Annette nodded to the tall, wide-shouldered man who served as the head of security. “How are you this morning, Blake?”
Blake Dillard had been with Otis for twenty years. He was trained in every manner of hand-to-hand combat and was an expert marksman. Four years in the army’s special forces had ensured that his survival instincts were honed to perfection. No one got past Blake.
The big man smiled. “Seeing you always brightens my day.”
The genuine sentiment made Annette smile. “Is he in?” He would be. He rarely left home.
“Yes.”
Annette didn’t have to ask where she would find him. Even Otis possessed one or two predictable traits.
“Thank you, Blake.”
Annette’s heels clicked on the marble floor as she followed the entry hall to the observatory. When she reached for the door, she prepared for the change in temperature. The instant she opened the door the hot humidity rushed to meet her. A jungle of greenery towered to the second-story glass ceiling. An array of blooming plants served as the undercanopy. Otis had spent years cultivating his hobby. He insisted the gardening provided great stress relief. Annette was certain that maintaining the moisture content and nutritional level of hundreds of plants would do nothing for reducing her stress level. But then, operating at a higher state of arousal had its benefits.
“This is an unexpected pleasure.” Otis Fleming did not look up from his scrutiny of the beautiful orchids he tended so meticulously. As casual as his comment might sound to anyone else, Annette understood that he was not pleased, much less pleasured, by her unscheduled appearance.
“We need to discuss my situation.” A detailed explanation was not necessary. He was aware of her current circumstances.
He set aside the spray bottle he used to mist the fragile flowers and turned his full attention on her. Despite his age, Otis continued to be a handsome, distinguished man. His hair had grayed to a lustrous white. His blue eyes were sharp and bright. Though not a tall man, his posture remained perfect, his bearing nothing less than refined. The multi-thousand-dollar suits he wore were tailor-made for him. He flew to New York each spring and fall to revitalize his wardrobe.
Most importantly, behind that sophisticated appearance thrived an intelligence bordering on sheer genius.
“I’m certain I’ve made my position clear on the matter.” He reached for a cloth and wiped his hands. “What more is there to say?”
He had no intention of making this easy. She took a breath of the muggy air and reinforced her courage. “My assumption that Wainwright would assign the case to Carson Tanner was correct. He’s already begun his investigation.”
Otis folded the cloth and placed it on the table next to the lovely pot of orchids. “I would’ve been immensely surprised had he not chosen Tanner. He is, after all, the very best employed by the District Attorney’s Office.”
“Then you can understand my reservations.”
“Certainly.” Otis approached her, his gaze sweeping from her chignon to her stilettos and back. When he had finished his meticulous appraisal, approval glinted in his eyes. “You, my dear, have no reason to be concerned.” He stopped one step away and took her hand so that he could cradle it in both of his. “You need only keep your head about you. Unless you crack under the pressure, he will find nothing.” He studied her a moment that turned to two, then three before adding, “Unless there is some facet of this situation about which you’ve failed to make me aware.”
Annette tensed before she could stop the reaction. Instantly schooling the response, she placed her free hand atop his and squeezed. “I’ve told you everything. Of course.” She pressed her lips together and gave her head the slightest shake. “But my instincts are screaming at me. There is something more here than we know. This goes deeper than a mere attempt to tie you to certain activities. I can feel it.”
Otis released her hand and placed his on her shoulder to gently turn and guide her from the observatory. “There is always that possibility. But you must never allow your instincts to override your logic.”
The cooler air in the hall rushed into her hungry lungs. “You’re right, as always.”
“As always.” He ushered her toward his study. “Why don’t we have coffee and chat?”
“That would be nice.”
The study had a classic design, yet the decor was anything but the usual fare. Exotic woods and art from the deepest, darkest corners of the earth ensured a strikingly alien feel steeped in mystery.
While Otis instructed Blake to prepare their refreshments, she surveyed the room she knew as well as any in her own home. Elegantly bound books, exquisite art, and no shortage of plaques proclaiming his vast philanthropic deeds. But not a single photograph. None of relatives, none of friends. Not one single thing that could connect him to anyone. And yet he knew everyone.
Blake arrived with the tray and served the coffee. Annette accepted the cup and thanked him.
“So.” Otis sipped his steaming brew. “Tell me about Mr. Carson Tanner.” His gaze settled on hers. “You’ve done your preliminary work?”
Images of frantic sex attempted to invade her head, but she banished them. “Yes.”
She contemplated for a time what she would say next. Otis waited patiently. He preferred a thorough analysis, not some half-baked pitch.
“He’s relentless as well as resourceful. He won’t give up easily.” Her curiosity roused. She told herself the reaction was foolish, certainly uncharacteristic. Carson Tanner was work, self-preservation, nothing more.
“Where would the challenge be if he chose not to do his job to the fullest extent of his capabilities?”
