Page 12 of Only the Devil
“Maybe. Depends on whether this other investigator spoke to them. Scared them, too. Could also be they think Noah’s a debt collector.”
“Is the class action lawsuit still in progress?”
“Dropped with Reed’s death. He was the push.”
“Which means someone in that company knows Reed’s name. Would’ve been smart for Daisy to use an alias. She told me she grew up calling him Uncle Alvin, but they’re not related by blood.”
“Noah’s source said Reed’s niece, meaning Daisy, hadn’t come around in years that he’d seen, so whoever was gathering information might’ve received the same report. Might not have even bothered to locate the name of a distant relative he didn’t keep in touch with. But still, the more we learn, it’s good you’re out there. It’s good we’re setting up surveillance.”
“After I get surveillance set up, I’ll do some live listens from the condo, but Quinn’s gonna set up her monitoring magic, right?” AI can monitor a lot of boring conversations and flag noteworthy commentary.
“Affirmative. Set up in as many locations as you can—with low risk of exposure.”
“Copy that.”
Out the window, the desk banger pulls up his pants and sets about tucking in his shirttail, while the woman he was with… Oh, wait. Snap. Not a woman. Huh.
“Quinn updated the file on Phillip Sterling. The CEO. He has an office in both New York and at the Virginia location. No earth-shattering additions, but there are photos of him with some high-profile individuals. Check them out. You might make some connections.”
Connections or not, it’ll give me more to do during the day.
“Copy that.”
After signing off with Hudson, I’m tempted to give Noah a call.
Instead, I skim the rooms, searching for a certain smart-mouthed dark-haired woman with cute stubby pigtails. The executive offices are dark, likely due to drawn shades. In a third-floor office, someone packs up what looks like a briefcase. Yes, the older suits pack standard leather briefcases. It’s the younger ones that sling backpacks.
The second-floor office with the orgasmic meeting is cleared out and dark. Looks like the empty floor doubles as an afternoon-delight zone.
Where is she?
I pick up my phone. No harm in texting her. Actually, it’s a good thing. Better for anyone watching her to know someone out there will look for her should she go missing.
* * *
What time you thinking you’ll get away today?
* * *
That sounds like a pretty boyfriend-y thing to text.
Within seconds, the bubbles appear.
* * *
Daisy Jonas
Soon. Summer Friday hours. Day ends at 2. Finishing up here with Sterling.
* * *
Busy day?
* * *
Daisy Jonas
No. Sterling’s going to walk me out. Wants to ensure I take advantage of summer hours.
