by G. K. Parks
“No.” There was silence on the phone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have wanted to come, or you wouldn’t have wanted me to go.” This was starting to sound a lot like a conversation an actual couple would have. “I wanted to see if I could get anything out of him about some persons of interest and thought it’d be easier solo.”
“Did you?”
“Nothing earth-shattering. But Denton wants you to know he has it under control.”
“His drinking or his harassing my security?” he asked bitterly.
“I think he meant your company, but at least, at the present, the drinking and the sexual harassment are both under control.”
“Good to know.” His voice still sounded off. “Are you on your way back now?”
“Yes, ten minutes or so.”
There was another uncomfortable break in the conversation.
“I need to know I can trust you,” he said quietly.
“You don’t think you can?” My voice remained calm, but I was getting defensive. There was another painful pause.
“I think maybe you need to get back here.” Martin hung up.
Accelerating, I headed straight for his compound. Something wasn’t right. I didn’t believe for a moment he didn’t trust me, not after everything that had already happened, so there was just one possibility left. Something was wrong. I thought about calling Mark back or maybe O’Connell, but it would have been premature. I didn’t know the situation. I turned on to the private road and slowed the engine, creeping up to the compound while keeping a constant eye out for any vehicles or signs of movement through the trees, but no one was there. I used the remote access to open the garage door and pulled my car inside. Everything appeared normal. After parking my car, I took out my gun, went up the stairs, and opened the door.
“Martin?” I called, half-expecting to find an assault team in the living room.
“I’m in the office.”
My nine millimeter remained in the holster on the table, having never been touched. Walking slowly down the hallway, I pinned myself against the walls as I went, just in case I encountered any problems.
“Are you alone?” Granted if he wasn’t, he’d probably be forced to say he was.
“Of course.” He emerged from the room, unaccompanied. Automatically, I raised my gun, and he looked at me like I was crazy. “There’s no one here. Just me.”
I pushed past him and checked inside the office before lowering my weapon and putting the safety back on. “So what was–” I stopped. Did my leaving actually cause him to question my loyalty? Did he really not trust me? “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“I just received these.” He opened his e-mail. Inside were pictures from less than twenty minutes ago. In one of them, I was smiling at Denton. In another, he had his hand on mine across the table, and in the last one, we were hugging.
“Shit.” Someone followed me. Did they tail me back to Martin’s house?
“That’s it? You aren’t even going to explain why it looks like it does?”
“Someone must have been watching me or Denton. What if I led them to you?” It was best to vocalize these things, so hopefully, Martin could follow along with my thoughts as I did my best to avoid panic-mode.
“Alexis, stop.” He grabbed my shoulders. “What is going on? Why were you with Denton,” he pointed at the pictures on the screen, “like that?”
“Make sure the security system is active. I want to monitor the outside surveillance just to be on the safe side.” Why didn’t he comprehend I could have been followed, and he might be in danger now?
“But,” he tried to interject.
“Just do it. I’ll explain everything, but you have to do this first.” I practically pleaded with him.
How could I be so stupid? I tried to think if I had noticed a tail, which I hadn’t. But the pictures meant something. What, I wasn’t yet sure. Martin double-checked the security system while I went into the living room and turned the television to the input setting, so I could see the security camera feed on the big screen. Everything looked completely calm. Nothing out of place.
“Okay, it’s active.” He sat down in the armchair across from the couch.
I alternated my gaze between him and the security feed. “The reason I left was because Denton called. He wanted to apologize for the other night and invited us out. I said you were busy, but I agreed to meet him alone. We went to the coffee shop on Third. I wanted to get information on Griffin.” Did we not just have this exact conversation over the phone?
“You could have told me that’s who was on the phone. Has he been calling you all day?”
“No.” I thought about it a moment. “Actually, I don’t know. Those other calls came from extension 325. Mark told me that right before he called you.”
“What does this even mean?” Martin indicated the pictures he was e-mailed.
“Who sent the e-mail?” That was the more important question.
He shrugged and shook his head.
“Did it say anything?”
Another headshake.
“When did you receive it?”
“While I was on the phone with you,” he said. I reached for his phone and checked the call log. “I just asked if you were okay, and then I got the e-mail on my phone. I hit open, and the pictures popped up.”
I swallowed. The sender had to have been right there. I must have walked right past him. A shiver traveled down my spine.
“Call Mark. Let’s see if he can track down the sender.” I watched the monitor, but Martin didn’t move from his spot. I shifted my gaze and focused on him. “Honestly, do you think I’m meeting with Denton behind your back, or that I’m trying to sabotage you and your company?”
“No,” he didn’t miss a beat, which was a great relief, “but I don’t know why you didn’t tell me you were meeting him.”
“I already told you I wanted to ask him questions about Griffin, and after our earlier conversation, I didn’t think you would find that reason very valid.” There was nothing else to say that would be helpful. It was best to avoid another fight, especially when I had screwed up by failing to disclose my intentions.
“Don’t crucify me for one past indiscretion,” Martin insisted.
“I’m not. I just need to know these things ahead of time, and you need to come to terms with the possibility Suzanne is involved.” I dialed Mark’s number and tossed my phone to him. “Give Mark the details. I’m going to check the computer.”
Twenty-three
After examining the photos in detail, I was sure the pictures were taken from outside the coffee shop. They were probably from a camera phone due to the size and quality and since I didn’t notice anyone hauling around a camera. The problem was I didn’t know if our unidentified photographer had been following me or Denton. I also debated the purpose of the photos. Were they designed to make Martin suspicious and cause a rift in our relationship? Maybe get my ass kicked out of his house, leaving him unprotected? Or was it an implied threat with two equally important targets, the acting-CEO of his company and his make-believe girlfriend?
Martin entered the room and sat down next to me. “Jabber has some people running with it. I asked if we should call O’Connell, but he said there wasn’t anything worth telling.”
“I agree. There’s no explicit threat.” I leaned back in the chair.
“But there’s an implied threat?” he asked. I had to give him credit; he was an expert at reading between the lines.
“Maybe you should call Denton and tell him about the photos. No details, just that you received some photos of the two of us and you were afraid it could be construed as a threat, so you want him to be extra cautious.”
He considered this for a moment. “What if he’s behind it?”
“If he is, then he’ll know the attempt to cause a rift between us didn’t work, and if he isn’t, it might be good to tell him to watch his back. Someone was following
one of us.”
“I’ll make the call.” He picked up the phone.
“Put it on speaker. I want to hear his response.” Martin pushed a button. “And, just so you know, I’m not really here,” I clarified.
“Got it.” He dialed Denton’s cell phone and told him about the photos.
“Jesus,” Denton sounded worried but not very surprised. “Thanks for warning me. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Be careful. If you need increased security, talk to the boys downstairs. I’m sure they’ll take some extra shifts,” Martin suggested.
“I will.” Denton blew out a breath as if smoking a cigarette. “Is Alexis okay?”
I gave the phone a suspicious look.
“She’s fine.” Martin looked at me, and I held up my hands in a ‘now what’ gesture. “Call if you need anything.” Martin hung up without waiting for a response.
“Not awkward at all.” I laughed nervously. From the living room, my phone rang. “We should have been born in the era of the Pony Express. It would make these things a lot easier.” I got up to get the phone. “Hey, Mark,” I greeted.
“The photos were sent from a burner phone registered to a John Doe. It’s already been turned off. We can’t track it.”
“Thanks for trying.”
“Honestly, Parker, what the hell is going on today? You get some blocked calls, and Marty’s getting photos sent to him. You guys can’t do anything without me, can you?”
“Don’t forget you’re working on the surveillance tapes from the plant too,” I reminded him sweetly.
“Yeah, yeah.” I pictured Mark rolling his eyes. “Can you explain why you quit the OIO? Weren’t things much easier here?”
“Not really, but I imagine they were for you since I was the one doing all the legwork.”
“I miss those days,” he sounded nostalgic and hung up.
“That was Mark,” I announced. “It’s a no go on tracking our mystery photographer.”
“And the hits just keep on coming,” Martin replied from the office. Something crashed, and I figured he might have just thrown a coffee cup against the wall.
“Everything all right in there?” I didn’t want to feel obligated to help clean up the mess.
“Peachy.”
He was frustrated, and I briefly considered the possibility his anger might have had something to do with my abrupt disappearance earlier or my chumminess with Denton. But maybe this was just a very self-centered view of things. After all, I was not the center of the universe, especially not the universe Martin lived in. It was best to keep busy and stay out of his way. There wasn’t anything else to do at the moment.
I went upstairs and unpacked the few remaining items still stuffed in my bags. I was running low on clothing and other essentials and needed to go back to my apartment sometime soon and replenish my stock. In the meantime, I might as well do some laundry.
The laundry room was on the third floor, down the hall from my suite. As far as I could tell, Martin never used the room. Probably Rosemarie, the cleaning lady, did his laundry whenever she came to clean. It must be nice to have that many pairs of underwear, I thought, keeping my mind entertained with my own pointless musings.
I found the laundry detergent and fabric softener and tossed my dirty clothes into the machine, setting it to delicate and not bothering to separate the colors from whites. I didn’t have anything nice enough to worry about ruining. The few work items I had were dry clean only and hanging safely in the closet.
I headed back to my room. I had been staying at Martin’s since Thursday. It wasn’t even a full week yet, but it felt like several months. I tidied up the guest suite and my private bathroom but decided against changing the sheets and towels since it had only been five days. I needed to keep busy to avoid dwelling on the phone calls, the photos, and Martin. I needed a break and a clear head.
Originally, I planned to return to the compound, ask questions about the extension, and see whose offices were nearby. Instead, my plans were derailed by Martin and his tantrum over trust and the pictures. God, the pictures. The crosshairs were no longer solely focused on him. Perks of the job, I thought wryly. Some people got medical and dental. I got a target painted on my back.
I entered the security code, opened the French doors, and went onto the terrace. A wicker table and chair were in the corner, and I sat down, looking out over the pool. I tried to imagine this was a vacation at some luxurious five-star hotel; unfortunately, my imagination wasn’t that good.
My thoughts kept returning to the photos and the blocked calls, so I went back inside, making sure to reactivate the security protocols. I pulled out my diagram of the MT offices and looked at the building. There were empty office spaces on almost every floor. I went back downstairs and retrieved my phone. Martin was nowhere to be seen. He was probably still in his office, so I headed upstairs, dialing the MT number and the extension. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. I was ready to hang up when someone answered.
“Martin Technologies,” a female voice responded. “How may I help you?”
“Can I speak to Mrs. Griffin, please?” I didn’t know who I was talking to but figured I had to say something. Did MT have caller ID?
“This is she,” the voice, which I hadn’t recognized, replied.
Shit. My mind raced. To identify myself or to hang up, I had to decide now. “Hello, this is Alex Parker,” I said, making my decision. “Mr. Denton said you moved offices.” I had to buy some time to think of a good excuse for my call. “I just wanted to tell you my office was broken into over the weekend, and I was checking to see if anyone caught the vandal.” Might as well reinforce the story Det. O’Connell used this morning.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She didn’t sound sincere. “I haven’t heard anything about it. I can check and get back to you.”
“That won’t be necessary. I’m sure building security will notify me.”
“Okay, if there is nothing else Mr. Martin needs.” She wanted to get off the phone. Clearly, my needs and concerns were unimportant to her.
“No, that was it. Thanks.”
Griffin was extension 325. Did the calls come from her or someone using her phone? I thought about the time frame. It was possible she could have called before and after her brief visit to the precinct, but it seemed unlikely. I could kick myself for tipping her off, or did she actually believe my bullshit story? I did have photographic proof I was with Denton today. How ironic? I went back down the stairs, deciding another admission to Martin might be the best course of action to demonstrate my trustworthiness and win back some lost brownie points.
“So,” I began, walking into his office, but he wasn’t there. “Great, now I’m talking to myself.” I went into the living room to make sure I didn’t miss him; then I checked the kitchen. “Martin,” I called. Why did it feel like I was calling for a dog? The next question I’d be asking was if Timmy fell down the well. I checked the empty guest bedroom on the second floor, and then I went upstairs to the fourth floor. I knocked on his bedroom door and his office door. No response. “Where the hell are you?” I asked the empty rooms before going back downstairs. A noise came from the first floor, and I opened the door to the garage and went down the steps. “Martin,” I tried again.
“What?” He was sitting in one of his convertibles with the speakers blaring rock music. He lowered the volume to a tolerable level, reminding me of a teenager anxious to get his first driving lesson.
“I called the extension, you know, from the blocked number.” He didn’t appear to be paying much attention as he played with the stereo controls.
“Get in.”
“We aren’t going anywhere.”
“Why do you always have to argue? Just get in the damn car.”
I opened the door and got in. He didn’t even have the remote to get out of the garage. Instead, it was as if we were sitting in a demonstration car in a dealership showroom. After he decided his stereo presets and bass le
vels were satisfactory, he turned off the stereo. I now had his full attention.
“I called the extension,” I started again.
“I know. You said that already.”
I tried to overlook the gruffness. “Griffin answered the phone.” It was best to get straight to the point.
“So, she’s been calling you all day?” He could be so aggravating sometimes.
“I don’t know. Possibly. I just thought you’d want to know.” I reached for the door handle, but he hit the locking mechanism, which was rather childish since I could easily unlock the door. And even if I were somehow unable to, we were sitting in a parked convertible. I could climb over the door. “Really?” I turned to him. His smirk was infuriating.
Once again, the madness that was James Martin surprised me. He folded his hands neatly over the steering wheel and gave me a sideways look. I wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but two could play at this game. I turned to him, leaning against the door, so I was facing him more directly.
“Now that I have your undivided attention, Miss Parker,” I didn’t like his sudden formality, “I think we need to clear the air, so to speak.” I tried very hard not to glare at him. “First off, I don’t particularly care for being interrogated. Second, if you are following a lead on my case, I would appreciate being informed before you rush out of here half-cocked. Third,” he paused, and I wondered if he was making some perverted joke in his mind, “I do trust you. You saved my life, and that is something I won’t easily forget.” His entire tone changed, making me incredibly uncomfortable. “That being said,” he swallowed and switched back to business professional, “there is now a target on your back. You can’t continue being so reckless.”
“I’m not reckless. It all comes down to a cost-benefit analysis.” Business speak was something he’d more easily understand.
“You’ve given the reckless speech plenty of times by now.” His tone was friendlier, almost teasing. “I thought you might want to hear what it sounds like.”
“Sounds better when I’m the one saying it.” I didn’t like being told what to do or how to do it.