Keeper of the Shadows - By Alexandra Sokoloff Page 0,42
than raise her eyebrows. “Mr. Stuart, of course. What floor is he on?”
“Sixteen, miss.”
“Thank you so much,” she said sweetly, and headed for the glass doors.
The elevator took her up to a three-storied modernistic lobby, and she strode up to the building directory, a gleaming marble slab with names and numbers carved into the surface.
Her eyes scanned for the sixteenth floor and then stopped, staring, at the name of the company that occupied it: The Circle Foundation.
And the name of the CEO: Michael Stuart.
Chapter 10
The elevator doors opened on the sixteenth floor, and Barrie stepped out into a waiting room worthy of a museum. She took great pleasure in L.A.’s architecture: the surreal silver curves of the Disney Concert Hall; the Streamline Moderne of LACMA, the County Museum of Art; the oh-so-noir geometric patterned staircases of the Bradbury Building.
But the lobby of the Circle Foundation was one of the best examples of modern design she’d ever seen.
Money, she thought, dazed. So much money here. It didn’t just rival GAA’s offices, it surpassed them—in artistry, anyway.
Across the vast space of the lobby, a sleek receptionist with a haircut as modern as the decor sat at an island of a—desk? counter?—speaking into her Bluetooth.
Barry moved slowly forward into the space.
There were two huge, clear glass panels standing in the light of a domed skylight, etched with names and looking vaguely like the tablets of the Ten Commandments. One side held the names of donors to the Circle Foundation, the other a list of endowed charities and causes. She recognized the names of quite a few of the organizations: homeless shelters, scholarship foundations, intervention centers for at-risk youth. And they all had something in common: they quietly catered to the needs of Others.
Her eyes stopped on one familiar name, and she froze.
Out of the Shadows.
The shelter where Tiger had been living briefly before he went back on the street.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asked from her island. The acoustics of the room were so good it sounded as if she were standing right beside Barrie.
Barrie turned to her, startled, and walked forward, improvising. “Oh, hello. I’m affiliated with Out of the Shadows,” she said smoothly. “I was in the building, and I’ve heard so much about the Circle’s offices. I just thought I’d pop in and take a look.” She faked an appreciative glance around the lobby. “Just as beautiful as everyone says.”
The receptionist gave her a practiced smile. “Yes, it’s a wonderful place to work.”
“I’m sure,” Barrie smiled back. “And I had no idea how many other organizations Circle is funding! Mr. Stuart is so modest about it all. Is he fairly new as CEO?”
“Not at all, he founded the company,” the receptionist answered, and then apologized as she reached to answer the phone.
Barrie glanced up at the glass monument in front of her, at the date etched in the clear surface.
Established 2005.
As the receptionist spoke into the phone, two men in suits came out through the glass doors leading into the inner offices.
As the doors began to close behind them, Barrie moved quickly toward them and darted through.
She heard the receptionist’s voice calling behind her, but she strode grimly along the inner hall, straight down toward what was clearly the corner office.
Another sleekly gorgeous secretary rose from her desk as Barrie barreled forward.
“I’m sorry, did you have an appointment with Mr. Stuart?”
“Yes,” Barrie said through clenched teeth, and pushed through the door.
* * *
Mick sat behind a massive desk, talking into his Bluetooth as he leaned back in an ergonomic chair, looking out on his sweeping view of Santa Monica and the ocean beyond.
He caught one glimpse of Barrie and his feet hit the floor. “Call you back,” he snapped into his headpiece, and threw it on the desk as he stood, facing her.
“Mick Townsend? Michael Stuart? J. Paul Getty? Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
“Barrie, look, sit down, let’s talk—”
“Not until I know who I’m talking to. And I mean the truth. Except, oh, right, you’re incapable of telling the truth.” She was aware that she was ranting but she couldn’t help herself. She was furious.
“Barrie—”
She sidestepped him, not letting him come near her. “Everything about you is a lie.”
“Come on, now, be fair. Do you tell everyone you’re a Keeper?”
The question stopped her dead.
“Our lives are secret, they have to be,” he said reasonably.
But you were keeping it from me, she thought, and was immediately uncomfortable with her assumption that he should tell her everything, because...