When I hear clicking steps behind me, I turn and see Alison approaching. Part of me thinks I should apologize for acting like a petulant child, but the other part thinks I’m entitled to these feelings.
This sucks. My day started off so promising, and now it’s utter shit.
Turning to my right, I head to the stairs. Yes, it’s twenty-two flights up, but I could use the exercise and the chance to burn off this steam—so walking it is.
Chapter Thirteen
Alison
How did I mess up with Ben so badly? I called him paranoid, for goodness’ sake. Not only that, I told him too much. Now he knows the kind of information I’m seeking, which means he could tell everyone in his department what to watch out for.
Funny, though, I don’t think he’s going to do that. I’m not sure why I feel that way, but I do. There’s just something about Ben Schilling that gives me pause. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the two Bens—the one who grabbed me on the street and the guy who just sat across from me at lunch. They seem like two different people. Perhaps he was just being professional today. He was, essentially, at work. And aren’t people different at work than they are at home or, in his case, on the street? Yes, the answer is yes.
I’m still in a quandary. Should I go with my first instinct about him? After all, he is the guy who grabbed my leg and made me feel uncomfortable. On the other hand, since I’ve gotten to know more about him from my own interactions and from the comments made by his coworkers, I think my first impression of Ben was incorrect. I mean, he hasn’t done anything to make me feel like I should worry about my safety. On the contrary, there’s something about Ben Schilling that makes me want to get closer. Way closer.
As I make my way to the elevator, I see Ben waiting. He’s already seen me, and it doesn’t look like he’s happy about it. No matter, I can let him hop on one elevator as I wait for another. But when he sees me, he quickly heads to the door labeled Stairs.
“He’s taking the stairs? Twenty-two flights?” No wonder the man is built like that.
When two elevators chime their arrival, I take the one closest. That is until Sam Ford approaches.
“This one.” He points to the other available box. “It’s faster.” Once we’re both on board, I move to the back of the elevator just as Sam says, “It’s good to see you, Alison.”
Is it? Weird. “Yeah,” I say with a smile.
“I couldn’t help noticing your cozy lunch with Ben.”
“It was a business lunch. We were discussing—”
He holds up his hand to stop me. “No need to explain your relationship.” He chuckles. “You’re just his type.”
Relationship? His type? What the hell?
“He likes ’em curvy,” he continues.
“Mr. Ford,” I sputter. “It’s not—”
The man won’t let me finish a damn sentence. “I’d watch out for him, though. He’s got a reputation.”
Deciding to cut my losses, I keep my mouth shut as I reach out and hit the number twenty-two again, several times, hoping it speeds up this trip. I thought he said this elevator was faster.
Like he’s just thinking aloud, he repeats, “Yep, quite a reputation.”
I count along as the lights move up: fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…
“Not really fair for the rest of the team, though.”
I can’t let this one go. “Fair? What are you talking about?”
“You doin’ Ben. It’s not fair.” His face changes from something jovial to something quite sinister. “There’s no reason for you to be here, Alison.”
“First of all, I’m not fu—I’m not doing anything of the sort with Mr. Schilling, and secondly, I’m here because Mr. Morgan hired me.”
He chuckles. “Sure. Sure.” Then the creep leans over so close that I’m forced back against the far corner. With a wink, he adds, “Your ‘consulting’”—he uses air quotes—“won’t mean shit when Morgan finds out you’re fucking the focus of the probe.”
What the hell is this guy’s problem? How does he know what my focus is?
I look up in the corner of the elevator to my right and see a camera. Thank goodness. Now let’s hope it’s picking up the audio.
It’s time to defend myself. “We met at a public deli rather than the conference room. There was nothing clandestine about our meeting.” But I learned one important thing today: I will not be meeting Sam Ford alone, that’s for damn sure. The guy gives me the creeps. Perhaps my liaison can finally be of service for me after all.
He’s still so close, I can smell the pastrami on his breath, and it isn’t good. He leans back an inch or two, then says, “I repeat, I’d watch out for Ben. That’s all I’m saying.”
The door finally dings, and when it does, Sam moves back quickly until he’s on the opposite side of the elevator, which tells me something.
He’s done that before.
“Meghan?” I whisper quietly as I approach her desk.
“Yeah?” She’s not so quiet.
“Can I speak to you for two minutes in the conference room?”
“Sure.” She stands and follows me down the long corridor that leads to my makeshift office. When I get there, I halt because it’s no longer my office. There’s a meeting in progress. The first thing I think about is my stuff—my laptop and printer. Everything was on the table and now it’s not. I scan the room and finally spot them on the floor, near the front. My laptop is open, but the screen is dark. Luckily, it’s password protected.
“Well.” I sigh and point to a nearby door. “Stairwell?”
“Wow, this is sort of 007 shit, huh?”
I laugh. “No.” In the stairwell, I turn to face her. “Who do I talk to about the cameras in the elevators?”
“Oh.” She leans back and taps her chin. “Building security, most likely.”
“Where is building security located?”
“Hang on.” She pulls her phone out of a pocket in her black slacks. “I know someone who works in that department.” She taps a few times, then asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Do the cameras in the elevators record audio?”
I watch as she taps away. When she pauses, I hold my breath.
“Is this a friend?”
She winks. “Friend? Not so much. Booty call, definitely.”
“Oh. I see.”
When her phone chimes, I’m tempted to move closer to read over her shoulder, but I stay put.
“All four are supposed to have audio, but one of them has been out for a while.”
I’d love to ask them why that is, but when her phone chimes again, I lean closer.
“He wants to know which elevator you’re wondering about.”
“It’s on the left side closest to reception.”
That makes her laugh. “They’re numbered.” She turns and reaches for the door handle. “Come on. Show me which one.”
I point to the elevator in question as she pushes the button to call it to us. We have to wait a good eight minutes for that particular one to arrive. When it does, we step on with several others already on board, Graham Morgan being one of them.