traitorous body to stop lusting for her best friend’s brother.
The elevator door opened, and she stepped on. Alone inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing full well Dashiell West was on his way up to the thirty-third floor. No one needed that kind of negativity in life.
Their last conversation had left a lot to be desired. She was still trying to erase it from her mind. Raina shivered, shaking it off. She punched the button to the building’s fifth-floor cafeteria. She could work there until Dash gave up and went home. She had nothing to say to him.
Copyright © 2021 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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ISBN-13: 9780369709059
Cold Case at Cardwell Ranch
Copyright © 2021 by Barbara Heinlein
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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