Armed With Steele (27 page)

I dug my fingernails into the underside of my chair’s armrests to keep from doing what I really wanted to at that moment: run away screaming.

“But truthfully, the biggest womanizer of them all is Mi—”

“Jessica?” Michael’s voice boomed from inside his office. Both Vanessa and I jumped in our seats.

“I’ll be right there, Mr. Frankston!” I stood up so fast my chair rolled out from under me and slammed into the other side of my u-shaped desk. I looked down at Vanessa, determined to hear that last name, and whispered, “Who?”

“Michael!” Mr. Frankston’s voice boomed again, this time with a pleading edge to it. “For heaven’s sake, call me Michael!”

“Milo Finnegan.”

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. “Who’s that?”

She stood as well, and leaned forward across my desk. “Our HR director,” she said in a hushed voice. “Fastest hands in the tri-state area. If I were you, I’d avoid the elevators when he’s around.”

My knees felt weak. “Is that it, then? Those three?”

“Jessica?” Michael called again, the tone in his voice questioned why I wasn’t already in front of him.

I turned away from Vanessa long enough to yell, “Coming, Michael!”

“No, there are a few others.”

My skin began to crawl. “If there are so many, how do you manage to stay away from them all?”

“My advice? If you go anywhere beyond our department, always travel in pairs.”

Pairs? I hoped like hell Vanessa would be allowed to leave her desk from time to time. “Thanks for the tip.”

She winked at me as she headed for the hall. I snatched a pen and notepad off my desk, and hurried from my office to Michael’s.

“Oh good, there you are,” Michael said, peering over the top of his reading glasses. “Was beginning to think Vanessa had kidnapped you or something.”

Physically, she hadn’t. Yet there I stood, feeling mentally bound and gagged by everything Vanessa had just unloaded on me. My mind was abuzz with all questions and no answers. But then, that’s why I was there—to find answers.

Chapter 20

I got brave at lunchtime. Left the safety of my office to face…the kitchenette.

The room appeared to be overflowing when I got there. I hesitated in the hall, torn. I hated crowds. But, it’d be hard to play bait if I spent all my time here hiding.

So I pushed on. And after I squeezed past the cluster of people near the doorway, I realized most of them were just in line to use the microwave. Luckily—or not, my introverted side whined—there were plenty of seats left at two tables farther back inside the room. Since I hadn’t brought anything that needed to be heated up, I bypassed the line and found a seat that faced the clamoring queue.

I got situated, and began munching away on my chicken salad leftovers, eyes down and ears open to the conversations going on around me. Apparently a few of my new coworkers believed me to be both pretty and deaf, as not one, but
two
of the conversations pertained to me and my curve appeal. When a third started up over what sounded like a debate on my bra cup size, I raised an eyebrow and turned my head toward the guilty parties.

Both men appeared to be in their late twenties, and were dressed in khakis and polo shirts. Their badges marked them as members of the IT support group. Computer Nerd A was tall and scrawny, with acne-scarred cheeks and shaggy dark hair. He blushed upon being discovered, and quickly turned his attention back to his lunch, rotating slowly inside the microwave. Nerd B was the better looking of the two: medium build, dark blonde hair gelled carefully into place, and perfect teeth. He was also bolder than his counterpart. Instead of turning away from my irritated gaze, he locked eyes with me. And then…something. A twitch? A glimmer of interest?

“Anyone sitting here?”

I snapped my head back around to find a short, heavy, middle-aged woman standing behind the seat across from me, lunch in hand. One look at her logo’d, button-down blouse and navy slacks, and I knew she wasn’t a member of my division, either. “Um, no. Go ahead.”

She did a quick scan of the faces behind me as she sat down. “Thanks. When I saw that line back there, I thought for sure all the tables would be full.”

“Yeah, I did, too.” My eyes flashed from hers back to Nerd B.

He was gone.

Damn. I’d have to try to get a look at his nametag another time.

“Must be leftover day or something.”

My new lunch companion chuckled. “Good thing we both brought rabbit food, huh? I’m Lauren, by the way.”

“Hi, Lauren. I’m Jessica.”

“Oh, Michael’s new AA! How are you liking it here so far?”

That she knew who I was threw me for a loop. Either I was the only new person around here, or rumors flew like the wind at Maxwell. “Oh, it’s great. Thanks.”

She pulled a can of Diet Pepsi out from her lunch tote and leaned toward me. “You’re lucky you got in up here, you know. Frankston is one of the most sought-after bosses in this place. And he seems to take good care of his employees.” She moved her head over her tote, looking for something, and mumbled, “For the most part, anyways.”

For the most part?
What was that supposed to mean?

Lauren produced a fork, bottle of light ranch dressing, and large container of salad from her tote. Would have been a relatively healthy lunch if she hadn’t proceeded to drench it with dressing. “So, great weather we’re having this week, huh?”

I shifted my eyes away from the growing pool of creamy white in her bowl and nodded. “I’m just glad the rain is gone.”

She speared a fork full of lettuce and shook her head. “Yeah. It’s days like this I hate working in the basement.”

“What’s in the basement?”

“The mailroom. That’s where I work—been there forever.”

“That sounds cool,” I lied.

She shrugged. “I like it alright. Get to see every piece of mail that enters and leaves the building. Like secretly being
in the know
, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

I took another bite of salad and tried to think of a way to steer the conversation back to Michael and his staff.

“So, if you’ve been around that long, you’ve probably seen a lot of changes over the years, huh?”

Her head bounced up and down as she chewed. “Yep, a lot of changes. Wall colors, furniture.” She looked up from her salad to me. “Staff.”

I was about to explore the staffing turnover angle when Vanessa appeared in the doorway. Her eyes darted around the room and landed on me.

“Jessica!”

She strode toward me like a woman on a mission. Coworkers, both male and female, scattered to clear a path for her. Vanessa stopped beside our table, planted a hand on one hip and cast a harsh look at Lauren. Then her eyes flashed to mine. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Our admin staff meeting with Michael got moved up to one o’clock.”

“Okay, no problem. Let me finish these last two bites, and I’ll head back.”

Vanessa scowled at Lauren once more before spinning on her three-inch black patent leather pumps and stalking out of the room.

I shoveled the rest of my salad into my mouth, and apologized to Lauren for having to leave so abruptly.

“No problem,” she said.

I scooted my chair back from the table.

“Be careful of that one.” Lauren’s eyes flashed to the doorway. “She can be a bit moody at times.”

“Um, thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”

* * * *

I arrived to find a pleasant surprise on my desk. It was a note from Vanessa, saying that the IT group had finally gotten me into the computer system. I quickly stowed my lunch tote and whizzed my chair around to the computer. Why it had taken them so long to get me assigned a user name and password was beyond me. No matter. Now I was armed and dangerous.

Time to start digging for answers.

Unfortunately, it only took a few minutes for me to realize that Maxwell had clamped down on my network access harder than a puppy on his favorite chew toy. I could see my personal files, one folder under the Marketing-Admin directory, and a few measly meeting appointment calendars. That was it. No financial records. No personnel files. No nothing.

With a sigh, I pushed away from my keyboard. Wished I could be done with this undercover stuff. And having to wear itchy pantyhose. I mean, really, who trades sweatpants for hose?

I shook my head and glanced at the clock. 12:55. Time to head down the hall for our weekly staff meeting.

Vanessa was the only person in the large conference room. She glanced up from her manicure job and pushed the seat next to her away from the table.

I’ll take that as a hint.

“You really should stay away from Lauren.”

I sat down and smoothed a hand over my skirt. “Why’s that?”

Vanessa looked from her perfect nails to me, a sneer on her face. “Because her nickname is
The Troublemaker
. The woman disrupts every department she’s in. They finally moved her down to the mailroom, to keep her from causing any more damage. “

“If she’s such a liability, why don’t they just let her go?”

Vanessa looked back down to her nails. “Because she’s got connections.”

“Oh?”

“Political connections. Rumor has it she’s related to someone big downtown. Milo’s hands are tied. If we let her go, Maxwell might lose the City as a customer. And they’re too big a customer to risk losing.”

“Huh. Well, I’ll try to steer clear of her when I can then. But it’s not like I have much control over who walks into the lunchroom.”

“No, but you can control
where
you eat. If you stay out of there, you won’t have to deal with her. Oh, I know!” Her face lit up. “Why don’t you and I go out to lunch tomorrow?”

Lunch with Vanessa? Best case scenario, I leave lunch with some leads on Grace’s accident. Worst case, I slip up and say something that would link me back to Grace, and Vanessa ends up putting two and two together. Did the potential benefits outweigh the risk?

Damn right, they did.

“Great idea! Where should we go?”

Vanessa smiled and settled back in her seat. “Hmm…How about Triangle Gardens? They’ve got an awesome salad bar.”

I’d been there before. Dimmed lighting, hushed conversations. The ideal location for a little recon mission.

“Sounds perfect.”

* * * *

I headed straight to Metzler after work that evening, overdue for a Grace fix. The waves of guilt I’d battled with taking her place at Maxwell had finally subsided to mere ripples. Tonight I was about to enter the facility with a semi-clear conscience. It had to be a relatively short visit, though. Brutus was home, waiting.

She looked exactly the same as last time. And while I would have loved to find her awake, now that I was in at Maxwell I really needed her to stay at Metzler. Here she was hidden, safe, while I worked to clear her name and find her attacker.

I took Grace’s hand and lowered myself into the rocking chair beside her bed. Told her how good she looked. How much fun she was missing. How she’d be impressed with the new man in my life. I spoke about anything and everything…except my new day job. That subject was still off limits.

I glanced down at my watch and cursed. Where had the time gone? “Sorry, Grace, but I really should get going. Brutus has
got
to be doing the pee-pee dance by now.”

I reached down to collect my purse, then stood and headed toward the door. “See you tomorrow.” I glanced back at her one last time. “Gr—”

Grace’s hand hovered in the air, outstretched toward me.

“Grace?” I hurried back across the room and took her hand in both of mine. Excitement pulsed through me. Was this it? Was she waking up?

Her fingers tightened around mine for a brief moment, then returned to her usual relaxed state.

Suddenly I didn’t care if it was too early. Didn’t care that I had yet to solve the mystery surrounding her accident or clear her name. I wanted my best friend back, and I wanted her back now.