In Her Sights (4 page)

In the hallway, just a few feet away from her downstairs
office, Julia patted her shoulder. That simple move didn’t calm her nerves
completely, but she took in that touch as Julia whispered, “We can talk about
what’s keeping you awake when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” But Lexie wouldn’t take her up on that offer. They
never talked about what she had found that morning after opening the bedroom
door.

Just as she turned away from Julia, a man in khaki-colored
dress pants and a baby blue dress shirt with a badge clipped on his belt walked
forward. Just like that, her stomach dropped all over again. At this time of
night, she had only been expecting a handful of officers.

She cleared her throat. A detective who hadn’t been
patrolling the streets all night long would require a little more effort. He
offered a polite smile as he approached. “Ms. Lexie Olympia? I’m Detective Adam
Breeze. I was up early at work already when the call came through about your
home. I wanted to come out immediately.”

A detective may be harder to pull the wool over than
officers, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. A smart girl worked with what
she had. As Julia pointed out, she had plenty of reasons for nerves after the
break-in and didn’t bother hiding her shaking hands. “Thank you for coming.”

His maple-syrup-colored eyes held sympathy, and he gave her
arm an easy pat. “Do you feel up to answering a few questions?”

“Yes, yes. Of course.” To keep her voice breathy with nerves,
she concentrated on Addison and the careful image she’d crafted over the years
to conceal her true identity.

“Tell me exactly what happened.” He spoke slowly.

Whenever there was a chance, it was always better to tell
the truth. “I couldn’t sleep. I was restless and needed to get up for a while.”

Of course, when lying about details, the truth could only go
so far. When it was time for the lying, she found it was easier to pull off if
she could focus on a nearby activity. Be distracted and concerned rather than
stare directly at someone when giving them a straight lie. With three officers,
strange men she didn’t know, all around her open safe in hopes of finding a
clue to Addison, she had plenty of action to stare at. “I came downstairs and
thought about reading some business notes for a little bit and turned on the lights.”
She gestured at the open door concealing her safe. “I saw the door opened. The
safe was opened, too, but no one was there.”

“Is anything missing, or have you had the chance to look?”

“I haven’t looked. Julia has a list of all my items.”

“Julia?”

She glanced to him for the honest part. “My housemaid. She’s
been with me since I was a baby and knows of everything I own.” She raked her
hands through her hair and tucked loose bangs behind her ears.

“Was your security system armed this evening?”

She rubbed her arms to wipe away sweat from her still damp
palms. Shaking hands showing nerves was one thing. Shaking hands and damp palms
like she had something to hide was another image entirely. Also,
Melville’s
Sweetheart
did not have sweaty hands. “It should be armed every night.”

“Did you hear any noises? See any lights?”

“Nothing.”

“Thank you for your time. If I have further questions, I’ll
be in touch.”

“Thank you.”

He pulled out his wallet and handed over his card. “If you
think of anything else. A sound you heard or anything, I’d like you to call
anytime.”

“I will do that.” She showed interest in the card before
pulling it close to her chest. “If there’s nothing else you need from me, I’d
like to lay down.”

His smile was soft and easy. “Nothing else.”

She didn’t hurry as she walked away. Just hugging herself as
she left the room and kept her head down. She glanced around one last time
before making the last turn out of everyone’s sight, then headed upstairs.

She didn’t even bother trying to lay in bed. Sleep would still
elude her because it was still dark. Seasons were changing. From winter into
spring. Each day brought her closer to the anniversary of the day when she’d
turned that knob. A twist that had started with an anxious need to hurry. She
wanted to go shopping with a friend. What could possibly be more important than
that to a nine year old girl? A peek inside that door on that cool morning and
everything about her life changed. The day the last of her childhood was swept
under a rug and was never seen again.

Around this time, some part of her somewhere always reverted
back to the scared girl, afraid she was next to be stabbed in the dark. It was
the only explanation she could come up with for why she couldn’t sleep every
year when the time came around. That’s what had happened then. For months after
finding them, she had not slept at night, too afraid of the dark and the killer
that was still on the loose.

Lexie swallowed, stepped on the balcony off her bedroom, and
stared out at the starlit sky, willing the memory of what was behind that door to
go away before it all flashed. She counted to fifty. Recited her alphabet forward
and backward.

The cool air brought a nice breeze. The scent of early
spring flowers in the night dried the thin sheet of sweat dampening her face.
The park in the distance was dark, with only bursts of golden street lamps
shining here and there. In a few weeks, there would be kite flying in the
mornings by kids out for spring break. Laughter and cheers would echo in the
wind. Dogs would bark. Runners would start their paths. Things she didn’t
really know much about.

Somewhere near a car door shut, the sound echoed. She leaned
forward and listened. The engines were close as they cranked and faded away. The
police were gone. And no arrests that she was aware of. That thought should
ease the tension in her shoulders, but it didn’t. Lexie pushed away from the
smooth, stone balcony railing and headed for her hidden office.

She keyed the number on the pad and slipped in, pushing the
wall back in place and flicked on lights. Florescent overhead brightened her
stash of weapons and the office for her assassin life.

The box sat on top of her desk where she’d left it. Her
gloves were on the corner of a shelf and she grabbed them before opening the
box. Inside was an item bound in newspapers with masking tape. It was about a
foot in length and surrounded by more newspapers padding it.

She cut the tape and unwrapped papers until the dagger
rolled out and landed heavy in her lap. Sparkling silver caught the light. The
handle was white. Bone? Or maybe ivory? The hilt was gold, and at the base, a
rope of gold that tied in a knot.

Even more impressive was the carving on the white handle.
Like a maze of ninety-degree angles cutting this way and that. She turned it
over, and two interlocked circles were carved on top of the intricate maze. The
silver sheath was just as elegantly crafted. Instead of a matching set of
entwined circles, there were flowers at the base that trailed over the
continued pattern to the end of the cover. She pulled the sheath loose, and it
slid with ease to reveal a simple, silver single-edged blade that tapered off
to a tip.

She snapped a picture, gently put the dagger back in the
holder, and placed it on top of the discarded newspapers in the box out of the
way.

It took a second to transfer the picture to her computer and
send it, along with a quick message out to her contract agent.
See what you
can get on this for me. -Artemis

Artemis was a Greek goddess. She swore never to marry and
took up the role of protecting young women. She was a hunter with fifty dogs
and a bow with a bundle of painless silver arrows. She was a woman who knew her
own strength and how to use it to the best of her abilities.

Lexie had a lot in common with her, which was why she used the
name as her alias. She pulled the gloves loose and set them on the corner of
her desk just as her computer beeped with a return message from Kyle.

Give me a second.

Halfway through a game of Free Cell, her computer dinged
again.

She switched screens and read the message.
Where did you
get this?

Her fingers clicked across the keys.
Belongs to my
neighbor. He brought it to me today and left.

It’s rare, and it’s hot. Get rid of it.

What’s special about it?
she typed back, requesting
more.

It’s an ancient Crete Dagger. What are you doing with it?

I don’t know. My neighbor dropped it off this afternoon
in a box.

Dump it off on someone else.

His urgency for her to get rid of it spoke highly for its worth.
A theft like this should be in the papers. It shouldn’t take too much of a
quick search to discover who it was stolen from and quietly return it.
Anything
noted on the theft?

Stolen about four months ago. Police don’t seem to have
many leads.

So stolen, then sold to my neighbor?

Possibly. Unless he arranged the theft.

She laughed a little. Kyle didn’t know Arnold Pritchard. She
rocked back in her chair and tapped on her thigh. The black market didn’t sound
like Arnold Pritchard, but then, she had always heard he cheated on his golf
score whenever possible. Before she made a move with this thing, she wanted to
know more.
Put your ear to the ground and see if you can get a seller and
buyer.

Take a little bit of time. I do have other things to do.
An entire fucking business to run.

She rolled her eyes.
I know. I just want to know what I’m
dealing with before returning it.

Returning it? Just throw it away somewhere.

She shook her head. That would be Kyle to recommend throwing
an ancient artifact in the trash. This dagger could be someone’s entire life
savings.
I just want to know if there was any aggressive action when it was
taken.

Don’t get involved in things you don’t know about.

She smiled.
I’m not getting involved.

Daylight was less than an hour away. Another couple days of
restless nights and exhaustion would finally take her. She’d be refreshed and
ready for the world and then cycle back into not sleeping. The best she could
do was try to work her schedule around the restless weeks to come.

When the memory of finding her parents slaughtered that
morning started creeping up her neck, she stood and shook her arms loose. Lord,
she was meeting Addison in just a few hours. She had to get a grip. Dealing
with the police while nervous was acceptable.

Not for Clayton Addison. Though she wasn’t sure she needed
to see him anymore. She glanced at the dagger and wondered about the odds of
him leaving her alone if she canceled that meeting. Considering the lengths he had
already gone through for the dagger, she doubted they were high.

Chapter Four

When it came to getting what she wanted, Lexie had learned
from the best.

Mostly from her parents.

More so her father, but then, her mother hadn’t exactly been
a lightweight, either.

Tailored red pants made exclusively for her with a white
silk top would do exactly as the outfit intended—catch attention.

The rubies and diamonds tastefully placed at her ears, neck,
and wrist would do what her mother did best—keep that attention.

Image and perception was everything. Her parents hadn’t
taught her that, but the man who had been entrusted with her estate while she
was a minor did. Ruthless and calculating, Uncle Gabe was the family lawyer and
still ran the everyday work of her father’s real estate business. He had taught
her how to create the image she wanted and how to use it.

To this day everyone looked at her and still saw a girl grieving,
first, and then the thirty-two-year-old woman who was head of a multi-billion-dollar
company second.

She walked the sidewalk to the front of Addison’s building. Addison’s
Security was written across the glass in white, bold letters. Straightforward. The bronze handle was nothing decorative. The door was not as heavy as
she figured as she tugged it open.

The inside of the lobby had a clean scent with a hint of
coffee. Brown leather couches, dark table, and a side table with a coffee pot
to the side. She tried picturing the man from last night in this clean cut space and struggled to see him fit. Cream tile lined the entryway. A soft yellow hue covered the
walls. No flowers. No artistic pictures. Not a trace of anything feminine that she could easily see.

Surrounding the coffee pot were a few men dressed nearly
identical to Addison last night. Fitted black shirts and cargo pants. Lace-up black boots. They had the clothes, but not the same air Addison carried. Even trapped and at her mercy, she appreciated how he hadn’t folded under the pressure.

A desk matching the same wood tones of the lobby furniture was
along the back wall. An elderly woman sat at it, flipping between pages on her
desk, then looking at her computer. A plaque labeled
Mary Parker
sat on
the edge. She looked up and gave Lexie a warm smile that crinkled the corners
of her brown eyes. She had long, silver hair that flipped a little at the ends
and huge pieces of dangling, green costume earrings that Lexie loved. “Can I
help you, dear?”

“I have an appointment with Clayton Addison at nine.”

Mary’s eyes widened a touch at the corners, and she cleared
her throat as she stood. “Yes, Ms. Olympia. Right this way. I thought I
recognized you from the paper.”

Lexie smiled at the woman. Staff, workers, the general
public—all of them were a very powerful group of people. After all, a
successful business was built on the backs of hardworking individuals. Whenever
there was a chance, it was always a good idea to reinforce the sweet
philanthropist image the papers made her out to be. It hadn’t been easy earning
the name
Melville’s Sweetheart
in a metropolitan area of over two
hundred thousand people. It was moments like this and being pictured in the
little
Magnolia Weekly
society pages that had built her reputation. “Hopefully
I didn’t have anything in my teeth in the picture.”