Dangerous Impostor Read online

  The detective’s eyebrows had crept upward during her tirade. “Shouting at me won’t help your situation, Ms. Bradley.”

  My situation?

  Lauren’s anger faded as quickly as it had flared, replaced by a numbing shock. What was he accusing her of? Did he really think she was somehow involved in Frank’s death?

  But she wasn’t! Surely he could see that she wasn’t capable of doing anything so horrible.

  I’ll call Daddy, that’s what I’ll do. If anyone can get me out of this, it’s Daddy. He always knows what to do.

  The ringing of a cell phone jangled in the awkward silence of the room. It took Lauren a minute to realize the phone was hers. She reached for it on the nightstand and glanced at the screen, aware of Gaines watching her movements with the concentration of a tiger on an unsuspecting antelope.

  The number displayed on the screen sent a flood of relief through her tense muscles. Thank goodness. Someone who could help her.

  She spoke to the detective as she answered the call. “Here’s someone who can verify what I’ve been telling you. My boss is here.”

  Brent exited the elevator and strode across plush carpet down the hotel corridor, following the signs to room number 652. He rapped on the door. It was opened almost immediately by a uniformed Las Vegas police officer.

  “Hi, I’m Brent Emerson. I’m here to see Ms. Bradley.”

  The young officer’s head cocked almost imperceptibly as he subjected Brent to a moment of scrutiny, then he jerked a nod and stepped to one side. Brent scanned the room as he crossed the threshold. A stern-faced man in a white button-down and a generic charcoal gray tie sat at the desk near the window. Feet planted squarely on the floor in front of him, strong jaw thrust forward, the man exuded the confidence of one who was comfortable with his position and enjoyed the authority it gave him.

  Across from him, Lauren huddled in a standard-issue hotel armchair. Her arms were wrapped tightly across her middle, hands clutching her sleeves just above the elbows. The round eyes she turned toward him appeared larger than normal in her dainty face, and the way she pressed back into the chair, as though putting as much distance between herself and the stern-faced man stirred in him a desire to stand between them forming a protective barrier with his body.

  Instead, he switched his overnight bag to his left hand and approached the man with his right extended. “Hello, I’m Brent Emerson, vice president of information technology for Sterling Foods.”

  The man rose and took his hand in a firm grip. “Detective Victor Gaines.” His words were clipped through thin lips.

  Brent turned and aimed a supportive smile toward Lauren. “Are you doing okay?”

  At his soft tone, she unfolded the knots of her arms and rose. Tears sparkled in the eyes she turned up to his. For a moment he considered opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. Though definitely not appropriate behavior between an employee and her superior, this was a special circumstance. She’d been through a horrendous experience and obviously needed comfort.

  Before he could move, she folded her arms again and took a half step backward, her expression pinched. “Thank you for coming all this way, Mr. Emerson. I appreciate it. Especially since it appears I need a character witness.”

  Surprised, Brent turned toward the detective. “Why would she need a character witness?”

  The ends of the man’s mouth twitched upward in a cool smile. “A man has been killed. I’m simply attempting to uncover the facts. Perhaps you could verify some of them.”

  “Of course. I’ll try.”

  Gaines took his seat and gestured toward Brent to be seated, as well. He set his overnight bag on the floor and lowered himself into the second armchair while Lauren returned to the other.

  “Ms. Bradley states that she and the victim, Mr. Labetti, are in Las Vegas to attend a technology conference on behalf of your company.”

  “That’s right.” Rose had known about the conference when he called her to make his flight arrangements.

  “And that she has only been employed by your company since July 18?”

  Brent thought back. “I’d have to verify the date, but that sounds about right.”

  “How does Ms. Bradley get along with her coworkers?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Brent saw Lauren stiffen. He kept his head turned toward the detective as he answered.

  “Fine, as far as I know. I head up a department with over a hundred employees, so I don’t have a lot of day-to-day interaction with most of them. From what I’ve heard everyone seems to think she’s good at her job.”

  “Do you know if she’s particularly close to anyone?”

  A strangled noise of denial emitted from Lauren’s throat, but the detective held Brent’s gaze.

  Brent shook his head, trying to follow Gaines’s thought process. Why would he ask about Lauren, when it was Frank who had been killed? The man’s attitude bordered on insulting.

  “I don’t know the answer to that, detective. Is it important?”

  Lauren blurted out, “Please tell him I wasn’t having an affair with Frank.”

  Surprised, Brent turned a disbelieving stare on her. “Excuse me?”

  “He thinks Frank and I were having an affair, and I shot him out of a fit of jealousy or something.” Tears strangled her words.

  “That’s an interesting theory.” Gaines’s stare switched to Lauren, and deepened in intensity. “I haven’t said anything of the kind, but it’s interesting that you came up with it on your own.”

  She paled, eyes widening. “You—I mean, your questions all seemed to be leading up to that.”

  “Wait a minute.” Brent held his palms up. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was going in. He speared Gaines with a direct look. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but if you’re accusing Ms. Bradley of a crime, maybe we need to contact an attorney.”

  If he’d hoped the magic word, attorney, would have a dampening effect on the detective’s accusing attitude, he was disappointed. The man’s smile actually deepened into the first genuine one Brent had seen since he walked in the door. It wasn’t comforting.

  Gaines slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “No need for that. I think we have everything we need for now.” He looked at Lauren. “How long will you be in town?”

  Her gaze flew to the connecting doorway, where someone in gray overalls with the police emblem on the breast pocket was cleaning the door with a dark blue rag. “I was scheduled to stay all week, but—”

  “Good.” The detective cut her off. “It would be a good idea for you to keep to your planned schedule and stick around for a few days. We might have more questions.”

  His meaning, though unspoken, was nonetheless apparent. Brent saw it register on Lauren’s face. Her mouth gaped open as she realized she was being told not to leave town, as though she really were a suspect.

  The detective nodded a farewell toward Brent and left the room. He stepped through the open connecting doorway, where his voice could be heard barking a request for an update on the investigation of the crime scene.

  Brent faced his stricken employee. “I’m sure you don’t have anything to worry about. He’s just being thorough.”

  She gave a shaky nod. “It’s just the thought that Frank and I…” Her words trailed off, and she shuddered. “You can’t imagine how repulsive that idea is to me.”

  What an odd thing to say about a dead coworker. Sure, Frank wasn’t the most loved guy in the information-technology department. He was known for being abrasive and something of a loudmouth. But he was intelligent, one of the smartest programmers Brent had on his staff. And he wasn’t a bad-looking guy, as far as Brent could judge. Surely not repulsive.

  He looked more closely at Lauren. What was it about this girl that had raised Detective Gaines’s suspicions? To Brent she looked like a lovely and highly vulnerable young woman who was caught in a nightmare situation over which she had no control. But as his sister was fond o
f telling him, he’d always had a weakness for women in distress. The knight-in-shining-armor syndrome, Emily called it. Always charging in to rescue someone, and getting wounded in the process.

  Still, Lauren was an employee of Sterling Foods, and it was his job, his responsibility, to help her.

  “Don’t worry. Gaines might be offensive, but he seems like he’s good at his job. He’ll get to the bottom of this, find out who killed Frank, and it’ll all work out. In the meantime, we’ll both hang around here. I haven’t been to an INTEROP conference in too many years.”

  Hope sprang into her face. “You’ll stay in Vegas with me? Thank you, Mr. Emerson. I really appreciate that.”

  “Please, call me Brent. You know we don’t stand on ceremony around the office.”

  She gave a hesitant smile, and confidence flooded the grateful eyes she turned upward to lock with his. “Thank you, Brent. I feel better already.”

  The sound of his whispered name stirred up an odd flutter in his stomach. Oh, yeah. Emily was right. He needed to move cautiously here. Before he donned the armor and mounted the steed, he’d better make a few calls back to Atlanta and find out more about Lauren. After all, she looked innocent and vulnerable, but looks could be deceiving. Gaines’s obvious suspicions might be based on facts Brent didn’t have access to. Leave it to him to jump to the defense of Lucrezia Borgia looking for her next victim.

  THREE

  “But surely you’ve got another room.”

  Lauren tightened her grip on the edge of the high counter and tried to keep her voice calm, though she wanted to shout at the hotel desk clerk.

  “You can’t expect me to stay in that one, where…” She closed her eyes against a resurgence of the vivid image of Frank’s body tumbling through the door into her hotel room. “I’ll take anything you have. The penthouse, maybe. I’ll gladly pay the difference between that and the conference rate for my single room. Or a broom closet with a cot, even. I don’t care.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” The older woman didn’t look sorry. She looked stoic as her fingers ceased their tapping on the keyboard. “With this conference, we’re completely booked. We had one suite available, and that young man just took it.”

  Young man? The woman nodded toward a point behind Lauren. She glanced over her shoulder, where Brent stood on the other side of the hotel lobby at the entrance to the casino, his expression serious as he spoke into a cell phone. He raised a hand and gestured in the air to emphasize something he was saying. Standing there in jeans and a long-sleeved polo he did look young, and far more relaxed than he appeared in more formal clothing at the office. When she’d interviewed with him as an applicant, she had been impressed that someone as young as he held such an important position in a company the size of Sterling Foods. It had been one of the deciding factors in her taking the job. Who wouldn’t want to work for a company progressive enough to recognize talent and ability rather than age when considering the placement of their top management? A good place for a young, upwardly mobile business analyst like herself.

  Not that she’d had much choice when the job offer arrived. Any job was better than no job.

  A familiar pair walked past Brent, and she watched his head turn as he followed their progress. She didn’t blame him for staring. How often did anyone see Elvis Presley and Frank Sinatra stroll through a hotel lobby together? When the taxi had arrived yesterday she’d noticed the hotel marquis advertising the Best Celebrity Impersonators on the Strip! When she’d left the restaurant and headed up to her room last night, her coworker Frank had pointed out “Barbara Streisand” and “Zsa Zsa Gabor” threading their way through the casino, talking to guests.

  She shuddered at the memory of Frank.

  Lauren turned back to the desk clerk. She spoke in a low voice that could not be overheard. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of what happened here last night, but a man was killed in the room next to mine. Would you be able to sleep in that room?”

  Apparently the hotel management had briefed the staff on the murder, because the woman didn’t appear surprised. She did, however, show the first emotion Lauren had seen. Sympathy flooded her eyes.

  “I don’t blame you one bit, honey, but I can’t give you a room we don’t have.” She glanced sideways before she leaned closer to Lauren and whispered, “Maybe you should consider moving to another hotel.”

  Which was the first thing Lauren had considered, but the conference center was attached to this hotel. Anyplace else would be inconvenient. Besides, after that nasty detective’s parting comment about keeping to her planned schedule, she was almost afraid moving to another location would make him more suspicious of her. Far better to go on with her trip as planned, and not give him any reason to watch her more closely.

  Could she stay in that room for a full week without seeing Frank’s body every time she glanced at the connecting door? A chill crept over her as her mind latched on to a possibility she had not considered before. What if his killer returned to the scene of the crime? Just how secure was that adjoining door?

  Brent approached from behind and stood at her shoulder. “So, are we all set here?”

  Lauren looked up at him. She’d never noticed how tall he was, at least a good five inches taller than she was. He must stand over six feet. Of course, she’d never stood this close to him. Nor had she noticed the color of his eyes, a smoky gray flecked with amber, like the smoldering ashes of a bonfire. His broad shoulders and strong arms made her feel almost child-sized beside him.

  “They don’t have any more rooms available.” She put on a brave smile. “Looks like I’ll have to stay where I am.”

  “You got our last available room,” the clerk told him.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” His brow creased for a moment, then cleared. “Well, no problem. I don’t mind staying in your room. You can have the suite.”

  He pulled his card key out of his jeans pocket and extended it to Lauren.

  A wave of gratitude warmed the chill that had begun to build as Lauren had braced herself to return to her room. What a nice gesture. Not only was Brent handsome and strong and successful, he was sensitive, too. Just like Daddy, and just like—

  Thoughts of the ex-boyfriend she didn’t even want to think about slapped her in the face. She was doing it again, looking for some guy to bail her out of trouble. To take care of her. What was the matter with her that she always looked for someone else to be the strong one? Obviously she really was the pampered, helpless little girl her stepmother accused her of being.

  “No.” She jerked her hand away from the card.

  He looked startled. “Are you sure? It’s completely understandable that you wouldn’t want to stay in that room after what you’ve been through.” He pushed the key toward her again.

  A sense of desperate longing nearly changed her mind. It would be so much easier to just say yes. After all, Brent had flown all this way to help her. Why not let him help?

  She straightened her back and stood taller. No, she was a grown woman, twenty-four years old, and more than capable of taking care of herself. She could handle this without leaning on an emotional crutch, no matter how strong and handsome that crutch might be. And besides, Brent was her boss, and she knew better than anyone what could happen to a girl who develops emotional attachments to her boss.

  Besides, surely the killer wouldn’t return or the police would have mentioned that as a possibility. Right?

  “Thank you, but no.” She tilted her chin upward and straightened her shoulders. “I’ll be fine where I am.”

  Brent threaded his way through the casino, following the signs to the hotel tower elevators and the conference center. The siren song of slot machines filled the air with a seductive ching, ching, ching, while a sea of rainbow lights lured gamblers with promises of instant wealth. A good number of them had attracted hopeful prey, even though it was just past ten o’clock in the morning Vegas time. How anyone could sit on a chair and feed money into a machine was
beyond Brent’s comprehension. He worked too hard for his money to throw it away a quarter at a time.

  He glanced over his shoulder where Lauren trailed behind him, her briefcase slung over one shoulder and clutched close to her side. The brave set of her chin when she refused his offer to switch hotel rooms had impressed him, even as it made him wonder at the reason for such an action. Why would she voluntarily return to a room that made her uncomfortable when there was an easy alternative?

  His phone call to Rose had left him with a tendril of unease. Though she had verified Lauren’s date of hire in the company’s human-resource system, the applicant records had been incomplete. Lauren’s pre-employment references were all stellar, but included only personal contacts and a couple of former college professors. Not a single prior employer. And yet her resume indicated that she had worked for a software firm for a year prior to applying for the job at Sterling Foods. Why were there no reference checks performed to verify her employment history?

  Rose hadn’t seemed concerned. “If she was still employed by the software firm when she applied here, she might have asked our recruiter not to contact her current employer. That’s pretty common when someone doesn’t want their boss to know they’re looking for a job.”

  “But after she was hired, wouldn’t we have run some sort of check just to verify that the information she supplied on her resume was correct?” he’d asked.