Page 30 of Relinquish

“Do you know him?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve seen him around. He runs in the same social circles as my father and owns an investment company. I’m familiar with a few of his clients.” She uses the mouse to scroll up the page. “I don’t know any of the other potential perpetrators, but I’ve been researching everything I can find on them over the last couple of days.”

Thank God. Investigating from the safety of her desk is relatively danger-free unless she gets a paper cut. This way, I don’t have to worry about her jumping into the middle of something with reckless abandon. “That’s good.”

She looks around the office and frowns. “Where did everyone go?”

“It’s past quitting time. Again. You seem to make a habit of working overtime.”

She flushes. “I don’t claim it.”

“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. The hours you work are between you and Truman.” I swallow. “Do you mind if I have a seat?” I point to the second chair in her cubicle. The workspace is large enough for both of us to sit without bumping into each other. I should be safe.

“Yes. Have a seat.” She motions to the vacant chair. “Earlier today, I spoke with a client of Randall’s. She and I went to college together. While we weren’t close, we were in a few classes together.” She tilts her head. “Something feels off about him, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

“He seems to have the world at his feet.” I pick up a couple of pens off her desk and tuck them into her cup holder. I’m trying not to be jealous of his perfect persona, but I’m struggling more than I want to admit.

She leans back. “That’s what it is. He appears too good to be true. The other potential suspects seem too unorganized to pull this off.” Her eyes drift back to Randall’s image. “But this man is smart. Why would he risk everything to steal jewels and other trinkets when he has yachts and mansions?”

“Bored? In over his head? There could be any number of reasons.”

“I attempted to get through his firewall, but I was only able to view some documents. Nothing that leads to his client files or financial accounts.”

“What?” I cough. What in the hell? Who is this woman? And how in the hell did she learn to hack into computer systems?

She shrugs. “It’s not a sophisticated system. Now, the sensitive stuff, he apparently has an additional layer of protection to keep people out, but I think Jason could get in. I’m going to see if he can look tomorrow. I want to get a list of his clients that aren’t documented on his website.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. If he ever finds out you broke through his firewall, he’s going to be out for blood.”

After she purses her lips, she says, “I was careful. I didn’t leave a trail back to here or to me.”

I shake my head and stare at her. “How did you learn to hack into a computer? Was there some special class in a private school that I missed out on by getting a public education?”

“No. No class. Jennifer Downs, one of my father’s security staff, taught me all about computers. She, like Ms. Lue, was concerned I wouldn’t be prepared to live on my own when I grew up. She didn’t want someone taking advantage of me. I learned how to get past computer and home security systems, clone cell phones, and install listening devices.”

I stare at her for several seconds with my mouth gaping open. What in the fuck? “Who were these women, and how many of them were there?”

“They were ex-military. And there were three of them.” She stacks a bunch of papers into their files and arranges them on her desk.

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what did the last one teach you?”

“Mrs. Rogan? She taught me to cook.”

“Cook?” I rest my ankle over my knee and wait. She’s fascinating. When I first met her, I imagined her yearbook caption was ‘Most likely to marry a millionaire and never lift a finger for anything.’ I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong about someone, and the more time I spend with her, the more I enjoy listening to her talk.

“Yes, she was our chef.”

“Did she teach you how to make bombs out of pantry items?”

“No, just to cook.”

“For some reason, I doubt that’s all. Not that I’m trying to change the subject or anything, but I was surprised you didn’t go back when your brother left. Or is he still in town?” I hold my breath.

“No, he headed back. I intend to go home in a few days.”

She’s leaving. Disappointment weighs heavy on my shoulders. I can pretend all I want that I’m okay if I never see her again, but it’s a lie. She stirs something inside me I believed was dead–hope. Hope for a different future. Hope for better things. Hope for love and a family. But those things aren’t in the cards for me.

“My father holds an annual benefit for my mother, and it’s this weekend. I’ve never missed it.”

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