Page 55 of Bad Seed

He chuckled. “Pick one.”

“You had me at omelet and croissants,” she said.

There was a long moment of silence, and she thought they’d been disconnected. “Brendan, are you there?”

“Yes, ma’am, just absorbing the fact that the way to your heart might be through your stomach,” he said.

Now she was silent.

“Sorry if that was out of order. I’ll turn in that order for you. Coffee and juice?” he asked.

“Yes, please, and I am not offended by anything you’ve said.”

She heard a soft sigh. “Good. That would never be my intent. The police will be contacting you today. If it’s okay, I’ll stop by this evening before I leave work.”

“It’s very okay. Considering the tedium of my job, you are becoming the highlight of my day. See you later.”

“Absolutely,” Brendan said.I am the highlight of her day, and she’s becoming the woman of my dreams…and in them, too. What the hell am I going to do when she leaves?

Then he shook off the worry, wrote down the order, and turned it in to room service.

A short while later, there was a knock at Harley’s door, and then a voice, “Room service.”

She recognized the waiter with the food cart and let him in, and as soon as he was gone, she sat down and ate her way through the best breakfast she’d had in years.

Hours later, she was working on the last six months of data from the hotel purchasing department when she got a call from the front desk.

“Miss Banks, there are three policemen here to see you. May I send them up?”

“Yes,” Harley said, then quickly hit Save on what she’d been working on and made a run for the bathroom to check the condition of her hair.

Some women put on makeup before the arrival of guests. Some changed clothes to present their best appearances. Harley just needed to make sure her hair didn’t look like she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. Brushing and combing hair like hers never happened, but she could work wonders with her fingers and a hair pick, and after washing a smear of ink from her cheek, she went back to the living room.

Moments later, there was a knock at the door.

After a quick look through the peephole, she opened the door. Aaron and Wiley Pope were flanking a fit, middle-aged man in uniform with a Harrison Ford squint and a serious set to his jaw. He immediately flashed his ID.

“Police Chief Sonny Warren, and Officers Wiley and Aaron Pope. May we come in?”

“Yes, of course,” Harley said, and stepped aside for them to enter, then led them into the living area.

She chose the chair next to the sofa, then gestured for them to sit. They moved in unison, removing their hats, and as they sank into the cushions, Harley read their body language.

Aaron flashed a quick smile. Wiley was already sizing her up, and the police chief was obviously curious and leaning slightly forward. She quickly opened the conversation.

“Thank you for coming. As you know, I find myself in a precarious situation, and will be grateful for any help or advice you might give me.”

“I know what Brendan told his brothers, but I want to hear all of it from you,” Sonny said.

“Right,” she said, and began explaining her previous job and what she’d uncovered, and the ensuing raid on the warehouse, all the way to the phone call with Wilhem Crossley and her concern as to whether to stay or go.

“Do you have any idea who’s behind this?” Sonny asked.

Harley shrugged. “I assume, the boss behind the trafficking ring. I never did uncover a name and the only money trail I found went from Wilhem Crossley’s business to shell companies in foreign countries. There was no direct paper trail from the warehouse back to Wilhem. And now the accountant who was juggling numbers is deceased.”

“What are the feds doing about this?” Sonny asked.

“I have no idea. I was debriefed for several hours, turned over all my notes to the federal agent in charge of the case, and assumed they would follow up.”

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