The Sierra Files Box Set: Books 1-3: Plus a bonus Christmas novella!

by Christy Barritt

That made me perk. I turned to face him better. “Really? Why’d they come again?”

  “Still investigating Sage’s murder. I guess they wanted to see if there was anything they missed the first time.”

  My mind raced. “And did they find anything?”

  He shrugged. “They took Sage’s computer.”

  “Did they say if they had any suspects?”

  He twisted his head as if my question surprised him. “You really think they would tell me that?”

  I shook my head. “No, not really.” I needed a reason why I’d asked that question, and I needed it fast. “I just worry that there’s some connection between her death and her work here. I mean, we have to face it. We’re not on anyone’s ‘Most Likable’ list.”

  “I can’t argue with that, but I hardly believe someone would kill us over any of our stunts.” Donnie studied me. “Who do you think did it?”

  I sighed. “I have no idea. I really can’t comprehend the concept of anyone justifying taking another human life.” I glanced at him, trying to tamp down my eagerness for answers. “How about you? Any ideas?”

  He rubbed his chin. “She was working on some undercover investigation. Said she couldn’t talk about it until she had more information.”

  I remembered Bryan sharing that at our meeting. I’d thought it was strange then. I still thought it was strange now. “Weird, since we usually all share our information with each other.”

  He nodded. “That’s what I thought, too. But I guess Bryan approved it. That’s all that matters.”

  Just what was she investigating? It was something worth considering. Her nosiness could have gotten her in trouble. Or maybe I was looking too hard for answers. Maybe the culprit was much more obvious.

  I studied Donnie for a moment. I knew he loved animals. I also knew his own cat had died about a month ago from old age.

  For a second, I considered asking him to keep my cats for me. But there was still a small part of me that didn’t trust him. If he was involved in all of this somehow, I could be leading my cats to their death by asking Donnie to take care of them.

  I remembered his resemblance to a certain monkey species. Maybe Donnie and capuchins weren’t just similar physically. After all, capuchins had a ritual of crushing millipedes and rubbing their remains on their backs to act as an insect repellant. Had Donnie thrown someone else under the bus in order to save his own skin? I didn’t know.

  I did have one more question for Donnie. “By the way, do you like the ballet?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “I consider myself a modern man. But no, I can’t even fake being interested in the ballet. Why?”

  I shrugged casually. “Someone here in the office was talking about the last ballet that came to town. I just remember it was a guy, and I’m trying to recall who.”

  “Probably Bryan. He loves that kind of thing, apparently. I’d check with him.”

  At seven o’clock that night, I was the only one at the office. The only sounds were of the AC blowing through the room and the overhead lights humming. The odor of burnt popcorn—thanks to an incident by Kyla earlier—still lingered in the air. One by one, I’d said goodnight to my coworkers, and they’d scurried home.

  I had more than one reason for staying late. First of all, I needed to catch up on things so I didn’t lose my job. Plus, the quiet was kind of nice. It beat going home to my empty apartment. I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome at Chad’s, though being away from my cats was seriously bothering me at the moment. If I were to be honest, being away from Chad was bothering me, too. I had to keep my thoughts occupied with something other than him.

  With everyone gone, I did an online search on Anise Wentworth.

  Anise Wentworth. I couldn’t believe it.

  Even I had heard about the trial against her, and I was by no means a news junkie.

  As I waited for the search engine results to pop up, I chewed on the fact that I hadn’t recognized her, in the least. Her face had been on the news as the trial unfolded. Back then, she’d had blonde hair, a thin build, and an upper class composure.

  Between the trial and now, she’d become a woman with curly dark hair. She’d gained some weight and liked to dress in clothing that was loose and flowing. I would have never guessed her to be the trophy wife they’d portrayed at the trial.

  My eyes widened, however, when I saw a long list of articles about Anise. I refreshed my memory on the details of the trial against her for the murder of her husband. She’d been found innocent, but some of the details were sketchy.

  I read more of the specifics, just out of morbid curiosity, I supposed. What I found especially interesting was the fact that her husband had been forty years older than she was. Forty years. When they’d married, Sage—or Anise—had been 25 and he’d been 65. So, of course, everyone thought she’d married him for his money and then killed him off.

  Ernest Wentworth had made his fortune on some wise stock market investments. He’d then grown those investments into an empire. He bought struggling businesses and turned them around. He invested in up-and-coming technology companies.

  As far as millionaires went, he remained relatively quiet and out of the spotlight. Everyone had seemed surprised when he’d married Sage. His first wife had died fifteen years earlier to cancer, and he wasn’t the skirt chasing type of man. But somehow Sage had won his heart.

  Making matters worse, the substance that seemed to have killed him was an overdose of allergy medicine combined with his heart medicine. Sage claimed that she would have never poisoned her husband, that she loved him. She claimed that her husband simply got the pills mixed up, and he had started to show some signs of dementia. He’d done a couple of business deals recently that had him stressed, as well.

  Her saving grace during the trial was the fact that she’d been seen that evening at work. She’d been an investigative reporter. That was right! How could I have forgotten that detail? She’d returned home at almost midnight and found her husband dead in their 10,000 square foot house.

  I checked the time and location of the trial.

  Ernest and Sage had lived as husband and wife in Montana. That was four years ago. Sage had started working for Paws and Fur Balls about eight months ago.

  As soon as she’d been cleared of the charges, she must have moved out to this area in order to start fresh. I’d had no idea what her past had been. I wondered if anyone else at the office did? Chances were, if one person knew, they would have told someone else, who would have then told someone else. That was the way office gossip usually worked. Especially if Kyla got ahold of it.

  My final question was on why Sage’s real identity hadn’t been leaked to the news yet? Certainly the police knew. It seemed as if family had all been notified. The media would be all over a news story like this like a dog on a ham bone.

  I was still no closer to any answers, but I did have more questions. That was better than nothing.

  As I stood and stretched, I heard a tap at the door. My senses all went on high alert. Who was tapping at the office door at this hour?

  My first thought, of course, was a killer.

  But a killer would have to be pretty stupid to make himself that obvious.

  Right?

  I peered around the corner and spotted . . . Chad.

  And he didn’t look happy.

  I prepared myself for another confrontation, another demand that I remove my cats from his property.

  But if I felt so mad at him, why did my heart still speed when I saw him? Stupid heart. I guessed I was just one of those stupid people I wanted to write a book about.

  I pushed the door open and ushered him inside, locking up behind him. I was still paranoid that someone could be waiting in the shadows to knock me off.

  “Where have you been, Sierra?” he demanded.

  “What do you mean where have I been?”

  “I’ve been trying to call you all day.” His voice sounded even, but restrained.

  “Yeah, we
ll, after our last conversation, I didn’t exactly want to speak with you.”

  “Someone is making threats on your life and now is the time when you decide not to answer the phone?” The emotion in his voice escalated with each word.

  “I thought you were calling to fuss at me about my cats again.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “I’m not fussing about your cats. I’m fussing because I’m worried about you. I want you to be safe. There is a difference, you know.”

  “It doesn’t feel like there’s a difference.”

  His gaze zeroed in on my hand. “What happened?”

  I looked down at my bandages there. I’d stopped by the store and gotten something to cover up my cuts. “Nothing major. I just broke into someone’s house, dropped a vase, and the glass cut me.”

  “Broke into someone’s house? Sierra, have you lost your mind?”

  “I’m fighting to survive here, Chad. I’m doing whatever I have to.”

  He sucked in a deep breath and finally shook his head. “Did you even listen to my voicemails?” His eyes were so wide that I could see the white all the way around his irises.

  “No. Why would I put myself through that?” Seriously. I’d figured I’d just feel worse afterward. Besides, I was trying to secure a temporary home for the cats before we talked again. I’d had no luck with that.

  “You are impossible sometimes,” he muttered.

  “You’re pretty impossible yourself,” I muttered back.

  He rubbed his jaw. “Listen, the termite guy just left a little while ago. Just as I thought, he told my landlord about the cats, and my landlord came to talk to me about them. They’ve got to go or I’m going to be kicked out.”

  I tried to loosen my stance. “I’m trying to find a place to take them. It’s harder than you might think.”

  “I know you’re trying, Sierra. But all I have is one more day. That’s all I can give you.”

  One day was better than no days. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Suddenly, his gaze caught on something across the way. “Is that . . . a litter box?”

  “Yes.” Why was he acting like he’d never seen one before?

  He stormed toward it. Stood there. Stared at it. His hands went to his hips. Then he looked up at me with a stupefied expression on his face. “Why is there a litter box at work?”

  “Because some people bring their animals here.” As soon as I said the words, I wished I hadn’t.

  “What? You mean, you could have brought your cats here? I could have avoided this whole confrontation with my landlord?”

  Guilt pounded through me. “It’s not that simple. Some people bring their dogs. Dogs and cats don’t get along that well. It can be quite disastrous at times.”

  Besides, what if the person threatening my cats was a coworker? I’d be leading my furry friends to their deaths by bringing them here.

  He leaned closer. “I wish you’d fight for our relationship like you fought to save animals.” Despite the hot emotion in his voice, I heard . . . hurt?

  My heart squeezed. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that there’s only room for one passion in your life, and that passion isn’t me.” He ran his hand through his hair. Then he looked up and shook his head. “Watch out for yourself tonight, Sierra. Lock your doors. If it’s not asking too much, could you text me when you get home so I don’t worry all night?”

  I think I nodded. I must have because he waved goodbye and left.

  I stared at him. I hadn’t been slapped. Not physically. But I might as well have been.

  I felt numb. In shock. Speechless.

  Of course I would fight for Chad.

  Then why wasn’t I? Why was I letting him walk away right now?

  I didn’t know.

  But I did know that I felt like my heart was breaking in two.

  Chapter Twelve

  I wasn’t sure what got into me because I normally wasn’t a violent person.

  But, after Chad stormed out, I was aggravated. Really aggravated. So aggravated that I kicked the litter box.

  The top came off and granules scattered all over the floor. A foul smell also leaked from the area, and it was obvious the box hadn’t been cleaned in a while.

  I walked past the mess I’d made there, ignoring it for a moment, as I stomped to my desk. My stomping would have been more effective if pieces of kitty litter hadn’t stuck to the bottom of my shoes and deadened the full impact of the sound.

  Why were relationships so complicated? If relationships were meant to be, did that mean they should be easy?

  I had no idea. Of all the things I’d discussed and debated at Yale, true love wasn’t one of them. Too bad.

  I had to do something to distract myself. So, I fished the Post It Note out from my purse, nearly cutting myself in the process. I had to get the rest of that broken glass out of my purse. I didn’t want to do it here, though, just in case the police came back again and went through our trash. I wanted nothing to tie myself with Sage’s place.

  I dialed the number for Eileen. A moment later, a woman with a soft, high-pitched voice answered.

  “My name is Sierra, and I’m a friend of Sage’s.”

  “Oh, thank goodness you called. I was getting so worried.”

  “Worried?”

  “When Sage didn’t show up to meet me, I thought something might have happened. She called last week and said she had an update for me.”

  “I see.” I paused, collecting my thoughts and trying to soften my voice. “Eileen, I’m sorry to be the one to break the news to you, but Sage is dead.”

  She gasped. “Dead? What in the world? I just talked to her last week.”

  “I’m sorry. The police found her body on Monday.”

  “How . . . ? I mean, what . . . ?”

  “She was shot.”

  “That’s just terrible. I can’t believe this.” She sniffled.

  I leaned back in my chair, my thoughts churning. “Eileen, maybe I can help you. Does this have to do with her work as an animal rights activist?”

  “No, this was a personal investigation she was working on. It did involve animals, though.”

  Interesting. Maybe this was the project Sage had been so private about. Maybe this was my first real lead. “Listen, Eileen, could we meet in the morning? I’d like to figure out if I can finish the work Sage started.”

  “Someone needs to finish it. I can’t just let this injustice slide past, not when so many others have been affected.” She paused. “I’m in town from North Carolina. I’d planned on leaving around lunchtime tomorrow.”

  “How about we meet at MacArthur Center at 9:30? That’s the big mall here in downtown Norfolk. Would that work? The food court should be open.”

  “Yes, thank you, Sierra. I’m so glad this isn’t going to be ignored.”

  I hung up and stared at the phone a moment. Interesting. Why would Sage be doing a private investigation?

  I’d find out in the morning, I supposed.

  I stood and stretched. I had to get out of here. Before I left, I needed to clean up the biodegradable kitty litter that now stretched across the floor. Funny, Sage usually did this.

  I found a broom and began sweeping up the granules. I threw them away and then picked up the litter box. Some kitty litter remained on the bottom, along with some newspapers. I might as well clean the whole thing out. I carried it over to the trashcan and dumped everything.

  A plastic bag at the bottom made me look twice.

  There were papers in that bag that had been hidden under kitty litter and newspapers.

  Maybe I was finally on to something.

  My hands were shaking as I sat at my desk. Slowly, carefully, I opened the bag and pulled out a file. What I found there were emails, hand jotted notes, photos, and typed reports. Was this Sage’s secret project?

  I quickly scanned the file. She was gathering information on a local laboratory called Bernstein and Associates. A l
ab? That usually meant one thing.

  Animal testing. Was Sage doing an exposé on the company? Why hadn’t I heard about this before?

  I continued reading and saw something about testing on cats. All the information put together didn’t make much sense. I couldn’t ascertain what kind of testing was being done on cats or for what purpose. The notes seemed scattered and disorganized. Sage had obviously written in some kind of sloppy shorthand that I couldn’t interpret.

  There were also some interesting pictures. Pictures of a man and woman smiling over dinner. Blackmail pictures? I couldn’t be sure.

  But there was one name that stood out, that appeared over and over again.

  Andre King.

  I did a quick Internet search and found his home address. He was a head researcher at Bernstein and Associates, had been quoted on various subjects in different scientific magazines, and he lived in Norfolk.

  I added one more person to my list of people to visit tomorrow.

  I gripped the file I’d found. Sage had hidden this for a reason.

  This had to be the information someone was willing to kill for. That meant I had to plan my next move carefully.

  “What are you doing here?” someone barked beside me.

  I gasped. When I looked up, I saw that Bryan was here. Standing behind me. Scowling.

  Who was Sage trying to keep this information hidden from?

  I swallowed hard and braced myself for whatever came next.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I lowered the papers and forced a smile. “Just working late.”

  He glared at me. “On that puppy mill project?”

  “Wrapping that up.”

  “What do you have there?” He stepped closer.

  I pulled the papers toward me. “This isn’t actually work related.”

  He continued to eye me suspiciously. “Let me guess. Is it an official offer from Rupert to take over my job?”

  I swallowed hard again. I didn’t want to own up to anything until I knew his mental state. “Why would you think that?”

  His hands went to his hips and he frowned. “Don’t you think I know he wants to get rid of me? I figured you’d be the first person he approached.”