Hotshot (23 page)

“And the packages from the post office?” Christopher asked.

“There was a line, and I didn’t think you’d want me to spend company time standing in a long line,” she said indignantly.

“But it was okay to spend company time at a spa?” Peyton wondered.

Debi’s chin came up a notch, but again she refused to answer.

Christopher shook his head. “I don’t suppose you remembered lunch, either.”

“They weren’t serving lunch yet.”

“So, you didn’t order anything,” Christopher concluded.

“I had a scone and a latte,” she said.

Christopher didn’t lose his patience, which Peyton thought was admirable. He remained composed as he said, “I’m sorry, but this just isn’t working out. I’ll let Len know. You may leave now.”

Debi burst into tears. “You can’t fire me. You didn’t give me a chance. This is your fault, not mine. No one showed me how to do anything. I don’t know computers. That’s Peyton’s fault. She set me up to fail.”

Peyton couldn’t keep quiet. “You said you knew how to use all the programs. Why didn’t you tell us the truth?”

Tears were pouring down her face now. “I didn’t want you to make fun of me.”

Peyton rolled her eyes. “We’re not in junior high,” she said.

“Please, Christopher, give me another chance,” Debi begged. “I’ll really try this time. Just don’t give me stuff to do on a computer until Lucy teaches me how to use it.”

“Why Lucy?” Christopher asked, curious.

“Because she’s patient. She’s not a bitch,” she added, pausing to shoot a glare at Peyton. “Lucy can train me.”

Christopher was swayed, but not by Debi. Lucy was standing in the doorway behind Debi frantically shaking her head at him. He simply couldn’t resist. He got an ornery look in his eyes. “Okay, you get one more chance, and Lucy will train you, but you still answer to me. One more screwup and you’re out.”

Debi rushed to leave before Christopher changed his mind. She was happy and a bit smug, Peyton thought. Lucy, on the other hand, looked as though she wanted to do bodily harm. Peyton slipped out of the office as her sister stormed past her.

“Christopher? A word,” Lucy said.

The door slammed behind her.

S
pecial Agent John Caulfield was back in Finn’s nightmare. He was helping interview the suspect who had set the fire. Caulfield’s hands were charred, his face was all but gone, but his voice was the same, strong and decisive.

The nightmare flashed to the scene of the crime, the two-story house. Caulfield was standing on the top step, one hand resting on the doorknob. He was talking to Finn on the phone, telling him he would wait for backup, that he was going to do this by the book, and to hurry and get to the scene so he could observe the arrest. He was certain the suspect was hiding inside.

He was still talking to Finn when he slowly turned and opened the door. Flames instantly engulfed him, incinerating him, yet he continued to hold his cell phone to his ear and give Finn instructions.

Until recently the nightmare had begun and ended in the interrogation room. Now, there was a different ending. Peyton was there. She stood just outside Finn’s door waiting for him, and right before he woke up, a sense of calm washed over him.

______

Ronan and Finn were early for the lecture. They sat at a table in one of the larger ballrooms of the Adams Hotel on the outskirts of Seattle waiting for the first speaker. The seminar was mandatory, and neither one of them wanted to be there. From the looks on the faces of the other agents filing in, they didn’t want to be there, either.

“What’s this first lecture about?” Ronan asked, yawning as he emptied a packet of sugar into his coffee cup.

“New regulations,” Finn replied. “That’s what I heard anyway.”

“I don’t get it,” Ronan said. “Why did we have to come all the way to Seattle for this? Aren’t they running the same seminars on the East Coast?”

“Probably,” Finn said. “But we’re not just here for the seminar. We’re being interviewed for hostage rescue.”

“Did you put in for that?”

“No. Did you?”

“No.”

“Then what the . . . ,” Finn muttered.

“It’s gotta be for something else. Maybe I’ll call Grayson,” Ronan added, referring to his old partner. “Now that he’s taken the promotion, he’s got some real clout. He could find out what’s going on.”

“Yeah, call him,” Finn agreed.

“If we’re here until Thursday, we could catch a game. I know a guy who could get us tickets to anything.”

Finn laughed. “You always know a guy.”

Ronan and Finn had been partners for only a short time, but they had already learned each other’s quirks. Ronan had been raised in Boston’s inner city in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the country. He had a rough edge to him and had been on the wrong side of the law more often than he wanted to admit. A full college scholarship had changed his life. That and the Marines. He and Finn made a good team, which was why they had been assigned to work together on several cases. Finn trusted his judgment and knew he’d have his back if things got dicey.

“Any news from Dalton?” Ronan asked.

Finn had told him all about the investigation. “I’m waiting to hear the ballistics report on the guns they took to the lab. I’m betting Albertson’s henchman, Parsons, used one of those rifles to take a shot at Peyton.”

“Why Parsons and not Albertson?”

“Albertson’s at the top of the list, too, but Peyton is sure that it was Parsons who shot at her car in Minnesota. He’s got a record a mile long, and he wouldn’t hesitate to try again. I’d really like to get him in an interrogation room—”

“You can’t do that. You’re too close to this.”

Finn disagreed. “I could get him to talk.”

“He shot at the woman you love,” Ronan said. He was very matter-of-fact about it. “You’d go in there and punch his lights out.”

“Peyton’s a friend.”

“Yeah, right. A friend.” Ronan laughed. “Just when I think you’ve got it all figured out, you say something dumb. Your brain must be waterlogged from all that swimming you do.”

“So, now you’re an expert on my love life? Since when did you turn into a girl?”

Ronan wasn’t the least insulted. “You’re easy to read. You’ve been different ever since you connected with her. You’re—”

“What?” Finn was impatient and ready to argue.

“Happier.”

“The hell I am.” Only after the words were out of his mouth did he realize how crazy and defensive he sounded. “Let’s talk about
your
love life. See how you like it.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Collins doesn’t want a relationship. She told me it was for the best if we didn’t see each other again. We’re going down different roads, and it couldn’t possibly work out.”

It wasn’t what he said but how he said it that told Finn there was more to the story. “You don’t seem too broken up about it. You sound kind of cheerful.”

“I want her to be happy. If she wants to go it alone, that’s fine with me.”

“What about you? What are you going to do?”

“Marry her,” Ronan said. When he saw the skepticism on his friend’s face, he reiterated, “Honest to God, I am gonna marry her.”

Finn had a good laugh. “You sound sure of yourself.”

“She loves me,” Ronan said with a shrug. “She’s just scared. She’ll come around.”

“Marriage is a big commitment.”

“Sure is,” he agreed. “But when you’re ready, you’re ready. I think you’re scared, too, but you’ll come around.”

Finn shook his head. “Marriage isn’t for everyone.”

In the blink of an eye, Ronan switched back to the investigation in Dalton. He asked several questions about Albertson’s trip to see Peyton.

The more Finn talked about Albertson, the angrier he became. “I wish I could be there to see that bastard’s face when he gets the hammer.”

“Why can’t you be there? The seminar’s over Wednesday evening. You could catch a flight to Minneapolis Thursday, spend the night, and rent a car Friday morning to drive to Dalton. When is the announcement supposed to happen?”

“Hutton said it’s scheduled for one in the afternoon. He could get me in without Albertson seeing me. I wouldn’t want to ruin his surprise or make him suspicious.” He mulled over the idea for a second and said, “I don’t know. Maybe I will go. I’ll think about it.”

Finn couldn’t stay away; he had to go. He knew Peyton was worried about the announcement, but he was more concerned about what Albertson would do after he was thrown out of the company. Finn had talked to him and looked him in the eye when he’d shown up in Bishop’s Cove and made his veiled threats. He already knew what Albertson was capable of. There were hints of a violent temper in his background. Finn expected him to be enraged and want revenge. The question was, how long would he hold on to his desire to get even before moving on? Randolph Swift was about to snatch millions of dollars out of his grasp and humiliate him in the process. Randolph was probably going to disown his daughter as well. Oh yes, Albertson would want to get even. Agents Hutton and Lane believed he would go after Randolph and perhaps even Erik, but Finn was convinced his primary target would be Peyton. She had been the one to start the stone rolling down the mountain.

It wasn’t difficult to make the arrangements. Since Finn’s superior was also attending the seminar, it was easy to get his approval without e-mails and paperwork. Finn scheduled his flights in and out of Minneapolis and arranged to pick up a car at the airport.

He thought of everything but the weather. It was sleeting when he drove out of the rental lot. His lightweight raincoat wasn’t much protection from the cold. He hated bulky clothes. He wore a suit, but once the heater kicked on, he was able to take off the jacket, loosen his tie, and get comfortable. As he drove north, Peyton kept popping into his thoughts. He pictured her making the drive from Dalton in a blizzard. A couple of months had passed and spring had officially arrived, but there was still snow on the ground and more on the way.

Hutton called him just as he was taking the Dalton exit. He gave him directions to Swift’s main office and said, “You can’t miss it. It’s a giant phallic symbol.”

Finn thought he was joking until he spotted the building. Damn, it was ugly. Whoever designed it should get some serious help, Finn thought. He parked in the visitors’ lot and met Hutton at a side door. Although he’d talked to him many times on the phone, Finn had never actually met him in person.

Agent Hutton was in his early forties. He had a firm handshake and a wry sense of humor. After he shook Finn’s hand, he said, “Was I right about the building? It looks like a phallic symbol, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

“Come on inside. We’ll go up the back way to the auditorium. There’s an empty office by the elevators. Erik Swift said we could wait in there. Lane is keeping his eyes on Albertson.”

“Where is Albertson?”

“In his office preparing his speech.” He smiled as he added, “Is he gonna be pissed.”

“There’s an auditorium here?”

“Yes, with a big stage. It’s outfitted with kitchen appliances and a big island in front. They film a couple of cooking shows for a cable network. Everyone will come in and sit. Oh, and you’re gonna love this—Albertson is insisting on filming the announcement. He personally made sure the cameras were ready to roll.”

“Yeah, I do love it,” he admitted. “Albertson’s personal assistant—her name is Mimi. He’ll know she’s been helping Peyton. You need to get her out of here.”

“Already done. Albertson thinks she’s taking a late lunch. She won’t be back. She and a man named Lars left together.”

As they continued up the stairs, Finn asked, “How are you and Lane explaining your presence here?”

“We were here a few weeks ago asking questions about anyone who might have followed Peyton Lockhart when she left Dalton. We didn’t get anywhere with that, of course. Albertson and Parsons both had alibis. Ever since you reported the second incident in Florida, we’ve been keeping pretty close tabs on them. As you know, we haven’t been able to make a connection with him or Parsons to the shooting . . . yet,” he said. He opened the door to a small office and flipped on the lights. “Albertson thinks we stopped by today to finish up our report, and Erik Swift is backing us up. Albertson’s so caught up in his excitement at becoming the head honcho around here, he’s oblivious. Hell, J. Edgar Hoover himself could come back from the dead and shake his hand today and he wouldn’t notice.”

A couple of minutes later, he led Finn into the auditorium. It was built like a theater with a long, wide stage and upholstered chairs that were arranged in a half circle and tiered so that those seated at the top had just as clear a view as those sitting in the front. It was a slick setup, he thought. The stage sparkled with stainless steel and marble. An employee was busy placing folding chairs on either side of the podium, which stood in the center. Another employee was running a microphone and testing the sound. Showtime was in twenty minutes.

“Albertson and the others will go up to the stage from the side entrances,” Hutton said. “I’ve found a good spot for you to watch.” He pointed to the back corner. “Over there by the pillars. The lighting will be focused on the stage. If you stand on the other side of the pillar, no one will see you.”

Finn took his place in the shadows, and the auditorium started to fill up with people. Some walking in by themselves, others entering in small groups. In less than ten minutes, the room was full and buzzing with chatter over the upcoming announcement. Finn could hear a conversation between two women seated in the back row. The topic was the change they had noticed in Randolph Swift.

“He’s got a bounce in his step lately. Haven’t you noticed? We didn’t see him for so long, and now he’s coming back in the office again.”

“Do you think he’s met someone? He seems more alive these days.”

“He looked like death after sweet Miriam died. She really was a dear woman, wasn’t she?”

“Oh, she was. Do you know she never forgot any employee’s name? She even remembered my Sarah’s name.”

“I thought Randolph wanted to get in the grave with her, he was so devastated. But now it appears he’s back with us.”

“I’m glad of it. I wish he weren’t going to retire. It’s going to be awful with Drew Albertson in charge. You’ve seen how he treats women.”

“Especially young women,” her friend added.

“He and Eileen try to stop the rumors, but I think they’re true. With him as boss, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to work here.”

The lights framing the stage suddenly brightened, and the employees immediately stopped talking and sat up straighter in anticipation. The side doors opened, and Erik, his expression solemn, took a seat on the right side of the podium. At the same time Drew and his wife, Eileen, stepped out into the lights. They stood together smiling at the audience before making their way to the stage. Drew, acting like a politician up for reelection, waved to the crowd while Eileen smiled and nodded to several people in the front row. They took seats to the left of the podium.

A cheer went up and everyone stood when Randolph Swift came onstage. He was tall and very thin. He had wide shoulders like his daughter and a firm jaw like his son. The lines in his face told the story of a life that had experienced a great deal, but there was a vitality in his step, just as the two women had said. He seemed touched by the ovation and raised his hand to acknowledge the affection. When the cheering and applause did not die down, he raised both hands and motioned for them to take their seats. Finally the noise subsided enough for him to be heard.

He thanked everyone for the kind reception, and then said, “I have several announcements today.” He pulled note cards from the inside pocket of his suit and placed them on the podium. “I’d like to begin by saying that it was wrong of me to demand that you attend Miriam’s memorial. She’d have a fit if she knew I was doing that. She didn’t want me to mourn, either,” he said. “I’m still going to have the memorial, but you don’t have to attend. If you have other plans, that’s all right. She and I both know you loved her.”

Another round of applause erupted, and he waited to speak again. “The memorial isn’t going to have speeches. It will be a party with food and drink and balloons for the kids. We’re going to celebrate her life.”