Page 20 of Skeletons in the Closet

When I reached the top floor, I was winded and too warm in my sweater. I stood and listened briefly to determine if anyone else might be nearby. How many custodians would a building of this size have? I had no idea, but it was silent. I slinked along the corridor, reading the nameplates set into each door. In the end, it proved to be far easier than I expected.

In under five minutes, I found a closed door to a corner office markedOlivia Lansky, CEO.

“Bingo.”

Of course, it was locked. No surprise there. I retrieved my phone and shot another text to Diem, giving him a general idea of where to find me. He read it and responded with a thumbs-up emoji. The same one he’d given me for the previous two messages.

Man of few words, even in text.

I waited.

I wasn’t sure what exactly Diem was looking for or what kind of evidence might suggest Faye’s husband was cheating with this woman, but the adrenaline rush at simply being part of the process was a high in and of itself.

Diem may not be the most amiable person to work with, but I was stoked he’d come to me for help. If I proved myself, maybe it wouldn’t be the last time. God, I was pathetic. I had a job. Was it a job I loved? Not so much. Was the idea of latching onto Diem because his PI work interested me a bad idea? Probably. We shared a mutual attraction to one another—despite the long list of reasons we needed to avoid hooking up again. It was a mess waiting to happen if we didn’t keep things professional.

It took over ten minutes before I heard the clatter of what sounded like a cart coming in my direction. Someone was approaching. I opened the leather folio and feigned interest in the interior, looking like I was supposed to be standing in a deserted hallway outside Olivia’s office.

A second later, Diem rounded the corner. Not a clattering cart but a mop bucket. Anemptymop bucket. Diem wasn’t keen on details. He shoved the contraption by the handle of a mop he’d stuffed inside. It was evident in his body language that the job I’d assigned him was beyond humiliating.

I grinned to help lower his animosity and gestured at the bucket. “Dry mopping the carpeted floors up here, are you?”

“Shut up,” he said when I couldn’t contain a smirk.

“Just asking a question.”

“You’re gloating.”

I thumbed over my shoulder. “How about a thank you for concocting such a stand-up plan.”

“How about move.” Diem manhandled me out of the way of the door, but the way his lips twitched told me his irritation was an act.

“You’re kind of a bully, you know.”

Ignoring me, he found his lockpick kit and dropped to his knees. I was too intrigued about breaking into Olivia’s office to continue goading, so I squatted to watch him work.

“Is it hard?”

“No.”

“Ever broke a pick?”

“Yes.”

“That would be bad, right?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you learn to do this anyhow?”

“YouTube.”

I laughed. “Are you serious?”

He grunted, fumbled a slim tool inside the lock, and in less than a minute, the door opened.

My brows rose. “Wow. That was impressively fast. I don’t remember you being that good with your hands.”

The double entendre did not go over Diem’s head.

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