Be Your Everything [All for Love] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (12 page)

Manny chivalrously took her key and opened the vestibule door, then followed her through. They were at Heather’s apartment in no time, but there wasn’t a response to repeating knocking or Mrs. Humphries’s halloos. He decided to pull out the stops.

“Is there a super in the building?”

“No, Mr. Baker. There’s a number for emergencies, though. I have it written down at my place.”

He managed not to curse again. “I guess I’ll give them a call. I’d just like to check inside to make sure nothing’s happened.”

“I have a key.”

Wavering between being horrified at the woman’s total lack of caution, and elation that he could sort of legitimately enter Heather’s home, Manny considered. He nodded and gave Mrs. Humphries his best smile.

“You wait here and I’ll be right back. If she comes home in the meantime, then you’ll be here!” Mrs. Humphries was positively vibrating with excitement.

He hid his worry. If Heather was inside and ignoring him, all hell was going to break loose and he’d have two irate women to deal with once Mrs. H realized he hadn’t exactly been honest with her. Manny hadn’t been tracking well earlier. He thought Heather had agreed to talk with him because she’d just found out he wasn’t who he said he was, and was in shock over the entire investigation and all its various revelations. But she’d started pushing him away earlier. So if she wasn’t involved in the mess, why?

“Here we go!” Mrs. Humphries bustled up to him and dangled a newly cut silver key enticingly before his eyes. She hesitated, her elderly face clouding. “Are you sure this is okay? You really think she might be in there and needing help?”

“We’ll just poke our heads in and if everything looks fine, we’ll lock up again, ma’am.” Manny wasn’t going to give her the alternative. He’d already come up with enough scenarios to torture himself. He gently eased the key from her hand and fitted it to the lock. It grated a bit, like spare keys tended to do, but the tumblers clicked over.

The first thing that struck him was the orderliness. Heather’s apartment was comfortable and well appointed, belying the generic style of the building. But it
was
comfortable, lived in, and it now looked barren. And it felt empty, abandoned. With an anxious face, Mrs. Humphries pushed past his arm and he allowed her to precede him. Heather wasn’t here. He’d have known it if she was, felt her. All he experienced was a resounding sense of loss.

The elderly woman stood uneasily in the living room and looked back at him. Manny crossed to the fridge and looked inside, then checked under the sink. No perishables or garbage. No sign of his flowers, the pink ones. He already knew where the second bouquet had ended up. A quick check in the bathroom confirmed the trash had been emptied from there as well. The bedroom looked sterile, the bed stripped and accusing somehow. His gut clenched when he remembered how Heather had looked on those sumptuous sheets, her wealth of blonde hair spilling across the chocolaty caramel of the pillows. And how she felt beneath him, her silken skin vying with the sensation of those satin sheets. The wave of lust made him dizzy.

“Mr. Baker?”

Shaking his head to dispel the vision, Manny ignored Mrs. Humphries. He made his way to the closet and checked inside. He had no idea what Heather had packed, but her suitcases were gone. He’d noted the bright pink hardshells with the floral handles the morning after he’d taken Heather to bed. They were just another hint of the intricacies that comprised Heather Jean Graham, the burst of color a direct contrast to her primarily black, gray, white, and cream wardrobe, livened with the occasional hint of blue. Only her shoes hinted at frivolity. And her underthings. He pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes and ground them deep. She’d fled, and who knew how long it would take to find her. He sighed and dropped his hands, turning to face Mrs. Humphries. He refused to believe she was tied to Grayson. Heather was running from
him
.

“I think she’s gone on vacation. Do you know where she might have gone? Does she go someplace regularly?” He heard the desperation in his voice and so did Mrs. Humphries. Concern and suspicion warred with understanding on her face.

“Did you two have a falling out? You need to tell me the truth, sir.”

“It’s complicated, Mrs. Humphries. But I assure you I don’t mean Heather any harm. I, uh, care about her a great deal.” His gut suddenly clenched, a bolt of pain as he considered another scenario. What if Grayson got to Heather? What if Heather had unknowingly done something for her boss? What if he had convinced her it was something innocuous? Manny needed to talk with Bryce. Too many what-ifs.

“Well, I’ll come back and check, Mr. Baker. And call her. If I see her, I’ll mention you’re looking for her.” Mrs. Humphries evidently gave him the benefit of the doubt. He made himself nod and thank her, passing once of his business cards over. The elderly woman examined it carefully. “Investigator?”

“Insurance fraud.” Manny then lied with impunity. “Heather’s been helping me and I’m worried about her absence.”

“Oh. I see. Well.” Mrs. H pursed her lips, the fine lines around them becoming more prominent with the movement. She hesitated, then spoke. “Heather might have gone to visit her mother. I can give you the address and phone number. Heather worried that if anything happened, if I needed anything, I could reach her there. She’s such a good girl.”

Heading Mrs. H off from her praise of Heather, no matter how well deserved, Manny pressed the woman to go and get him the information. He called Bryce while he waited and brought his partner up to speed. Grayson was still under the radar and the data he needed had been copied, at least a week previous, according to the accountants. Probably on a USB stick somewhere. But where? Might Heather know?

McAllister had found nothing to tie Grayson to the Fox woman’s death and he was ballistic in his disappointment. Bryce warned Manny the cop was on his way to Heather’s apartment, planning to take her in for further questioning, a last resort in his determination to nail Grayson. Manny resolved to be gone before the detective arrived.

“And Manny? Found something on Heather’s computer. Emailing it to you now. Sorry, man.” Bryce rang off, other matters requiring his attention.

Manny took the piece of paper Mrs. H offered, the spidery writing wavering before his eyes. He needed to get gone and look at the email. If Heather was implicated in this mess—no, his trust wasn’t misplaced. He thanked Mrs. Humphries, avoiding her worried eyes, and reminded her to call him if Heather surfaced. Striding out to his car, he fumbled his phone out and had his email open before his ass hit the driver’s seat.

It was a challenge to open the message, waiting for the document to download torturous, but he used the time to wheel out of the lot onto the street in the opposite direction from where McAllister was bound to arrive. He chose a shady spot to park in, the full branches of an old tree casting dappled shade over a large portion of the street. Closing his eyes in preparation, Manny took a breath then reviewed the document.

Lessons I Should Have Learned About Men: It was fun. Thanks for the great time. I had a great time but it’s over. I don’t do long distance relationships. I’m seeing someone else.
Manny blinked, but the words didn’t change. The date stamp was yesterday, before the raid. Yesterday. Heather
knew
he wasn’t a tech rep, had found out sometime between Sunday afternoon and Thursday morning. It had to have been Wednesday. She hadn’t really seemed surprised to see him in the midst of the investigation that morning, nor really responded to others calling him by an unfamiliar name. All those careful texts since noon on Wednesday, and the lack of response made total sense now. That would explain her lack of surprise when she saw him that morning with Bryce and the cop. And she gave the peach roses to Mr. Humphries. Bryce interpreted the document to mean Heather planned to give Manny the brush off, but Manny knew better. He knew his woman.

Heather somehow found out Matthew Bourke was a fraud and believed he used her, so sought to extricate and protect herself. That she hadn’t told her boss spoke volumes. Manny knew a layperson would see him as reaching, connecting the dots without evidence, but he was a trained investigator when Heather wasn’t interfering with his clear thinking. Heather loved him and gave him one final gift, regardless of how her pride and heart must have been crushed. She hadn’t outed him with Grayson despite the opportunity to lash out and hurt him, hurt the investigation. But how did she find out?

Stifling a groan, recognizing the uphill battle before him, Manny put his rental in gear after entering her mother’s address into the GPS. Heather had several hours’ head start on him. He hammered on the brakes. His brain had malfunctioned. Sorting out all the drama and innuendo knocked common sense awry, once again. He punched in the phone number Mrs. H provided. Riding to recover his woman like some kind of white knight met his need for immediate action, but could turn out to be a colossal waste of time. A muted, professional voice answered.

“Pinewood, Aileen speaking.”

“This is Manny Baker, Jameson and Company. Heather Graham works for us and I understand she planned to visit her mother today. She’s required at the office.”

Manny knew exactly what to say to elicit the most information, and Aileen proved to be no exception. She wasn’t required to confirm or deny Mrs. Graham’s presence at Pinewood, nor Heather’s for that matter. Aileen was immediately placed in a collegial position. She intuited that Manny knew Heather, was probably her boss, and knew her present whereabouts.

“Yes, sir. Heather was here, but only for about half an hour. Mrs. Graham isn’t well and it was best…I mean, Heather, she decided to visit another time. I expect she headed home.”

He was light-headed with relief. Heather was nowhere near Grayson, willingly or not. “Do you know when I might expect her?”

“If she headed straight back, maybe within the hour. I believe she left approximately two hours ago?” Aileen sounded spritely, like she’d done a community service with no thought to Heather’s privacy. Manny shook his head even as he was glad to have manipulated the information from her.

“I appreciate it, Aileen. Have a good day.”

He thought hard. Would Heather return to her apartment? It was more likely she’d call somebody and hang out with them, the better to avoid him. Moesha. People liked Heather and she had plenty of acquaintances, but no really close friends with the exception of Moesha. That was a puzzle, one he would also pursue another time, but he suspected it had to do with Heather’s impaired self-esteem. Manny called Bryce again. His partner surprised him.

“We think Grayson came by. Security reported someone resembling him, but with a shaved head, wearing a deliveryman’s uniform, wanted to deliver to the fourteenth floor. They called up but didn’t watch him, and when an agent got there to escort him he was gone.” Bryce was clearly frustrated, biting the words off.

“You’re kidding.”

“Not. So he knew something was going on and there must be something here he needs. We’re at a crossroads. I called McAllister and he’s going nuts. Did you find Heather?”

“She went to see her mom but is coming back. Can you get me her friend’s address? Moesha somebody.”

“Tall, black, and beautiful with an attitude? That Moesha?”

“You met her?”

“Miss Attitude sashayed in on the arm of a security guard to announce her intention to retrieve Heather’s plant, the only thing her friend apparently wants from her office. It seems Heather has quit, Manny.”

“Did she say if she was meeting Heather?”

“I was afraid to ask, frankly, but I presume Moesha will complete her task, and that means giving the plant to Heather.”

Manny bit back an inappropriate laugh. Moesha had looked through him when he tracked her down in Accounting Services earlier and asked her if Heather had been in touch. He wanted to shake her but her unpredictable side scared him a little, and he had to remember his interest in Heather was personal. He couldn’t flex his investigative muscle. Moesha had that wild woman thing going on and he’d had a vagrant thought about introducing her to his old college roommate. She and his friend Abukhan would suit one another. He liked a challenge better than Manny, and that was saying something.

“Get me her address. Phone number if you can. I really want to talk to Heather. Grayson’s out there, too, and he might take it in his head to act out against her.”

“Do you think so?” Bryce sounded dubious. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“She might. We may not have asked the correct questions. Heather might not know she knows something.” Manny tried not to be paranoid, but something didn’t sit right. Why would Grayson fail to go home the night before, fail to go into work that morning, yet want to get onto the fourteenth floor?

“Manny? Any thoughts?”

“You have him for fraud, right? And McAllister won’t quit on the murder. So he’s desperate and the only thing to save him is the money he’s been setting up to steal so he can run. He mustn’t have enough from his previous rape of the accounts. And he can’t get the money.” He thought harder. “Search every inch of the fourteen floor. Look for that piece of data, code, anything Grayson might need to complete the process from another vantage point.”

“You think he’s got a remote setup but needs something still here.”

“I can’t think it’s anything else. He spent a lot of time out of the office, not at home. Heather wondered if he had a gambling problem. I think he might have been working with someone else, somebody with experience with computers.”

“Heather didn’t say a word about gambling. What else didn’t she say?” Manny’s partner had his hackles up.

“Nothing I can remember, and a gambling problem would have only given you the reason for Grayson stealing to pay off debts, so don’t turn your ire her way. Search the floor and email me that information on Moesha.” He snapped his phone closed to hurry up and wait. He punched the dash, wincing when the impact split the skin on the first knuckle. The information he needed showed up within a minute and he placed yet another call.