things while Stan was incarcerated, but he was on the verge of retirement and didn’t relish his new leadership role.
“I’m working on it.” Conner shuffled through the papers on his desk as if he could actually accomplish something.
“Maybe your new secretary could help.” Ham was obviously trying to keep a straight face, but Conner could tell he was about to burst out laughing.
Conner pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “You met her?”
“Joyce trotted her around and introduced her. I don’t know why she thinks I want to meet every damn secretary she hires.”
“She does it for them—so they’ll feel important.”
The new girl was hot, that was for sure. The moment she’d walked into his office, Conner’s brain had short-circuited and he hadn’t heard a word Joyce said. He’d been too busy cataloging those mile-long legs, which her short skirt and stiletto heels showed off to perfection.
The rest of her was just as stunning, from her nipped-in waist, her long, elegant neck to her huge, innocent blue eyes.
Innocent, right. A woman built like her was made for sin. She was a distraction he didn’t need. Good thing she wouldn’t be around long. For some reason, they never were.
“I’ll make the report a priority,” he said to Ham. “I’ve just been a little distracted. With Greg gone, I’m shuffling people around, trying to cover all the bases.”
Ham lowered his voice. “Have you learned anything new? About who might have killed him? You and I both know it couldn’t have been Stan.”
Conner’s throat tightened every time he thought about Stan Mayall toughing it out in a jail cell. Stan wasn’t just a boss to him. He’d been a mentor, a sounding board and a good friend. For three years Stan had also been Conner’s grandfather-in-law, as dear to him as any blood relative could have been. They’d remained close even after Conner’s divorce from Chandra.
“Of course he didn’t do it. There’s no way a jury would convict him.” But the case might not even get to a jury, if Stan’s health continued to decline. He’d been diagnosed with cancer just a week before his arrest. “It’s not right. He should be at home, where Chandra can take care of him.”
“I know.” Ham shook his head sadly. “I wish there was something we could do.”
Conner was doing something. He was peering into every nook and cranny of this company, searching for a motive for murder. He’d even found his way into Greg’s email account. So far, he’d turned up nothing concrete. But Greg’s personal life was a minefield of broken relationships and family feuds. Maybe his mysterious girlfriend, “Mariposa,” was involved. Conner knew of her only through the sexy emails she and Greg had sent back and forth. Maybe Greg had dumped her, and she’d hired a killer and told him to make it look like the murder was work-related.
It was a theory, anyway.
“Keep me in the loop.” Ham pushed himself to his feet. “I’m supposed to retire in less than a month. I can’t put it off any longer—my doctor and my wife have ganged up on me. But I don’t want to leave Stan, or the company, in the lurch.”
“I swear, Ham, we’ll figure it out. The most important thing we can do is to keep the company afloat. So when Stan is exonerated—and I know he will be—he’ll have a job to return to.”
And Conner could finally get his own life back. He would gladly walk away from this corner office and burn every one of his silk ties.
* * *
JILLIAN COULDN’T RESIST announcing her good news as soon as she bounced into the bull pen at Project Justice late that afternoon. “I’m in! Mayall Lumber hired me!”
The only other investigator there was Griffin Benedict, who was on the phone. He looked up with mild irritation, and she realized she could have been overheard by whoever Griffin was talking to. One of the first rules of working for the foundation was discretion.
She slapped a hand over her mouth, then whispered a quick “Sorry.” The only other people in the room were two interns, college students with whom she had worked until her recent “promotion” into fieldwork.
They both looked up at her. Bernie, the nicer one, gave her a tepid thumbs-up, but Kendall, who’d never gone out of her way to say anything nice to Jillian, rolled her eyes.
“Come to lord it over us?” Kendall said. “It’s not like you were really promoted. It’s just that you have secretarial experience.” She said the word secretarial as if it were nasty. “Soon as this job is finished, you’ll be back in the intern ghetto, licking envelopes and making coffee.”
“Probably.” Jillian tried not to let Kendall’s attitude bother her. “But at least I get to work in the field for a while.”
“You say ‘work in the field’ like you’re a secret agent or something.” Kendall didn’t try to hide her sneer. “Daniel isn’t, like, letting you carry a gun or anything, is he?”
“No, of course not.” Not yet. But she’d taken a firearms training course and had applied for her license to carry concealed. That was a long way from Daniel letting her do any such thing, but it was a step in the right direction. “I’m gathering intelligence.”
Kendall’s eyes lit up. “About what?”
Though Jillian wanted to dish, she knew she shouldn’t. Discretion, discretion. “I can’t really talk about it.”
Again, Kendall rolled her eyes.
“By the time this assignment is over, you guys will be back at school. So, this is goodbye.”
“We’ll miss you.” Bernie clearly didn’t mean it.
Kendall said nothing.
They were both probably glad to see her go. She’d already been working here several months when they’d arrived for their summer internships, so she’d shown them the ropes and tried to bond with them. But neither had warmed up to her. She was only five or six years older than them, but it was enough to cause a small generation gap.
She’d never been very good at making friends. In high school, at the exclusive Shelby Academy, she’d been shy and withdrawn, preferring books and her active fantasy life to interaction with real people. Swim team had been her only extracurricular activity, and she’d never distinguished herself in the sport, though she still loved the water, and all those laps she’d swum had at least slimmed her down.
In college, she’d fared better. With her new nose, bright, even teeth and long, blond hair, she garnered lots of attention from young men, none of whom impressed her because by then, she’d fallen hard for Daniel Logan. Their fathers had worked together, and all through college she’d spent summers at the Logan estate helping out Daniel’s mother.
While the guys flocked around her, other women, even her sorority sisters, had held her at arm’s length. She’d earned a reputation as snooty when really, she’d just been shy. She still didn’t relate well to other women. Some were put off by her trust fund, others by her attractiveness—she was honest enough to admit she’d turned out rather well in that department, given her shaky start. They didn’t want her around their husbands and boyfriends.
“Well, see you around.” She left the bull pen and went to find the one person she felt pretty sure would be happy for her—aside from Daniel, who sincerely wanted her to find a place in the world where she belonged.
Celeste Boggs, the office manager, was just shutting things down for the day at her station in the lobby—turning off her computer, packing up the magazines and books she liked to read during lulls in activity.
Celeste was somewhere in her seventies. She’d been the first woman patrol officer hired by the Houston Police Department, and despite decades of service had never been promoted to detective. Now she seemed to be rebelling