Page 22 of Cornered

In disbelief, she tossed her pencil onto the table and stared at the words.

And now Steph wanted to know what Stan knew. She took a picture of the paper and sent it to Tate and Cole.

She had to track him down. Now.

Relieved to have a plan, she packed up the pages of the journal and her notes and grabbed her empty Yeti cup. It was dark outside, but the parking lot lights were bright and the area fairly busy, so she clicked the fob to unlock her car and hurried to it. The officers in the cruiser parked near the door waved, and Steph relaxed then slid behind the wheel of her Subaru. She drew in a steadying breath, hating the feeling of lurking danger in spite of her temporary bodyguards. She longed for the days where she took her safety mostly for granted. Not that she didn’t take precautions like any smart person, but she’d never felt that someone was out to do her bodily harm like she had over the last couple of days.

With the doors locked, she looked around and focused on the car in the corner of the parking lot. It was backed into a space, and she thought the driver was at the wheel. When he caught her looking, he cranked his vehicle, pulled out, and roared from the parking lot.

Steph frowned. While his features had been obscured by the glare on the windshield, she was sure it was the same guy in the library who’d snapped a picture of the bulletin board. Had he been waiting on her and, when he realized she saw him, gotten scared off?

But why? He had the book, so why keep tabs on her?

Unless he knew she had the printed pages and was working on deciphering them? She hadn’t exactly hidden them while working on the code, and she’d been pretty absorbed in what she was doing, feeling safe at her little table in the library.

She swallowed hard, thinking she—and Cole and Tate—may have overestimated exactly how safe she was. Only the comforting presence of the police car behind her let her breathe normally.

TATE AND COLEhad struck out with the Bolins, but Tate wasn’t convinced they were being completely truthful in their protests that they had no idea what Brenda was doing on Youngstown Road or why she would have been headed to the facility at that time of night.

His phone chimed and he glanced at the screen while Cole drove.

“‘Going to see my boss,’” he read aloud. “‘Stan knows something. I deciphered more of the code, and Brenda said she went to him with evidence of theft and he said he’d take care of it, but she thought he might know something.’” Tate shook his head and glanced at Cole. “Is she serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m going to call her.”

“Excellent idea. Then give me the phone so I can yell at her.”

“I’ll put her on speaker so you can judge whether that’s necessary.” Tate tapped her name in his contact list, thankful she answered on the first ring. “First, you’re on speakerphone so Cole can hear, and second,” he said in lieu of a greeting, “we have our forensic accountants working on this. You don’t have to play amateur detective.”

“I know. I’m not really. But Brenda was my friend, and I can’t just sit on my hands doing nothing.”

“Doing nothing is precisely what you need to do,” Cole said, his voice slightly louder than necessary for her to hear it.

“And we need that key,” Tate jumped in. “There’s obviously a lot more she had to say by what’s left to decipher.”

“Well, then meet me there if you don’t mind. I’m closer to his place than I am mine.” She gave them the address, and Cole shrugged even though he shot a glare at the phone.

Tate frowned. “Fine, but if you think he knows something, it could be dangerous for you to confront him.”

“Stan?” She laughed. “He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

“Stephanie Cross,” Cole said, “don’t make me call James.”

Another chuckle rippled through the line. “Is that supposed to be a threat? He doesn’t scare me.”

“Well, he scares me,” Cole snapped, “and if something happens to you because—” He closed his eyes for a brief second while he ground his teeth against what he obviously wanted to say, and Tate almost felt sorry for the man. “Just stay put,” Cole finally managed.

“I have my two watchdogs, Cole. They’re right behind me. I’ll be fine.”

“Steph...”

Tate bit the inside of his cheek to keep a smile off his face. He really shouldn’t be smiling. This was serious. But the interaction between these two was funny—and entertaining. James and Cole were best friends, so Steph had another older brother whether she wanted one or not.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll be waiting in my car.”

“Thank you.”

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