He goes right to the corner, a small space between the black leather couch and the wall. There’s enough room for him to wiggle his round body inside, and it instantly makes sense. It’s almost funny how he finds these spots that are so perfect for him. If I wasn’t so out of breath, I might actually laugh. He crawls back out, his paws leading the way. His jaw is clenched tight with something, and I’m prepared to breathe a giant sigh of relief. But instead, my heart plummets.
It’s not what I was expecting him to pull out . . .
It’s an envelope, more than likely some junk mail he stole from the trash, and I drop to my knees, resisting the urge to cry. I just can’t beg anymore. “Puck, what else do you have?” I push pasthim and shove my arm into the crack. Sure enough, there’s my bottle. My gaze flashes to the heavens. I’m so thankful that I vow to never leave them unlocked again. It’s just not worth it.
I scramble to my feet, ready to jet back upstairs to take my pill and salvage any sleep I can get tonight, but Puck stands there and growls at me, the envelope still in his jaw.
“What is it now?” I reach down, not expecting him to give it to me, but he walks right over and drops it at my feet. I don’t want Bill to suspect I’m rummaging in his office, so I pick up the envelope with every intention of putting it back, but pictures spill out . . .
Granite Ice hockey photos.
I raise one eyebrow as my eyes shift side to side before they drop back down and browse the photos. Goosebumps dot my spine. When my gaze lands on a random memory card, I solve this riddle.
Well, well, well . . . what do I have here?
My lips roll in, as I can’t believe I hadn’t suspected him earlier. Of course, Bill would remain silent about what he saw, and he doesn’t deal with problems in any normal rational way. It makes so much sense that he’d be passive aggressive about this.
“Good boy, Puck,” I say, my tone soothing over the tension we had between us. I pat his head and his little body wiggles all over. “You found Paisley’s stalk—”
“What’s all the commotion down here?” Bill stands in the open doorway, wearing a long-striped nightshirt that hangs just below his knees, leaving his hairy legs exposed. It’s a vision no one should ever have of their boss. I quickly cut my gaze to his face. One of his eyes is sleepily narrower than the other, but they are both firmly planted on me.
Standing up straight up again with the photos still in hand, I present my bottle as evidence. “Puck stole my anxiety pills again. He showed me where he put them, right here in your office.” I’mabout to slide my foot toward the door and avoid this drama, but everything in me says Bill needs to be called out. I slide my other hand in front of him, flashing the envelope. “Did you lose something?”
Both his eyes spring wide open as his gaze drifts from Puck to me back to his desk. With a stutter on his tongue, he musters, “I-I didn’t think I did.”
“I found them in the crack between the sofa and the wall. I’m assuming Puck put them there, but how did you get them?”
One of his brows hike into a contemplative angle, tipping me off that he might be making this up, but I listen. “I found it,” he asserts with a curt nod.
“Obviously.” I throw my hand out in an impatient gesture. “Where was it?”
“At the gala.” His head bobs south, in the direction of the hotel. “Look, she’s not who you think she is. She’s Blake's daughter, and she was here on some spy mission.”
“Not a spy mission.” I roll my eyes at Bill’s dramatics. “It was her job.” My gaze dips to the floor for a moment before I continue. “Paisley confessed to me that she tried to write a hit piece, but she changed her mind. How did you know about any of this?”
“It was too odd how she called me and asked to come study the team.” He shakes his head, a smirk growing on his face. “I’m not as dumb as you young kids think I am. I’m not going to let just anyone interview my team. I did some background checks on her and quickly uncovered who she was related to.”
“You knew who she was this whole time?” Disbelief settles in my gut. “Why did you let her come?”
One of his shoulders raises and lowers in an uncommonly slow shrug. “I figured she’d write the article if I said yes or not. If I welcomed her to work with us, I could at least keep an eye on her. It didn’t take me long to see she wasn’t interestedin showing the team's good side. She refused to take the shots I asked her to take, but she was always right there with that camera in front of her face whenever one of you got in trouble. At the gala, I was watching her, and I saw her fall. Everything happened so fast. When you pulled her out, I noticed her camera was still on the ground, and I grabbed it.”
“And you just couldn’t resist looking at it?” I say, seeing that Bill had been in control this whole time.
“I held onto the photos as insurance in case she would need some motivation andredirection.” His head tips to one side, and he tacks on, “Of course, I didn’t expect you to spend so much time with her. After I found out you were taking her out for a Valentine’s weekend, I figured I better stop it somehow. I tried to drop some hints for you to find out her last name or what hockey teams she likes, but you seemed oblivious. I knew you wouldn’t believe me, so I wanted to do something to get her to confess to you.”
“Aren’t you a Sherlock.” My tone is steeped in awe as I can’t believe I missed his schemes this whole time. There was no dangerous stalker. It was just Bill being Bill.
“I don’t know about that.” Bill reaches down and scoops up Puck, stroking his back. “I think Puck’s pretty good at sneaking around, setting up this whole scheme to get you in here.”
Bill and I both pin our gazes on Puck. “You think he did that on purpose? He’s just a dog.”
“He may be a dog, but he sees exactly what we are all up to, and he knew exactly what to do to bring it to light. He’s clearly super intelligent.” Bill chuckles, a full smile filling his lips as he adds through his chuckle, “He gets that from me.”
fourteen
Paisley
I made it home super late, but I can’t settle down, and I definitely don’t sleep. I toss and turn, my stomach a hurricane of knots. My body doesn’t even find comfort in the fact that I’m lying in my own place, in my own room, in my own luxurious bed for the first time in a month. After several long hours, I resign myself to the fact that I’m not going to sleep. I kick my blanket down to the bottom of my bed and sit up, flipping on my lamp.
