by G. K. Parks
I checked for a connection between Gifford and Barber, but I didn’t find one. In a last ditch effort, I went to the filing cabinet and searched through the information CryptSpec provided when they hired us and the intel I gathered since I was assigned the case. No mention of Gifford, engineering, or bridges.
A gentle knock sounded at the door. Lucien stood on the threshold, waiting for permission to enter. My boss never stood on ceremony, and he made it clear from day one that he owned everyone and everything in this office.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he said. “I don’t enjoy dealing with the police.”
“You should get used to it, sir.”
“I spoke to Dryer and Weston. They told me about the radio calls. You watched Gifford die. Based on what I’ve heard of his injuries, there was nothing you could have done to save him.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Shall I assume that’s the reason you’re being particularly abrasive this afternoon?”
“What do you want, Lucien?” He hated when people beat around the bush, and I could see why.
He cleared his throat. “Have you completed the work-up on Gifford?”
I showed him what I had so far. “Why don’t you just call Mansfield and ask? It would save us a lot of time and effort.”
“I may just do that.” He left without another word.
Pushing away from my desk, I circled the room. It would have been nice to have a window to look out. The drab walls were oppressive. I checked the time and went across the hall to Kellan Dey’s office. He was another of Cross’s private investigators. Unlike me, Kellan had come to Cross from the DEA.
“Are you busy?” I asked, brushing my hair out of my face.
“No more than normal. What’s up, Alex?” He studied me for a moment. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“I could use a lot more than a drink. Look, I know it’s Friday afternoon and we all want to get the hell out of here, but I’m about to lose it. Will you cover for me?”
“Sure.” His brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. “Lucien has me researching Stuart Gifford in connection with CryptSpec. I don’t believe there is a connection, but the man was killed right outside their front door.”
“Shit.” He picked up a pen and wrote down the name. “Anything else I might need to know?”
“That’s pretty much it. I told Cross what I found, which was nothing, but in the event he comes up with some other ridiculous theory, I was hoping you could deal with it.”
“No problem.”
“I owe you.”
“Make it up to me. Lunch Monday. Tequila and tacos.”
“I don’t drink tequila.”
He laughed. “That’s okay. You don’t have to drink it. You just have to pay for it.”
Escaping the confines of Cross Security, I took a cab across town to the Martin Technologies building. It was four o’clock when I stepped foot inside, and I smiled at the person manning the security desk. Since I didn’t recognize him, I figured he must be new.
“May I help you?” he asked.
“I’m here to see Mr. Martin. Is he busy?”
The guard clicked a few keys. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Not in those precise terms. It’s more of an open invitation.” I turned up the charm and leaned over the desk. Perhaps I should have left a few buttons open on my blouse, but I wasn’t expecting things to be this complicated. “If he isn’t in a meeting, can you just call up to his office and ask if he has a few minutes for an attractive brunette?” The guard looked utterly bewildered. “Just check. I’ll leave if he says no.”
“One moment, ma’am.”
I cringed as the term caused another barrage of negative memories to flood my mind. The back of an ambulance. The frantic warning beeps on the monitors. The EMTs rushing around. Michael Carver flatlining. I gasped, unraveling at the seams.
He put the phone down. “My apologies, Miss Parker. I’ll take you upstairs.”
I clung to the elevator rail. As soon as the doors dinged, I pushed my way out of the tiny metal box. “I’ve got it from here.” I didn’t wait for a response as I went down the short hallway.
The glass wall that lined the exterior of James Martin’s office was currently set to clear. He was behind his desk with an amused look on his face. When I reached the door, he pressed the remote unlock, and I stepped inside. Immediately, the clear wall became opaque.
“This is a pleasant surprise. Wasn’t I supposed to pick you up at your apartment tonight?” Martin asked.
“Were you?”
“Sweetheart, what is it? What happened?” He came around the desk and reached for me.
I melted into his arms, pressing my ear against his chest until I could hear his heart beating. “I shouldn’t bother you with this.”
“Alexis, this is why I’m here. Bother me, please.” His desk phone rang. He pulled back, and I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. “Hold that thought.”
While he spoke on the phone, I went into his private washroom and scrubbed my hands again. “You’re losing it, Parker.” This was ridiculous. I knew it was, but watching Gifford die triggered something that I thought I made peace with years ago. Right now, the wounds felt fresh. And if I wasn’t careful, they’d become debilitating.
Martin appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?” he asked gently.
“Someone died.” I let out an ugly laugh. “I didn’t know him. I didn’t even know his name until Cross weaseled it out of the police. But I was there. I held his hand. I watched the life leave his body. I’ve only seen it happen twice before, which is crazy considering the number of people I’ve killed. God,” I inhaled a shaky breath, “I’m a horrible person. This man died, and I’m stuck thinking about…” My voice trailed off.
He ran his thumb against my cheek. “Alex, I’m okay.”
“You had the same look when you were shot, when you were bleeding out. I can still feel your blood on my hands and see the growing stain on the carpet. I thought I lost you.”
“I’m right here. You won’t lose me.”
But I saw the look in his eyes. It scared him when I got like this. We’d dealt with this issue and the aftermath of my worries and nightmares several times. It had nearly ended our relationship.
“I know. I just had to see you like this and not the way I remember that day going.” I stepped away from him. “I should let you get back to work. You probably have more meetings.”
“I don’t.” He watched me uncertainly, sensing I needed some space. “You should stay. I’d like to have something beautiful to look at while I finish going over the projections. Plus, it’ll save me a trip to pick you up.”
I stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out at the city. Martin had a fantastic view. The entire world was spread out before me. “Would you mind terribly if we stayed in tonight?”
He hesitated, and I glanced over my shoulder as he fidgeted with his tie, finally getting annoyed with the knot and taking it off. “We promised Luc and Vivi. If the Guillots weren’t hosting a dinner for the new board members, I’d cancel without a second thought. But I have to be there. I’ll duck out early and meet you back at our place if you don’t feel up to socializing. Or your place. Whatever you prefer.”
“That’s okay. We should be there. It’s important.” I moved to the bar in the corner and spun a few bottles. Finally, I cracked open a can of seltzer and took a seat on one of the leather couches. Kicking off my shoes, I pulled my knees to my chest and sat in the corner in order to face his desk. “I ran into Derek today.”
Martin clicked a few keys, alternating his gaze from the monitor to me. “How is Detective Heathcliff?”
“Embroiled in a homicide, which I vowed to stay away from.”
“Really?”
I took another sip. “Yeah, well, you know Cross’s stance on murder investigations. And after everything, I d
on’t think Derek’s career can afford any more complications.”
Martin made a sound, indicating he was listening, but I knew something on the screen had caught his attention. I kept my mouth shut and worked through some of the exercises various shrinks had suggested to deal with these unwanted memories. As usual, I didn’t find them helpful. The only thing that ever worked was the realization that I had two options — live in the present or sacrifice everything for the sake of the what ifs.
I made my decision. I chose to have Martin now and for as long as I could instead of dwelling on the possibility that his proximity to me would result in his untimely demise. Ultimately, he would decide if the danger was too great, and I would respect it.
I watched him work. He rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He had already taken off his tie and unbuttoned his vest. His jacket was hanging neatly behind him. This was his passion. Apparently, life went on. At least for most of us. Stuart Gifford couldn’t say the same.
I wondered how long Martin would stay immersed in the paperwork before realizing I was still in the room. Truthfully, this was why we worked. He understood my obsessive workaholic tendencies because they mirrored his own. Long ago, we swore we’d put our careers first and relationship second, but that wasn’t true. Even though he said he had to go to Luc’s tonight, if I remained at home, he would duck out before the main course was served. We’d been through too much for it to be any other way. I just wondered if he would end up resenting me because of it.
Inevitably, my mind went back to the events of the morning, but I was calmer now. Seeing Martin alive and well kept the more painful memories at bay. Slowly, I recalled everything from this morning — my meeting with Mr. Mansfield to the sound of the gunshots. The shots had come from a distance. I heard them, and so did the security team, which led to one glaringly obvious discrepancy. Gifford had been shot twice in the chest. He wasn’t shot in the back.
“Holy shit.” I dug into my bag for my phone. “He was leaving CryptSpec.”
“What?” Martin looked up.
“Never mind.” I dialed Heathcliff and started to pace in front of the windows, aware of Martin’s gaze following my every move.
“That was quick,” Heathcliff answered. “I figured you would at least wait until tomorrow.”
“This can’t wait. Gifford was shot in the front.”
“Thanks, Sherlock. I believe the medical examiner might have mentioned that, or y’know, I picked up on it from being at the scene.”
“Yeah, but I moved the body.”
“You what?”
“Well, he wasn’t a body when I moved him. I pulled him into cover. He was shot in the chest and fell backward. His head was closest to the door, and his feet were facing the parking lot.”
“But you moved him.” Heathcliff blew out a breath. “You’re telling me he was leaving CryptSpec.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Son of a bitch.” Derek yelled something to someone in the background. “This changes things.”
“I thought it might. I just wanted you to know. I’m sure you already pulled CryptSpec’s footage, but if everyone inside claimed not to know him, then someone’s lying.”
“Anything else?”
“That’s all I have. I promised you I’d stay out of this but figured you’d want to know.”
“What about Cross? Is he staying out of this?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Three
“Did you catch the news?” Bitsie asked. “Another office shooting. I really don’t understand why this keeps happening. Doesn’t anyone remember what it’s like to be civilized?” She looked at her husband, Charlie Roman, and lowered her voice. “I worry about him at work. It shouldn’t be that way. It’s not like he’s stationed in Fallujah.” She lifted her glass and took a sip. By my calculations, she should have been cut off after cocktail hour. “Don’t you worry about Luc?”
Vivi Guillot blushed slightly. The hostess was embarrassed by her guest, particularly since the woman was having this discussion in front of me. “Bitsie, there is no need to worry. The building is secure.”
“Of course you would think so. Luc wasn’t at the company when the explosion happened.”
“I can assure you, Mrs. Roman, the Martin Technologies building is one of the safest offices in this city. The security guards are well-trained. The protocols in place are on par with those of federal law enforcement agencies,” I interjected. “You have nothing to worry about.”
Martin rubbed my thigh. Despite the conversation he was having with the other end of the table, he must have been paying attention. I wondered if he’d chime in.
“How would you know?” Bitsie asked, her volume increasing on account of her drunkenness.
“I helped establish them.” I turned my attention to the grilled asparagus and sliced through the spears with my knife more forcefully than necessary.
Bitsie opened her mouth to say something, but Vivi intervened, holding up a basket of bread. “Have you tried the brioche?” With Bitsie occupied, Vivi changed topics, focusing her attention on me. “How do you like working for Cross Security?”
I chuckled and put down my silverware. It was clear I couldn’t win. “It’s fine.”
Bitsie swallowed the mouthful of bread. “Oh, so you’re some big shot security whatsit?”
“I think I’m a whosit instead of a whatsit. Y’know, since I’m a person and not a thing.”
Martin squeezed my leg before I said something one of us would regret. “Alex has done incredible work to safeguard Martin Technologies. She used to work for the Office of International Operations, an elite branch of the FBI, and now she’s at the best investigation firm in the city. I understand your concern, Bitsie. But you have my word, Charlie is safe.”
Charlie, who was seated on the other side of his wife, mouthed an apology. At this rate, they might be divorced by dessert, not that I would object. I always liked Charlie. He was a couple of decades older than Martin, but he was sharp and funny. His wife, on the other hand, was quickly becoming one of my least favorite people. And I’d dealt with Lucien Cross and an unknown shooter earlier today, so that was saying something.
To avoid further incident, Charlie introduced Bitsie to the two women sitting diagonally from him. I finished eating and asked Vivi about her son and his future plans. He would be starting his junior year in the fall and was in the beginning stages of choosing a university.
“He’s been talking about going back to Paris,” Vivi said. “We visit home frequently, but still, it’s an ocean away.”
“What does he want to be?”
She laughed. “It changes by the day.”
“He’s young. He has time to figure it out.”
“Absolument,” she replied, forgetting herself for a moment.
Before I could think to say anything else, my phone rang. “Pardon.” I dug into my bag. It was Heathcliff. “I have to take this.” I pushed away from the table.
Since dinner had been served on the piazza, I stepped down from the covered patio and wandered along the lighted path. The Guillots had a finely manicured lawn and garden, and in the center was a fountain. I rested my hips against the ceramic edge and answered the dozen questions Heathcliff asked.
He’d spent most of the evening reviewing CryptSpec’s security footage. “Stuart Gifford had a meeting with a few software developers this morning, including Ian Barber. Is there anything I should know about the others?” Heathcliff read their names, and I did my best to recall details. But after I cleared them of corporate espionage, they fell off my radar. “You’re not much help, Parker. I expected more from you.”
“Sorry, Detective.”
“It’s okay. I just thought your research might have saved me a couple of hours. Turns out I have to perform my own due diligence. But considering they came up clean on your investigation, I’m not counting on finding much.”
We disconnected, and I glanced back in the directi
on of the dinner party. Servers cleared away the plates, and the guests milled about while caterers set up a dessert buffet. This wasn’t my scene. On my best day, I felt like an imposter, but today, I feared I might just snap.
Martin took a seat beside me, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. “Let me guess. You’re thinking up some emergency in order to get the hell out of here.”
“Am I that predictable?”
“Not in the least.” He ran a hand through my hair. “Where do you want to stay tonight?”
“Not here.”
He laughed. “You know what I mean. Given the circumstances, if you’d be more comfortable sleeping at your apartment, I’ll have Marcal pack a bag for me.” Predicting my next statement, he added, “I’m not leaving you alone tonight or any night in the foreseeable future.”
“Are you hoping to get lucky, mister?”
He kissed me long and slow. “I’ve been thinking I should sell my place.”
“Martin,” I objected, but he put a finger to my lips.
“No, just listen. You haven’t stepped foot inside since we got back together. You’ve been hesitant to come back, and I know that has more to do with our break-up and reconciliation rather than what happened years ago. But that day still bothers you. That house was my connection to my mother, but now I have her sketches. And honestly, I realized the memories I have inside that house have nothing to do with my mom and everything to do with you. We can make new memories in a new house.”
“Okay, now you’re creeping me out. That’s rather Oedipal or Freudian.” I grimaced. “Either way, it’s just icky.”
He rolled his eyes. “That is not what I said.” The voices of other guests grew louder, and I feared someone was about to find us and rope Martin into another business discussion. Didn’t these people get enough of that at work? “I think we should start looking for a place. The apartment we bought is okay for the short-term, but we don’t have much space. We need something bigger.” He nudged me. “On days like this, I know how badly you need a treadmill.”