The Dangerous Edge of Things - By Tina Whittle Page 0,42

as a Masonic lodge. The streets and sidewalks mingled separate tributaries—joggers, bicyclists, tourists asking for directions.

Mark Beaumont held court in a top-floor office that had a distinct members-only feel to it. The decorating scheme was earthy, with cinnamon drapes and cocoa carpeting in a vaguely Aztec-looking pattern. His walls, however, functioned as a wall-to-wall press release: thank-you plaques from prominent organizations, smiling handshake shots with various mayors.

And in the center of the commotion, Mark himself. Dressed for press, he sported conservative navy slacks and a photogenic blue shirt. A gaggle of similarly attired men and women surrounded him, each one vying for his attention.

Trey got it, however. Instantly. Mark saw him approaching and headed our way, hand outstretched. People moved aside for him, made clear the path.

“Trey,” he said, smiling. “Marisa told me you’d be here.” He nodded in my direction. “You’re in on this now?”

“I hear I have Janie to thank for it.”

His face sobered. “God, I can’t imagine what she’s going through now. All I can do…well, I’m doing all I can do. I just hope it’s enough.”

At that moment, a young woman touched his elbow and offered him a clipboard. He took it, and they spoke for a few seconds in low discreet tones. Trey’s eyes roamed the room, slowly, and I was willing to bet that he had every face memorized in about four seconds.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Beaumont?”

“Mark, please.”

I smiled. “Mark. Where can I find Janie?”

“She’s right through there, in Charley’s office.” He clapped Trey on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get started.”

Trey turned back to me as he melted into the crowd. “Stay close.”

I felt a prickle. “Why? You think something’s going to happen?”

“No. But I might need you. Or you might need me.” He said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Which maybe it was.

“I’ll be right here,” I called. But I was talking to his back.

***

I saw Charley first, seated on a rust-colored loveseat, one arm draped along the back. She’d pulled her hair into a chignon, all piece-ey and messy at the nape, and wore a jacket and pants set in the same hue as the furniture. Janie sat beside her. She’d dressed up too, in a floral dress with a sewn-on vest, her curly hair subdued with thin gold barrettes. She’d put on make-up, but her eyes were red and she was fidgety. She’d twist her fingers together, fiddle with her crucifix, then lay them deliberately in her lap, smoothing out the material. I couldn’t tell if nerves gripped her, or a nicotine fit.

I moved to her side of the loveseat. “Thanks for letting me in on this.”

“We had a deal, remember?” Her eyes dipped, taking in my ID. “They got you all official pretty quick like.”

Charley spoke up. “So you know Kent?”

It seemed odd to hear someone calling Landon by his first name. “We’ve met.”

“Kent’s been with Mark ever since we moved here. But he leaves the grunt work to Trey and what’s-his-name, that curly-headed one?”

“Steve Simpson.”

“Right. That one. They were all working at Beau Elan on Thursday, but Kent was with me that afternoon. He said I might have to testify to that. I told him not to worry, that Mark would make sure he didn’t have any trouble from the authorities.”

I raised an eyebrow at that one, but said nothing. I knew Landon had connections—even Eric had asked him to pull some strings—and it was fast becoming obvious that his connections didn’t mind being used.

Janie indicated the outer office. “So which one’s Trey?”

“Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome in the black suit.”

She squinted in that general direction. “I haven’t seen him before.”

“He stays behind the scenes mostly.”

Charley made a noise. “I’ll say. I don’t think he likes natural light.”

She said it with meanness at the edge, and I felt my backbone straighten involuntarily. She watched me, waiting for a response.

Janie watched me too, but without the predatory gleam. “You want to find me later? Maybe we could talk some more?”

She said it nonchalantly, but I detected the hint of something significant behind her words. I started to ask her what was wrong, but before I could, there was a knock at the door.

Landon stuck his head in. “They’re ready to start.”

Behind him I saw Trey. Janie got up, Charley too, and I followed them out. Then I saw it, at the door. As Charley passed Trey, she stopped and looked up at him. He met her eyes, direct and unblinking. No words, no