Home > Rake_ Wolfes of Manhattan Four(33)

Rake_ Wolfes of Manhattan Four(33)
Author: Helen Hardt

“Anything new?” I asked.

“I’ve asked around as well as I can without raising suspicion. No one remembers seeing your father access your office that day, but it was weeks ago and no one would really think twice if he went into your office.”

“Right. Why would they?”

“But there’s one thing that doesn’t quite jibe.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What’s that?”

“Your assistant. Terrence.”

Terrence? He’d been with me a while and did an incredible job. The guy got things done that no one else would be able to. He got me those great seats at Zee’s show in the middle of the night. He had contacts.

I inhaled deeply. “Spill it.”

Leif cleared his throat. “Terrence claims he doesn’t remember seeing anyone access your office on the day in question, but his calendar tells a different tale.”

“How so?”

“Luckily, I hacked into several personal calendars before I started questioning. I wanted to see if anything stood out before I asked questions. Otherwise, they might do some deleting. Not that I couldn’t recover deletions, but it would take time and energy that we don’t really have right now.”

“Got it. Go on.”

“His calendar indicates, or at least it indicated, that he was out of the office that day.”

“Where?”

“It didn’t say. Just said he took a personal day. So I figured when I questioned him, that’s what he’d tell me. But he didn’t. He said he didn’t remember seeing anyone access your office that day.”

Hmm. Strange. I wrinkled my forehead.

“Does Terrence take a lot of personal days?” Leif asked.

“No more than anyone else.” I opened my phone to my own calendar, pulling up the date of the phone call. “Strange. If he’d taken a personal day, I’d have had to approve it, and it would show on my calendar.”

“Do you always approve his personal days?”

“I can’t think of a time I haven’t,” I said. “Like I said, he doesn’t abuse the privilege.”

“This could mean nothing,” Leif said, “but it stood out to me. Seems like a red flag.”

“Yeah, it does.”

Terrence. Really? I paid him handsomely, but like most others in the world, if he saw dollar signs elsewhere…

“Also,” Leif continued, “remember that your father was still head of the company at that time, so if he asked Terrence to do something—”

“He trumped me.” I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right. Something about that stinks. Did you ask Terrence about what his calendar indicated?”

“I didn’t, because he appeared to pull up his calendar when I talked to him. So he would have seen that he wasn’t in, and he would have said so.”

“So one would think.”

“Yeah. Red flag.”

“All right. What’s Terrence’s calendar say now?”

“As I suspected, it no longer shows a personal day that day.”

“Did you screenshot the original, showing the personal day?”

Leif smiled. “Of course I did.”

“All right. It’s possible that he meant to take a personal day and then decided not to but forgot to delete the entry in his calendar.”

“It’s possible,” Leif agreed.

“Still…”

“How long has Terrence been working for you?”

“A few years. I hired him—”

I stopped with an abruptness that surprised me.

I did hire Terrence. He had impeccable qualifications and his references gave him glowing reviews. He fit right in and even started a bromance with my father’s assistant, Jarrod, who now worked for Rock.

But…I hadn’t found him myself.

Oh, God.

I remembered clearly now.

My father had brought his resume to me.

Sure, I’d been looking for a new executive assistant, as my former one had moved to Hawaii after her husband got transferred. Him handing me a resume hadn’t seemed odd.

Until now.

Still, it could all mean nothing.

“Anything else?” I asked Leif.

“That’s all I’ve got for now. It’s small, but it could be significant.”

“Yeah, it could be.” I twisted my lips as my mind raced. “Thanks, Leif. Keep looking.”

“Will do, boss.”

“And stop calling me boss.”

He laughed as he stood. “Okay, commander.”

Still a SEAL to his core.

Leif was a good guy. Someone I’d brought in myself. I’d thought I trusted him, but I realized something important after our conversation.

I could no longer trust anyone but myself.

 

 

33

 

 

Zee

 

 

St. Andrew’s was a beautiful old building of gray stone. I almost felt like I was visiting an ancient cathedral in Europe. Not that I’d ever gone to Europe, but situated in the heart of the city, the church made me feel like time was flowing backward. Funny, I hadn’t noticed any of this when I was a kid and my mother brought me here. It was just church.

I walked up the stone steps and through the ornate doors into the narthex attached to the sanctuary. One wall held a bulletin board with notices of events, times for mass, and charitable drives.

I opened the door to the sanctuary and walked in. The noonday sun cast flickers of color through the stained glass windows. A lone woman knelt at the altar holding a candle.

I walked slowly toward the altar, mesmerized by the beauty of the golden crucifix standing there.

I gasped when someone touched my arm.

“May I help you with something?”

A young priest stood next to me, clad in black with his white collar. “Are you…” My nerves fluttered and my stomach churned. “Father Jim?” I knew well he wasn’t, but my mouth ran off on its own.

“No, I’m Father Amos Baca. I’m interning here.”

Father Amos dark skinned and handsome, and he had a very kind face. He seemed a little old to be an intern, though. He had laugh wrinkles around his brown eyes.

“What’s that woman doing?” I asked.

“She’s lighting a candle for a loved one.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“Parishioners come in and out during the week. To light a candle. To pray. To attend confession.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to church,” I said truthfully.

“Indeed,” he said. “Then may I ask why you’re here?”

Why was I here? I’d been thinking about how I used to talk to a pastor. Thinking I wanted to take my life back. Then here I was. The parish where one of my hunters worked.

“I’m not sure I know,” I replied.

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

I sighed. Such a loaded question. “I don’t have a good past. With priests, I mean.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiled. “We’re not all bad.”

His smile was genuine, but still, I panicked.

Cold fear welled up in me, and I turned swiftly.

“Miss?” the priest said.

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