Authors: Kyra Jacobs
“Hello? Hello?”
“Jessica?” It was Sharon. Something in her voice sounded…different. Alive.
“Hi Sharon. What’s up?”
“She’s awake.”
The
Hallelujah
chorus sounded in my head.
“I’ll be right there.”
* * * *
I raced through the halls at Metzler Rehabilitation Center, eager to hear Grace’s voice, see her warm smile. A few cries of irritation reached my ears as I dashed past the center’s staff, but I continued on. Nothing was going to stop me from seeing Grace.
Nothing, of course, except Grace herself.
I burst into her room moments later to find it just as I’d left it: Grace, in bed, asleep.
An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. “But?”
I looked around the room, hoping this was some kind of practical joke. Maybe everyone was hiding, and would jump out any second and yell, “Surprise!” But as I darted around the room, checking every nook and cranny, I found nothing out of the ordinary except for a plain, white note on the table beside Grace’s bed.
She was up, but ran out of energy fairly quickly. Maybe she’ll wake again for you, Jessica. Norm and I decided to catch the late service at church, to offer our thanks to the Lord
.
I dropped into the seat next to the bed, physically and emotionally spent. All that hurrying, all that excitement. And for what?
To sit here and watch her sleep. More. Again.
A single, hot tear ran down my cheek. Then another. The floodgates slowly opened. I laid my arms on the edge of her bed and buried my face in them. “Why couldn’t you have waited for me, Grace?” I sobbed. “Held out just a little longer. I’ve m-missed you so m-much.”
“No you haven’t.”
I sniffled. “Yes, I have. I—”
My head snapped up. Eyes locked for the first time in over a month with a familiar set of green ones. I’d never seen such a beautiful sight.
“Oh, Grace!” I threw my arms around her.
“Jessica?”
I hugged her tight, the way a child would their favorite stuffed toy. “Oh, Grace, it’s so good to hear your voice!”
“Jess…” She reached up and placed a weak hand on my head. “What did you do to your
hair
?”
“Huh? Oh, this?” I sat up and patted my hair. “It’s nothing. I just…got bored.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Just how long was I out?”
I wiped the tears from my face and stopped. Surely Norm and Sharon had already answered that question. Worry began to creep into my mind—had the accident affected her memory?
“Didn’t…didn’t your parents tell you?”
She grinned. “Yeah, but I can’t believe you made a change like that in only thirty days. Especially without me there to advise you.”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
There were so many questions I wanted to ask. What had it been like the past month, trapped in the land of sleep? Had she been able to hear us talking? But her parents were due back any minute, so I settled for the ones that would help our investigation. Ones that I didn’t especially want to ask with Norm and Sharon in the room. The rest could come later.
“So, do you remember anything about the accident?”
Grace’s brows furrowed. “No, not really. One minute I’m driving home, the next, I’m waking up here. In this…this God-awful outfit.” She lifted her elbow and pointed to her floral, pastel gown. “I mean, seriously.” She laughed. “Couldn’t you have protected me a little better from being dressed in something so hideous?”
Her innocent-enough comment stabbed at my heart. If only I’d picked up her call that Friday, focused on her instead of me and my stupid manicure, she never would have had to don that gown. I looked down at my hands. “Yeah, it’s all my fault.”
She set her elbow down and reached a hand to my arm. “I was just teasing, Jess.”
I looked up at her with watery eyes. Shook my head. “It really was all my fault. I-I didn’t answer your call. I was…mad that you were forcing me to go on that double-date. So I let your call go to voicemail. If only I’d answered…”
Grace snorted. “Jessica Ann Hartley. Don’t even tell me you’ve been sitting there blaming yourself this whole time.”
I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t face those green eyes. Eyes that belonged to a person always so much stronger than I.
She lifted her hand from my arm. Then she pinched me,
hard
.
“Hey!” I recoiled, arm stinging. My eyes flashed to hers. “What’d you do that for?”
“Because you’re not close enough to smack. And I’m not strong enough to give you a good enough one yet.”
I scowled at her. “But it’s true. It
is
all my fault. So go on, just say it already.”
The smile that won me over the first time we’d met appeared on her beautiful face. “You and I both know you’d never intentionally put me in harm’s way,” she said, her voice soft as a feather. “I don’t blame you one iota for what happened to me that day. Do you hear me?”
It was like being granted a pardon the day before execution. The guilt guillotine that had hung over my head the last month vanished. I leaned down, put my head by her shoulder and wrapped my arm around her. “You’re the best, Gracie.”
“I don’t know about that.” Her body shook as she chuckled.
“But did you really have to pinch me?”
“Yep. ’Cause if there’s one thing that always gets you to stop crying, it’s when someone fans the flames of your temper.”
I smiled and hugged her tighter. She knew me well, too well. How on Earth would I be able to keep my undercover work at her old job a secret?
* * * *
I walked into work Monday morning, a woman on a mission. With Grace awake, the days for me to figure out who’d run her off the road and why were numbered. Plus, I now had the added worry of the possibility that at any moment she might pick up a phone and try to call Michael or Vanessa, either of which would assuredly rat me out.
Eager to get back into Orange Financial and pick up where I’d left off on Friday, I hurried down the hall toward my office. The feeling in my gut told me I was on the right track. And my gut instinct rarely led me down the wrong path.
I unlocked my office, tossed my purse and lunch tote into their usual drawer, and plopped down on my seat. With a flick of my heels I spun around to face my computer. Then I snagged my favorite blue pen and reached for the notepad where I’d scribbled down the search instructions Friday.
The notepad was blank.
I blinked a few times and tried to think back. I’d found the search screen, Michael hollered for me, me I jotted down some notes, left my office... Nowhere in that string of memories had I removed the page of notes from the pad.
Then again, it’d been a stressful day. Maybe I’d torn the note off, and shoved it in my purse? I yanked it from the drawer and searched through it, but found nothing. That was followed by me tearing my office apart. I dug through every drawer, folder, and cabinet in there. Even checked my extra notepads.
No luck. The notes were gone.
I resolved to take fresh notes, and pulled the original notepad closer. That’s when I noticed the top of the notepad. And its jagged edge.
I hadn’t torn out the top sheet—someone else had.
A chill ran down my spine. I scanned my office with fresh eyes. Who’d been in here and taken my notes? How had they even known what I was doing? And, maybe more importantly, were they still here, watching me somehow?
Vanessa materialized at my door a moment later and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Wow, someone should have skipped the double shot of espresso in her Starbucks this morning.” Her laughter filled the room.
I attempted a smile. “What’s up?”
“Nice to see you, too.” She settled into her usual seat across from my desk.
“Sorry, just got a lot on my mind this morning.”
“On a Monday? Seriously, Jessica, you need to lighten up.”
I let my right eyebrow slip skyward, but managed to bite back the nasty retort that had come to mind.
“I just came in to tell you to watch your back a little closer this week.”
My heart skipped a beat. Or four. “Um, w-why’s that?”
She leaned forward, a fiendish smirk on her face. “Because I’ve heard from more than one source that Frank Pitzen is on the prowl again. He was spotted trying to corner
Lauren
in the stairwell. Can you believe that?” Disgust dripped from her words.
“Poor Lauren.”
I shook my head. Why was it that nothing good ever happened in that stairwell?
She nodded and eased back into her seat. “Of course, I never take the stairs. Would probably kill myself doing it in these, anyway.” We both looked down to the four-inch leopard print pump dangling from her crossed leg.
Michael passed by my office door. Vanessa sat up straighter and slipped her fancy shoe back into place. I got the feeling she was walking on thin ice with him still, after the whole dead batteries thing with her headset last week. Best to stay on his good side, I supposed.
She stood then, and stole a glance at my notepad. Maybe it was good the notes had been taken—less evidence for her to dig up.
“Well, thanks for the heads up. I’ll try to stay out of the stairwell, too.”
As if I needed another reason to avoid it.
Chapter 26
Once Vanessa had gone, I retraced my steps on the computer from Friday, taking a fresh set of notes as I went. After several failed attempts, I was able to get back to the list I’d pulled up before. This time, I decided to start with the most recent entries and work my way backward.
Sure enough, several transactions had been made Grace’s last day here. The first was a payment to some delivery service, its amount less than $1,000. Nothing unusual there. The second transaction was payment for some brochures our department had ordered, the total far less than the first.
Yawn.
The third, however, was an electronic payment made to some consulting firm I’d never heard of before, in the amount of $9,997.
$9,997?
Something about that number tugged at my subconscious. I dug back through my prior notes, ones that hadn’t been stolen. Sure enough, Michael had mentioned at some point during my training that all payments over $10,000 required approval by the CFO. Anything less than that, and the responsible division head could sign off on them.
My eyes swept back to the computer screen. $9,997 to a Morrisson Consulting Group. Another keystroke and I had the transaction details up on the screen. Payment was sent on September 10th at 5:08 PM by GBS.
But why would she have paid a bill so late in the day? And on a Friday, no less?
I pulled out my cell phone and checked my missed calls log. 5:05 was when she’d called me last. The text she’d sent after I hadn’t picked up came in at 5:07.
I stared down at my phone, trying to make sense of it all. Why would she head out to her car, call me, text me, and then come back inside?
Maybe she forgot something? It sounded like a reasonable enough explanation. Only, hadn’t Nate said the original 911 call came in around 5:15? I tried to think back to our conversation in that tiny hospital conference room. Maybe I had the accident time all wrong…
I sent Nate a quick text, to double-check. Within minutes, he confirmed my thoughts. The call had come in to 911 at 5:15 that evening.
Transaction at 5:08, accident at 5:15. My gaze swept over to the wall of windows. Her office was on the second floor, her car no closer than the second row of the parking lot. It didn’t seem possible for her to be in both places only seven minutes apart.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Things just weren’t adding up.
Frustrated, I decided to take a break from all that thinking and get some of my actual work done. I knocked out a few more transactions and then printed out a fresh summary sheet.
As I watched my desktop printer’s ridiculously slow inkwell glide back and forth, my thoughts drifted to Grace. It was 9:45. Would she be up by now? Would she wonder where I was? Why I wasn’t there?