Temperature Rising (11 page)

“Nope, you’re going to want to walk around here and see this,” Rob said, taking up the conversation.

Mac didn’t like the feeling the words brought and moved around the edge of the car to get a look at the body. The woman was lying face down, her head to the side. She would’ve been pretty if she hadn’t been sitting out in an alley dead for he guessed at least a couple days. His eyes locked on a small bloodstain on her back and the clearly evident grimy footprint ground below it.

The superlative slipped out under his breath.

“Yeah,” Rob agreed. “There’s no doubt about it. No rain to wash down the markings. I’d make a real good guess that it’s the same man.”

Mac nodded too, not doubting. “You guys know the drill. I want everything you can give me as soon as possible. Especially time of death.” Though he figured he already had that if he went with Laken’s nightmare. He stared down at the woman who fit Laken’s description down to her sharp features.

The night just got longer and more complicated for him.

Mac’s leg had long passed aching. Again the thought of pain meds the doctors prescribed beckoned him, but he refused to give in. He swallowed down some ibuprofen before stretching out. He hated the thought of having to tell Laken they had a body after all. She had just started to relax. Feeling that maybe it was just a dream, and she wasn’t having visions of murder.

With everything she was handling at work, she really didn’t need this, and neither did their relationship. One thing was for certain, he needed to catch this guy and soon, or he’d kill again. And not only would he fail to protect another woman, but he was afraid Laken would see it again, and that made it more personal. The only problem was they didn’t have a clue who the guy was.

****

Laken felt a wave of nervousness sweep over her as she stepped into Mr. Warner’s office. She’d woken early and spent the extra time trying to figure out what she was going to say and was still not sure how to handle it. Taking a deep breath, she tried to force her legs not to shake.

“Miss Williams.” Malcolm Warner looked over his desk. He was a big man, with a forceful manner that she found slightly intimidating. Still, she reminded herself, he had given her a chance right out of college. “You wanted to speak to me.”

“Yes sir.” She followed the motion made by his hand and settled in one of the large leather chairs in front of his desk.

“What can I do for you?” he asked when she hesitated trying to form her thoughts.

“I have a concern.” She swallowed, to clear her throat. This shouldn’t be so hard. She was a professional, and she was in the right, though she felt like a child tattle-telling. “It’s about the Galaxy proposal. It was open for all to put in a design.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. It was my idea.”

“I worked up a set of plans, and they were chosen for final selection.”

“Congratulations, I knew you were talented.” There was something almost condescending in the cadence of the man’s voice.

“The thing is, I did not get to be at the presentation with Mr. Sherman because I was deliberately told the wrong time, and Mr. Hoster presented my plans under his name, going so far as to reprint them with his name plate.”

She stopped talking, waiting for Mr. Warner’s reaction. She was shocked when it came.

“And?”

“He took my plans.”

“Wrong. He took company plans. You work for the company, and the plans were done for the company. Hoster did what was best for the company.”

She was stunned by his words. “How can you say that?”

“Miss Williams, you are a junior member of the staff. Surely you can see that Mr. Hoster was correct in his action. You should be grateful. I assure you, you would not have been comfortable in the meeting. You should feel happy that he saw the possibility of the plans and decided to put his name on them so they would get considered.”

Outrage started to build within her. “You’re not serious.” She leaned forward. “I spent two months, working nights and weekends on those plans, because I wanted to show I could do more than clean up and detail others’ work.”

“And you did quite a good job, but we must look at what is best for the company. What would you like me to do? Go to Mr. Sherman and tell him that the plans were made by a lowly draftsman, or I should say, woman. Think what it would do to the reputation of this company. There are several other contracts with the company riding on this if he likes the finished project. But I’ll tell you what I will do. The promised bonus was twenty-five hundred dollars. I will double that to five thousand.”

“He chose my plans,” she said with a gasp, letting out a breath.

“That is enough Miss Williams. You need to get back to work. Mr. Sherman will be here soon. And I want to go over everything to be certain all is in readiness. Please, leave now. I don’t want to hear any more about it. I will call and see the bonus is sent out immediately. It will be in your account today.”

Like Hoster had, the man looked back down at the papers on his desk, totally dismissing her. Laken opened and closed her mouth trying to form an objection, but nothing would come. Giving up, she rose and walked out of the office aware she had just been paid off. She knew now — she was leaving the company.

She had nothing there, certainly no respect. It hit Laken what her role in the company was, and she wondered why she never saw it before. She was the token female. The only female that worked there that was not a secretary. She was the company’s quota because it wouldn’t look good if they didn’t hire any women. It didn’t matter how good or how talented she was. She was never going anywhere if she stayed.

Laken was so stunned her legs almost gave out on her. She’d thought that kind of bigotry was gone. She had never even considered it. That was why she never saw it. She had been raised to respect the person, not the race or gender. Looking back, she realized it should have been obvious. What she had thought was because she wasn’t one of Hoster’s golfing buddies was, by truth, the nature of the firm.

By the time she reached her work area her decisions were all made. She sat down at her desk to write her resignation. When she finished, she was surprised there was no sorrow in leaving. Her only disappointment would be not getting to see her plans come to fruition. There would be nothing stopping her from going to see the building when it was finished, and though no one else would know she’d designed the building, she would.

That thought brought another. When had Hoster copied the plans? She had made a few final changes the last week and hadn’t run them until the night before. Had Hoster gotten the final corrected plans out of her work area, or had he used the earlier ones from the copy room? Drawn by the need to know, she made her way down the hall to where the large machine that could do blueprints was located and the plans stored. It didn’t take long to find the plans.

For a minute, she felt a wave of satisfaction that Hoster hadn’t got the finished plans. Then she thought of her building, the Galaxy Building. Mr. Sherman didn’t deserve the problems caused by changes in the plans. It wasn’t his fault what her bosses were doing to her. He deserved the best she could do, and she wanted it to be perfect because it was hers, whether anyone else knew it.

A spear of self-righteous indignation shot through her. Laken hurried back to her work area and drew out the finalized copy of the plans. She stared at them a second, then, mind made up, she hurried up the stairs, bypassing Hoster’s office for Mr. Warner’s. The young secretary looked up as she strode toward her.

“I need to see Mr. Warner for a second.”

“He’s not available,” the woman answered curtly.

“It will only take a second.”

“He just left for lunch with Mr. Sherman,” she said as if Laken should’ve known and was late getting there. Fat chance she would have been invited.

“Here, put this on his desk.” Laken dropped the resignation on the secretary’s desk before hurrying for the elevator. Her ire rose with each floor she went down. She ran from the building but didn’t even have to search for the men. They were right in front of her, waiting for the car to be brought around to pick them up.

Driven now, Laken stepped forward. “Mr. Warner.”

Hoster moved to cut her off. “What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed at her.

Laken shifted around him at the last moment and thrust the roll of plans out in front of her. “Here,” she said forcefully. “When Hoster took my plans, he didn’t take the finished set. I had added a few pertinent changes to make them better. And, though I think what you did was unethical, they are still my designs, and I want them to be perfect. If the builder goes by the other pages, they will have problems.”

“Miss Williams.” There was no missing the threat in Warner’s voice, but she ignored it.

“Mr. Sherman does not deserve the problems. He is paying for the best and deserves the best.
These
are the best.”

“You’re fired,” the man growled out obviously forgetting they were standing on the busy street with a client.

“You can’t fire me. I quit. My resignation is already on your secretary’s desk. I wouldn’t work for someone who does things the way you do.” Fury radiated off her. “And I’d better get the bonus that was promised me, or I will bring charges.” She turned away, back straight, heading back for the building.

Laken reached for the door when a hand reached over her shoulder and pressed on the door, halting her action. Laken spun around, ready to meet the coming attack then froze.

“Young lady.” The voice was unfamiliar, but the tall man with graying temples, dressed in a suit that cost more than what she made in a month, was not. “Let me understand this. It was you who designed my building?” Mr. Sherman asked directly.

Laken swallowed hard. Now that the indignation had burned off, she felt shaky and self-conscious. “Yes, sir. I did.”

“I liked the plans immensely.” He handed her a card. “Call me. I have several other buildings planned for in the near future. I’d like to discuss them with you.”

Laken wasn’t sure what to say, so she extended her hand. “Thank you, sir. My name is Laken Williams.”

“Laken, unusual name, I’ll remember it. Thank you for the excellent work.” He shook her hand and walked off.

She could only stare after the man, stunned. Her frustration changed to amazement. Her eyes dropped to the card he handed her. It was his personal card. He had just handed her her future. If she did just one building for him, it could set her career, and she didn’t have to feel guilty for stealing it away because she knew they had only been contracted for the one building, hoping to pick up others. It had been their decision to be underhanded. She’d never had to sign a non-compete clause, promising not to take a client for a particular length of time after she quit — probably because they never saw her as a threat.

Her excitement flared. She really did have a chance to make it on her own. She turned to push open the door when the chill of dread hit her like a sledge hammer in the back, almost taking her to her knees. Her breath caught, and her body trembled with cold as heat burned across her forehead.

She clung to the door frame, oblivious to the person waiting to get by her until he bumped into her, pushing her through the opening. Once inside the building, the attack passed and her body started to return to normal but the unease remained. Laken steadied herself and turned back to look through the tinted glass. People crowded the area outside, some standing and talking to others, most hurrying up and down the sidewalk. The average scene of people coming and going, but out there, something was wrong. No, not something, someone. She studied the people, trying to see who might be a killer, because if she wasn’t wrong, he was out there. Close.

****

He watched her stride to the door, the back-stabbing witch.
He’d seen it all, the way she challenged the men.
She gloated that she was better than
they.
That she was the best.
Made the men look like the wrongdoers, and then put a spell over the other man to get his notice, to steal away the business, to come out ahead.
She was evil.
She had to die.
He studied her, bringing his finger to his mouth.
Yes, there it was, he knew her, the taste of her.
That was what had drawn him here to see her.
She had to die.

****

Laken was still trembling when she made it back to her work area. She wondered if she should call Mac. Of course that was foolish; she had no proof the man was out there and who he was. No, it had to be her imagination. Either that or she was going crazy, which was just great now that she had found a man she loved. Determined not to let the thought take hold, she settled in cleaning out personal items after managing to snag a couple of copy paper boxes.

She was almost finished when her phone rang. She scooped it up. “Hello.”

“Hi. What’s up?” Mac’s voice greeted her.

“What do you mean?” She turned her whole attention to the phone.

“You sound a little distracted.”

“Yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I’m packing up my stuff. I quit my job.”

“What happened?” His concern reached across the line to her.

“Basically, Mr. Warner didn’t see anything wrong with what Hoster did. He said it wouldn’t look good for a lowly female draftsman representing the company. He upped my bonus to drop it and get back in line.”

“Which… I’m guessing you didn’t. You okay?”

“Yes. Actually, I am.”

“So tell me what you did.” There was a knowing quality in his voice that made the whole situation feel better.

“I wrote my resignation, and then realized that Hoster copied an old set of prints so I took the new ones to Warner and gave them to him right in front of the client, Mr. Sherman.”

“Oh boy.” Mac laughed. “I bet they loved that.”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe I did that. I mean, it was right down on the street. They were just leaving for lunch.”

“You chased them down?”

“I wasn’t thinking of that. I was just kind of upset.”