“You got it.”
As the coroner disappeared into the hall, Brad picked up his phone and scrolled through to the number for the security company.
In light of the decent scare he’d given the trespasser Thursday night, it was possible the guy was spooked and would stay away long enough to give them a chance to get cameras up and running before he came back. Best case, someone from the firm could go out there and get the cameras in place by midweek.
The only glitch?
If Steven happened to be their target, he’d have an inside track to any security measures Natalie implemented.
Meaning he’d know how to circumvent them.
That’s why getting a read on the potential DNA match was urgent.
Because if it came back positive, the cameras might not be necessary.
And Natalie’s nephew would have a whole lot of explaining to do.
HEWAS OUT OF TIME.
Shoving his cell back into his pocket, Steven stormed over to the bar in his condo, poured a scotch, and tossed it back. After refilling his glass, he continued to the window of the upscale high-rise unit that offered a panoramic view of the parkland-dotted cityscape.
These cushy digs were his home and giving them up was unthinkable.
But if he didn’t come up with his back mortgage paymentspronto, he was going to be out on his ear. They were done with his stall tactics.
He gulped down the second drink and squeezed the glass.
Natalie would give him a short-term loan if he asked, but he’d have to explain why he was in such deep debt. Reveal how desperate he was. Acknowledge his bad judgment.
Not an option. He needed to maintain his image with her as a responsible money handler or she’d never trust him with her financial affairs.
It would be much better to find the jewels, which would provide instant cash.
Well, almost instant. He’d have to exchange his bitcoin profits for cash, since virtual currency was the monetary standard for the under-the-radar transactions he’d be doing. That would only take a few days, though. He could hold off his creditors until then.
Maybe.
But he was down to the dregs in the hourglass.
That’s why he’d have to go back to Natalie’s by Wednesday afternoon. Having two extra nights to search would expedite the process.
He’d just have to be extra careful not to drop one of his dirty boots again when he returned from his hunt, as he had Saturday night. If Natalie had come out of her room moments earlier, she would have seen him sneaking down the hall in his stockinged feet, shoes in hand.
That would have been difficult to explain on the fly.
After returning to the bar, he set his glass in the sink and scrolled through the messages from the two clients who’d fled his firm early on this Monday morning.
He had to respond to them soon.
But what could he say?
Certainly not the truth, that dabbling in options and futures had been a colossal mistake. The risk had been too high,and he hadn’t had sufficient experience with those markets. He should have left speculative deals of that nature to institutional investors, which by virtue of size could absorb dramatic losses in one or two investments. By contrast, the bottom-line impact of such losses was far more profound on private-investor portfolios.
As he’d learned to his regret, attracting clients with promises of high returns was much easier than keeping them once dicey investments went south.
From here on out, he was sticking with sure bets.
Assuming he could rebuild his client base.
