Secrets and Seduction: 5 Romance Novels (27 page)

Christian held his breath as the handwriting expert checked back and forth between what Christian had provided and what was written on the drawing. The man studied all the signatures for a number of minutes. Finally, he sat back in his chair and laid the magnifying glass down.

“You’re right. It looks like somebody traced your signature, but you didn’t write it.”

Christian’s breath whooshed out. He took another deep one to steady himself. His hand was shaking as he ran it over his face. “I knew I wouldn’t have signed off on this drawing. Not this project. It was too important to me.”

“You’re going to need me to testify about this in court. I wanted someone to pay for the deaths of those young people at the Densmore, but I want it to be the guilty person. Do you know who did it?”

Christian shook his head. “No. Chances are it was someone at my firm, like an intern, but I won’t know until I ask.”

Kernfelter’s dark brows lifted. “You’re going to do your own investigation?”

Christian shrugged. “I have to. Nobody else seems to want to.”

“Your lawyer will want to get a deposition from me. Who’s representing you?”

“Bryce Gannon. I’m supposed to meet him this afternoon.”

“Give him my number. I’ll expect to hear from him.”

“Can you do me a favor, Mr. Kernfelter?”

“Sure, but call me Alex.”

“Would you call Gabrielle Healey and tell her what you found. She asked that you call her.”

“Certainly. Why don’t I do it now while you’re here?” He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Cost Containment, Healey.” Gabrielle’s voice spilled into the room through the speaker.

“Gabrielle, it’s Alex Kernfelter. I’ve got Christian Ziko with me on speaker phone.”

Christian heard her audible intake of breath.

“What do you think?” she asked, her voice full of caution.

“Someone forged his name on the drawing. I’ll testify to it in court.”

“God. I didn’t believe him. Mr. Ziko, I’m so sorry.”

Christian felt slightly mollified. “I told you I didn’t do it.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to find out who did. I don’t believe the police will help me. Will you?”

Her sigh gusted over the phone. “Yes.”

What was she doing? Gabrielle asked herself as she hung up the phone from talking to Christian Ziko. Was she crazy to agree to help him try to prove his innocence?

Yes, most definitely. Cal Beyers’s words about not paying on the Densmore claim echoed in her mind. And that promotion was riding on her report, a report that now had to be rewritten. Although if forgery was involved, Michigan Casualty still wouldn’t have to pay on the claim. But she needed to know the name of the guilty party or parties almost as badly as Christian Ziko did.

Was she letting her wayward thoughts and feelings for the man sway her decisions? She’d never done that before, but she’d never felt such a pull toward another person. He’d burrowed past her defenses with his vulnerable need and she couldn’t allow him to drill any deeper. That he was male was all the more reason to steer clear of him.

“Will you be much longer on your report?” Cal Beyers asked.

She jerked, startled out of her disturbing thoughts. She hoped her guilt wasn’t written on her face. “I’m not sure.” Wait, hadn’t he already asked her that question a few hours ago?

“I’ve got another claim I need investigated that’s right up your alley. I thought I’d check and see how long until you’re free before I assign it to someone else.”

She looked away so he couldn’t see the doubt in her eyes. He’d never checked on her availability before. What was the hurry to settle this case? Was there an opening in the company Cal wanted that she hadn’t heard about yet? If so, the Densmore case might be the deciding factor in his getting the promotion … if Michigan Casualty didn’t have to pay on the claim.

“I have to check one more thing before I can close the case.”

“Something new since this morning?” His gaze pierced her, searching for the truth. His sharp tone hinted there’d better not be anything new.

She didn’t want to have to explain the forged signature to him, because then she’d have to discuss it with him in-depth, and right now she didn’t have enough facts to do that.

“Just something I have to check out. Nothing to worry about.”

“That’s good. Well, I’ll assign this new claim to someone else then.” He waited a moment longer, then he turned and walked away.

Gabrielle let out the breath she’d been holding and her shoulders slumped a little. She’d never been afraid at work before. Of course, she’d never had to hide anything major like this when everything she wanted was riding on the outcome.

She was a hands-on investigator, not just because she was clairvoyant, but because she was thorough, so she did the legwork and checked the paperwork herself. She couldn’t allow Christian Ziko to do his own investigation and report the results to her. It didn’t sound like he’d be willing to do that with her either.

That left working together. His pain-filled blue eyes floated into her memory. His slumped shoulders as he looked at his shattered dreams pulled at her. Dammit, working with him would be a major mistake.

When the phone rang five minutes later, she knew as she touched the receiver it was Ziko on the phone.

“It’s Christian Ziko. I need a favor.”

Already it began. She sighed. “What?”

“The cops confiscated all our files. I need to know who the subcontractors were on the Densmore.”

“Your lawyer will get copies of everything.”

“I can’t wait weeks while this cloud of suspicion hangs over my head. I need to begin looking at people who could have changed the drawing right away.”

“Why don’t you begin at Barrett and Ziko? The person more than likely works there.”

“No one’s there right now. In the meantime, I thought I’d get the list from you.”

“Mr. Ziko, you do realize my even speaking to you puts me in an awkward position. You’re still the main suspect as far as the grand jury’s concerned.” And as far as her employer was concerned, that made him off limits to her except to interview for her report.

“But you know better.”

“True, but no one else does.”

“Ms. Healey, no one else seems to give a damn about me. My partner, who does give a damn, had to give up his records. Please, at least read me the list of company names.”

She sighed again. Dammit, he was right. She was the only one who knew he had nothing to do with the Densmore collapse, and she could help him prove it. Well, here was her chance.

“Have you had lunch, Mr. Ziko?”

“Lunch?” He sounded puzzled. “No.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you somewhere for lunch and give you the information. Where are you?”

Ziko was still at Kernfelter’s office, not far away. So Gabrielle gave him directions and he agreed to meet her in less than twenty minutes. When she hung up, she dropped her head in her hand.

What was she doing? She had the perfect opportunity to snag a job promotion she desperately needed, and she was trying to throw it away.

But what else could she do? Her job was to unearth the facts and make decisions based on those facts. Someone forged a document on which the Densmore was built. It was a fact, a lead. She had to follow it.

Gabrielle was pretty sure she’d chosen a restaurant far enough away from Michigan Casualty that she wouldn’t meet any of her co-workers there. As she pulled into the restaurant parking lot, she looked for Ziko’s black Cherokee. Not spying it, she gave a sigh of relief. She needed a few moments to compose herself before seeing him.

When Ziko walked in, the slump of despair was gone, replaced by an intensity almost palpable. This was a man on a mission. His blue gaze zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. He strode in her direction, reaching her in only a few steps.

As he slid into the booth, his knee bumped hers. A vision, unwanted and unwelcome, appeared in her mind.

Christian Ziko stood at the edge of Lake Michigan staring up at the Mackinaw Bridge that connected the Lower Peninsula to the Upper Peninsula. He was a young man, possibly still in his late teens. His black hair touched his shoulders in back. The way he stared at the bridge, with a combination of awe and intense eagerness, reminded Gabrielle of his expression when he entered the restaurant. Here was the man who wanted to build great things. And she knew already, even at that young age, Ziko was in architectural school.

Ziko moved his knee and the vision dissolved. Gabrielle made a show of reaching for her menu while her emotions heaved. She’d wanted a career in architecture, but a love affair with a college classmate went sour when she revealed her clairvoyance to him. Unable to cope with seeing him and his condemning eyes each day, she’d changed her major to construction engineering. So Ziko had gone on to fulfill his dreams, and she … she hadn’t.

“Thanks for meeting me. I didn’t expect your offer.”

Gabrielle laid her menu back on the table. “Once Alex Kernfelter ruled your signature a forgery, I decided I needed to become personally involved in the investigation. If I’d found it out myself, I wouldn’t hesitate to continue looking for the truth.”

“I have no intention of stepping aside for you to run your investigation, if that’s why you asked me to meet you.”

“I hadn’t planned to ask you to.”

“Good.” He smiled for the first time, and it changed his whole face, transforming it into a thing of beauty. His features softened as much as she thought they probably ever did. Gabrielle’s breath caught. Even more than his vulnerability, his happiness riveted her attention. She’d seen the look on his face when he was designing and been captivated. But this sudden glow was enough to discombobulate any living, breathing woman.

Even as she watched, his smile faded and she wanted to voice her protest at the unfairness. She wondered what it would be like to see him smile every day.

Whoa, where had that thought come from? But she continued to stare as he studied his menu. His face was triangular, his eyes deep set, his nose slender and straight and his jaw stubborn. It was a face of determination and intensity, of character and passion. A compelling face.

The waiter arrived and Gabrielle was glad to be distracted from her survey of Ziko. After taking their orders, he departed as quietly as he’d arrived.

“So you’re going to investigate?” Ziko asked.

She toyed with her silverware. “I suppose it would make more sense to work together.”

“I supposed it would.”

“Although I’m not sure what good finding out who forged the drawing is going to do. It still passed DesignCorp’s test.”

“Did it?”

“I’ve got the test results.”

“Do you?”

“Stop being so mysterious. What are you trying to say?”

“I’ve had time to think since I saw Mr. Kernfelter. I don’t see how the altered design could pass the test. My design was carefully crafted to exert stressors and weight outwards to the brick walls. I thought out every angle and considered certain rules of physics when I designed it. If one dimension changed on my drawing, it would have changed the disposition of weight. Do you know what would happen then?”

“The third floor would collapse,” she said.

“Yes. Where the third floor met the open atrium, where it appeared to defy gravity, that was a point of vulnerability. It couldn’t be changed, not for any reason.”

The waiter brought their food, quietly sliding the steaming dishes to the table in front of them.

When the waiter left, she pounced. “Who knew about the point of vulnerability?”

“No one. I never thought anyone would change my drawing, so I never told anyone. Well, except
Architectural Review
when I submitted my design for their award for emerging architecture.”

“Your partner didn’t know?”

“No. I didn’t think I needed to tell anybody. DesignCorp tested it and it passed. That stamp of approval was good enough for me.”

“So the only people who could have intended the Densmore to collapse were the staff at
Architectural Review
and anyone bright enough to figure out how your design worked.”

Ziko scoffed. “I would have won an award for innovative design had the building not collapsed. Very few people could have figured out how it worked.”

“Wait a minute, did you fill out the award application yourself or did someone help you?”

“I filled it out myself.” Then he looked chagrined. “My secretary, Brittany Franks, typed it, but she doesn’t have any architectural aptitude that I know of.”

“But she works for an architectural firm.”

“As a secretary.”

Gabrielle gave him a condescending look. “I think secretaries understand more than you give them credit for, especially if they’ve worked in a field long enough.”

Ziko shook his head. “Brittany’s been with us less than a year, and I don’t think she’d change the drawing. What reason would she have to?”

“That’s what we need to find out — who changed the drawing and why.”

“And whether the drawing really passed the test or not. I’m betting no.”

That would mean the test was forged, too. She’d wondered why it looked hand-typed. Maybe it was. What did all this mean? She chewed the delicious moo goo gai pan while she thought.

“How is your firm financially?” she asked.

Ziko stirred a fork through his chop suey. “I’m not sure. Roger’s been running the company while I was … away.”

“We’re going to need to see a current balance sheet and bank account statements.”

“You think Roger had a hand in it? The drawing isn’t Roger’s work.”

“Maybe he didn’t do it alone, Mr. Ziko.”

“You’re talking about a conspiracy between my partner and someone else at my firm? And my name’s Christian. My partner calls me by my childhood nickname, Kit, because that’s how long he’s known me and I’ve known him. He’s my brother’s best friend. You think with that kind of history between us he’d betray me?”

Obviously no one of importance had yet betrayed Christian. But if someone had, he’d learn.

“We have to investigate your partner the same as everyone else who could have done the forgery.” She held up her hand when he would have spoken. “If only to rule him out.”