Текст книги "Crave"

Автор книги: B.J. Harvey

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

I didn’t leave the office until well past nine p.m. With the knowledge that Lucia would not be home until well after eleven, I used the time to finalize the Iowa proposal for our presentation next week and to catch up on work that I had fallen behind on, given the events of the past week. Having left my car in the parking garage overnight, I drive myself home and am almost at my driveway when my cell phone starts ringing through the car speakers. Looking down, the last thing I expect to see is Jodi’s name flashing on screen.

Deciding she needs to be told once and for all to leave me alone, I push the answer button on the car steering wheel and hear the call connect.

“Jodi, this has to stop.”

“Callum,” she whispers loudly down the phone. “Callum,” she sobs. “I’m not feeling too good.” Her voice is strange, her words slurred and slow between her sobs. This is nothing at all like the normally well put together and composed Jodi I know.

“Jodi, where are you?” I ask urgently.

“I . . . I think . . . my drink . . . something in it.”

“Jodi!” I shout. “Where. Are. You?”

I’m met with silence.

“Jodi?” I shout again.

“I didn’t mean to call, I . . . Callum, I think I’m . . . trouble . . . need . . . help.” With every word she says, she sounds more incoherent. She may just be drunk, but I have a sudden bad feeling that whatever is going on, I cannot just ignore her.

“Jodi. Tell me where you are.”

“Georgio’s . . . Calluuum . . . I’m scared.”

“Is there anyone there to help you?”

“I’m outside. Needed fresh air. Now I’m confused. I want to . . . go . . . home.”

“Jodi, stay where you are. I am in the car and I’m coming to you now. Stay sitting up; do not lie down.”

“So tired . . . I . . . I’m gonna be sick . . .”

The sounds of gagging and spitting come over the speakers.

“Please come . . .” she says.

“I’m on my way. Stay there, Jodi.” Then the call goes dead.

I push redial and she doesn’t answer. I call again, speeding up as the call fails to connect again.

My heart is racing. This may be a ploy to get my attention but something about this whole situation isn’t sitting right with me. My instincts are telling me that she is in trouble, and I’d never be able to forgive myself if I ignored her and she was in danger. I can’t have another woman in my life hurt because of my actions.

I call Lucia’s number and she picks up after two rings. “Hey, I was just thinking about you. I shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Luce, Jodi just called me saying she’s in trouble. She’s slurring her words and talking about not feeling well, and I’m worried she’s not in a safe place. She crying, and confused and was sitting outside a bar called Georgio’s. Do you know it?”

“Shit, Cal. Um, yeah. It’s two blocks over from the restaurant. I’ll text you the address.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? It’s not you getting drunk and calling an ex-fling, is it?”

“I think it’s more than that, Luce. I’m worried something is going to happen to her, and I just can’t—”

“Cal . . .” Her voice softens with understanding. “She’s not me.”

“I know, but I couldn’t ignore her. I just hope I get there before anything happens. She didn’t sound very good at all.”

“Do you want me to meet you?”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask; I offered. Pick me up. How far away are you?”

“Five minutes?”

“I’ll meet you outside.”

“No, stay inside and look for me out the window. I don’t need you standing on the road late at night too.”

“Cal—”

“Luce, please.” My voice is a plea, one that she does not miss.

“Okay, Cal. See you soon,” she says without hesitation.

Five minutes later, I pull up outside the restaurant and Lucia hurries out, opening the door and hopping in quickly. “Turn right at the intersection, then it’s two blocks toward the waterfront.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll always have your back, Callum. The bonus is that if she is playing head games with you, I’ll really be able to have your back—meaning I’ll be able to tell her to her face to back the fuck off.”

Any other time I would’ve laughed at her suggestion, but having tried to call Jodi two more times unsuccessfully, my nerves are all over the place as I watch the road and turn as instructed by Lucia, driving until I see the sign for Georgio’s Bar.

I pull into the alley beside the bar and screech to a halt when I see a thin pair of legs jutting out from behind a dumpster near the end.

“Luce, get an ambulance here now.”

“Cal!” she shouts as I jump out of the car and run to Jodi’s side.

“Help!” I yell, hoping to grab anyone’s attention.

Running as fast as I can, I skid on my knees when I see Jodi’s body slumped sideways, her head against the ground, vomit covering the ground beside her.

“Jodi!” I ask, shaking her shoulders. Her eyes open slightly and she looks side to side but fails to focus on me.

“Something’s wrong,” she rasps out, her hands reaching for my arms and squeezing weakly.

Footsteps run toward us, and I turn to see Lucia bending down beside us. “Is she okay?”

“No. Something’s definitely not right with her. She’s weak, her breathing is labored, she’s vomited a few times by the looks of it, and she’s confused.

Lucia reaches out and grabs Jodi’s hand, squeezing hard. “Jodi? Jodi, I need you to open your eyes and look at me.” She puts two fingers on the inside of the other woman’s wrist and looks at me, her face ashen as she shakes her head. “Her pulse is weak. It’s too slow.”

“Where’s the ambulance? Fuck!” I spit out, trying to wake Jodi up again. “Jodi, open your eyes for me. It’s Callum. Please open your eyes.”

Her eyelids flutter and slowly open, her bloodshot gaze falling on me. “Where am I?”

“You’re outside a bar. You called me, remember?”

“Needed . . . help,” she murmurs slowly, not sounding at all like herself.

“The ambulance is coming, Jodi. You’ve just got to stay awake until the paramedics get here. Can you do that for me?” I reach down and put Jodi’s other hand in mine, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“You have to be . . . careful. He’s going . . . to . . . hurt you . . .” Her voice trails off as she closes her eyes again.

“Jodi, stay awake. You’ve got to wait for the ambulance.”

“Jodi, my name is Lucia. We really need you to stay awake, sweetheart.”

“Lucia? You’re with . . . Cal . . . lum.”

“Yes I am. Can you tell us what happened?”

She gasps as if she’s struggling for breath, her fingers weakly tensing in mine. “Jodi,” I say with another squeeze, causing her to open her eyes a little wider.

“So cold . . . So tired . . .”

“Jodi, honey, we need you to tell us what happened to you. We need to tell the paramedics so they can help you,” Lucia explains.

“Where the fuck is the ambulance?” I shout in frustration. A sinking feeling weighs heavy in my stomach as I start to worry that it might get here too late.

“He . . . Gr . . .” She trails off and her entire body tenses as she starts shaking violently. Her legs flail with every vicious convulsion as her eyes roll back in her head.

“Shit! Put her in the recovery position, Cal. On her side. I need to keep her mouth and airway clear.” Lucia holds on to Jodi’s head, keeping it still as the seizure continues to wrack through her body.

A minute later Jodi slowly stops shaking, but stays unconscious. Her eyes never reopen. Her chest doesn’t lift and rise again.

“Luce, she’s stopped breathing.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna have to give her CPR.”

“I don’t know how to—”

“I do,” she says urgently. “We’ve got to get her on her back. I need you to start chest compressions. I’ll do the breathing. Kneel next to her and link your fingers, one hand on top of the other. Press the heel of your hand over the middle of her chest, between her breasts, and press down about two inches. We need to try for about a hundred times a minute, but just keep going, don’t stop, okay?”

“Shit. Luce, where the fuck is the ambulance?” I ask, rolling Jodi onto her back and starting compressions, my eyes flick from Jodi’s pale, lifeless face to Lucia’s deep frown.

“We need to try, Cal. Keep going.” She leans down and wipes Jodi’s mouth as clean as she can before lowering her ear to listen for breathing.

Then I hear the sirens and my shoulders sag, the lead weight lightening slightly because help is close. My only hope is that they can step in and save her—that it’s not too late.

I continue the compressions until a paramedic runs up to me and tells me that he’ll take over.

“What’s her name?”

“Jodi. Jodi Malestrom.”

“Were you guys with her tonight?”

“No. She called me, sounding drunk, or more than drunk. She wasn’t making any sense. She said she thought she was in trouble and asked me to come. She couldn’t stay awake when we got here, and she’d been sick. Then she had a seizure and—”

“So you know her,” he interrupts.

“Yes. I used to date her.”

“Step aside, sir. Give us some room,” the other paramedic says from beside me. I stand up quickly and move back, grabbing Lucia’s hand and pulling her with me.

“She’s going to be okay,” I say quietly, wrapping my arm around Lucia’s back and pulling her into my front. I place my other hand gently on the back of her head and hold her close, squeezing her tight and trying to calm my erratic heartbeat. We watch the medics work on her for what seems like an eternity as police officers arrive to control the crowd that’s gathered in the alley. But after ten minutes of CPR and rescue breathing, they look at each other and shake their heads.

Then they stop and start to stand up. “No!” I shout. “Don’t stop! You can’t just leave her!”

“Cal,” Luce says softly, not letting go of me.

“She can’t . . . we tried . . . she can’t be dead.”

One of the paramedics turns to face us. “You did the best you could but whatever she drank or took, she did too much of it. Slurring words, falling unconscious, vomiting, and then cardiac arrest—all of it points to an overdose of some sort. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m going to have to ask you to stay here. The police will want to talk to you and I need to call the coroner.”

Unable to speak, I can only nod at him as he turns to walk back to the ambulance.

“What just happened?” I ask as the shock of what just happened sinks in.

“She said you have to be careful, that someone is going to hurt you. What does that mean?” Lucia asks, her voice cracking as her body shakes against mine.

“It doesn’t make sense. Why would she ring me in the first place? I haven’t answered any of her calls since the interview. I only answered the phone to tell her to leave me alone.” I pause and then something hits me. “What if I didn’t answer? She would’ve just died out here in the alley. Why didn’t anyone help her? Why was she alone?” I’m talking quickly, unanswered questions spewing from my mouth as I stand there staring at Jodi’s lifeless body.

“I don’t know, Cal. Hopefully the police can find out what happened.”

“Shit, Luce.” I bury my face in her neck but still can’t tear my eyes away from Jodi.

Unease and dread cloak my skin. Her words play on a never-ending loop in my head. What was she trying to tell me? All the messages, the scene in the lobby, the phone calls . . . tonight she was trying to warn me about something . . . or someone.

Now that I know, I fully intend to find out what she was talking about, and who.

We haven’t left each other’s side since we gave separate statements to police in the alley. Once they covered Jodi’s body and wheeled her into the back of the ambulance, we were escorted to the precinct to meet with the detectives assigned to the case.

An hour later, Lucia and I are waiting to give formal statements.

“Are you okay?” Luce asks me for what seems like the tenth time since Jodi died.

I squeeze her hand, lifting it up to mine for a gentle kiss before returning it back into my lap. “I just can’t believe she’s dead. It seems so unreal.”

“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I’m glad we were there with her. Nobody deserves to die alone, especially like that,” she says.

The door to the office we’re sitting in opens, and I’m surprised to see the detective who came to my house the night I hurt Lucia.

“Mr. Alexander. Ms. Harding,” he greets, nodding at us in turn as he rounds the desk and sits down opposite us. “I’m Detective Lawrence and I’ve been assigned to investigate Ms. Malestrom’s death. Thank you for your patience. I’d just like to ask you a few questions about what happened and the events leading up to her death.” He looks down and runs his eyes over the papers he brought into the room with him. “We don’t regard you as suspects. Unfortunately we are expecting the media to become involved, especially with your connection to this, Mr. Alexander. But anything you do say to us will remain confidential. You have my word.”

“Thank you. Please call me Callum,” I reply. “But I’m more concerned with finding out who is responsible for Jodi’s death and bringing them to justice.”

“Okay, Callum. I just want to follow up on the statement you made to the uniforms at the scene. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” I reply.

“So Ms. Malestrom called you earlier tonight. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And can you tell me why she would’ve called you?” he asks.

“She’s been quite . . . insistent in her attempts to contact me since a series of newspaper articles came out about me approximately five weeks ago. I’ve been avoiding all contact but tonight I chose to answer her call to ask her to stop contacting me.”

“And she asked for you to go to her?”

“She sounded strange. Her words were slurred, and she said she thought something had been put in her drink.”

“You could’ve called the police.”

“I could’ve, but I know Jodi. I wasn’t comfortable with wasting police time with just another attempt to get my attention.”

“It is still honorable of you to check on her, Callum.”

“It’s called being a human being, Detective Lawrence.”

“She told you where she was?”

“Yes, she said she was outside the bar,” I reply, repeating the same thing I told the officers in the alley.

“Did she say who she had been meeting with?” Detective Lawrence asks.

“No.”

“Did you ask?” he continues.

“No,” I repeat.

“Why not?”

“Because I was more concerned with getting to Jodi and helping her,” I snap. Lucia squeezes my hand and murmurs “It’s okay, Cal” under her breath.

“Right. And you stopped to pick up Ms. Harding on the way?”

“I called Lucia to let her know where I was going. She told me to pick her up on the way,” I explain.

He turns his attention to Lucia. “Ms. Harding, why did you want to go with Callum?”

“Because Jodi is unpredictable, and I thought it was better that Cal didn’t go alone.”

He nods, seeming to accept her answer. He returns his eyes to me. “Tell me what happened when you arrived.”

“There was no parking spaces so we pulled into the alley and saw her. I told Lucia to call nine one one and I ran to where Jodi was.”

“Was she conscious?” he asks.

“Barely,” I reply.

“Did she say anything?” he presses.

“She told me to be careful because someone wanted to hurt me.”

“Did she say who?” he asks the obvious question.

“She started to say something and then lost consciousness.”

“It sounded like Gr . . .” Lucia adds, repeating what we heard.

“Do you know what she could’ve been talking about?” he asks me, writing down comments in his notepad.

“It could be anything,” I say.

“Yes but she was trying to say something to you. This could be important, Callum. Could it be something only you and Ms. Malestrom would know? Could it be someone you both know?” he explains. “Is there anyone with a similar sounding name?”

Lucia and I had wondered the exact same thing on the way over here.

“Gregory Graves, who is an intern at my firm, and my business partner, Grant Richardson.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So did Ms. Malestrom say anything else?”

“No. She starting having a seizure and then we performed CPR.”

“Okay. Do you have any reason to believe that either Mr. Graves or Mr. Richardson would have reason to meet with Ms. Malestrom at the bar earlier tonight?”

“Gregory used to date Jodi until a few weeks ago, I believe. As for Grant, I don’t believe he would have any reason to meet her.”

“Oh,” Lucia says, leaning forward and releasing my hand. “Graves came into the restaurant tonight.” She looks at me with wide eyes before facing toward Detective Lawrence. “It would’ve been around seven p.m. He wanted to make a reservation for the weekend.”

“Has he ever been to the restaurant before?” the detective asks her.

“Yes, once. He was at a dinner function Callum and Grant held to celebrate a new project starting.”

“Yes, that would’ve been seven weeks ago,” I add.

“Lucia, did Mr. Graves seem to be acting normally?”

“He’s always been a little . . . strange . . .”

“He’s rather intense. Very focused, you might say.”

“And did he seem to be like that tonight?” he asks Lucia again.

“He seemed on edge. Almost excited. I just thought it was about whatever he was going to be celebrating.”

“Right,” he says, looking over the notes he’s written down. The office door opens and a man we haven’t seen before walks in, holding a laptop computer. He nods at Lucia and myself before putting the computer on the desk in front of Detective Lawrence. “I think you need to see this. Footage from the bar.”

I watch their faces as they study the screen, which is unfortunately facing away from the two of us. I turn to Lucia. “You okay?” I ask, raising my hand up and gently running it through the hair at her temple. She leans into my touch and closes her eyes. When my hand reaches her shoulder, I pull her into my side and she rests her head in the crook of my neck.

The detective looks up at me from behind the computer. “Callum, are you willing to tell us who the man is that met with Ms. Malestrom tonight?”

“Of course. Anything to help,” I reply without hesitation.

He rotates the laptop to face us and the other officer leans over to press play.

“Oh my God!” Lucia whispers in horror as we watch the screen and see the man who met up with Jodi at the bar.

“Jesus,” I spit out, standing up from my chair and stalking to the far wall of the office. I run my fingers through my hair, wondering how the hell this shit just got worse.

For me, for the firm . . . and now, for Grant, who is there clear as day, sitting at a table with Jodi. They were together earlier tonight.

And going by the timestamp on the video, just one hour before she called me.

Shit.

Lucia and I got home just after three a.m. and as much as we tried, we couldn’t sleep straight away. Instead we just lay in bed, talking, touching, and enjoying the closeness that we’d both missed in the days we were apart.

Nine a.m., my cell phone buzzes on the bedside cabinet and Grant’s name appears on the screen.

“Tell them you’re sick,” Lucia groans from beside me.

“Hello?” I answer groggily. Two nights with very little sleep are starting to take their toll.

“I’ve been knocking at your door for five minutes. Let me in,” he demands

“Let yourself in; you have a key,” I retort.

“Not when I was picked up by the police this morning and your key is at my apartment.”

I sigh at the thought of leaving the warmth of my bed but roll over and out anyway. “Be there soon,” I reply before ending the call.

“Who was that?” Luce whispers.

“Grant. He’s at the front door.”

Her eyes widen and I reach my arm over to rub her bare shoulder. “He’s been with the police most of the night so I want to find out exactly what is happening. You can go back to sleep if you’d like.” Leaning down, I kiss her temple, then her jaw. She tilts her chin up and our lips meet in a slow, lazy kiss.

“I better go let him in,” I murmur against her lips.

“You really should,” she replies huskily.

“Yes . . .” I kiss her once more before pushing up off the bed and making my way downstairs and toward the front door.

I stop for a moment before I open the door, taking a deep breath before swinging it toward me and staring at my best friend.

“You look like hell,” I say with a frown. His hair is in disarray, and his eyes tired and bloodshot as he rakes his hands over his vacant expression.

“I feel like it.” He walks past me and makes his way toward the living area. By the time I’ve closed the door and followed him, he’s already turning on the coffeemaker and pulling out two cups.

He turns and braces his hands on the kitchen counter, leaning his weight forward and dropping his head down. Taking him in, I don’t miss his slumped shoulders and disheveled appearance.

I take a seat on a stool opposite him and wait for him to talk. I know he’ll explain everything to me, but he needs to do it. I’m not going to coax it out of him.

“This shit is fucked up, Cal,” he says roughly. “So fucked up . . .”

“What happened with the cops?”

His head jerks up and his body goes tense. “Oh fuck no. Do not look at me like that. You know me, Cal. You know I wouldn’t have had anything to do with drugging her. I like women, sure. I like them willing, absolutely. I do not need to fucking drug them, and I definitely wouldn’t leave a woman at a bar by herself unless she was safe.”

“So tell me what happened,” I shoot back tersely. “Because after telling the detective that you would have no reason to associate with Jodi, I had to eat my words when they showed me my best friend meeting with her an hour before she died in my fucking arms!” My voice is strained, my anger pulsing through every word.

He stands up straight and squares his shoulders. “You sorted your shit out and were finally getting back on track—with work, with Lucia, with everything. I thought I’d step in and deal with Jodi. Find out what she had to say and why she was so desperate to get in contact with you. She told me she was meeting up with someone at Georgio’s and suggested we meet there beforehand.”

I’m taken aback by his words. “You were trying to get her off my back?”

“Of course. When will you get it through your head that I’ll always have your back?” That makes me feel like an asshole but before I can reply, a sleepy but still breathtakingly gorgeous Luce comes padding down the stairs. She walks toward me and slips her body into my side. Her eyes, however, are locked on Grant. “Hi,” she says softly. “Bad night?”

“You could say that,” he says with a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What did you tell the police?” I say, interrupting them.

“Exactly what I just told you. I met up with her. We shared a drink. Once I’d finished what I had to say to her, I left.”

“So who drugged her then?”

His eyes switch back to mine. “Graves.” His voice is cold, flat and deadly.

“Shit,” I mutter and tighten my arm around Luce’s hips. “How do you know?”

“They have the barman putting him at the bar about ten minutes after I left. He bought Jodi a drink, they exchanged words and then seemed to have a fight before he stormed out and left her there.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “He just fucking left her there.”

“So do they have him?”

“An APB has been put out for him. The cops told me he went into the restaurant last night. Was he okay with you?” he asks Luce.

“He didn’t do anything—just seemed excitable, not right, you know?”

Grant nods and turns to pour the coffee. “You want a cup, Lucia?”

“Yes please.”

He brings all three cups to the counter in front of us and I tilt my head toward the lounge suite, knowing it’ll be more comfortable. When we’re all situated, I’m about to ask him what else he was questioned about when he gets there first.

“There’s more, Cal, and you’re not going to like it,” he warns before explaining. “Fuck, I can’t believe she’s dead. I was only talking to her last night. She was alive and breathing and . . . shit.”

“Did she say why she’d been trying to contact Cal?” Luce asks from beside me.

“She was worried about you. Seems Graves gave her a bad feeling and after that dinner she came to with him, she said he started acting strange.”

“What do you mean strange?”

“He’d gone from being all about being with her and genuinely interested in pursuing her to cold and distracted.”

“Doesn’t mean anything though.” I run my hand over my face, trying to piece together what Grant is telling me.

“The other thing is she never spoke to Carmen about you. She didn’t give her an interview as much as Carmen pushed for one. So she told me that—at first—she was trying to tell you that. Then Graves kept asking her about you. Why she slept with you . . . sorry, Luce.”

“Hey, it was before my time. She didn’t have a chance once I lured Cal in with my womanly charms,” she replies.

I choke on my coffee and look at her in humored disbelief. “Lured me in is right,” I muse, noting her eyes are warm and dancing with amusement.

“Anyway,” Grant says, clearing his throat. “She is . . . was . . . worried about him being so fixated with you. Then when she came to the office and made that scene, he threatened her to keep her mouth shut, and to leave you alone. Said you’d told him to remove her and after manhandling her out onto the street, he intimated that he would do a lot worse to her if she saw you again.”

“So if this is true, why did she call me last night? Why am I suddenly a part of this?” I ask.

“I told the police about the notes, the way Graves was always eager to work with you, and then surprisingly, they asked whether he had access to personnel files, building plans, et cetera.”

I shake my head. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“Me too, but they’re looking at him for more than Jodi’s death.”

“What?”

“That’s all they’d tell me. But as of right now, he’s no longer working for us.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I reply, and Grant’s eyes bug out at me while Lucia sniggers.

“Did you honestly just say that?” he asks me.

“Did you hear the words come out of my mouth?” I say back.

He turns to Lucia. “You, my dear, are the best thing to happen to this man.”

“I keep telling her that” I reply dryly.

“The detective is going to ring you later this morning when they have more information, but he warned me we need to be vigilant. We’re not to engage with Graves and to call them straight away if we think of anything else.”

“I’m not finding the connection. I don’t see how her and Graves would’ve met in the first place and why she would’ve given him the time of day.”

“You’re the connection, Cal. Her heart was involved when it came to you.” Lucia notes.

My eyes grow wide. “But I never promised her anything more than what she got.”

“Yes, but then you did a complete one-eighty and met Luce and the rest is history.” Grant says.

“I just feel sorry for her,” Luce says quietly. “No one deserves to die like that.”

I glide my fingers in between hers and squeeze. “No, they don’t. I’ll call her parents today.”

“We could go see them,’ she suggests, yet again shocking me with her compassion.

“Sounds good, sweetheart.”

“Cal, if I can have a shower and steal a suit, we can go into the office together.” Grant says.

“Yeah, of course. Just get something from my closet.”

He nods at me and stands up, putting his cup on the kitchen counter and disappearing up the stairs.

I turn to Lucia, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Do you want to stay here today?” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her in close.

“I need to go home, start organizing moving my stuff, and contact my landlord. I might give Gino a call and tell him what’s going on.”

“I don’t want you working tonight. If Graves is responsible for Jodi’s death, I’d feel better if you were here with me.” She nods in agreement, reaching up and running her fingers through my hair at the side of my head.

“You okay today?” she asks, tipping her chin.

I rest my forehead against hers. “It’s just a shock.”

“Yeah. I can’t believe she’s dead.” She leans into me, dropping her hands to my chest. “Are you worried about Graves?”

“We’ll cancel his swipe card and inform security when we get to the office. I just hope he’s found soon,” I reply.

“Then we can focus on other things,” she replies.

“Better things,” I add.

I give her one last kiss before standing and pulling her up with me. “We need to get ready. I’d feel better if you came in with us and used the car service today.”

“Sounds good.”

And that’s what we did, getting ready together, then Lucia dropped Grant and I at the office and headed off in the town car to her apartment.

Around ten a.m., there is a knock on my closed office door.

“Mr. Alexander, Detective Lawrence is here to speak with you.”

“Send him in. Thank you, Annie.” She nods and steps out, the detective appearing in her place with two uniformed officers behind him.

“Callum, thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

“Of course,” I reply, gesturing toward the chair opposite my desk.

“I wanted to keep you abreast of the developments in the case. First, I have two officers outside in reception. We have a warrant to search Gregory Graves’s desk and cubicle.”

“Go right ahead,” I say without hesitation.

“We’ll try not to cause too much of a disruption,” he adds then looks over his shoulder to the officers and nods to give them the go ahead. Turning his attention back to me, he continues, “Second, we searched Mr. Graves’s apartment a few hours ago and thought you needed to know what we uncovered.”

His words put me on edge, and I find myself automatically leaning forward in anticipation.

“From what we found, we feel that Mr. Graves has become somewhat fixated on you. He has copies of numerous newspaper articles and photos, building plans and correspondence regarding your current waterfront museum project.”

My eyes widen, my hand lifting to rub over my mouth and chin as my breath catches. Suddenly, as I run his words over in my mind, things click into place.

“I met Gregory at an alumni function. He approached me and told me his class was studying my work and he talked about Spera House in Boston, and asked about the possibility of applying for our internship program.”

“He knew what to say and when to say it?”

“Yeah,” I reply with resignation.

“We think he’s been a fan of yours for some time, but recently, something has switched his attention from admiration to fixation, and now we believe he is determined to punish you. For what, we do not know. We were hoping you could shed some light for us?”

“I honestly have no idea. He’s been working out well for us. Apart from the recent revelations from both yourself and what Grant told me this morning, he’s very skilled, is a hard worker, is willing to put in the long hours when required, and seems enthusiastic to help out.”