Page 13 of House of Lies

I wince and turn the phone to Vanessa.

“It’s him. Again.” I roll my eyes, letting the phone keep ringing as I slip it back into my purse. I lean forward, resting my elbows on the top of the sleek white reception counter. “He’s been busting my ass all morning. I’m begging you, please just check? If you guys don’t have those docs…”

“Um…” Vanessa glances down at her laptop, and then shrugs. “Okay, let me see if I can find them and see how far they are in the queue.”

“Thank you, Vanessa.” I drum my fingertips lightly on the countertop, trying not to bore a hole in the receptionist’s head as she taps away on her laptop.

She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t have any applications for Mr. Lewis. When did you send the documents?”

She jumps when I thump my fist into the countertop. I immediately hold out my hand, waving it emphatically. “Sorry. It’s just…I know I sent them. You’ve gotta have them. Did your system glitch or something?”

“Glitch?” She stares at me like I’m the one glitching. “No, ma’am, not possible.”

“But I emailed everything!”

“Emailed?” Her face turns a little frosty. “We don’t accept the documents via email. There’s a special link where you upload directly?—”

“No.” I press my fingers to my lips. “Please don’t tell me that. Please.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am?—”

I cut in with a frantic, “I told him I sent it!”

My phone rings again. I have a thing for older men—the more distinguished, the better—but Detective Lewis has done nothing for me. His poetic timing, however, is turning me on like nobody’s business.

“That’s him,” I stage whisper. “Vanessa, please…”

She must share some shred of boss-induced PTSD, because there’s a flash of sympathy in her eyes before she gives me a quick nod. “Okay. Hold on a sec, I’m going to check Belinda’s computer. If I can find your email, then I’ll ask her to upload them manually for approval soon as she’s back.”

“You’re a lifesaver!”

She gives me a warm smile and pushes away from her desk, hurrying off to the same door Mr. Parker exited a few moments ago. She’s barely out of sight before I rush around the reception desk and bend over her laptop.

Finally!

There’s some kind of software open on the screen. I scan every line of text and spot the name of the listing a second later.

And, right beneath it, the address.

But what’s even more important are the owner’s contact details just to the side.

Mr. Ethan Remington

A pleasant jolt pulses through me.

There it is! Definitive proof.

I haven’t felt this alive in months. I quickly scrawl Remington’s address and phone number on Vanessa’s notepad and tear off the paper.

Guilt stabs through me when I race out of the real estate office.

That’s the price you pay for being nice.

I duck into the first alleyway I find, my phone already out. Two missed calls from Lewis. The least I owe him is a return call.

“Miss Monroe,” Lewis says, and I wince at how congested he sounds. Guess he is sick, after all. “Thanks for calling back. Sorry I’m only getting back to you now. I was off yesterday.”

“That’s okay. I actually have news?—”

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