Runaway Wolfes of Manhattan Three - Helen Hardt Page 0,50

again.

I was one step closer to Riley. My heart was beating hard. More like galloping. Was Riley even here? Fox had said she had an MO of disappearing. Had she come back here when she left Montana? I had no idea. No idea at all. But if her father had just died, chances were pretty good.

Instead of catching a cab, I walked several blocks to the Wolfe building with my phone as my guide.

New Yorkers bustled around me, never smiling, some bumping into me without so much as an “excuse me.” Man. Why did anyone live here? Everything was so crowded and closed in.

I pondered this as I stopped abruptly when my phone chided me.

“You have arrived.”

Okay, then. So this silver skyscraper was the Wolfe Building. It was no Empire State Building, but it was a mountain of steel nonetheless.

I drew in a deep breath and entered through the revolving doors.

Several armed guards greeted me, along with metal detectors.

“Good morning.” I smiled.

My smile wasn’t returned. “Please place your phone and all metal objects in the container, sir,” one of them said.

I complied, and after he nodded, I walked through the detector.

I nearly jumped when the damned thing beeped.

“Come back through, sir,” the guard said.

Meanwhile, others were lined up behind me, frowning. I’d angered the masses.

“Please spread your arms,” the guard said as he hovered a wand over me. “Seems good now. Do you have any artificial joints?”

“No.” I pulled the silver pendant out of my pocket. “Is this the problem?”

“Yeah. Probably. Why didn’t you put it in the container?”

“I…forgot it was there.”

“All right. You’re good. Go ahead to the reception desk.”

“Thanks.”

Yeah. A lie. I hadn’t forgotten it was there. I just didn’t want to shove it into a container with other things that had no meaning.

I headed toward the reception desk.

“May I help you?” one of the four receptionists—the only one who wasn’t busy—asked.

“I’d like to see Lacey Ward, please.”

“You mean Lacey Wolfe?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

“No problem. She hasn’t been married long. Sign in there, please.” She gestured to an iPad. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I—”

“Wait,” she interrupted me. “You can’t have an appointment. The Wolfes are all out today for Mr. Wolfe’s memorial service.”

“Right. I don’t have an appointment.” I thought quickly. “I just came to ask her about the details of the memorial. You know, so I can go pay my respects.”

“You’re a friend of the Wolfe family?”

“Yes. I’m a friend of Riley’s.”

“How nice.” She handed me a crisp card with the Wolfe logo at the top. “Here are the details. The service is at two.”

I took the card from her. “Awesome. Thanks for your help.”

I scanned the card. St. Andrew’s Parish. Wake to follow at the Waldorf Astoria.

Apparently I was going to a memorial service this afternoon. For now, though? I had to buy something to wear. Jeans and a T-shirt weren’t going to cut it for Derek Wolfe’s funeral.

Thank God I had a decent credit line on the one card I carried with me. Black slacks, a black silk tie, and a white button-down shirt in Manhattan set me back two grand. What the fuck? That was more than I’d spent on clothes in my entire adult life.

Despite the fact that I was now two grand in the hole, I took a cab to St. Andrew’s for the ceremony. I didn’t want to take a chance of being late. I arrived at the church and stood with my mouth hanging open.

It was a gorgeous old building, almost like something out of Paris or Barcelona. Granite stones and ornate stained-glass windows.

Okay. New York had something to offer after all—besides Riley Wolfe, that was. I was a western boy, but we didn’t have historic buildings like this in Montana. Hordes of people milled around the entrance. Would there even be room for everyone? I pushed through as best I could, finally making it inside.

“Welcome,” someone said, handing me a program. “Be sure to sign the guest book.”

“Thank you.” Then I bypassed the guest book. I didn’t even know the man. I was here to see his daughter.

Of course I wouldn’t see her now. She was no doubt up front in the roped-off areas. I’d have to find her after the service. I quickly found a pew that wasn’t completely filled and took a seat in the back.

I opened the pamphlet containing the program for the service.

Derek Paul Wolfe

He was sixty-five years old. Still a young man. Everything I’d read since I found out who Riley was indicated he’d been the