Authors: Yvonne Harriott
Sydney thought about Derrick. He was tall, strong and full of life. She had wanted to be a better person because of him. He’d made her laugh and told her she was special. Then she remembered he was dead. Given her present situation, she might suffer the same fate.
• • •
It had taken the entire day but the bedroom window was boarded up to be replaced within a few days, and the front door locks changed.
At 7:00 p.m. the police finally left and the superintendent, a lanky man with sunburned face, dropped the new set of door keys in Markie’s hand, leaving her to deal with the mess inside the apartment.
Since Markie’s name was on Sydney’s lease as an emergency contact he had no problem giving her the keys.
Before she thought about sweeping up the glass or putting the books back on the shelf, she removed her jacket and threw it on the sofa. She grabbed a white garbage bag from under the kitchen sink and proceeded to the washroom.
Kicking off her shoes, she threw them in the garbage bag and set the bathtub. She sat on the edge of the tub, rolled up her pant legs to her knees and sank her feet into the warm soapy water.
Oh, I think you stepped in something.
She thought about Mr. Navigator as she sat on the edge of the tub drying her feet with a towel. Nothing gets by him.
Then something occurred to her. The bathroom was the only room that was still intact. Everywhere else, in the apartment was in a shambles except for the bathroom. Why? It was the only place that hadn’t been searched yet.
Her eyes focused on every detail in the bathroom. From the white pedestal sink, to the silver medicine cabinet with the mirrored door, to the white tiled floor covered with the red bathroom mat.
The toilet was beside the tub. Above the toilet was a framed picture of a baby sitting in the midst of mounds of toilet paper. Above the picture was a vent for the washroom fan.
Throwing the towel aside, she rose to her feet. With one foot on the toilet lid and the other balanced on the edge of the tub, Markie peered through the slits of the vent and thought she saw something inside.
Markie jumped to the floor then raced towards the kitchen. She grabbed a dinner knife from a drawer and headed back to the bathroom. Using the flat edge of the knife she pried the cover off the vent and pulled out a manila envelope folded in half with a telephone number written across the top. Sitting on the edge of the tub, she brushed off the dust from the envelope and opened it.
Inside the envelope were several pictures of a black van with the company name, Beck Security Systems, written on the side. The van was parked in front of a large white brick house with columns along the front entrance. The digital date and time stamped on the picture was four days ago at 3:30 a.m.
One picture showed people in the background. Sydney had highlighted their heads in yellow and above them were question marks in red. Markie sat staring at the pictures and wondered if they were the reason Sydney had called and invited her to lunch. She remembered asking Sydney what the occasion was but Syd had only laughed saying, “Can’t I take my sister to lunch?”
Now that Markie thought about it, it had been one of Sydney’s nervous laughs. That should have alerted her that something was wrong and the lunch invitation was just a cover.
Placing the pictures back in the envelope, she hurried to the living room to grab her phone. She punched in the number printed on the envelope and waited.
“Thank you for calling Beck Security Systems. Our office hours are from—”
Markie hit the end button cutting off the automated voice. Reaching for Syd’s laptop that had fallen between the bookshelf and the desk, she turned it on and drummed her fingers on the desk as it booted up. She selected the Internet browser and googled Beck Security Systems.
After wading through pages of information on the website she wasn’t interested in, she found the page with the management team. And there he was, staring at her from the computer screen as he had a few hours ago.
“Well hello, Mr. Navigator.”
• • •
Beck stared out of the bedroom window of his twenty-fifth floor penthouse condo. With two thousand square feet of panoramic view it was a retreat at the end of a long workday, but not lately. He’d been spending all of his time at the office. Home was an extension of his office. The long grueling schedule would continue into the night and tonight was no exception.
At 4:00 a.m. while the world slept, his legs pounded on the treadmill as sweat poured from his body. He hadn’t been able to sort out the latest test data he’d gotten yesterday from his partner, Malcolm. That spiked his frustration level up two more bars on the frustration meter. He had stared at the computer screen until his head started to pound and his eyes began to burn.
With a degree in computer science and an MBA, he was still stumped. The review of the program code written for the installation of the alarm system looked flawless. But looks can be deceiving because something was wrong.
Beck jumped off the treadmill and turned it off. He grabbed the towel from the handle of the treadmill, wiped the sweat from his face. Then he draped the towel around his neck thinking about Victoria Kelly and his run in with
Miss
Rambo
.
Victoria Kelly had called him five days ago with damaging information she said she had on his company. When he’d told her he didn’t know what she was talking about, she said she had pictures and would call him back to arrange a time and meeting location. He wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing while she buried his company with false allegations.
When he had the call traced to an apartment in Cambridge, he wanted to confront Victoria Kelly, not Marklynn Brooks of Brooks Investigations. That’s who the plates on the 4Runner was registered to.
Why would Victoria hire
Miss
Rambo
? And what happened to Victoria Kelly?
Questions bounced around in his head as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. After a long shower, he stepped out of the glassed-enclosed shower stall. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he left behind wet footprints on the smooth black and white tiled marble floor.
The bathroom was divided into two large sections separated by a glass-blocked wall. One side housed the shower, toilet and an oversized soaker tub that he had never used and the other side a large vanity with double glass sinks. With its black and white décor, the bathroom was all about luxury, a luxury he was too busy to enjoy.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror over the vanity and paused, remembering the sound of crushed metal and broken glass.
It had been four years since the car accident. He stared at the scars that ran up his torso to his neck. After two surgeries, this was the best the doctors could do.
Everything happens for a reason, right? Well, he hadn’t figured that one out yet.
It had taken him a while to let go of the turtleneck sweaters and graduate to shirts. He was never a tie person and at first it bothered him that people would stare when his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck. Let them look, he thought, and with that he dressed and headed out the front door.
• • •
It was 7:00 a.m. when Beck pulled into his parking spot in the underground parking of Beck Security Systems. On his fifteen-minute commute he had already done more than most people would accomplish in an entire morning. He didn’t believe in wasting time. His ex would attribute it to what she would call his Type A personality. He called it being efficient.
Beck had decided that Marklynn Brooks would not derail his plan of finding Victoria Kelly. He believed she was the key. He had formulated a plan of action in his mind, step by step to catch the person sabotaging his company. A meeting with his executive team to execute the plan was on the agenda this afternoon after Malcolm’s meeting with IT.
He stepped out of his SUV and saw Malcolm heading towards him. At forty, Malcolm Rivers had a full head of gray hair that one would assume came with age. But in his case he’d come by it prematurely. He also sported a natural tan as a result of being biracial.
Malcolm was smart intellectually but when it came to women, his choices weren’t always the greatest. But who was he to judge? Look what happened to him and Monika. To say their divorce was bitter was an understatement. Then she died and he was accused of murder.
“Good morning,” Beck said as Malcolm approached. Pushing that part of his life behind, Beck juggled the two laptops and his briefcase then closed the door with his hip. “You look like you haven’t been to bed yet.”
“Have you?” Malcolm raised his brows.
Beck shook his head. “I’m still trying to go through the network vulnerability assessment data. I can’t figure out how our security system is being hacked into. There was nothing in the port scan. I thought for sure it would help us identify
Shadoe
.”
Shadoe
was the name that Malcolm had given the hacker. Beck didn’t see the point in giving the hacker a name. To him it meant giving the intruder more power than he warranted. Power taken by force, power he didn’t deserve.
“I’ve been through it; our IT people have been through it and we’re still going through it. Now you have and can’t find anything either.”
“It’s like finding a damn needle in a haystack, but I have a plan. I’m calling an executive meeting this afternoon. This has gone on three months too long. What if we…”
Malcolm adjusted his tie, but didn’t say anything. Beck sensed something was wrong.
“Did we have another alarm malfunction?”
“The Lincoln Heights account. I got a call early this morning from the account manager. He said they’re hearing rumors about the possible instability of Beck Security Systems and wants to discuss their contract with us.”
Lincoln Heights was a new sixty-unit luxury condominium in Jamaica Plain located on the southern edge of Boston. Beck Security Systems had gotten the contract to install the security system for the project. The thought of losing the account made his stomach turn over. His mind raced. They couldn’t lose the account. He was going to shut down the account manager’s worries before it turned into a problem.
“I’ll talk to him,” Beck said abruptly.
“There’s no need for you to do that. Or do you want to take over my job, too?”
Part of Malcolm’s job was managing the installation process as well as working with the Account Managers on multimillion-dollar accounts such as Lincoln Heights. If Malcolm couldn’t calm the client’s fears then it was his job to step in.
Beck started towards the door that led upstairs to the main lobby of the building but Malcolm stood rooted to the spot waiting for an answer to his question. The underground parking was not the place to launch into a full-blown discussion as to why he should take over, but it would have to do.
“We need Lincoln Heights, Malcolm,” Beck said turning to face Malcolm. “Set up a meeting with them and we can both go in. We can’t afford to lose that account. We need the revenue.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t see the problem if I—”
“We have a company with about a hundred employees,” Malcolm said, lowering his voice when he heard laughter and a car door slam. “Are you going to do their jobs as well? I hear you’ve been showing up on the job when the guys are installing the security systems. Why?”
“Why? I need to be there until we can figure out what’s going on. Doesn’t it bother you that we’re installing alarm systems that malfunction?” Beck bit out.
“Hell, yes it bothers me. The difference between you and me is that I’m not trying to solve the problem by myself.”
Beck ignored Malcolm’s comment. This wasn’t the first time Malcolm had accused him of trying to manage everything himself. What was he supposed to do when he was asking questions and no one could give him the answers he needed?
They started walking towards the door and Beck said, “Our insurance carrier is breathing down my neck. They want to drop us.”
I know. I’ve taken care of it.”
“When? The last time we spoke about it—”
“…was yesterday and I told you I would take care of it. It’s my job,” Malcolm said in his southern drawl. Only when he got angry did his Texas roots surface. “Stop interfering and let me continue to do my job.”
They headed up the stairs from the underground parking to the main floor in silence and crossed the lobby to the bank of elevators before Beck spoke again.
“I’ll back off, but—”
Beck lost his train of thought when he saw her leaning both elbows on the security desk smiling at the security guard, Adam, who managed security for the day shift. Adam was a middle-aged man with blond hair who wasn’t easily swayed by a pretty face.
At two hundred pounds, he held a black belt in karate and could easily snap her in half, yet he seemed captivated by her. And why not? Beck had felt the same way as Adam when he’d met her at Victoria’s apartment yesterday.
“Adam seems smitten,” Malcolm said when he’d seen where Beck’s gaze had landed. “By the look on your face, I’d say you are too. She’s heading in our direction. Who is she?”
Beck watched her as she walked towards him in her black power suit with that same determined look on her face he’d seen yesterday.
The black pencil skirt sat just above the knees with a red blouse tucked in. The outfit was completed with a form-fitted jacket and red heels. He figured the gun was probably in the handbag she had slung over her shoulder.
She was the kind of woman who walked into a room and commanded attention without even trying. Malcolm was right. He was smitten.
“Shall we dance again, Mr. Dalton Beck?” she asked when she stopped in front of him. Her red lips turned up in a smile, but her eyes were forty degrees below zero. “You must be Malcolm Rivers.” She turned to Malcolm and flashed that smile again. A smile that was a whole lot warmer than the chilling one she had sent his way.
She seemed to have caught Malcolm off-guard. Malcolm, who Beck believed had written the book on pickup lines for women, was at a loss for words. If he wasn’t a bit irritated by the way she was fawning over Malcolm, albeit orchestrated, he would have been amused.