Page 88 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“I owe you, big time,” I whisper to him before racing around the office to dispense the coffee to each recipient, making sure I drop off Alex’s black coffee first.
By the time lunch rolls around, my neck no longer feels the dull ache from Isaac’s fingers when he arched over the bathtub this morning. It’s from scanning hundreds of documents into the geriatric copy machine in the dingy, cramped supply closet. Alex wants a digital copy of my uncle’s hand-scribbled notes and files, which means thousands of documents need to be manually scanned into the FBI database. In a much larger office, this task may take a couple of days, but using an ancient copier that only scans one page at a time, it will take weeks, if not months to complete this meaningless task.
I’m still rubbing the kink in my neck when the supply closet door creaks open. My breathing levels when Alex strolls into the room. The air in the minute-size closet turns stifling when a thick stench of awkwardness suffocates us.
After offering Alex a quick, unassured smile, I return my focus to scanning the documents. Clearing his throat, Alex makes his way to the corner of the room to gather some camera equipment. Because of the lack of space, his hand accidentally connects with my backside as he passes by me.
After gathering a digital camera with a long zoom lens, he makes his way back out of the room. I draw myself in as close to the copier as possible to ensure he can glide by without bumping into me.
Upon exiting the door, he spins around to face me. “You can make up your late arrival by either skipping your lunch break or staying back later tonight,” he advises, his tone stern.
Swallowing harshly, I nod. Obviously, Brandon’s clever ruse has been unhatched.
CHAPTER38
Two hours later, Brandon discovers me sitting on the floor in the supply closet. He offers me a reassuring smile before making his way into the room. An appreciative grin forms on my mouth when he sits down next to me and hands me a club sandwich and a bottle of OJ from Harlow’s bakery.
“I heard you had to work through your lunch break.” He leans his back against the shelving I’m resting on.
“Yeah. I think Alex is more watchful than either of us perceived.” I run the cuff of my blouse under my eyes to ensure I don’t have raccoon eyes from my mascara running down my face.
Once the smears of mascara are on the sleeve of my white blouse, Brandon asks, “Why are you crying?” His genuine concern shows on his adorable face.
I hand him the photo I’m clutching in my shaking right hand. “Ophelia Whitney Petretti was only nineteen years old when the car she was driving was struck by a B-double truck that veered onto the wrong side of the road. She was killed on impact,” I answer.
Brandon’s eyes snap down to the photo I found of Ophelia in Col Petretti’s file. Ophelia was beautiful. In the picture Brandon is holding, she has light brown, wavy shoulder-length hair with some caramel highlights. Her dazzling brown eyes are so light in color, they’re nearly transparent. She’s smiling, even with the tip of her pointed-up nose red from a sprinkling of snow landing on it.
A smile curls my lips when Brandon places his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close to his side, offering quiet comfort. “I read the police report on her accident over the weekend. It’s always sad when you hear of any life being taken too soon.” Even with him offering me comfort, he sounds hesitant. I guess it’s hard for him to understand the reason for my tears.
I’m genuinely upset that Ophelia’s life was cut short at such a young age. Just from her photo, I can tell she was a wonderful person, but my tears aren’t for her—they’re for Isaac. Once I dove into more of Col’s file, I discovered several handwritten notes my uncle had scribbled on napkins from a diner called Buck’s. Ophelia was a waitress at Buck’s Diner for a little over a year before she was involved in the accident.
All the handwritten notes were about Ophelia and a young man he’d spotted her with numerous occasions over a three-month period. From the timeline of the napkins and some more detailed reports, it appears Isaac and Ophelia were an official couple for nearly six months before she passed away.
I hesitantly hand Brandon the second photo I’m clutching. It’s a picture of Isaac and Ophelia together. It is time-stamped a few hours before she was killed in the traffic incident. Isaac is wrapping a scarf around her neck. He’s grinning a smile I’ve never seen on his face before, and his beautiful, entrancing eyes are staring into hers. You can see nothing but love and admiration all over his face.
Brandon’s eyes drop to absorb the photo before lifting to mine. “Isaac and Ophelia were a couple?”
His eyes sparkle with excitement when I nod. “Izzy, you have to tell Alex you’ve unearthed the connection between Isaac and Col Petretti.” His voice is laced with euphoria. “This will get you off coffee and filing duties in an instant.”
Brandon jumps up off the worn carpet, excitement beaming from him in invisible waves. I accept the hand he thrusts out in front of me. His sharp yank on my arm pulls me off the ground and has me crashing into his firm chest. My breasts squash up against his well-defined pectoral muscles.Brandon is a lot harder under his clothes than I’d initially perceived.
Grimacing, I step backward and run my hand down my blouse to ensure it didn’t rise to an absurd level during Brandon’s eager lift. When I raise my gaze, I’m confronted with Brandon’s flushed face.Obviously, I’m not the only one who noticed our inappropriate closeness.With a hesitant smile, I turn my attention back to scanning the documents into the old copier.
“I don’t have time to type up a whole report on their relationship.” My eyes roll at my dim excuse. “This scanning will take me months as it is.”
I turn back around to face Brandon, who is eyeing me curiously. “You spent your whole weekend going through Col’s file. Eventually, you would have discovered these photos yourself.” I return Brandon’s confused stare. “If you’re willing to type up the report, I’ll let Alex believe you discovered the photos.”
“I don’t want to take your credit, Izzy.”
“You’re not taking my credit, Brandon,” I interrupt. “You’re helping me out. I’m snowed under here.” I gesture to the mountain of papers I still have left to scan. “This isn’t even a small dent in the boxes left in the conference room.”
Brandon remains quiet as his concerned eyes shift between mine. After what feels like a lifetime, but is more like minutes, Brandon agrees to compile the report to present to Alex. “But you’ll get the credit for finding the connection between Isaac and Col,” he says before walking out of the supply closet.
I drag my palm over my sweat-drenched neck. This leading a double-life business is a lot harder than I originally anticipated. My heart is pounding just from sharing one snippet of Isaac’s personal life. Although I feel guilty, either way, this secret would have been unearthed eventually. If it weren’t by me, Brandon would have found it.
Once my erratic heart rate is back under control, I scarf down the sandwich and OJ Brandon brought me before recommencing with the scanning. I’m famished since my breakfast was burned off during my impromptu romp in the bathroom with Isaac this morning.
A short time later, Brandon’s head pops back into the room. “Your phone has been vibrating nonstop on your desk the past thirty minutes,” he tells me apprehensively.
