Page 37 of Fluffed and Folded

Adam flinched at the word “victim,” but he also squirmed a bit, puffing a little with importance. “As much as you can know an employee, I guess. Asher worked here for five years.”

“Any trouble in that time?” Tristan asked. He removed his notebook, pen aloft.

“Nah,” Adam said, but his tone wasn’t as casual as he probably wanted it to be, and he squirmed again.

Once again Tristan waited him out, brows aloft. Silence was a weapon, when used properly.

“There was this…thing…a couple of years ago,” Adam said.

“What kind of thing?” Tristan asked, tilting his head, inviting him to continue.

“A big contract, and I mean big. The biggest bigwigs were trying desperately to win it, but no matter what they threw at them, it seemed like they would go with a competitor.” He paused and took a breath, gearing up. “Everybody was prettydark and dismal about it, then Asher waltzed in and said, I kid you not, ‘Why don’t you let me take a crack at it?’ Now, Asher was HR, not a sales rep, not a VP. But this was the level of desperation for that contract, willing to try anything. And Asher…he had this way about him, you know? Cocky and self-assured, but in a way that made you believe it. So they sent him, figuring what’s the worst that could happen.”

“And what happened?” Tristan prompted.

Adam grinned, incredulous, and shook his head, as if he still hadn’t quite gotten over the shock of it. “He did it. Came home with the contract in his pocket, only double. Fifty years, double the order. Basically the entire fleet in Manitoba. Our bosses actually cried as they hugged him.”

It took a lot to shock Tristan, but Adam Broden had managed. “And they didn’t promote Asher for that?”

“They tried,” Adam said, tossing his hands, still baffled. “In fact they tried to give him my job. He wouldn’t take it.”

“What did you make of that?” Tristan asked carefully. At the very least he would be wary of Asher after he’d been offered his job.

“Another day in paradise,” Adam said, sighing. “But Asher, though, he just went on as usual, doing HR stuff like nothing had happened.”

“Do you know anything about his life outside of work?” Tristan asked.

Adam shrugged. “No. He was tight lipped about it, but…” He paused as if searching for the right words. “Tight lipped in a way that made it seem like he had a lot going on, you know? I don’t know if it was looks or innuendo or maybe my own projection, but I always assumed the guy was some kind of mover or shaker in real life. I even…” he paused again, darting Tristan an abashed glance. “I even wondered if maybe he was in the mafia.”

“Was there anything besides your gut feeling that made you think that?” Tristan asked.

Adam, encouraged by Tristan’s open curiosity, paused to think again. “He dressed better than most of us. Careful, you know? Not a slob, not a cheapskate. He was just…cagey, but smart in his cageyness, like it had an endgame and a purpose. It sort of felt like we were all part of some plan that only he knew.”

“Did you ever ask him directly about any of this?” Tristan asked.

“Jokingly. A couple of times I asked if he used a mob connection to get that contract.”

“And what was his response?” Tristan asked.

Adam looked him in the eye. “He said if he told me, he’d have to kill me.”

CHAPTER 21

In retrospect, the curl started everything.

Eli waited in Darby’s room until they notified him that she was in recovery. He debated not going there. It was too much, wasn’t it? Too personal, too proprietary. In the end he went because he couldn’t stand the thought of no one being there. Darby was alone, at the scariest, most vulnerable time in her life, and she shouldn’t be.

I am a neighbor and almost friend, checking in on her. That’s all,he coached himself as he walked to the recovery room, trying his best not to smell any hospital smells, especially iodine. For whatever reason, that one made him feel like he was about to pass out.

The queasy feeling didn’t dissipate as he stepped into the curtained area and saw Darby, pale and lifeless, eyes closed. He stopped short and stared, feeling helpless and a little devastated to see her this way. The feeling was akin to panic; an inner voice urged him to flee, to cut his losses and run.She’ll never even know you were here. You can check in on her tomorrow. You’ve definitely done enough, gone over and above, really. You win the good tenant of the decade award.

His hand was on the curtain, ready to silently slide it aside to make his escape, when one of her tumbly curls finally decided to do what it had been threatening and take a dive onto her face.

Eli froze, eyes riveted on the curl. Surely she would wake up and push it away. Even unconscious she must feel the itchiness. Eli could practically feel it, from five feet away.

When it became clear that she would neither rouse nor push the curl out of her eyes, he eased forward, extended his hand, and did it for her. And then something clicked into place. What it was, he had no idea. All he knew was that after he pushed the curl out of her eyes, his hand lingered. His thumb made a gentle, tender pass across her forehead, causing his heart to burble with…something…as it swept back and forth. He paused, palm pressed to her forehead as if bestowing a blessing.Be well,he mentally urged her.Get better.

Perhaps it was merely the severity of her illness that made him feel the weight of it now. Darby had atumor, one that affected her brain, her behavior. A foreign invader had taken over her body and made her behave in a manner she neither understood, nor remembered. It was as if she’d been inhabited by an alien. When he thought of how dangerous the last few weeks and months had been to her, all the ways she might have stumbled into danger unaware, he felt even sicker than before, far beyond the mild queasiness of hospital smells. She’d had things removed from her body, not merely the tumor, but female parts that even he, in his ignorance, knew must be important.

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