by Nancy Radke
STOLEN SECRETS
by NANCY RADKE
PRAISE FOR STOLEN SECRETS
“An emotional rollercoaster with a feel-good ending. Ms. Radke sprinkles in humor when you least expect it.” J. Rogers
“From murder to mayhem to downright funny in places.” Gail P.
“Stayed up all night reading this one. A page turner all the way to the end.” AddyM
“Ms. Radke’s heros are honorable men, kind, courteous and caring. So refreshing to have a man you can look up to.” S. Ericson
“I was reading this to my husband and he wouldn’t let me stop.” RH
Table of Contents
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
OTHER WORKS BY NANCY RADKE
THE SISTERS OF SPIRIT SERIES
SHOW & TELL BIBLE SERIES
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CONTACT INFORMATION
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
DEDICATION
1
Ryan Duvall could take down a man armed with a knife, but he couldn't stand a woman armed with a tongue. To avoid the tongue seated next to him, he had stood up for most of the four-hour flight from Anchorage to Seattle. The crew didn’t mind— he always flew as an armed air marshal, supplementing their regular men.
The seatbelt light forced him to sit down.
“Hello again,” the woman said. “Are you in television? You remind me of that good-looking actor I saw in ‘Morgan’s Bluff.’” She leaned closer, secure in her beauty, while her make-up, her clothes, her perfume— everything about her turned him off.
“No, that wasn’t me.” Ryan said, considering how to shut her up. He had once been engaged to a stunningly beautiful woman who had left him as soon as she had gone through his ready cash.
Usually he brought a newspaper to gain privacy, although it probably wouldn’t have stopped this woman.
“I’ve got friends in television. Do you know...”
Beyond her he could see the white snow hurtling past the window. Ryan pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed his office. That stopped her, and he smiled with satisfaction.
After two rings a female voice answered. “Sunderstrom and Duvall Security Systems. How may I direct your call?”
“Patti Jean. Scott there?”
“Yes. His meeting just broke up.” Ryan could hear the ring as she transferred him to Scott’s office.
“Scott Sunderstrom.”
Ryan settled back in relief. “We’ve a tail wind. Coming in early.”
“Good. It’s snowing hard here. Did they announce it?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a huge mess. They forecast rain today so no one was prepared. You know how Seattle is.”
Ryan did. Seattle’s steep hills— combined with slick wet snow— produced fender-benders and cars in ditches.
“How was Anchorage when you left?” Scott asked.
“Raining.”
“Weird. We don’t ever get snow before Thanksgiving. Not that I can remember, that is. And this is coming down in huge flakes. If it keeps up, we’ll have two or three feet by morning. The temperature’s dropping fast. Metro’s a mess. I’ll meet you at the Sound Transit station. Wait for me.”
“Did they return my car to the office?”
“Yes, it’s here, ready to go. They couldn’t recharge the battery, it was totally dead. The mechanic installed a new one.”
“Bring all my CDs, just in case we can’t get back there.”
The woman continued to stare at Ryan and he held the phone higher and turned his head. With a snort she ignored the seatbelt light and stood up, forcing her way past his knees and out to the aisle.
Ryan smiled, happy to see her go.
“What happened at the oil company?” Scott asked.
“Whoever broke in got past my system and into MXOIL. They weren’t too happy.”
“Oh.”
“I took their installation CD with me, so I fixed the damaged files and changed some passwords. But I’ve got to update all their systems to plug the hole he found.”
“I’ll leave now. See you.”
“Okay.” Ryan hung up. Immediately the woman appeared, working her way back into her seat.
“Are you in the music business? I heard you talking about your CDs.” The woman leaned forward, her hand on his arm, her long fingernails painted a dark red. He stared at them, irritated.
“No.”
“The movies, then?”
“No.”
“I bet you’re a producer. You know, I’ve been a model...”
* * *
Scott slowed the car as he turned into the lot next to their offices. “I’m sorry,” he apologized once more, as he parked at the front. “I laid your CDs on my desk while I put on my coat. I can’t believe I forgot them. I know how valuable they are.”
“It’s been less than an hour. They should be okay.” Ryan got out of the car and turned to retrieve his carry-on bag in the back seat. He glanced up at their office suite on the second floor. A light shone in Patti’s room. A shadow passed across it, then back again.
He stood up straight, bag forgotten. All those companies— they depended on him to keep them safe. “Someone’s there! Patti?”
“Can’t be. She’d have left long ago.” His partner jumped out and slammed his door.
The light went out.
Ryan bolted up the steps and into the office building, Scott— slower— falling behind him. The main door was still unlocked. The security system— on a timer— hadn’t switched on.
Ryan pointed towards the opening doors of the elevator as he took the stairs. He came out to an empty hallway. Running over to Scott’s door, he touched the knob. It turned beneath his hand.
As the door opened, Ryan kicked it hard, knocking the person on the other side to the floor. He switched on the light as he stepped into the room, ready to fight.
A young woman lay at his feet, white-faced, her hand to her head. Young, slim, wearing a white blouse, blue raincoat, and a gray skirt. Barefoot. Her shoes, a paper shopping bag, and her purse lay scattered on the floor next to her. One ankle looked swollen three times the size of the other.
He knew her! He recognized last summer’s lovely young temp even with her hair cropped short. Angie. Angie Reid. He had been attracted to her, but hesitant to say anything.
What was she doing in Scott’s office?
He glanced at Scott’s desk. It was bare except for the pencil holder and desk phone. A heavy weight knocked the breath out of Ryan. Surely she hadn’t taken his CDs! He picked up her shopping bag and felt inside. Not there. Her purse? It was hardly big enough, but he opened it and glanced inside. None there.
Scott barged in and stopped to stare at Angie. "Who’re you?” he shouted. “What’re you doing here?” He reached down and hauled her to her feet.
She cried out, a high-pitched gasp, and he gave her a shake. “Come on, speak up!”
Worried Scott would hurt her, Ryan yanked one of the big man's hands away. “Easy.”
Scott glared at him, but released her with a shove— and she half-flew across the room to land on Scott’s white fake-fur area rug. With dove-gray eyes huge in her ashen face, Angie looked at his partner and then at him, a tiny bird in a furry nest. An injured bird, unable to fly, blinking back tears.
Her tears smashed into Ryan— as if he himself were injured. He wanted to gather her up, soothe her hurt. There was no doubting her injury, but were they tears of distress? Or turned on for their benefit?
The Angie who had worked for them had seemed so invincible, so untouched by any problems. She had left a day early, before her week was up, without notifying them. He thought she had found a better job, but now realized she could’ve bee
n using her temp position to case the office.
Patti had brought Angie in to help with a mailing. Scott had been out most of that time, setting up the physical security for a customer’s plant in Tacoma. That was his expertise.
Ryan walked over and knelt beside her.
“What happened?" Taking her foot in his hand, he examined her swollen ankle, gently exploring the hot, discolored mass. It needed treatment— ice, compression, elevation.
“I fell down, outside on the sidewalk.” Her voice was low, just above a whisper, its softness like music to him.
“You're the one I knocked over.” Scott scowled at her, then at Ryan. “I ran into her when I was hurrying to get you.”
“With your car?”
“No,” the taller man scoffed. “Afoot. She didn’t watch where she was going." He glared at her.
“You didn’t either.” Her voice grew stronger. “Another man had just passed me, running like his tail was on fire, and I looked back to see— ”
“You said you were okay!” Scott interrupted, his voice accusing.
“My ankle didn't hurt until I tried to walk on it. When I missed my bus, I came in to call home. My cell is dead— ”
“Was Patti here?”
“Yes. I heard her— ”
“She must've put those CDs away.” Scott strode towards his wall safe. Ryan stood up, relieved.
“No. She didn't,” Angie said.
The weight slammed into Ryan once more, but this time confusion accompanied it. What was going on?
Scott spun around with a growl. “What do you mean?”
She didn’t look at him. She spoke directly to Ryan. “They were your CDs, weren't they?” she asked.
He nodded, barely able to breathe.
“They’re still here. I hid them in Patti's room.”
Had she now? Why? The weight lifted.
“You see, I heard Patti on the phone, telling someone that the CDs were on Mr. Sunderstrom’s desk— ”
“What?” Scott interrupted. Ryan had never seen him so agitated.
“You just missed the thieves— or at least the guys who tried to steal them. They left a few minutes before you came. You probably passed them in the elevator.”
"You're crazy,” Scott said. “Patti wouldn’t— What really happened here?” Scott charged across his office, aggressive and threatening, but this time Ryan stood between him and Angie. He intended to stay there.
Scott towered over him and must’ve looked huge to the diminutive Angie. Her eyes widened in fear. Her short haircut allowed her ears to show and this— along with eyes set just a little bit too far apart— gave her freckled face the appearance of a small woodland creature, out of its element, "lost" in the bewildering city. She looked to be no threat to them, not this wisp of a girl.
"Let her talk," Ryan said, standing at ease. The man would soon cool down. He knew Scott well. The two of them climbed mountains together, as well as being business partners.
Angie sent Ryan a look of gratitude while her fingers worked up and down her swollen ankle. "From what Patti said, it sounded like someone planned to steal them."
Ryan nodded, never entirely comfortable with Patti’s honesty or lack thereof. With her mismatched outfits and constant chattering, Patti gave the impression of being immature, but her work reflected an efficient mind. Scott trusted her— had hired her.
“Patti left after making some more calls. I hid under the desk until she had gone. But she didn’t lock the door, and I barely had time to switch the CDs. Two men came in and took the blanks— "
"Blanks?" Sunderstrom shook his head and began to pace around the room.
Angie pointed toward Patti’s room, next to Scott’s. “I put the real ones under the stack of empties on Patti's filing cabinet.” She spoke faster. “I planned to call you to say where they were.”
Ryan strode through the connecting door into Patti’s room and glanced around.
He stepped over to Patti’s desk and slid open the drawer where he knew the secretary kept her petty cash. It lay there, a small but tempting pile of change, untouched. He smiled. His assessment of their little gray bird had proven correct.
He lifted the stack of CDs on the filing cabinet and found his at the bottom. All there, he decided as he flipped through them, still arranged numerically in pairs.
Wait a minute. He looked again. One missing.
The most valuable of all— the system CD for MXOIL.
2
Ryan checked the stack of CDs again. No wonder Angie hadn’t touched the petty cash. The missing CD could be worth millions— if sold to the right person.
Would she have that kind of contact? Had there even been a robbery attempt? They only had Angie’s word on it, though she had moved the stack of CDs for some reason.
He shook his head to clear his thoughts. The lights had gone off while he and Scott were in the parking lot, so maybe she had sent someone out with the CD while she gathered her things to follow. But why move the stack?
He replaced the empties on top of the cabinet, pondering his next move. The thief would get a big surprise, for when he tried to open that CD without using the installation disk currently in Ryan’s pocket, he would run into a Trojan horse. It would destroy his hard drive and the CD. Ryan smiled at the image that invoked.
To be extra sure, he must alert Jim Markum, the chief security officer at MXOIL. Jim needed to know.
Should he tell Scott? No... at least not until he cooled off. Scott’s first reaction would be to send Angie to jail. Ryan didn’t want that. He desperately wanted her not to be a thief, but with his luck with women, she could’ve masterminded the whole thing.
He’d keep an eye on her. Sooner or later he’d know the truth. Time had a way of answering all questions.
He walked back into the main office. Scott had the safe open while Angie sat on the rug, her face white and drawn, her hands clasped together.
“I’ll just check these." Ryan booted up the computer, all the while noting Angie’s reactions.
“I copied your titles over,” she said, looking pleased with herself, “so they’d think they took the correct ones.”
“What did they look like?" he asked.
“The men?” She shook her head. “I don't know.” She pointed toward Scott’s heavy oak desk with its solid front. “I dove under there. I could only see their shoes.”
“Did you see them, Scott?”
“Huh?” Scott shut the safe and spun the dial.
“Coming out of the elevator. The bell rang as I entered the stairwell. You must’ve seen who— ”
“Yeah. One of the secretaries from the fourth floor.”
Scott pointed at Angie. “I don’t think we need to look further than her. She’s the thief. I locked that door behind me. And Patti left just after I did."
"But I heard her— " Angie’s voice rose in protest.
"No one's been here. Just you. What's your name?"
"Angie Reid."
"Why did you break into my office?"
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“The door was unlocked.”
“It wasn't. I'm going to call the police." Scott strode over to his desk and lifted the receiver.
"But I saved your CDs. Why won't you believe me?"
"Patti's worked here several years. I trust her."
Ryan wondered why Angie didn’t mention the week she had worked here. He replaced the last CD in its case. "Forget it, Scott. They're here."
“All of them?” Scott frowned, looking confused. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“That’s strange.” He looked more upset than relieved. “We only have her word that there actually was a robbery attempt. She could just be saying that to get our sympathy. What if she copied them?”
Ryan turned off the computer and glanced at his partner. “These can’t be copied. I put a Trojan Horse at the beginning of each one, with two levels of encryption. Nothi
ng’s disturbed.”
Ryan put the CDs in his inner coat pocket and zipped it shut. Then he crossed the room to where Angie sat on the rug. He reached down and took her hand, then slid her sleeve upward, checking first one arm and then the other. She gazed up at him, her innocence shining out of the clear depths of her eyes, causing his heart to take an erratic skip.
He nodded, satisfied, and pulled down her sleeves. No needle marks. He would’ve given a year’s earnings, betting she didn’t use drugs, but he had been wrong before. “You call Medic One?” he asked.
“Not for a sprained ankle. Just a quick call home. I was leaving to catch the next bus when you came.”
The phone rang. Scott grabbed it. “Sunderstrom,” he said. “Huh? Not now. I’m busy.” He hung up, glaring at Ryan and Angie as if they were somehow to blame. “Some people,” he complained.
“Who was it?”
“Charles, in Spokane. He must think we never get snow this side of the mountains.”
Ryan turned his attention back to Angie. She looked tired and hurt. No threat... "Where's your home?" he said as he picked up her raincoat. He slipped his hand into the pockets as he did so. Empty.
“Kirkland.”
Opening a drawer, Scott pulled out a note pad and pen. "What's your name again?"
"Angie Reid. R-e-i-d." He wrote it down.
“Address?” He wrote down everything, including her social security number and her driver’s license. Ryan simply memorized them.
“That’ll make you easier to find if something turns up missing,” Scott rumbled, tossing the pen into the drawer and closing it. He tucked the pad into his pocket.
“You can see for yourself I'm not carrying anything out of your office,” she sputtered, looking indignant, hands open wide. “All I’ve got is my purse. Here.” She tossed it to him and he shuffled quickly through the contents, then pulled out his notepad to check what he had written.
Ryan reached behind her and picked up her shopping bag and looked more carefully inside. Not much there— a package of nylons, a jar of hand cream, and the classified section of today’s newspaper. He pulled out the paper and unfolded it, just in case the CD had been folded inside. She had circled three help-wanted ads and several apartment rentals.