Hard As Ice (Fortis Series 1)

by Raven Scott

  Chapter 5

  “She’s definitely hiding something,” Michael stated.

  Evan looked at Raymond, and the other man shrugged ambivalently.

  Michael and Raymond were back from their interviews with select Worthington employees, and had just debriefed the team in the control room. Other than Nia James, everyone at the gallery was told they were going through a professional review of their security system and protocols.

  “Why?” asked Evan.

  “She’s cagey, walled off. It was odd,” explained Michael. “Particularly about the other people at Worthington. Getting even the smallest detail was like pulling teeth. And she got pretty defensive when I pushed a little.”

  “You think she knows more than she’s saying?” Evan probed.

  “No doubt. I just can’t say what or who about,” Michael admitted. “When we asked about everything else to do with the robbery, she was calm, articulate, and responsive. Even while showing concern about the situation and her exposure as the likely suspect. But as soon as we mentioned the other employees, she clammed up.”

  “Too calm at times?” Raymond threw in.

  “Is that what you think?” Evan asked back.

  “I don’t know. She’s just as you pegged her, Ice. Sharp and composed, yet straightforward,” Raymond summarized.

  “Yeah, and strategically smart,” added Michael. “She knows she’s the prime suspect, and didn’t hide from it. She also didn’t try to put the heat on anyone else in the office. We gave her plenty of opportunity. I’m thinking she’s betting that the less she gives us, the less we have to poke holes through.”

  Evan nodded, scratching at the rough stubble on his jawline.

  “Well, we haven’t found any holes yet,” he reminded the agents. “Raymond, your review of all public and private video surveillance we could find from Monday night shows the same time line she stated, correct?”

  “Yup, she entered the subway at seven-fourteen that night, exited at the station near her house. Then, the street camera near the drugstore captures her at seven-forty-three. I can’t find anything that suggests she left the area after that.”

  “What about her cell phone activity?” Michael asked.

  “Negative. From the video loop and motion sensor override at Worthington, we know the robbery happened between twelve-thirty and one o’clock in the morning,” Raymond advised. “But there was no cell phone or data usage outside of her home location after eight o’clock when she claims to have gotten home. And no usage at all after ten-eighteen that night. At least not from the devices we know about. She could have used an untraceable cell phone.”

  “So, other than access to the safe, there’s nothing we’ve found to confirm her involvement,” stated Evan. “Not unless I can find a burner phone on her.”

  “We have something, Ice,” Tony stated from his position at the computer across the room. He had spent the day reviewing the data gathered by Raymond’s systems surveillance software, embedded within the Worthington network architecture.

  “What?” Evan demanded, joining him.

  The other two men followed, standing to the rear.

  “James sent an e-mail from her work computer about two hours ago. The response just came back a few minutes ago. It’s from a guy named Nigel St. Clair. I can’t find any other e-mails to him from her work account, or calls in the phone records from the last six months. But this is what I found on him,” Tony explained as he pulled up a mug shot on the screen. “Nigel St. Clair, lives in Watertown. Works as a shift supervisor at aware-housing company there.”

  Evan let out a deep breath as he looked at the older mug shot of a young man with fair skin, long, dark blond hair, and green eyes. He read the page.

  “Three years in Michigan state prison for attempted murder, released early as part of a plea bargain. That was eight years ago.”

  “Yup. Here’s the good part. He was originally from Boston, arrested in Detroit, then moved back here around the same time that James started school at the University of Massachusetts. So, I dug further,” Tony explained, pulling up additional computer files. “And found this. They had the same address for five years, until about three years ago. An apartment in Dorchester.”

  The men looked at each other. Their dead security guard was from Dorchester. While it was the largest Boston neighborhood, it was still a big coincidence.

  “Her e-mail to him is pretty cryptic,” suggested Evan as they read the message. “Just that she needs to talk to him. Old boyfriend?”

  “Makes sense,” Tony agreed.

  “So, why is she reaching out to him now?” Evan mulled.

  “I’ve sent the info over to the analysts at headquarters. They’re going to dig deeper into St. Clair, use his IP address to check for other online communications between them, see where that leads.”

  “Doesn’t she also have a sealed juvie record?” remembered Evan.

  “Yeah, we’re working on getting the details. She was fifteen at the time. But interestingly, it’s from the same year that St. Clair was charged with attempted murder.”

  “Then they both moved to his hometown within a year of his release from prison. It can’t be by chance,” mumbled Evan.

  “No way,” Tony agreed.

  “Okay. Find me everything you can on St. Clair’s prison associates,” demanded Evan. “Three years in state lockup is plenty of time to learn more criminal skills and make long-term friends. We may have just found our connection between Flannigan, James, and the heist.”

  Nia stared at the signed contract with Evan DaCosta. It was after four o’clock that afternoon, and she was quickly running out of time to let him know her decision about dinner. After the stress of the investigation on top of work, she should just want to go home to watch mindless television while curled in the fetal position for the evening. But that would only make her feel more helpless and vulnerable. More alone. All feelings she hated.

  In comparison, a dinner date with a very attractive man seemed so normal. Isn’t that what girls her age should be doing? Going to fancy restaurants, trying to meet the man of her dreams? Or at least that’s what Lianne always says. It was just dinner, conversation. It was harmless.

  Before she could change her mind, Nia picked up her office phone and called the number on Evan’s business card.

  “Evan DaCosta,” he answered in a deep, blunt tone.

  “Mr. DaCosta, it’s Nia James.”

  There was a brief pause.

  “Nia,” he replied a little softer. “Did everything go okay with the contract? I signed it this morning.”

  “Yes, it’s fine. I have it and we’re all good.”

  “Great. So, what can I do for you?”

  Nia wrinkled her nose. He must have known why she was calling, but he obviously wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

  “Well, it turns out that I am free for dinner this evening. If your offer still stands,” she added.

  Silence followed. She squeezed her eyes tight, but waited.

  “Of course the offer still stands. What time do you finish work?” he asked smoothly.

  She tried not to let him hear any sign of her relief.

  “I should be done by around five-fifteen, maybe five-thirty?”

  “Good. I’ll have a car pick you up at five-thirty.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Good-bye, Ms. James.”

  His voice was laced with teasing humor before he promptly cut the line.

  “Really?” she mumbled to herself, only a little annoyed at his high-handedness. Now that their plans were confirmed, Nia felt lighter, even a little excited.

  At a quarter after five, she was in the bathroom freshening up, and once again thankful that she wore her favorite dress. The bathroom door opened as she was reapplying her lipstick.

  “Hey, Nia,” said Tara Silver, her most senior account manager.

  “Hi, Tara. How did the meeting go with Norman Appleby?”

  Tara spec
ialized in contemporary art. Her latest client was the senior partner in a national law firm. They were renovating several of their offices in Boston and Connecticut, and had hired Tara to sell their current art collection.

  “It went well. I’m pretty stoked,” Tara replied as she fluffed her dark brown hair in the mirror. “Some of the pieces are only worth a couple of thousand dollars, not much more than when they were bought back in the nineties. But they also have three original minimalist paintings. I’m sure each of them would fetch at least two to three hundred thousand at auction.”

  “That’s fantastic,” Nia replied with a big smile.

  “I know! I’m telling you, Nia, this is going to be my year!”

  “Well, you’re certainly off to a good start.”

  “Yup! Between the ruby earrings for the summer auction, and this art collection, I’m feeling pretty good.”

  Nia held her smile, though it dimmed a bit on the inside. As instructed by Edward and the investigators, none of the other Worthington employees knew about the theft as of yet.

  Except the person involved.

  “Hot date?” Tara added as Nia pulled a brush out of her purse.

  “What?”

  “Do you have a hot date? You hardly ever wear your hair out.”

  “Oh. Nothing serious, just dinner,” replied Nia cautiously.

  “Well, you look great. You always look good, but I really like your hair like that.”

  Nia accepted the compliment by picking some lint from the paddle brush.

  “Okay, I’m off. Enjoy your dinner!” announced Tara, then she was gone, leaving a cloud of the latest Chanel perfume behind.

  Nia looked back at herself in the mirror, reflecting on Tara’s comments. It was true, her hair was usually pulled back into a tight bun or ponytail during the week. Her makeup was bold and dramatic, creating the desired effect of a woman in charge. Capable, assertive, fierce, and in control. But others had told her the same thing Tara had, men in particular. With her shoulder-length hair out, either straight or loosely curled, she looked softer, younger, and more feminine. Weak.

  Nia let out a deep breath, and put down the brush. There was no denying it now. She had gotten dressed today hoping to see Evan again, wanting to look good for him. It was an uncomfortable realization that made her heart race with uncertainty. Why was she acting like such a stupid, naïve . . . girl? Wanting the sexy, rich guy to think she was pretty? It was juvenile, and not at all who she was anymore.

  She ran her fingers through her hair, now falling in soft waves. Without any hair elastics or products, it was too late to put it up anyway. But, it was time to put a stop to whatever fantasies were brewing in her subconscious. She was not soft or sweet. Not anymore. So if that was what Evan DaCosta was looking for in a woman, he would be sorely disappointed.

  Feeling fortified, Nia left the bathroom and went downstairs, pulling on her trench coat on the way. As she reached the landing, she could hear the high-pitched trill of Emma giggling. Nia looked toward the sound and found the tall, broad form of Evan DaCosta, leaning casually against one of the display cases near the front entrance. Hearing her footsteps, he and the receptionist both turned to face her. He said something else to Emma that Nia couldn’t hear. The young girl blushed, and Nia felt the pinch of annoyance in her chest.

  “There she is,” he said louder, as he walked forward to meet Nia.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were sending a car?” she questioned.

  He smiled, that slow, predatory grin she was becoming used to.

  “My meetings ended a little early. And this was too important an assignment to delegate,” he replied, stopping in front of her.

  She felt the heat of his gaze as he looked her over in a long, deliberate glance. The beat of her heart increased measurably. But Nia forced herself to remain poised, seemingly unfazed by his perusal. When his eyes finally met hers again, she raised a brow.

  “You approve?” she asked, sarcastically.

  The grin widened, revealing beautifully white teeth, and the hint of dimples.

  “I do.” He stepped closer so their bodies brushed, bent his head, and pressed a soft, light kiss on the spot right beside her lips. “Thank you for joining me for dinner.”

  His nearness was messing with her composure, but Nia managed to produce a small smile in response.

  “All set?” he asked, pressing a warm hand to the base of her spine.

  She nodded.

  “Good evening, Emma,” Evan stated, his gaze still fixed on Nia.

  “Bye, Mr. DaCosta, bye, Nia,” the girl replied in her usual bright, bubbly voice.

  “’Night, Emma,” Nia replied politely.

  His car was parked on the street a half-block away. They were silent for the walk. He opened the passenger door for her before sliding behind the wheel. The powerful engine roared with a low, deep rumble, then they were on their way.

  “How was your day?” Evan asked a few moments later.

  It was such a mundane question that it caught Nia by surprise. She knew the appropriate response should be to say “fine” with a smile, then ask him the same. But she always preferred honesty.

  “Not good,” she replied bluntly, looking out the passenger window at the passing city.

  “Why, what happened?” he asked.

  “Just work stuff.” God, it would be nice to talk to someone about the crap she was in. “It will resolve itself eventually,” she added instead.

  “Well, then we have to make sure we take your mind off it all this evening.”

  She looked over at him with a grateful smile.

  “Do you enjoy what you do?” Evan asked a moment later.

  “Sales? It’s okay, I guess. A means to an end, really,” she stated.

  “What end?”

  “Life,” she retorted with a chuckle. “Life is expensive.”

  He threw her a smile then refocused on the road by pulling up to a valet parking booth in the trendy area near Fenway Park.

  “I’m told this place has the best seafood in the city,” Evan told her as he walked through the doors of the elegant restaurant. Nia knew the place well, and was aware that it usually took weeks to get a reservation. The hostess led them to their table at the back of the room, near a blazing fireplace. Nia handed the woman her coat and soft scarf before they were seated.

  “So, Evan, how was your day?” She emphasized his name, teasingly confirming that this meal was not a business meeting. It was a date, and she was feeling pretty good about it.

  He grinned, flashing the dimple. It should be a sin for a man to look so appealing.

  “It was all right. But much better now,” he replied. “In case it wasn’t obvious, you look beautiful this evening.”

  Nia opened her mouth to give a sarcastic, dismissive remark. But she met his eyes, and her brain stopped working. There it was, written plainly in the clench of his jaw and intensity of his gaze. He wanted her and he wanted her to know it. Nia licked her top lip, her mouth suddenly dry.

  Their waiter interrupted them at that moment to take their orders. Nia chose the ahi tuna and Evan ordered the prime rib. He also ordered a bottle of Australian pinot noir.

  “So, Nia James,” Evan stated as they took their first sips of the light wine. “If you didn’t need a job as a means to an end, what would you be doing?”

  “As a new client, I probably should tell you that sales is my life. That there is nothing else I would rather do as a career, right?” she replied with a pout of her lips.

  “Well, I’m not your client tonight. I’m your date, trying to get to know you better,” he replied.

  “In that case, I’d have to think about it a little. But my client should know that I’m very good at what I do.”

  Evan smiled, clearly amused.

  “He knows.”

  Nia nodded, satisfied. Then she contemplated his question. The instinctive response was there, but it took her a few moments to acknowledge it and find the words. It
had been years since she had given it any serious thought.

  “I would write songs,” she finally stated.

  He paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, and Nia took pleasure in her ability to catch him off guard. It also felt good to say the words out loud.

  “Really?” he queried.

  “That surprises you,” she surmised.

  Evan put down his wine and leaned forward.

  “Are you good at it?” he questioned.

  “I used to be. But I haven’t written anything in a long time.”

  “Why not?”

  Great question. One she wasn’t ready to answer honestly to Evan or herself. It had too much to do with her fear of feeling exposed, naked. Vulnerable. Instead, she shrugged dismissively.

  “Life,” she quipped.

  “Life,” repeated Evan, but his eyes said he knew a little about what she wasn’t saying.

  “What about you, Evan?” Nia returned. “Do you enjoy your work?”

  He generously allowed the change in direction. As their meals arrived, he talked about working for his father’s company in various functions overseas until his father’s death last year. Then he became the acting CEO.

  “Why acting? It’s your family’s company. It would seem you’d be the obvious choice,” she asked, spearing the final slice of tuna, grilled rare to perfection.

  “It was my suggestion to the board. I wasn’t sure I was the right choice, to be honest. I have a few other business interests that need to be sorted,” he explained. “So I asked for an eighteen-month interim period to decide.”

  “Have you ever wanted to do anything else?” Nia asked.

  “No, not really. I was raised to believe that the most important thing a man could do was protect his family and his country, and to ensure justice is served. That’s why my father started his company. So it’s an honor to continue his legacy.”