I glance pointedly at the photograph. “Is it sacred?”
He huffs, then starts to type. I lean over the desk to confirm he’s really searching. He is, reluctantly. We wait as a list of names populates. Three Sherwoods. Two C’s. One Christopher.
“Click it,” I order.
He does.
A new page loads, he types a password, and the account spread generates. At the top, in red letters—Account Closed.
“What does that mean?” I demand.
“What do you think it means? The account is closed.”
“Why?”
Doug uses his cursor to highlight a status box: Client deceased. “He’s dead.”
Now I’m the one who deflates, though I have enough backbone not to show it. “When? How old was he?”
Doug heaves an aggrieved sigh, like he’s not the philandering loser in this scenario, and pulls up the bio page. Date of birth: June 11, 1939.
My stomach drops.
It’s not him. This Chris Sherwood is not my Chris Sherwood. Or whoever the hell he is.
“Go back,” I order. “And click on the other C. And if that’s not him, try the other one.”
He does as ordered, but neither one is a match.
“Fuck,” I mutter. A literal dead-end.
“Who is he?” Doug asks when I straighten and he has room to draw a full breath. “And why do you need to find him so bad?”
“Because,” I snap, grabbing my bag, smoothing my skirt, and composing myself as best I can. “He found me.”
I don’t wait for Doug to answer—or question—and instead stride out the door possessing only half the confidence with which I entered. I don’t know why I thought Doug would be in on it. Doug, who can barely cheat on his wife successfully, could hardly be part of...whatever this is.
Because what the fuck is it?
I stab the button for the elevator hard enough I hurt my finger, then hear the receptionist’s muffled voice behind me. She shuts up when I turn around, phone pressed to her ear, and I’m pretty sure she’s calling security. That, at least, makes me smile, and I abandon the elevator and head for the fire door at the opposite end of the hall.
“Excuse me...” she says, but I ignore her and use my hip to open the heavy door, taking my time as I descend the stairs to the lobby, because they can’t really throw me out when I’m leaving anyway. Plus, I’ve been escorted out of an investment firm before, and it was far worse than anything these guys could do.
I emerge onto the sidewalk, the sun bright but the air icy cold, and I shrug into Denise’s trench coat before hurrying across the street to the cafe. I need tea. I need answers. And I’ve run out of ideas.
I wait in line for a drink, half a dozen people in cheap business suits talking on phones in front of me, all trying to outdo the others with the numbers they spew, just in case someone’s eavesdropping. It was the same thing when I worked at Carlisle Gale, always trying to one-up each other, even though we all knew everybody was lying. It was just a matter of who could do it better. Longer.
A guy waiting for a drink catches my eye and smiles, but I don’t smile back. Denise has decided to get away from the dating pool for a while so she can refine her bullshit detector and not get conned by any more lying assholes. I don’t have to make quite the same effort to remove myself from polite society, but I still need some space. Room to think and prepare so I’m not taken off guard—
My phone rings, the sound so foreign and startling I nearly drop my bag. Because I’m in Denise’s costume, I brought Denise’s phone. I fumble to retrieve it from my bag and stare at the call display for a second. A gray silhouette stares back, waiting for me to accept or decline, and there’s only one person it could be. Whoever he is.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, Denise? It’s Chris.”
I scowl. He sounds so nice, so normal. So innocent. “Hey,” I say, like I’m happy to hear from him. “Where are you?”
“Where—Oh, I’m at work. Why? Where are you?”
“Just running errands.”
Now it’s his turn to sound surprised, which isn’t so surprising if he’s been stalking me for who knows how long and is fully aware of my hermit status. “Errands? What kind?”
“The usual. Getting groceries. Banking.”
There’s a pause, then: “Okay, cool. Did you want to get together tonight? We could grab dinner, see a movie?”