He shut the door behind him and sat in a chair. “Glad to see you’re up and about. Although I’m not sure you should be back at work.”
“Not a problem, I need to catch up with two weeks’ worth of work. I’ve cleared all my email. The revised budget is next.” Unfortunately, Scooter wasn’t there to review the proposed adjustments. “I’ll work on it by myself for now.”
“That’s best,” he agreed. “Detective Phillips brought me up-to-date on the investigation. Now we wait for the authorities to find Rebecca.”
“That’s all we can do.” Her stomach clenched. She had worked her ass off to deliver Rebecca to the police and she failed.
“The police wouldn’t be where they are if you hadn’t figured out how the wire instructions were changed and discovered Rebecca wasn’t ill. And, the Franks check … that was a stroke of genius.” He smiled broadly.
“Thanks.” Stroke of genius? That was a stretch but she did appreciate his praise.
“You’re very welcome. There is something I must discuss with you.” His face shifted to serious mode.
“Okay.” She prayed he wouldn’t fire her.
“I’m appointing you acting vice president of finance. I’ll need to consult with the Board for a permanent replacement.”
Holy shit.
Stay cool. Dr. Arnold didn’t need to know the level of her excitement. She hadn’t even considered that Scooter’s position would be open. There were so many things she’d change in the finance office, starting with —
“Quinn?”
She floated back to earth. “I’m honored to assume the position as acting VP of finance.” Her heart hurtled toward reality. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”
He rose, a smiled plastered on his face and shook her hand. “It’s well deserved. I’ve scheduled a Council meeting for tomorrow morning. Ellie has the details. She’ll also provide you with a key to Scooter’s … .” He stopped, regrouped. “Sorry, to the VP office. I think it’s best for you to go through the desk. Also, I’ll send you the list of projects Scooter had been working on.”
She had only one question. “Before you go, could you tell me why you wanted me to report my work with the police to you and not to Scooter?”
He appeared startled, then composed himself. “All I can tell you is that I was aware of Scooter’s, er, out-of-the-office relationship with Rebecca. I felt it best to keep your activities more confidential.”
That made sense. “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
After he left, Quinn sat in her humble controller’s office, in stunned silence. She hadn’t expected this appointment, hadn’t even thought about it, but she sure as hell wouldn’t back away from it.
She needed to make a list of changes … hold on … wait for Dr. Arnold’s list of current projects. More importantly, she needed to talk to her staff to let them know before the appointment was announced to the campus. She sent an email for a meeting after lunch.
Ruffling through the stack of mail on her desk, she glanced up to find a cashier standing in the doorway, holding a large vase containing a spring bouquet.
“These were just delivered for you,” she said with a curious smile. “I’ll put them on the corner of your desk.”
“Thanks for bringing them in.” Quinn smiled right back.
This was unusual, flowers delivered twice in three days. She hesitated before pulling the card from among the blooms. The flowers were beautiful and smelled delightful. She couldn’t help but enjoy them. Chocolate or flowers as a gift was sure to improve a girl’s mood. The card read: “Please forgive me, love, Logan.”
She couldn’t blame the man for trying but he was wasting his time and his money. Logan Rice belonged to her past. He had lied to her, well, technically, it was more like he had withheld the truth. Withholding an important fact about a person’s life from another person equates to dishonesty. Logan didn’t deserve her.
She smelled the flowers again, bright yellow and pink blooms, light and fragrant. They would fit nicely in her new, uh, temporary office. Her stomach growled. She grabbed her purse and headed for the parking lot. She’d pick up lunch at a drive through, not healthy but fast.
She called Ruthie once in the car.
“Guess what?” Quinn said.
“You received more flowers.”
“How’d you know?” She was surprised at Ruthie’s guess but flowers weren’t on her mind right then.
“I’m psychic. Didn’t you know?” Ruthie teased.
“Smart ass, also. Listen to this, Dr. Arnold came by this morning. He appointed me the acting vice president of finance. How about that?” Telling Ruthie made it all the more real. She was excited to have the chance to play with the big boys.
“Congratulations. You’ll do a great job. Is it scary though? Walking in your former boss’s arena can’t be easy.”
“Definitely. I have a major case of the nerves right now. But once I get through my first Executive Council meeting I’ll be fine.”
“When’s the meeting?” Ruthie asked.
“Tomorrow morning. I’ve never been to one so I don’t know how they work.”
“You’ll do fine. Watch and learn the lay of the land.”
$ $ $
After a grilled chicken sandwich, Quinn met with her staff and gave them the news of her temporary position. Their reaction was mixed, as she expected. She did her best to reassure them she’d be available just as before.
Ellie called an hour later, and Quinn found herself seated in Scooter’s chair, ready to clear out the desk. She felt like a vulture. He’d just been buried and here they were, going through his things. But, life goes on and HCU had financial concerns and projects that couldn’t be put on hold.
Ellie entered the office carrying packing boxes.
“Thanks,” Quinn said. “We can gather everything that’s personal. I’m sure Mrs. Taylor will want it.”
A look she couldn’t identify, irritation maybe, crossed Ellie’s face.
“Dr. Arnold told me he’d deliver everything to her himself.”
That surprised her as she had planned on doing it. “If that’s what he wants.” She pointed to the bookcase. “Why don’t you go through that and take the pictures off the walls. I’ll do the desk and credenza.”
They worked in silence for several minutes. Quinn pulled files from the drawers, quickly looked them over, put the work ones in a pile on the top of the desk, the others in a box. It didn’t take long. Next, she opened the middle drawer and wished she hadn’t.
“Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Ellie rushed over to the desk.
“Look.” She handed Ellie a photo then pawed through greeting cards and handwritten notes.
“Gross.” Ellie smirked at the picture of Rebecca sitting on Scooter’s lap, both wearing lopsided grins. “This proves it.”
“Proves they were more than work colleagues.” Quinn shuffled greeting cards into a pile. No need for Ellie to see them. She didn’t want to soil Scooter’s reputation any further.
“Poor Scooter,” Ellie said.
Quinn gathered everything in a pile and found a large envelope. “I’ll save this stuff for the police. I’m sure they’ll want it as evidence.”
After another thirty minutes, they were done. The facilities office picked up four boxes for delivery to Dr Arnold’s office. Now she didn’t envy him taking them to Mrs. Taylor. Quinn looked around. Every wall was blank. Every indication that Scooter had previously occupied the office had evaporated.
She shivered. It was creepy. Just two weeks ago, he and Roddy and Quinn had sat at the conference table. So much had happened in those two weeks. She had no choice but to adjust to the changes. She turned around and watched Ellie take Scooter’s nameplate off the door. So … that was that
.
TWENTY-FOUR
Houston, Monday
Logan walked into The Red Bar, his favorite watering hole, irritated and pissed off. His first day back at the office boiled down to a giant pain in the ass. First, Gram had cornered him about his trips to Las Vegas and Rome. She was mad as hell that Rebecca wasn’t in police custody. Well, damn, he tried, hadn’t he?
Plopping down at the bar, he ordered a double scotch, two ice cubes. He stared aimlessly at the liquor bottles behind the bar, rubbed his beard, wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Ever since he’d said good-bye to Quinn last Friday morning, he’d been in a foul mood. He wasn’t ready to admit to himself that Quinn was the cause of his nasty mood.
He slugged down half the scotch, felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Billy, how’s it going?” He motioned with his head. “Take a load off.”
Billy ordered a beer, studied his cousin. Apparently, he didn’t like what he saw. “You got a burr up your ass?”
“What’s it to you?” Logan snapped.
Billy held up his hands like a traffic cop. “Nothing. Not a damned thing.” The beer arrived. He raised the bottle to his lips for a long pull, then said the obvious. “You might as well tell me what’s going on. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later. My charm is legendary, you know.”
Logan grinned, sipped his scotch, enjoying its flavor. But damn, his life was a mess. He rubbed his face again. Might as well lay it all out on the table. Billy was right. He’d eventually drag it out.
“Sorry for the lousy mood,” Logan began. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”
“Rough? You were traveling around the world with a hot-looking woman. That’s not rough to me.”
“That hot-looking woman thinks I’m a piece of shit,” Logan countered, feeling sorry for himself. Why had he allowed Quinn to get under his skin? He had always prided himself on his control. That was shot to hell now.
Billy grinned from the side of his mouth. “Piece of shit, huh? I know you’re a good man so that means you did something to piss her off.” He punched Logan on the arm. “Tell me what you did.”
Logan stared straight ahead, considered his options. He could send a telegram, send more flowers, turn up unannounced at her office, talk to her grandmother. He didn’t have any options that didn’t involve kowtowing. Maybe Billy would have a good idea.
“She thinks I lied to her.”
“About what?” Billy looked skeptical.
“I didn’t tell her I worked for the FBI.”
“Why not? That’s old news.”
“I just didn’t,” Logan spat out. Quinn had been so sure of herself figuring out the identity of the thief and then searching for Rebecca. His voice softened. “I didn’t want to bust her bubble.”
“Bust her bubble? Man, you’re screwed,” Billy snorted. “You can’t make sense when you explain what you did to piss her off.”
“Ah, hell, she was really into figuring out what had happened to the $25 million. I didn’t let her know I was experienced at that kind of thing. I talked to Bob Brown at the Embassy in Rome without telling her. She says I humiliated her.” Logan drained his glass, signaled for a refill and another beer for Billy.
“You gotta admit she has a point,” Billy said.
“Hell, I’m screwed.” Logan’s fist pounded the oak bar. “What do I do to make it up to her?”
“Is she important to you?”
Logan nodded, hesitated before he spoke. “I think I want to marry her.”
“You are definitely screwed. I think groveling will be a part of your plan.”
Logan groaned. Groveling was the plan.
TWENTY-FIVE
Tuesday, 9:54 a.m.
Quinn’s first visit to the Cullen Room as a member of the HCU Executive Council began with a whimper. She arrived on time along with Dr. Arnold’s assistant, who arranged a tray of drinks. She poured a cup of coffee then found a spot at the conference table. Not knowing if there was a seating protocol, she decided to wing it and took a seat. Jill Bacon arrived. She worked in development so Quinn surmised she was poor Bill’s stand-in.
The academic and the student affairs VP’s finally arrived. They were talking about the standings for the Houston Astros. Quinn nodded at each VP as he found a seat at the conference table. Damn, every appointed vice president was male. Jill and Quinn, both acting, didn’t have a snow ball’s chance in hell of being selected for the permanent positions. The Council was a boy’s club and neither of the two women had the right equipment.
Dr. Arnold walked in and sat at the head of the table. Quinn stifled a chuckle; his location was too predictable. The assistant took a seat at the end of the table to record the minutes.
Quinn opened her meeting binder and scanned the agenda. The most interesting items were a final discussion of a property acquisition and the status of the $25 million dollar theft. The most important item was a review of the admissions status for the fall term. None of them would have a job if students didn’t fill HCU’s classrooms.
She quickly surmised the real power in the group belonged to the academic and student affairs VPs. That didn’t surprise her as students were the product and faculty, the manufacturer. Finance was a necessary evil, the gatekeeper, the group who said “no.”
Dr. Arnold discussed the details of the property acquisition and asked Quinn to review the alternatives available to finance the purchase.
“Yes, sir.” She made a note to find Scooter’s file on the subject.
“The next item is an update on the gift from the Bridge Foundation. A representative from the foundation will be here any minute. Ah, here he is now.” Dr. Arnold motioned toward the door of the conference room.
Damn … the representative was Logan. What was wrong with that foundation? They should have sent Billy.
Dr. Arnold stood to greet Logan, they shook hands. Logan then went around the table shaking hand, saving Quinn for last.
“Good morning, how’s the arm?” Logan grinned. Damn him.
“Fine.” She smiled brightly, disengaged her hand. “Thank you so much for asking.”
Logan sat across the table from her. Why couldn’t he have done a phone conference? Then she wouldn’t have to look at him. And he did look good — rested, refreshed, so masculine in a dark suit, yellow tie. Her stomach rolled, a bead of sweat floated down her back. He looked too good. She looked away, focused her attention back on the meeting.
“Mr. Rice, I understand you have something to tell us,” Dr. Arnold said.
“Yes.” Logan looked around the table. “We had insurance on the funds that were transferred and have filed a claim. It will be a while before our claim is fully processed.” He smiled, glanced at Dr. Arnold then at Quinn. “However, once we receive the claim proceeds, we will be transferring the funds to the University. To make up for those lost, of course.”
A round of applause, at least the foundation was a first class organization. She felt Logan’s eyes drilling into her. She did not look at him. Rather, she focused her attention on Dr. Arnold. He was providing a high level run down of the police investigation and the search for Rebecca, then he mentioned Quinn’s name. She smiled, pleased that he had publicly acknowledged her efforts in tracking down Rebecca. That was the last item on the agenda and a few minutes later the meeting adjourned.
Quinn was backed into a corner, literally. Logan stood near the door, the only exit. She considered sliding past him without speaking. Thankfully, Dr. Arnold pulled him over to the end of the conference table. She scooted around the other end and out the door, waving to Dr. Arnold. She hurried down the stairs and rushed to the sidewalk. Her office was only a couple blocks away. She’d at her desk before Logan finished with Dr. Arnold.
After a block, she heard someone call her name.
“Q
uinn, hold up.”
She stopped and turned. There he was, the jerk himself, jogging along the sidewalk. He halted in front of her.
“I want to talk to you,” he said, not even out of breath. Damn him.
“Sorry, I’m busy, no time.” She turned and started walking. Three steps and he grasped her good arm.
“Please, this will only take a minute,” he said.
“Don’t have a minute.”
“Come on, Quinn, give me a break. I’m trying to apologize to you.”
That pissed her off. Give him a break? Men are so stupid when they think it’s all about them.
“You don’t owe me anything. Keep your apologies to yourself.” She raised her chin, glowered at him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do.” Her shoulders sliced the air as she turned and marched toward a life without Mr. Logan Rice. Of course, if it truly was the end of Logan and she had no reason to believe it wasn’t, why had her heart split in two? There was that.
$ $ $
Quinn’s refrigerator was devoid of fresh food. She needed to go to the grocery store but not tonight. This had been her second full day as the acting vice president of finance and she was pooped, one tired puppy. Her arm zinged a bit, reminding her she had been shot less than a week ago. She’d lather it with the salve the Italian doctor had provided and go to bed early. But she was starving and called the local pizza delivery service. Forty-five minutes to wait before gorging herself. She poured a glass of merlot and went to the computer to check her personal email account.
She found three-hundred seventy-three messages. Wasn’t she popular? Not really, most of the messages were advertisements. She started at the oldest message and looked at each one, hoping to come across a really good sale.
The pizza arrived around message number ninety-eight. She threw two double cheese and black olives slices on a paper plate, sprinkled them with parmesan cheese, and poured more wine. Back in the study, she munched the pizza, drank the wine, and read more messages.
She saved a few that advertised local sales. She whittled the list down to a dozen or so messages when she came to one with the subject line of “Please read: I’m sorry.” She almost deleted it, assuming it was from Logan, but she hadn’t given him her personal email address. She didn’t recognize the sending address but opened it anyway.
In Hot Pursuit Page 21