Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,46
were no additional surveillance devices—he looked over the other documents in the package. When he came to the photo of her and her college boyfriend, he asked, “Who is this?”
“His name is Trevor Halstead. I dated him in college.”
Alex nodded and pulled out the second photo.
“Where were you in these pictures?”
“One of them was a winter formal–type thing and the other an awards banquet.”
“What was the award for?”
Thinking that was a strange question, Cara said, “I was given an award for completing a year’s worth of financial data in a matter of weeks. It’s a special award that’s specific to PSU.”
Giving no indication of why he thought it was important to ask, Alex nodded.
Branden came back in and said, “The night manager is on his way up.”
“Good. I did a sweep, and there are no bugs or cameras in your penthouse.”
Branden gave a quick nod, then he and Alex made small talk while they waited and Cara fixed herself another cup of tea. The night manager, a middle-aged, balding man with a big, bright smile arrived within a few minutes and introduced himself as Bob Cartwright. Cara could tell that underneath his cool, calm facade he was nervous about being called to the penthouse at ten p.m. He had a fine layer of sweat sitting on his upper lip.
After the introductions were made, all four stepped into the hall under Alex’s direction.
“What’s behind this wall here?” Alex asked Cartwright.
“Um…as far as I know, nothing. I mean, it’s just a wall.”
“Nah, I don’t think so,” Alex said. “Come here, I’ll show you what I mean.” He tapped on the spot he had earlier. “Did you hear that?”
“I didn’t hear anything,” the man said.
Odd that he’d answered that way, Cara thought. The spot that concerned Alex sounded kind of hollow, while the other two spots sounded full.
“Okay, listen.” Alex knocked above the spot and then below it. “Now…” He knocked on the spot that concerned him. “Can you hear the difference?”
Cara certainly could. Why was Cartwright still claiming he couldn’t? She cast a quick glance at Branden, who firmed his lips and tipped his head slightly, as if informing her to keep silent.
Alex looked at Branden and said, “I’m gonna go get my saw. I’ll be back.”
“Wait! You can’t saw open one of our walls!” Cartwright said, sweat beading on his brow.
“Then I suggest you start talking,” Alex said.
Cara looked at Branden. He was still just watching as if he was an impartial witness to a drama unfolding in front of him.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me what is behind that wall. If you don’t, then I will get my saw and I’ll bring an officer of the law with me to witness it, because you and I both know that there is a camera located behind this wall and trained on Mr. Duke’s door. So, I may get in a little trouble for sawing the wall, but you’re going to get into a whole lot more. Besides,” Alex said, jerking his head in Branden’s direction, “I have friends in high places.”
“Okay, okay. There is a camera back there,” Cartwright admitted. “But you don’t have to cut open the wall to get at it. There’s a crawl space you can enter from the roof.”
Branden suddenly stepped forward, right into Cartwright’s personal space. In a low and terrifyingly blunt voice he said, “Who put it there? Who controls it?”
“I don’t know,” Cartwright said. The sweat was rolling down the sides of his face now.
Branden stepped even closer. Cartwright’s bald head was almost touching the underside of Branden’s chin.
“Who?” he demanded again.
“I really don’t know. The day manager is the one who told me it was there. He paid me to not tell anyone. I’m sorry. I was going through a divorce and I needed the money.”
“Call him and tell him you need him down here, tonight.”
“He won’t answer the phone. I’ll call him, I’m not refusing, but he won’t answer. He comes in at five, though.”
“And that gives you six hours to warn him.”
“No, I won’t, I wouldn’t…I don’t even like the guy. I told him all of this wasn’t right.” The sweat stains under his arms were spreading.
“Hmm, what do you think, Alex?” Branden asked his friend.
“I think he’s full o’ shit,” Alex said in a suddenly thick Brooklyn accent.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Take care of him, will you? I’ll talk to the other one in the morning when he comes in for