“You said you needed to talk about the gala?” Linc reminded her.
She nodded. “Yeah, your dad’s douchey image consultant had the fucking audacity to send me dresses he’d deemed ‘appropriate.’” She air quoted her last word with a flourish. “He also gave me a list of talking points and topics I was not to discuss under any circumstances because this is the most important fundraiser of the season.”
“Sounds like Dad’s worried about something. Maybe the campaign isn’t going as well as he thought it would?” Wyatt said, perking up.
“Just wanted to let you know I plan on ignoring the dresses and will use the list of banned topics as my personal to-do list.”
“It would disappoint me if you didn’t,” Wyatt said.
She dropped a sloppy kiss on Linc’s forehead and then Wyatt’s before sauntering toward the door. “Oh, and B.T. dubs, I’m pretty sure there’s a private investigator lurking in your lobby. Just so you know.”
Linc went rigid at her casual statement. “Why do you think they’re a PI?”
“Because he’s wearing a hat and sunglasses inside and he was talking to the front desk guy all shady like. Also, I’m pretty sure he was filming me getting on the elevator.” She checked her phone before setting it down and shoving both hands in her hair until it looked disheveled. She untucked half her shirt and smeared her shell-pink lipstick.
“What the hell are you doing, you freak?” Wyatt asked, spoon paused in midair.
“I just told you there’s a private investigator in the lobby. I’m making it look like I just came over here for a quickie.You’re welcome. God, I have to do all the mental heavy lifting around here.” She snagged her purse and gave a little wave. “Bye, boys. See you tomorrow night.”
Linc waited fifteen minutes before heading down to the lobby. Charlie was right. Sitting in a plush green chair was a man in a pink polo shirt wearing aviators and a baseball cap. While he didn’t have a camera, he’d set himself up so his phone pointed toward the elevators.
The usual morning crew stood behind the desk, their eyes darting between the man and Linc as he approached. The boy working wasn’t much older than Wyatt. He had rich copper skin and a close-cropped fade and eyes so dark brown they appeared almost black. His name was Reggie. He and Linc had made small talk and exchanged pleasantries a hundred times over the course of Linc’s employment and when he approached, Reggie gave a half-hearted wave.
“Hey, Linc.”
“Hey. How’s it going?”
The boy’s gaze once more slid to the man in the pink shirt before he leaned in close. “Is Wyatt okay, dude?”
Unease trickled along Linc’s spine. “Why do you ask?”
“I just mean, first he doesn’t leave his apartment for months, then when he does, you show up and follow him everywhere, now his dad’s got some PI watching our lobby. Did somebody, like, put a hit out on him or something?”
Linc turned to look at the man. “That guy says he works for Mr. Edgeworth?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you call the senator’s office to confirm? Why didn’t anybody call and ask me?”
Reggie winced, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Linc, man, I just work here. I assume my manager talked to somebody.”
“If you see anything else like this or if anybody shows up here asking questions, you call me,” Linc said, handing him a card with his number on it.
“Sure. Is Wyatt okay, though?”
That was a great question. Linc had no idea. “Yeah, he’s fine. This is all his father’s campaign people. He pays them to be paranoid, you know?”
Reggie nodded, though his expression implied he didn’t know. Linc turned away, pulling up Jackson’s number and hitting the call button.
“Avery,” Jackson said, by way of greeting.
“What do you know about Edgeworth hiring a PI to sit on our lobby?”
There was a long pause. “There’s a PI in the penthouse’s lobby?”
“Yeah, the front desk guy says the PI claims Edgeworth hired him to stake out the place. Does that make any sense to you? If he was going to watch the lobby, why not contact you? You handle all his private security, no?”
“I’ll call you back.”
