pressed a button on the armrest and the window between the driver and the rear of the vehicle slid downward.
“Carl, could you stop at the next corner? I believe there’s a hamburger establishment there.”
“Excuse me?” Carl glanced back at them through the rearview mirror, his expression incredulous. “Hamburger?”
“You heard me. And not one word to Francois, my chef. He would be appalled to know I had eaten something as banal as a hamburger with extra onions and pickles.”
Declan sat back against the seat, wondering just who this woman was and why she’d decided to hire him on the spur of the moment.
He was grateful for the opportunity to work and earn an honest paycheck, but he wondered if there was more to Charlie than met the eye.
Time would tell. For now, Declan was grateful for the wealthy woman and the hamburgers they ordered at the drive-through window. Or rather, the hamburgers the driver ordered, paid for and received on their behalf.
Declan leaned across the seats to grab the bag of burgers and fries, the scent nearly crippling him, he was so hungry.
The next few minutes were spent in silence as Charlotte, Declan and the driver consumed the food, washing it down with iced tea.
When Charlie asked where Declan lived, he knew it was useless to lie. “I’m new in town,” he said, avoiding an answer rather than attempting a lie.
“Oh, so you haven’t had time to check into a hotel?”
“No, ma’am...er... Charlie. But I’ll be fine.”
“Getting a hotel at this late hour can be hit and miss.” She talked to the driver by using the intercom. “Carl, take us home.” Charlie patted Declan’s arm. “You’ll stay at my house until you can get a place of your own. I’ll start you out with funds to set you up in an apartment as part of your pay.”
Declan stiffened. “I can’t accept your charity.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it charity.” She sat back on the leather seat. “You will be earning your pay in my employ.” She patted her belly. “And that was perhaps the best hamburger I’ve had in a very long time.”
“Charlie, I can’t do this. I’ve never in my life taken advantage of a woman’s generosity.”
She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him. “Oh, believe me, I have plans for you. You’ll earn every dime working for Halverson Enterprises.”
With no other choices to fall back on, Declan squared his shoulders and faced his future.
Grace stood outside of the Halverson Enterprises building near K Street at 8:20 a.m., feeling like she’d been hit by a truck, and probably looking like it. She’d spent the majority of the night retracing what she would have thought would be Riley’s route on her way home the evening before.
The guard at the gate to Riley’s office complex had refused to let her in, insisting that the building was closed for the night. She’d have to return in the morning and talk with the security supervisor. He didn’t seem to understand that the morning might be too late. The train held no clues as to Riley’s whereabouts, and the path between the office complex and the train was clean of any traces of Grace’s roommate.
The police had done a perfunctory investigation, running into the same issues as Grace and coming up as empty-handed as she had, and they hadn’t contacted her in the past three hours.
She’d even tried calling Riley’s supervisor. But all she had was his work number. The connection went straight to his voice mail.
Riley was missing, and Grace had an interview for a job she could care less about as long as her friend and roommate remained missing. Still, she could have stayed at her apartment and hoped Riley would stroll through the door, announcing she’d spent the night with a hot guy she met at a bar. But the waiting would have killed Grace.
Instead, she’d showered, blow-dried her hair and applied a minimal amount of makeup. Dressed in a tailored skirt suit, she’d tucked her cell phone in her purse and left the ringtone on high in case Riley actually called. Grace didn’t care if she was in an interview or a meeting with the President of the United States—she’d answer the phone.
After taking a deep breath, she strode through the glass doors and stepped up to the reception desk.
The woman took her driver’s license and handed her a visitor’s pass. “Mrs. Halverson is expecting you.”
Tears welled in Grace’s eyes and she almost turned around and ran.
“It’s okay,” the woman at the reception desk whispered. “Mrs. Halverson is a really nice lady. You’ll do fine.”
Blinking to clear her vision, Grace nodded.
“Twelfth floor, straight out of the elevator. Her secretary will greet you.”
“Thank you.” Grace choked on her words and turned toward the elevator.
The receptionist held out a tissue. “You might want this.” She gave her a warm smile. “Really, she’s nice.”
Grace nearly lost her composure there, but held it together long enough to make it into the elevator, where she waited until the door closed before she let the tears fall. But only a few. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to read the screen on her cell phone if she cried too much.
For the hundredth time, she checked for text messages from Riley.
Nothing.
The floor numbers flashed green on the display panel as the elevator car rose to the top of the office building.
Grace dabbed at her eyes, sure her mascara was running by now. What a great impression she’d make on Mrs. Halverson, a sobbing, hot mess of a woman in a wrinkled suit, with red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose.
Grace didn’t care. Riley was still missing.
The elevator stopped.
As the doors opened, Grace jabbed at the buttons to go back down, but it was too late. Mrs. Halverson’s secretary spotted her and smiled. “Miss Lawrence, I’m so glad you could make it after we stood you up yesterday. I’m Margaret Berkman.” She rounded to the front of her desk and held out her hand.
Short of being completely rude, Grace was forced to step out of the elevator, cross to the secretary’s desk and shake the woman’s hand. “You didn’t stand me up. I was caught up in the shooting yesterday. I didn’t even make it to this building.”
The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. You will have so much to share with Mrs. Halverson. She was there, too.” The secretary turned toward the door behind her. “Come with me.”
“If she was there yesterday, perhaps now isn’t a good time to conduct this interview.” The timing was terrible for
