“Oh,” I said as I read through her questionnaire.
Thomas’s phone rang, and I continued reading as he began speaking with a client.
Race True was a twenty-seven-year-old woman who worked as a senior contract manager at a downtown communications firm. She’d lived in the Tampa area her entire life, except when she’d attended NYU. She held a master’s degree in business and lived on her own in Clearwater. Not too much information, but at least it narrowed our possible suspects down.
I rested the file on my leg and stared out the window. What could have had this girl jumpy enough about an email to cause her to seek help? Why not just go to the police, report the situation, and let them follow up on the threats?
Thomas sighed and rubbed his forehead as he hung up the phone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, studying his face.
“Just bullshit from a case I worked on last week. It’s a wife who suspected her husband of cheating. Long story. What do you think of Race?” he asked as he fidgeted in his chair, rocking back and forth.
“Not too much to go on,” I said.
He nodded, setting his lips in a firm line. “I know. Why don’t I show you to your office, tell you a little bit about our rules, and then you can set up a meeting with her?”
I closed her file and stood. “I want to get working right away.”
“Then let’s get you settled,” he said as he rose from his chair and walked around the desk. As he slapped me on the back, he said, “Welcome to the team, Morgan.”
“It’s good to be part of something again.”
“Ms. True please,” I said to the woman on the other end of the line.
“This is she. With whom am I speaking?” she asked in the sexiest Southern voice I’d ever heard.
“Morgan DeLuca from ALFA PI. I was given your case, ma’am.”
She hissed loud enough for it to catch me off guard. “I hate being called that.”
I made a quick mental note not to make that mistake again. “Sorry,” I said through gritted teeth. “Just trying to be polite, Ms. True.”
“It’s fine.” She sighed. “So, you’re my guy?”
“Yes. I’d like to schedule a meeting to discuss the details you left off your questionnaire.”
“Ah. If you’re going to be working for me, then I’ll share them with you, but no one else.”
“That’s fine.” I tapped the pencil against my desktop. “When are you available?”
“I can meet you tomorrow for lunch. Let’s say noon at the Blue Martini. Do you know where that is?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied. “I’ll be there at noon.” I’d lived here for a total of ninety-six hours, but I’d find it without trouble.
“Mr. DeLuca.” She cleared her throat. “Please be prompt. I don’t have time to waste waiting around for you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied before hanging up. I grimaced, knowing she’d probably cursed me because I’d called her that again.
I leaned back in my chair, taking in my new digs. The walls matched the gray ones in the waiting room. On the opposite wall from my desk there was a modern black leather couch, and two chairs were immediately in front of my desk.
My eyes stung from the endless hours of staring at a computer, trying to learn the new programs. I climbed to my feet and stretched before I grabbed my keys. I looked around my office, finally letting it sink in. I had a new purpose and could start a brand-new life. Wanting to say goodbye to Thomas, I headed to his office before leaving.
“Hey,” I said as I opened the door. I froze, seeing more than I expected.
Thomas had Angel bent over the desk with her skirt pulled up and was banging the hell out of her.
Their eyes met mine as I stood in the doorway, unable to move. “Sorry,” I said, finally finding my footing and taking a step backward. I closed the door and took a deep breath. “Fuck,” I muttered as I looked up at the ceiling. “I’ll be back later!” I yelled.
