Dangerous Impostor Page 7
To make matters worse, Brent was apparently feeling the stress, as well. Though he’d lost none of his professionalism during this last part of the workshop, he rushed through the question-and-answer session. He still answered all the participants’ questions, but his short sentences and rapid-fire words made it obvious he was in a hurry. That suited her just fine, since the quicker this session ended, the sooner David would leave. But why was Brent rushing? Had he seen David in the audience?
Finally, the workshop time drew to a close. With a quick mouse click, Brent closed down the projection display.
“All right, folks. That’s all we have time for.” Relief flooded his tone and the smile he swept over the room. “Thanks for coming. If you have any more questions, feel free to email me or Ms. Bradley after the conference.”
A polite applause filled the room. Lauren couldn’t manage a smile as their audience began filing through the doors to head to their next sessions. Now was the danger time. Would David approach her? What if his intent was to do more than simply intimidate her? Nerves taut, she left the notebooks on the table and hurried across the room to where Brent still sat at the other table. Surely her ex wouldn’t try anything within hearing distance of Brent.
Brent glanced up at her for only a second, then returned his attention to the computer monitor. “Hey. I think I found something important.” He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard by the attendees filing through the main doors on their way to their next session.
Standing in relative safety at his side, Lauren risked a glance toward the rear of the room. David had left. She almost collapsed into the chair next to Brent. Thank goodness.
“You are not going to believe who was in this room.” She kept her voice at a whisper, as well.
Brent didn’t look away from the computer monitor, his fingers busy on the keyboard. “Yeah? Who?”
“David Reynolds.” Lauren swallowed hard. Even the sound of his name on her lips left tendrils of anxiety.
Brent shot her a quick look. “Seriously? I’m surprised he had the nerve to show up here.”
“Trust me, he has lots of nerve.” She studied his face, noted the tight line his lips formed as he concentrated on the computer in front of him. “You didn’t see him?”
“Wouldn’t know the guy from Adam. Never met him.”
So David wasn’t the reason for the sudden tension in Brent during the session. She looked at the computer monitor, curious about what demanded such concentration. On the display was a list of files. The file names, she noted, were nothing but a string of numbers. She wasn’t a computer novice, but these file types weren’t familiar at all. Definitely technical stuff.
“You said you might have found something?”
He nodded. “I’m not sure what it is yet, but it’s definitely Frank’s work. Looks like when we activated the network for our demonstration, this computer opened a protected connection to the internet and began receiving data.”
“Really?” Lauren straightened and looked again at the screen. “Can you tell who it’s coming from?”
“No.” His jaws bulged as his teeth clenched. “They’re definitely database transactions, but they’re encrypted and password protected. It’s a pretty sophisticated encryption code.”
A pair of conference attendees stood near the rear doors talking to each other. Though they spoke quietly, the room’s acoustics carried the drone of their voices to Lauren in the front. She watched as Brent’s fingers tapped the keyboard, and the screen filled with unintelligible data. Brent leaned forward, studying what looked like a bunch of gobbledygook to her.
As if this day wasn’t bad enough. Frank’s death. Being questioned by that stern detective. The blackjack dealer. The money. Her first public presentation. David. She could feel tension knotting the muscles in her neck and sending stabs of pain into her skull. Her fingers kneaded at the knots. She should get started packing up their equipment. The room would be needed in an hour.
“I sure could use a cup of hot tea,” she murmured, more to herself than to Brent.
“I’m sure the conference has refreshments set up somewhere for the attendees.” He didn’t look away from the screen to answer.
True, and for a nanosecond she considered going to look for them. A stab of fear made her head throb. “I’m not setting foot outside of this room by myself. Not only is my ex-boss here, but there’s also a killer on the loose.”
The words left her mouth, followed immediately by a disturbing thought. What if they’re one and the same?
No, that was a ridiculous notion. David was dishonest and controlling, but she couldn’t imagine any scenario where he would kill someone.
“There’s a kitchen area just a few doors down that hallway.” Brent nodded toward the access door to the left of the giant projection screen. “They had coffee, so they probably have tea, too. It’s a private access corridor for the conference staff. When I was out there, I didn’t see a soul.”
The thought of leaving the room alone, even though a private hallway, left her cold. Then she felt foolish. Once again, she was hovering around a guy for protection. If she was afraid to walk a few yards by herself to get a cup of tea, she really was a sniveling, dependent little girl.
She put a hand on the table and pushed herself upright. “Okay. You want me to bring you something?”
Distractedly, he mumbled, “Yeah, water would be good.”
When she got to the door, she hesitated. What if David had found the rear exit and was waiting to get her alone? The door was thick, probably soundproof, and swung closed automatically. If she got into a struggle, Brent would never hear her.
Feeling like a wimp, she retrieved one of the small laptop boxes and used it as a wedge to prop the door open. There. Now if she screamed, she’d be heard.
On second thought, if David Reynolds tried to approach her, she would hold nothing back. They’d hear her scream in every casino up and down the Strip.
TEN
The encryption code Frank had used was impressive. Brent tried every trick he knew to crack into the numbered files, but nothing worked. Frustrated, he accessed Sterling Foods’ main servers through the internet connection and typed the commands to start an automatic code generator process. It would probably take hours, if not days, but eventually he would crack Frank’s code.
He’d barely finished keying in the last command when one of the main doors swung open with a bang. Detective Gaines, tailed by two uniformed Las Vegas police officers, entered the room.
“Where is Ms. Bradley?”
He barked the question like a command, which immediately set Brent’s teeth together. Did the man take lessons in offensive behavior? If he intended to force Brent’s cooperation by assuming an obnoxiously superior attitude, he failed. In fact, Brent felt his hackles rise.
“She’s not here.”
The detective strode down the center aisle of empty chairs, his expression settling into a smirk. “I can see that. Where is she?”
Brent considered his response. He didn’t want to lie. That rubbed like sandpaper against his beliefs. But neither could he put Lauren in this man’s control.
“She was really uptight after our presentation and needed a break.” Completely true. A search for tea counted as a break, didn’t it?
“So she went back to her room?”
Brent struggled to come up with a way to answer truthfully. Instead, he shrugged.
Gaines arrived at the computer table and stood on the other side, towering over him. If his glare was meant to be intimidating, he succeeded. Brent found himself fighting not to look away, a sure indication of deception.
After a moment, the detective’s expression became speculative. “Mr. Emerson, I’d like to share something with you, something we’ve uncovered.”
Had the guy dug up a record of Lauren’s birthday gift from her father? Or had he, like Mason, spoken with the insidious David Reynolds?
“What might that be, Detective?”
Brent’s thoughts kicked into high gear. Frequent international travel did look suspicious, because the average American couldn’t afford it. But Lauren was the daughter of a wealthy world traveler.
“She told me her father is spending the month at their villa in Italy.” He shrugged. “The guy must have money, and I guess he likes to take his daughter with him on his travels. There’s no law against that, is there?”
The detective’s expression went stony. “Perhaps not. But guess who has also been in Costa Rica within the past six months?” He leaned across the table and placed his face inches from Brent’s. “The victim, Frank Labetti.”
Brent jerked back in his chair, shocked. “Lauren went to Costa Rica with Frank?”
Gaines’s head shrugged sideways. “It doesn’t look like they were there at exactly the same time, but it’s still suspicious.”
A laugh eked out of Brent’s lungs. “Come on, Detective. Are you going to question every American who visits Costa Rica?”
The man’s lips pursed as he let the question pass unanswered. “The other piece of evidence we uncovered is more compelling.” He rounded the table and, uninvited, slid into the empty chair that Lauren had vacated moments before. Sitting sideways on the seat, he faced Brent full-on. “We haven’t recovered the murder weapon yet. But we did discover an interesting tidbit of information. Two weeks ago in a gun shop just outside Atlanta, a woman purchased a handgun with a silencer. The gun shop’s records indicate the buyer’s name was Lauren Bradley.”
A block of cement formed in Brent’s gut. The weight glued him to his chair. He couldn’t have moved if he’d wanted to. There had to be some mistake. Was Lauren a gun collector, maybe? But if that were true, why buy a silencer?
The image of her face, those clear eyes, hovered in his mind. He couldn’t believe she’d deceived him. He wouldn’t believe it.
“Listen, Detective.” He leaned forward and forced the man to meet his gaze. “I can’t explain that, and I’m not even going to try. But I do know that Lauren didn’t kill Frank. I’d stake my career on that. Something strange is going on here. People keep accusing her of doing things she swears she didn’t do. I believe her. Someone is trying to frame her.”
The man snorted and shook his head with disgust. A hand rose to pinch the back of his neck as he gave Brent a pitying stare. “She’s got you fooled, Mr. Emerson.”
Brent’s spine stiffened. “I don’t think so, Detective Gaines.”
He endured a long moment under the man’s piercing gaze. Then Gaines slapped his hands on his thighs and rose.
“Regardless of your opinion, I’ve got enough circumstantial evidence to take her in for questioning. So where is she?”
Brent went still. His response formed in his mind, the words carefully noncommittal.
“She was very tense and said she needed to relax. You might try her hotel room.”
Gaines held his gaze for the span of three breaths, then gave a curt nod. “I’ll do that. And if you see her first, I’m sure you’ll let her know I’d like to speak to her, won’t you?”
Brent answered absolutely truthfully. “Of course, Detective. As soon as I see her.”
With one more weighty stare, Gaines strode out of the room, the two officers on his tail. Not until the door closed behind them did Brent allow himself to sag against the chair back.
The paper tab from the tea bag dangled over the rim of the coffee cup in one of Lauren’s hands. In the other she carried a glass of ice water for Brent. The only people she’d seen in this back hallway were a pair of women in serving aprons wheeling a cart loaded with pitchers of ice water and glasses. Not a sign of David lurking around, thank goodness.
As she neared the door she’d propped open with a box, Brent’s voice reached her ears.
“She told me her father is spending the month at his villa in Italy.”
Lauren stopped. Who was Brent talking to about her? Had David returned to find her? She shrank against the wall and slid slowly toward the door, halting just outside.
“Guess who has also been in Costa Rica within the past six months?” A pause. “The victim, Frank Labetti.”
She knew that voice. Not David, but Detective Gaines. He’d come back to question her some more. A shudder threatened. Another session with the bullying detective? Her nerves were so frazzled she couldn’t handle that right now.
Then his words penetrated. Frank has also visited Costa Rica? Why, they were talking about her! She had flown to Costa Rica a couple of months ago. Daddy had taken her and Lisa for the weekend. But Frank hadn’t been there. Anger warmed the skin beneath her collar. Gaines was still trying to make it sound as if she and Frank had been having an affair.
Well, she’d just march right in there and tell him how wrong he was. She heaved herself off the wall in preparation to stepping through the doorway.
The next words that drifted to her stopped her cold.
“The gun shop’s records indicate the buyer’s name was Lauren Bradley.”
A violent trembling took possession of her body. Hot tea sloshed out of the cup and burned her fingers. Moving carefully, she knelt and set the cup and glass on the floor, but once she was down on her haunches she lacked the strength to rise again. Her legs were shaking too badly to support her.
They thought she’d bought a gun. But she hadn’t! So how could some gun shop in Atlanta have her name?
Did Frank somehow falsify those records? He must have done so. He, or someone he was working with. Maybe even the person who shot him. The sheer volume of the evidence against her proved someone was intent on pinning Frank’s murder on her. This was not just someone covering their tracks. No, they wanted her personally.
A ragged breath shuddered into her lungs as the realization hit her. There was no other explanation. But why? She’d never harmed anyone.
Except David.
“No.” The word came out as a whisper and made barely more noise than a silent footfall on thick carpet.
She hadn’t done anything to David except leave him. Surely he wasn’t vindictive enough to want her to go to prison for that. The memory of the weight of his glare during the workshop hit her anew. She’d felt menace in that glare, maybe even hatred.
A different sound came from the conference room, the metallic click of a door closing. Breath trapped in her lungs, Lauren strained to hear sounds in the room. There were none.
Using the wall to support her, she rose. Did Brent still believe her, even after hearing more false evidence? What if she entered the room and he started calling for Gaines to return?
That was a risk she had to take. What other option did she have? She was alone in a strange and frightening place, and Brent was the one person who had actually listened to her protestations of innocence.
Fighting against a sudden rush of tears, she pushed the door open farther and stepped over the box she’d used to wedge it. Her gaze flew to Brent, who still sat in his chair in front of the computer, only now his arms hung limp at his sides. She couldn’t read his expression.
“Brent, I didn’t go to Costa Rica with Frank, and I’ve never bought a gun in my life.” Tears blurred her vision, and she blinked them away so she could see him clearly. “Please. You’ve got to believe me.”
ELEVEN
His thoughts caught in a giant whirlpool, Brent could only stare at the pretty young woman in front of him. Tears left a wet trail down each cheek. Her eyes begged him to trust her. His heart gave a lurch behind his rib cage.
Now that Gaines no longer sat in front of him with that arrogant, accusing expression, the evidence he’d uncovered couldn’t be ignored. How easy was it to forge the records in a small gun shop?
Lord, this is looking bad, really bad.
He needed to give Mason a ca
ll and relay the latest developments. Surely a P.I. who had the connections to access private financial records could also dig something up from a local shop owner. Of course, he knew what Mason would say when he called. The same thing his sister Emily would say if she knew of this situation. That he was an idiot, and he was lousy at telling the truth from a lie.
But God wasn’t.
Lord, please stop me from doing anything stupid. Am I being deceived? Taken in by the pretty face of a killer?
As he weighed the question in his soul, a sense of certainty stole over him. His instincts still told him that Lauren wasn’t dishonest. No matter how incriminating the circumstances, he still believed that she was innocent.
He rose and crossed the room to put a hand on each of her arms, feeling the violent emotions that trembled through her body. With a dip of his head, he forced her to look at his face.
“Listen to me. I said I believed you, and I do. I can’t tell you not to worry, because I’m worried, too. But we’re going to figure this out, okay?”
Her face crumpled as she gave way to tears. Without a thought, Brent pulled her forward and wrapped her in a strong embrace. Company policy had no place here. This woman needed whatever comfort he could give her. Sobs wracked her body, and her arms crept around his waist. His shirt grew wet with her tears.
When her sobs slowed, he lifted a hand and stroked the back of her head. Soft, silky blond hair surrounded his fingers. Gently, he tilted her head back until she was looking up at him. Fresh tears spilled over her lashes and wet her cheeks. He raised his other hand, cupped her face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. Thinking only to offer comfort, he dropped a soft kiss onto her forehead, much as he would give his sister Emily.
Only the contact of his lips against her skin was not sisterly in the slightest. Shock vibrated through his body. Lauren must have felt it, too. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened slightly as she gasped.