It had been best to come clean together.
Justin had met them downtown without having to say I told you so or carrying a chip on his shoulder, which was nice of him considering that she’d totally dismissed his earlier advice to do this exact thing. He’d even dealt with another detective in the room by the name of Mancini. Now that man didn’t like her in the least, and neither did he appreciate Rye for not having an alibi that he could confirm. The only good thing to come from being truthful was that Rye hadn’t been in town yesterday morning when someone had maliciously planted evidence in her vehicle.
Her relief had been brief, though.
Detective Mancini seemed rather eager to point out a farfetched theory that Rye could have easily hired someone else to do his bidding, especially given that he had no alibi during the timeframe Brad was murdered. It seemed counterintuitive to both Grace and Rye. Why would he arrange the murder and not ensure he had a solid alibi?
These detectives were grasping at straws.
Justin had basically taken over the meeting from there, dealing directly with Detective Nielsen. He’d smoothed over the fact Grace had lied to protect Rye, even going as far as to point out that something of this nature was a media jewel. Due to Brad’s connections in the financial industry, the investigation had made national news and the governor wasn’t pleased. It was common knowledge that he was putting pressure on the department to solve this murder as quickly as possible.
Justin hit the nail home when he reminded the good detectives that they really didn’t want to deal with the fallout of yet another mistaken detention in the case. He pointed out that a premature arrest of an innocent woman was a black stain on the department. He suggested that they really didn’t want to double down on that tactic.
All eyes at the precinct and at the office had been drawn to Grace, but she’d held her head up high just as she’d promised herself she’d do last night. No one—not even the police—were going to shame her for something she had no part in.
She’d had enough of that in her lifetime.
“Smith and Paul went to dinner with their teams of lawyers to discuss the potential merger between Manon Investments and the new firm.” Laurel had already popped the cork and was pouring the red merlot they all favored over the drier white wines. Grace briefly contemplated taking the bottle, but then thought better of it. She’d left her car here overnight and would need to drive home. “Cynthia and I now have all the time in the world to hear how on earth we didn’t know that Brandon Walsh was your brother. And I shouldn’t have to preface that statement with the fact that none of that crap matters to us. We all have a few skeletons in the family closet, more than most in this bunch.”
Laurel leveled Grace with an understanding look as the wine glasses were dispersed. It wasn’t that she ever doubted their understanding, but their ring of friendship had formed slowly and there had never been a right time to fess up to being related to a man arrested for insider trading—regardless that the ties were through marriage.
“Laurel’s being nauseatingly nice as usual.” Cynthia took a healthy drink out of her wine glass before adding, “I’m trying not to take offense on both the professional front, as well as personal. This is not something you keep from your compliance officer, but I’m more offended that you didn’t trust us enough as your friends that we wouldn’t judge you for something you had absolutely no control over.”
Grace took more than a healthy drink of the wine Laurel had handed over, following Cynthia’s lead and kicking off her high heels.
This conversation could take a while.
“You both know I love you,” Grace prefaced sincerely, needing to get that out of the way before diving headfirst into the past. “It just became harder and harder to come clean the more time that passed. How was I going to start that conversation? Oh, by the way, my stepbrother was arrested for insider trading at the firm my former lover had originally established for high net worth individuals?”
“I find it odd you never mentioned Rye in our conversations of past lovers,” Laurel pointed out, finally taking the second guest chair after carefully placing her heels underneath it. She then tucked her feet under her as she settled her small frame into the seat. “I’m not going to point out that the night I found Brad…well, I was on the phone with you, and never once did you mention that you were getting reacquainted with Rye Marshall while I was up to my hips in blood. Grace, we’re here for you. Never doubt that.”
“I love you both, too,” Grace said softly, needing her best friends to know that her decision to withhold information had nothing to do with them and everything to do with her own insecurity. She took a deep breath and tried to sum up everything in a few short sentences. “Rye and I met when we were in college. We were young, excited about our futures, and he was beyond ambitious even then. He didn’t have the best upbringing and made a promise to himself to have a better life. I was with him every step of the way.”
“Did you work with him?” Laurel asked before taking a sip of her wine.
“No. Rye was just starting out, and I thought having a secure position with benefits at a larger firm would be better for my stability. It’s funny. I hadn’t wanted to mix our personal life with our professional life, but then I ended up offering him my stepbrother on a silver platter.” Grace leaned her head back against the headrest at her naivety back then. It was astonishing how many years had passed, yet it seemed like only yesterday. “It all went to hell after that.”
Cynthia tilted her head and studied Grace, her blue eyes missing nothing.
“You blamed yourself, didn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Grace asked with a humorless laugh. “The SEC came into the office like tanks making their way across the battlefield. Rye was lucky to have anything left to salvage by the time the authorities got done with their investigation. He was working at least sixteen-hour days and sometimes more to do what he could to convince his clients to keep their money in his hedge fund. In the end, I couldn’t continuously watch him go through something so horrendous knowing I was the one responsible.”
“He didn’t blame you.” Laurel had made the accurate assumption, but Grace sensed her friend understood that a relationship that strained never would have made it past a year. “That was many, many years ago, Grace. How did the two of you hook up again?”
“You remember when that old friend of mine had that engagement party a while back? Well, I had no idea that her fiancé was friends with Rye. One thing led to another, and here we are back where we started.”
“I get why you felt the need to give Rye an alibi, Grace. I really do, but I highly doubt putting yourself at risk is something he would condone.” Cynthia twirled her wine glass, nodding her head as if she’d just made a realization. “No wonder he wanted this entire situation resolved quickly.”
“Don’t take his side,” Grace warned, pointing a finger in desperate need of a manicure Cynthia’s way. “You’re my friend, and you should be supportive of my decisions. I almost destroyed his career and firm once, Cynthia. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen again when I was the one he was driving to see the night Brad was killed.”
“Oh, don’t be selfish.” Cynthia wasn’t known to avoid confrontation, and she could always be counted on to tell the truth. Grace usually wasn’t on the receiving end of those skirmishes, though. “Did you ever imagine how Rye would feel if your ass went to prison for a murder you didn’t commit, all because you had some misplaced guilt over something that happened years ago? See? It sounds even more ridiculous to me when I spell it out.”
“What Cynthia is trying to say is that your good intentions could have backfired very badly, leaving Rye to shoulder the guilt of your poor decisions.” Laurel shot Cynthia a disbelieving glare, who shrugged her shoulders and took another sip of her wine. “Honey, try looking at it this way. Rye would have gone through the same exact situation that you went through, but this time you would have done it intentionally.”
Grace continued to sip her wine as she allowed the advice of her friends to finally penetrate through the barriers she’d had in place ever since she’d walked out on Rye. Their so-called friendly intervention had the effect they’d wanted, but that didn’t mean Grace’s mindset could easily be turned over with a few words. What she needed right now was to be with Rye.
Of course, when had recent events ever gone her way?
The unexpected crash of what sounded like a glass falling to the floor echoed throughout the office, even with the door closed. Cynthia and Laurel were out of their seats and setting their wineglasses down, both of them telling the other to be quiet.
“You said no one was here,” Grace whispered with unease, quietly setting her bare feet on the plastic floor mat underneath her desk chair.
“No one was here,” Cynthia whispered back, leaning down and grabbing one of her high heels off the carpet. She hastily waved toward the phone on Grace’s desk. “Call 911. Right now.”
“911?” Laurel quickly glanced back at Grace. Her friend’s facial expression was one of doubt. “Do you know what that’s going to look like if it turns out to be Steve, Vern, or some other employee? Three overreacting women, that’s what.”
“Laurel’s got a point,” Grace pointed out, opening her top desk drawer to pull out an envelope opener. “I really don’t want to be front page fodder for the newspaper tomorrow morning. Blair mentioned to me earlier that she had to work late. Are you sure no one was in the office when you came in here?”
“Of course, I’m sure. I can’t be caught having wine in the office,” Cynthia muttered as she made her way to the door. “I promise you there was no one here. Call 911.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” Laurel quickly stopped Cynthia from reaching for the doorknob. “And what the hell do you think a high heel is going to do? At least Grace has a sharp object.”
“Have you seen these things?” Cynthia asked, holding up one of her Jimmy Choo heels. “This sucker can take out an eye at thirty paces. Besides, all I need to do is reach my office.”
“Why? Do you have a bat in there or something?”
“My firearm.”
“Your what?” Grace quickly joined her two friends, having grabbed her cell phone so that she could run if need be while calling 911. Besides, she wasn’t going to allow her friends to confront a possible murderer alone. “Now who’s keeping freaking secrets?”
A strangled cry of pain was muffled by the closed door, but it was enough to have Cynthia making a hasty decision. She twisted the knob and was out into the hallway before Laurel could stop her.
“911, what is your emergency?”
Grace managed to relay the most critical of information as fast as she could, given the circumstances. Laurel had already followed Cynthia out of the office and to the left, which was the direction from where the sound had originated from.
“Please hurry,” Grace murmured the plea as she observed Cynthia raise the high heel over her head as she quietly tiptoed into the foyer. She left out that the scene before her resembled a horror movie gone bad. “I think—
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Shit!”
“Gun!”
“Everyone stop what they’re doing,” a firm voice ordered, causing all eyes to become glued to the man and woman standing in the glass entrance of the office. “We’re with Crest Security Agency, here to protect Grace Dorrance. My name is Ethan Chambers, and this is Taryn Chambers. Ma’am, are you alright?”
The ma’am turned out to be Marilyn, who was standing behind her desk and staring in horror at the firearm being pointed her way. The petite blonde holding her weapon slowly lowered it to her side, taking in all four women and the situation at hand.
“Grace, are you on the phone with the emergency response services?”
Grace realized that Ethan was asking her the question, and she automatically nodded.
Security agency?
Here to protect her?
She hadn’t hired anyone for protection.
“Let me take this from here,” Ethan said reassuringly, a confident smile doing just that. The woman he was with quickly and efficiently made her way over to Marilyn, the firm’s receptionist, who was currently still standing behind her desk holding up an arm that had a trail of blood trickling down the side of her hand. “Operator? This is Ethan Chambers with Crest Security Agency. There’s been a small mishap and…”
Grace took a seat next to Laurel, who’d claimed one of the cushions on the couch against the far wall. The petite blonde named Taryn was currently speaking with Marilyn while wrapping her hand in a paper towel and cleaning up the blood spilled from apparently trying to pick up a piece of broken glass.
“Well, looks like Rye has some explaining to do,” Cynthia said, joining the other two women on the couch. She still had the high heel clutched in her hand. “I mean, seriously. Do you two not talk to each other at all outside of sex?”
“Cynthia’s right.” Laurel leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. “You two need to sit down tonight and come clean with one another. I don’t think I can take anything else without going into cardiac arrest. And I’m young. I work out. I shouldn’t be having these heart palpations every time I come into this office.”
“Here you are,” Ethan said as he handed the cell phone over to Grace. “I apologize for any confusion, but we were on the other side of the elevator bank. We were aware that Marilyn had returned to the office. Unfortunately, when we heard the sound of glass breaking, we didn’t want to take the chance that someone, somehow, hadn’t slipped past us. It wasn’t our intentions to disturb you or your peers.”
“I forgot to forward the phones to the automatic voice system.” Marilyn’s tone was shaky, but Grace could totally understand why. Taryn had escorted Marilyn to one of the two chairs that matched the rather uncomfortable couch the other three women occupied. “My arm accidentally bumped into the coffee cup tray. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”
“You did nothing wrong, ma’am,” Taryn assured with a smile, diverting her attention to the three women on the couch. “Could one of you tell me the location of the first aid kit, so that I can clean up Marilyn’s cut? It doesn’t need stitches, but a butterfly sterile strip couldn’t hurt.”
“I’ll show you.”
Laurel patted Cynthia’s knee as she stood up, leading Taryn through the trading room and toward the small office kitchen. Grace was still focused on Ethan, who was currently on his own cell phone and obviously sending a message to someone…who was no doubt Rye Marshall.
“Rye hired you to keep an eye on me, didn’t he?”
“Don’t take that tone with him,” Cynthia warned in a soft and controlled manner, totally aware that Ethan could hear every word she said. “You have to admit that it’s probably a good idea considering someone tried to frame you for murder.”
“You’ll have to take that up with Mr. Marshall.” Ethan clipped the cell phone into its holder attached to his belt. The shoulder holster he had on underneath his lightweight jacket told of another item he was keeping close to his side. “Once we get Marilyn cleaned up, we’ll go back out. You won’t even know we’re here.”
That was so far from the truth, it wasn’t even funny.
“You should probably have that talk sooner rather than later,” Marilyn said, leaning forward while holding her hand in the air. She cast a sideways glance Ethan’s way, almost as if she didn’t want him to overhear what she had to say. “Your face was splashed all over the early evening news channels, as well as your stepbrother’s mug shot. By the way, did you know that he was released from prison last month?”
CHAPTER SIX
“Your mother or stepfather didn’t contact you about Brandon’s release? I know I heard you on the phone with your mother right before my last trip. I find it very hard to believe she wouldn’t have told you something of that significance.”
Rye moved a
round his kitchen with ease, though the tension from this evening’s events still hung in the air alongside the delicious fragrance of the omelets he’d just served onto two plates. He had no doubt that Grace hadn’t eaten a thing today, especially after this morning’s tense meeting with Detective Nielsen.
Grace was currently sitting at the kitchen table and twirling the glass of orange juice he’d set in front of her, apparently not having heard a single word he’d said over the last five minutes. Her beautiful face hadn’t lost the frown she’d had since he’d shown up at her office after Ethan Chambers had called him during a business dinner earlier this evening.
“Grace?”
“I get why you felt the need to hire a security agency to watch over me. I really do, but I think you should have a team assigned to you, as well. What if it was Brandon who killed Brad? What if he was setting me up this entire time? Let’s face it. Everything makes sense with his recent release in mind. He probably holds a grudge against the both of us. Especially me, because I refused to sit in the courtroom beside my mother and stepfather when Brandon was sentenced, as if I could somehow condone his criminal activities.”
Rye returned to the stove to set the pan on one of the back burners, surprised at which road Grace’s mind had decided to drive down considering how upset she’d been with him after their meeting with Detective Nielson. How was it that she’d contained the situation in a box and made an assumption that everything revolved around her stepbrother?
“Brandon committed insider trading and served out his sentence, but I highly doubt that he’s become a cold-blooded killer, Grace.” Rye walked back to the table and snatched the orange juice from Grace’s hand. She sat back against her chair, crossing her arms and shaking her head emphatically at his statement. They both needed something stronger than juice and coffee. “Either way, you have a point about security for the both of us. We’re fine tonight since you’re staying here with me, but I’ll contact Crest Security Agency in the morning.”
Motive Page 6