Concrete Evidence (9 page)

Tommy’s death had nothing to do with her
. She wanted to believe that. Desperately.

Lee took her hands and cupped them between his own. “Why were you waiting for Tommy in the hallway?”

“I wasn’t going to buy drugs from him, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t do drugs.” Dammit, she sounded defensive—guilty. She slid her hands from between his. “He was going on break. We were going to look at the archaeology exhibits together.” It was close enough to the truth, and more than her intern needed to know.

He reached for her chin, but she pulled away. She was losing her grip on their roles. She didn’t need to answer to Lee Scott. “It’s time we got to work. I need you to do Internet searches on Thermo-Con and Higgins.”

The morning dragged on. After checking all the usual Internet sites to see if anyone was selling Aztec artifacts, she called Janice’s cell again. She wanted to make her confession and be done, but her call went straight to voice mail.

Lee was useless. At last she understood how he’d coasted in college for the last seven years: he knew how to look busy without doing any actual work.

She hit the print button on a cell tower report, quietly crossed the room to stand behind him, and nearly choked on aggravation. The slacker was playing Tetris and had completed 428 rows. Clearly he’d been playing for a long time. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and he jolted, causing his finger to hit the wrong button. In seconds the Tetris cubes piled on top of each other, ending his game.

Her fingers tightened on his shoulders as she leaned down and said next to his ear, “I was going to ask you to make copies of a cell tower report, but I see you’re busy.” She marched out of the room, expecting—wanting—him to follow and apologize. But he didn’t.

“Don’t hold your breath,” she muttered as she shoved open the copy-room door. She hit the door too hard, as evidenced by the loud bang, shaking walls, and four men in suits inside the room who stared at her in shock.

With alarm, she recognized JT Talon standing with Edward Drake, Rob Anderson, and a senior engineer named Arnie Ross. She’d never before seen any of these men in the copy room, let alone trying to work a binding machine.

“Sorry,” she said, deciding not to turn tail and run or make excuses. Hell, she could end up fired after she talked to Janice today anyway. She grabbed her papers from the shared laser printer and made a beeline for the industrial copier.

“How’s the Thermo-Con EA coming, Erica?” Rob Anderson asked.

Crap.
She hadn’t sent him an update on the project since Monday afternoon. “Yesterday we went to the National Archives and found a name, Higgins. We just have to figure out how that name is connected to the house.”

“Thermo-Con?” said a voice she didn’t recognize, which could only be JT.

She placed her originals in the document feeder, hit the green button, then turned to face the head of the company. “It’s a project for the Menanichoch Tribe.” Remembering the man was one-quarter Menanichoch, she added, “There’s a house on the reservation made out of concrete called Thermo-Con.”

“I know. I love that crazy house. I’ve been nagging Sam to have it repaired for years.”

The copy room door opened, and Lee entered. “Erica, did you want me to copy something?” he asked, completely oblivious to the power players in the room.

“Don’t trouble yourself, Lee. Your Tetris game won’t play itself.”

JT looked at Lee, and a flicker of amusement entered his eyes. Dread, which had been second only to fear on her current playlist of emotions, surged to the top of the charts. She suddenly knew with horrible certainty that JT’s executive secretary had set up the internship because JT knew Lee. Well.

“Arnie, Ed, have either of you ever heard of Thermo-Con?” Rob Anderson asked.

As if she didn’t already feel like crap, now she wanted to smack herself. She’d never thought to ask either man about the historic concrete, but both had been concrete engineers since sometime before the late-Paleolithic era.

Arnie, a balding man who had to stretch if he wanted to pass for five-foot-two, looked up from the papers he’d been reading, then did a double take when he saw Lee. “Good Lord! It’s Bigfoot!”

Lee laughed and introduced himself to the elderly concrete engineer, then asked the man again about Thermo-Con. Arnie’s wild silver eyebrows, which could have been drawn by Dr. Seuss, rose toward the ceiling. “Sounds interesting, but no, I haven’t heard of it. How about you, Ed?”

“No.” Drake checked his watch. “Gentlemen, we’ve only got twenty minutes until the colonel gets here, and the comb binder is clearly broken.”

JT’s gaze returned to her. “Erica…Kesling, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Talon.” He knew her last name. Had he learned it from Lee? Or worse, had Sam Riversong told him about their meeting on Monday?

“We need help,” he said. “We need to replace incorrect pages in a proposal package, but none of us has been able to figure out how to work the binding machine.” He held up a booklet. The comb-cut holes had been shredded by the machine because they’d misaligned the pages when they tried to take the booklet apart.

The greatest minds in the company—these four men designed bridges, skyscrapers, oil wells, and managed millions of dollars in projects—couldn’t work the manual comb binder. She smiled and felt some of her apprehension dissolve. “No problem.” She brushed JT aside and quickly disassembled a booklet and replaced the pages.

The copy room door opened, and Janice entered. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Erica’s stomach dropped. She’d been waiting for this moment all morning. In truth, from the moment she started working for Talon & Drake. But she couldn’t talk to Janice here and now. Not in front of JT Talon. “Did you get my message?” she asked, her voice cracking on the last word.

“Message? No. My cell’s dead.” Janice held up a piece of paper. “I just received an e-mail from an ethnozoology lab giving a preliminary evaluation for the Thermo-Con EA.”

She felt a surge of relief. This they could talk about. “Wow, the lab was fast.”

“I don’t remember authorizing osteological analysis for Thermo-Con,” Janice said in her rarely used I’m-disappointed-in-you tone. “Erica. This is your first EA. You need to check in with me every step of the way.”

“Did I forget to mention the bones?” In spite of her best efforts, she let out a sharp, nervous laugh. “This was a test for some bones we found under the sump of the Thermo-Con house. Sam Riversong wanted an expert to determine if the bones are human or not.”

Janice was silent, then nodded. “That’s exactly the sort of thing you need to tell me.” Then she smiled. “But you did well, sending it in right away. Especially since, the expert believes the bone is human. He still needs to run the definitive species test, but knowing our tight schedule and the delicacy of dealing with human remains, he wanted to give us the heads-up.”

“Riversong also authorized a C-14 test so we’ll know how old the remains are. We should get the results on that in the next few days.” Her mind raced. Could she use this to push for a meeting with Sam this afternoon?

Then reality hit her. The man’s nephew had been murdered last night. She couldn’t disturb him now. Besides, in a few minutes, she would have a conversation with Janice that could change everything.

Janice set the e-mail printout on the table. “When you’re finished here, come to my office.”

After the corrections were made, the men headed to their meeting, while Erica and Lee copied the cell tower report. That done, she headed for the door, then remembered the e-mail. “Lee, will you grab the e-mail for me, please? It’s next to the binding machine.”

“It’s not here.”

She returned to the table. He was right. “It must have gotten mixed in with the proposal papers,” she said. “I’ll ask Janice to print another copy.”

In the corridor heading toward their office, anxiety slowed her pace. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous about her upcoming confession to Janice or what she wanted to ask Lee, but she brushed her fear aside. “You know JT Talon,” she said, keeping her voice casual.

“We’ve met.”

“You know him better than that.”

He shrugged.

Dammit, she wanted to know how well he knew the man. “Do we have more nepotism?”

“Is it really nepotism when you’re given the lowest job with the lowest pay?” he asked.

“It is when you’re getting paid to play Tetris.”

“The Thermo-Con searches were boring.”

She turned on her heel to face him. He stopped just short of crashing into her, and she patted his cheek. “Poor baby,” she said in a sarcastic imitation of a motherly voice. “I’m sorry your work was so taxing. Maybe after you finish your computer game, you should take a nap.”

He covered her hand with his own, rubbing her palm against the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave. His green eyes fixed on hers, and his mouth curved in an alluring half smile. “Only if you take one with me.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d give him grief for hitting on her again, but she was the one who’d stepped close and touched him. The air thickened as his intense gaze ensnared her. Gone was the feckless intern; in his place was a compelling man she wanted to know.

She heard footsteps, breaking the spell. She tried to pull her hand away, but Lee gripped her fingers tighter.

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice said. “If it isn’t my favorite…Cream Puff.”

She ripped her hand from Lee’s and whipped around. The last time she’d seen Jake, she’d been locked in a stinking Mexican jail cell.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

One year earlier

Oaxaca, Mexico

E
RICA SAT ON THE DIRT FLOOR
of the jail cell. The cell had no window, no bunk, no plumbing, and the air was hot and stagnant. She’d given up on breathing through her mouth to avoid the putrid stench hours ago. She pressed herself against the bars and tried to get comfortable in the least filthy spot. Previous prisoners had peed on the floor and used their own feces to write Spanish swear words on the concrete walls. Flies coated the curse words, giving the letters both motion and sound. A high-end art gallery might appreciate the display, but she didn’t.

She had to get out of here.

Before he locked her inside the cell, the officer made her take off the wet suit she’d donned over her shorts and T-shirt. Her clothes had long since dried. The salt on her skin made her feel itchy and twitchy, and she was sick to her stomach with fear. What the hell was going to happen to her?

She’d asked in both English and Spanish to speak with someone from the
Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia
. She needed to convince an INAH official that Jake meant to steal from the Mexican government. She wasn’t the criminal. She’d been trying to save the artifacts when she took them and fled. But the officers ignored her.

The arresting officer pulled a chair into the corridor outside the cell. A fat burrito dripped juice onto his pant leg. The aroma of spices and beans masked the stench of the cell for a brief moment. She guessed it was early evening, which meant she hadn’t eaten in about twenty-four hours. She’d give anything for a bite of that burrito. “Are you finally going to question me?”

“No.”

“They know everything they need to, Cream Puff.” Jake walked into the corridor carrying another burrito. “Leave us alone,” he said to the officer. The man stood up and left.

Shit.
“The cops are on your payroll,” she said bitterly.

“Of course. I have a very large payroll. But then, I have a very large income. Which you are jeopardizing.” He sat down in the vacated chair and ate a bite, making a show of savoring the food. His smile was predatory. “Hungry?”

She changed her mind. There were several things she wouldn’t do for a meal, and they all involved Jake.

“Tell me where the artifacts are, and I’ll let you go.”

“No.”

“You can’t win, sweetheart.”

“You’ll never find the artifacts.
You
need to cooperate with
me
.”

“You’ve got spunk, that’s for sure. But that’s all you’ve got.” He dumped the food on the floor, just out of her reach. “See you tomorrow.”

She repeatedly called out to the officers, demanding they contact INAH. At last an officer entered the hallway and said, “If you don’t shut up, we’ll stop giving you water.”

She shut up.

Sleep came with great difficulty but was the only way to pass the time, the only way to escape the hunger that gnawed at her from the inside.

Jake returned the following day. From the slanting light in the hallway, she guessed it was evening and she’d been in the cell for about thirty-six hours. This time he had a steak that smelled so good it brought tears to her eyes.

“You look terrible,” he said. “But don’t worry, Marco would still fuck you.”

She turned and faced the flies on the wall. The words shimmered as the angled sunlight caught their shiny backs and fluttering wings. Mesmerizing but grotesque. Just like Jake.