Hidden Agenda

by Kara Lennox

  “I don’t know what to think,” Hamilton said sadly. “The whole world has gone crazy.”

  “You’ll have my resignation in the morning,” Cuddy said coldly. “I’m not working for a company that doesn’t trust me.”

  “Don’t make this worse than it already is,” Hamilton said. “We had to check it out. It was the quickest, easiest way to clear you.”

  “Who accused me?” Cuddy asked. “I have a right to know.”

  George answered him wearily. “The information was given to me in confidence. Just let it drop. Gentlemen, let’s go before this gets any more unpleasant.”

  No one said anything in the car for a good five minutes. Finally Conner had to break the silence. “Someone could have tipped him off,” he ventured. “That garage was superclean, like it had been swept. And that lawnmower? Please. If Cuddy mows his own lawn, I’m dating Sarah Palin.”

  “So you think he put it there…like a prop?” George asked.

  “Exactly. If he’d left that third garage bay completely empty, it would have looked odd.”

  “Maybe so,” George said, “but there’s nothing more I can do without hard evidence. We’ll be lucky if Cuddy doesn’t slap us with a lawsuit. I need to know, Conner—who told you Cuddy was a thief?”

  “I promised this person could remain anonymous.” He couldn’t tell them it was Jillian. She’d trusted him to handle the problem. Cuddy might guess she’d ratted him out, but he couldn’t know for sure. “If there are repercussions, I’ll take responsibility.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT FELT STRANGE, DRIVING up to the gates of the Logan estate and having to ask the security guy for admittance. For so many years she’d come and gone from here at will. But though Daniel had never confiscated her opener, it no longer worked. He changed the code at least once a month.

  “Jillian, how nice to hear your voice,” said Brandon, one of the security guards. “Come on in. I’ll tell Daniel you’re here. Does he know you’re coming?”

  “Yes, I phoned him a few minutes ago.” She knew better than to show up at Daniel’s home unannounced. He didn’t like surprises, and she still had to tread lightly here. She and Jamie, his wife, hadn’t started out on the best of terms. In fact, Jillian had tried to convince Daniel that Jamie was a gold digger.

  Jamie had been nothing but cordial, and had made a point of telling Jillian she was welcome in their home. But it still felt slightly awkward.

  Daniel himself met her at the door. “Jillian. Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” she blurted out. “I think I’ve screwed everything up.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” he said in a cajoling voice. “Come on in, let’s talk. You’re probably hungry—I’ll have Cora make you a plate.”

  “No, really, I couldn’t eat a thing.” She wouldn’t be able to swallow past the lump in her throat.

  He picked up a phone in the foyer and ordered food anyway. Then he ushered her through the living room and into the sunroom, a gorgeous glassed-in porch with Spanish tile, potted palms and comfy furnishings. It was a room Daniel had always liked, often taking meals here when the weather outside wasn’t comfortable.

  They sat at a warm antique oak table, and Manuel was there taking drink orders. Jillian stuck with water. As upset as she was, she didn’t want to add alcohol to the mix.

  “So tell me what’s going on,” Daniel said in a coaxing voice.

  “First off, there’s something I should have told you right away. Conner Blake is someone I knew in high school. He and Jeff were friends. We have a, um, a past.”

  Daniel’s eyebrows flew up.

  “No, no, not that kind of past. He pulled a terrible prank on me. I won’t bore you with the details, but the end result was, I ran nearly naked across the football field in front of hundreds of people—friends, family, teachers—”

  Daniel’s jaw dropped. “I remember that. I mean, I wasn’t there, I was in college at the time, but my mother told me.”

  Jillian’s and Daniel’s parents had been friends; that was how she’d first gotten hired to work at the estate.

  Daniel firmed his lips, and she realized he was trying not to laugh.

  “Daniel Logan, don’t you dare laugh!”

  “Aw, c’mon, Jillian, it was kind of funny.”

  “Not to me it wasn’t. I had a huge crush on Conner, and he humiliated me.”

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I won’t laugh. Conner Blake was involved?”

  “Totally responsible. But here’s the really awful part. He didn’t recognize me when I went to work there. Even when he heard my name. So I figured it was cool to keep working for him. Nothing ever happened between us, of course. He was Big Man On Campus, and I was…well, you remember what I was like.”

  “But then he did remember?”

  She nodded. “He had the gall to make light of the prank. We had a big fight. I walked out.”

  “You quit? After all the work we did to get you in there?”

  “I didn’t quit. But I don’t think I can go back there. I can’t face him. And it’s not like I was doing much good. The only thing I’ve done is rat out an office supply thief.”

  “Don’t underestimate your contributions. You provide me with small bits of information, I combine them with other small bits, and it adds up. Don’t you worry, I’m having Isaac Cuddy thoroughly checked out.”

  She suspected Daniel was humoring her, but she appreciated it. “I haven’t typed out today’s report, but I have a new theory. Did you know Stan’s granddaughter, Chandra, is his sole heir? And she’s hurting for money.”

  “Is she? How do you know that?”

  She wasn’t ready to admit to her eavesdropping. “Gossip.”

  Daniel made a quick note. “I’ll take another look at her. This is good information, Jillian. Why would you want to quit?”

  “Because Conner is on to me. Since he knows my background now, he thinks it odd that I choose to do secretarial work when I had all these advantages—money, education, social standing, blah blah blah.”

  Daniel took a sip of his wine and thought for a few moments. “Did you defend your choice?”

  “I told him I enjoyed the work because I was good at it.”

  Daniel thought some more. “Maybe I should pull you out. It could be dangerous for you if Conner figures out who you really work for.”

  “You still think Conner might be responsible? Honestly, Conner couldn’t kill anyone.”

  “Are you sure? Sometimes we’re blind to the people closest to us—the people we have feelings for.”

  “I don’t have feelings for Conner!” She realized the denial had come too quickly, too emphatically.

  “I think maybe you do.”

  She sighed, exasperated, and took a sip of water to buy herself some time. “Okay, I feel a lot of things where Conner Blake is concerned. Anger being at the top of the list. But I can’t deny my childhood crush has gotten all mixed up in this thing, and I don’t know if what I feel is real or new, or just some remnant left over from adolescent hormones. All I know is, I feel miserable.”

  “Undercover work isn’t always fun. That’s why I pay my people the big bucks.”

  He wasn’t kidding about that. Her intern’s salary, already generous, had doubled the second she’d started working at Mayall Lumber.

  “I’m not sure I can face him again. I’m not sure he still wants me working for him, after what I said to him today.” Cruel. Heartless. Unforgivable.

  “Why don’t you give it a try?” Daniel suggested. “It might take weeks or months to get someone else placed inside the company. Stan can’t afford that kind of time investment.”

  At the mention of Stan, Jillian sat up straighter. Maybe she was in an uncomfortable situation, but Stan Mayall was incarcerated and dying of cancer.

  There were worse things than a little embarrassment.

  “Daniel, I knew you’d know the right thing to do. Of course I’ll go b
ack. I’ll even apologize, and I’ll try to make it work. But I wish…I wish I was helping you more.”

  “You’re doing fine. Undercover operations take time.”

  “Isn’t there something proactive I could do? I mean, I’m planning the company’s annual party. It seems so frivolous.”

  “You’re getting to know people. They’re talking to you. Sooner or later, something you hear will send us in the right direction.”

  She nodded. “Okay. But, Daniel, it’s not Conner. Really. Sometimes I feel like I could strangle him with my bare hands, but I don’t see a motive.”

  “You told me Greg wasn’t a very good employee. That he and Conner had exchanged some snipey emails. And that Conner was planning to fire him. What if he did fire him? And Greg didn’t take it well, maybe attacked Conner in a rage. Conner fought back, accidentally killed the man, got scared…”

  “But then why frame Stan?”

  “His ex-wife’s grandfather? Could be some friction there we don’t even know about.”

  Jillian couldn’t even bear to think about the scenario Daniel had just described. “My instincts tell me he couldn’t do it.”

  “You’ve been a field investigator a little over a week. That means you’re entitled to instincts—but you can’t trust them yet.”

  That seemed fair. It also made Jillian feel about two inches high. She had a long, long way to go before anyone trusted her. And maybe Daniel was right not to put his faith in her. She’d made rather a mess of things on her first assignment.

  “All right.”

  “I’m just saying, be careful, okay? Don’t put yourself in a vulnerable situation. I haven’t ruled out Conner as a suspect.”

  * * *

  IT WAS ALL JILLIAN COULD do to get herself out of bed the next morning and shower. She dressed with care, choosing a very feminine two-piece, maroon knit ensemble that hugged her curves like a catsuit. The top fastened with a bold zipper down the front, and the skirt was short. She finished out the look with her favorite pair of dark pink, faux-lizard stilettos only a shade tamer than something Celeste would wear. If she was going to lose her job, she’d go out with a bang.

  She arrived earlier than normal, even. She figured if she was at her desk, hard at work by the time Conner arrived, it would be harder for him to dislodge her.

  “Morning, Jillian.” Letitia treated Jillian to an evil grin that could mean only one thing: gossip. “Did you hear the big news?”

  “I can’t have heard anything since I just got here,” Jillian reminded her friend. Well, sort of a friend. They’d eaten several lunches together, and Letitia loved to dish. She only hoped today’s steaming plate of gossip had nothing to do with her and Conner having a big fight yesterday.

  Letitia looked around to make sure no one else was around to hear. “Isaac Cuddy resigned.”

  Jillian didn’t have to fake her surprise. “Really.”

  “Apparently Mr. Payne and your boss accused him of stealing from the company. Went to his house, searched his garage.”

  “Is it true?” Jillian asked, as if this was complete news to her. “Was he stealing?”

  “Apparently not. They didn’t find anything. But Cuddy was so mad he quit.”

  Jillian grew light-headed as all of her blood drained from her head to her heart, which had jumped into a double-time rhythm.

  They didn’t find anything.

  How was that possible?

  Unless…unless she hadn’t gotten away clean when she was snooping. She’d thought she’d made it out of the garage and into the hallway, closing the door before Isaac saw her. But what if she’d been wrong? What if he’d heard the door slam, or seen just one foot or the hem of her dress disappearing through the door?

  She’d falsely accused a company director of theft—at least that’s what Conner and Mr. Payne must have thought. Why had she even been allowed into the building? Was Isaac filing a defamation of character lawsuit against her as they spoke?

  “Jillian, are you okay?” Letitia asked, her round face wreathed with concern. “You look all pale and wobbly.”

  “Um, I skipped breakfast.”

  “You shouldn’t skip breakfast.” Letitia tutted as she reached into her desk drawer. “Here, eat this. And don’t tell anyone where I keep my stash.”

  Jillian started to decline the offer, until she saw the familiar Snickers wrapper. “Thanks.” She ripped open the wrapper and took a big bite of the candy bar, letting the chocolate, caramel and peanuts soothe her.

  It took every ounce of her willpower not to turn tail and run back to her nice, safe job as an intern. But she’d told Daniel she would show up for work today—she couldn’t chicken out now.

  Why, oh, why had she tattled on Isaac Cuddy like a vindictive schoolgirl? Because she’d once again let her emotions get involved. Never mind that the theft probably had nothing to do with the murder. Isaac had insulted her, leered at her, and she was getting back at him.

  When was she going to learn to keep her emotions in check?

  She was still trembling by the time she got off the elevator on the third floor. The hallway was empty. No firing squad awaited her.

  Conner’s office door was closed, but she could see light coming out from under it. Damn. She hadn’t beaten him to work after all.

  When she arrived at her desk, she skidded to a stop. Surprises just kept piling one on top of another. A huge basket of flowers sat in the middle of her blotter.

  She’d understand it if someone sent her a letter bomb. But flowers?

  She found the card and opened it, and her trembling began anew. Conner. Conner had sent her flowers. No explanation, he’d just signed his name.

  Conner Blake had sent her flowers! Even as she acknowledged how ludicrous the gesture was, her girlish heart warmed because one of her teenage fantasies had just come true. If she could stomp on her stupid adolescent self, banish her to a closet, she would. But just like Conner had said yesterday, that fat, awkward teenager was still part of her, desperate for crumbs of attention from the object of her undying devotion.

  She debated for all of ten seconds before she knew what she had to do. She strode around the corner to Conner’s door and tapped softly.

  “Conner?”

  “Come in, Jillian.”

  Her hand was slick with sweat as she turned the knob and entered his office.

  Conner wasn’t sitting behind his desk, where she could usually find him, but on the sofa with one ankle propped on the opposite knee, an iPad in his lap.

  He was playing solitaire, a most uncharacteristic thing for Conner to do. He might not be the most effective executive she’d ever encountered, but not for lack of work. He never goofed off.

  “What’s the deal with the flowers?” she asked point-blank.

  He put the tablet aside and stood up. “Jillian. Close the door. Come sit down. Please,” he added.

  After closing and locking the door—she didn’t want to take the chance someone would walk in on the discussion they were about to have—she strode across the polished wood floor and chose a chair a safe distance from him.

  He reclaimed his seat, but his eyes never left her. “The flowers are to go with an apology. Long overdue, apparently. Jillian, I am so sorry I talked you into wearing the paper dress. But as God is my witness, I didn’t know it would melt.”

  “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I entered the science fair trying to shore up my extracurriculars so I could get into a good college. I wouldn’t have deliberately sabotaged the whole thing.”

  “Hmph.” His apology was too little, too late. “Am I supposed to think you didn’t turn the sprinklers on, either?”

  “I was standing right there. How could I have turned on the sprinklers?”

  “I assumed you had an accomplice.”

  “No. I had nothing to do with the sprinklers.”

  “This sounds a whole lot like a bunch of excuses, rather than an apology.”

  “I j
ust wanted you to understand. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I knew you were mad at me—Jeff made that pretty clear. But I had no idea how distraught and embarrassed you were. I am sorry. I take full responsibility for everything that happened.”

  She studied her manicure. After imagining his apology a hundred different ways, the actual event felt somewhat anticlimactic. “You don’t even know the worst part of it, do you? It’s not the prank itself.”

  “No?”

  She folded her hands in her lap and met his gaze. “You laughed at me. You could have thrown a tablecloth over me or made sure I found some clothes in the locker room, or at least shown a tiny bit of remorse for making me the butt of a very bad joke, no pun intended. But you stood there laughing like a donkey, laughing so hard you were clutching your stomach.

  “I was naked, or nearly so, in front of everybody.” She could feel the tears building in the back of her throat. God, no, she was not going to cry again.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I was a teenage boy. Teenage boys are horrible people—self-centered, egotistical, obnoxious. If I could go back and undo what I did, I would.”

  She took a deep breath. He did seem sincere. As she’d reminded herself many times lately, it had all happened a long time ago and she should be over it by now anyway.

  Could she forgive him? She toyed with the idea of how that would feel. It was like a weight had lifted. How much had her angry grudge cost her? Whether he deserved forgiveness or not, she was going to give it to him. For her own sake.

  “All right. Apology accepted. We won’t mention it again.”

  “Deal.”

  She took a deep, liberating breath. Amazing. “Do I still have a job?”

  “Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you?”

  She took another deep breath, this one not quite so pleasant. “I know what happened last night, if I can trust the almighty grapevine. Was Isaac’s garage really empty?”

  He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I’m afraid so.”

  “So why haven’t I been escorted off the premises? I falsely accused a director of a crime. Sounds to me like grounds for dismissal.”

  “Because your name never came up. I told George and Hamilton that the tip came from a reliable source, but I didn’t tell them who.”