Just tell me where he lives.”
“In University Park. I’ll text you the address. I need to see if Dyer has sent the list of residents’ names. If he has, I’m going to start running background checks.”
“Send me half the names. I can run backgrounds, too, and we’ll compile the info at home tonight.”
She nodded, then took another bite of Danish and walked out.
Charlie sat back, watching the easy sway of her shoulders in rhythm with her hips, and the stride of such long, perfect legs. Six feet of poetry in motion; he couldn’t help but wonder whose DNA was responsible for that.
Unaware she was the subject of her boss’s thoughts, Wyrick slid back into her chair, sent Allen Carson’s address to Charlie’s phone, then pulled up the email. Wayne Dyer had come through. She printed off the list of names and addresses, and took two sheets to Charlie.
“Here you go, and just know that you’ll need to leave here no later than five to get all the way to University Park during rush hour traffic.”
“Remind me,” Charlie said.
“I just did,” Wyrick said and strode out of his office at full sail.
He blinked. Damn woman. Then he set the alarm on his phone and picked up the list, but he was grinning as he typed the first name in a search bar.
Wyrick started on her list, hoping something popped for them soon.
Hours later Wyrick was forwarding files on the background searches to a computer she had at home when Charlie came out of his office.
“It’s five o’clock. I’m off to Allen Carson’s home to pick up those blueprints. I’ll deal with dinner when I get home,” he said.
She glanced up. “I’m leaving, too.”
He hesitated.
“I’ll be fine. I promise to check outside for vipers and snipers, so go. I can’t live in constant fear, okay?”
“Fine,” Charlie said and left the office.
But the moment he was gone, Wyrick realized how vulnerable she felt. So she packed up her bag, turned out all the lights and hurried to the elevator.
The ride down was brief. She came out of the car with her keys in hand, turned the corner in the hall and saw Charlie leaning against the wall beside the exit, waiting.
“Don’t go having yourself a fit,” he said. “I’m just walking you to the car.”
“I don’t have fits,” she said and lifted her chin and waited for him to open the door.
“You had some part of one the other night when you spewed Pepsi all over yourself,” he said, then pulled his gun as he exited the building.
She couldn’t argue with the truth, and waited as he looked until he was satisfied, before he motioned her out. She went straight to her car with Charlie beside her, then got in.
“Drive safe. I’ll call if I’m delayed,” he said and then stood back and waited as she drove away.
When she looked in the rearview mirror, he was still in the parking lot, watching her leave. She couldn’t think about him right now. There was too much at stake for Rachel Dean to think about how Charlie made her feel.
By the time she got home, all she wanted was to get out of her clothes and makeup and into something comfortable. She parked in the detached garage, then shouldered her bag and headed for the house, passing the greenhouse and the rose garden on the way.
The landscaping crew had obviously come and gone today, because the grass was newly mown and the hedges were clipped. It was getting late enough in the year that those services would no longer be needed until spring, but the scent of freshly cut grass was pleasant and homey, and today was also the day the twelve-person cleaning service came. She trusted them only because Merlin had trusted them, and they were well aware of the cameras everywhere inside and outside the property, so she had only to check the footage to assure herself they did nothing but clean. Plus, they’d known of her ever since she’d been living downstairs, so her presence upstairs had not changed the status quo of their job.
She was enjoying the scents in the garden, and anticipating the scents of lemon oil that came with the clean house as she hastened her steps, anxious to get inside and get back to the business of finding Rachel.
* * *
Charlie was in University Park with his GPS set on Allen Carson’s address. He couldn’t help but admire the size and the architecture of the homes he was