Текст книги "Crave"

Автор книги: B.J. Harvey

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

The detective sits back and crosses his legs, quirking an eyebrow at me. “Enthusiastic?”

“Very. Actually . . . now that I think about it, he’s been trying to show me his plans for a college project. He’s been quite determined about it, in fact. Unfortunately, I’ve had to cancel every time for one reason or another.”

“The night of your function at Santorino’s restaurant, was Mr. Graves actually out of character?”

“Not that I’m aware of. The fact he brought Jodi as his date for the evening was surprising.”

“And why’s that?” he asks.

“Because I know Jodi . . .” I look over his shoulder as my chest tightens. “Sorry, knew her. She didn’t seem like his type.”

“And what was her type?”

“To be honest? Me. She was a social climber. She went for professional, wealthy, and successful. The higher the profile, the better.”

“Do you think that in not having you, she settled for Gregory Graves?”

“The Jodi I knew would never settle for anything or anyone. She would continue on the path she’d set herself until she achieved the desired end goal—a rich husband. A grad student working for my firm does not fit into that category.”

He nods. “I agree. Finally, I need to ask you about the investigation into the building site collapse near the waterfront.”

“Yes . . .” I say, warily.

“We believe that Mr. Graves is involved somehow or at the very least, has a keen interest in that site. Has anything he said or done since the collapse occurred that leads you to believe or suspect he could be responsible?”

All of the air in my lungs rushes out of me as his words hit me. Lives lost, because of a what? A man’s fixation? Obsession? Revenge?

“Shit!” I stand and walk to my window, subconsciously looking out towards the bay and the still-empty building site. “We did have some plans go missing for a day, maybe more, after the accident. Cal/OHSA wanted them to compare to the construction manager’s copy and we couldn’t find them.” I mentally kick myself; Grant and I didn’t even question it at the time.

I turn around to look at Detective Lawrence once more. “It is a distinct possibility. He was in my office when we found out about the collapse. We’d had a scene downstairs with Jodi; she was trying to get in to see me but security had been advised to not let her or any members of the press through the lobby. He offered to go downstairs and placate her. Then Grant told me today that he threatened her, said I asked him to see her out. Holy fuck!”

“That corroborates what Mr. Richardson told us during questioning, and also fills in a few blanks,” he says. “Was he in the office all morning?”

“I don’t know. He always tells us when he’s coming into the office and when he has classes. My assistant could tell you if he was here that morning.”

“Okay. I’ll ask her shortly.”

I move back to the desk and slump into my chair, leaning an elbow on one of my knees and gripping a hand behind my neck. Looking back over the desk at him, I ask, “What do we know?”

“We believe you could be in danger from Mr. Graves. We cannot locate him. His car and cell phone were left at his apartment and his family has not heard from him since early yesterday morning. We have tracked his movements from the office yesterday, to his apartment last night, then to Ms. Harding’s restaurant and from there he went to Georgio’s Bar. We do not have him on camera putting anything in Ms. Malestrom’s drink but it’s our belief that he did drug her and after she went outside for some fresh air, she called you.”

“Jesus,” I spit out, my mind a blur as I try to process everything the detective has told me. “Lucia? She’s at her apartment then she’s going back to my house later this afternoon. Is she safe? Do I need to get her to go somewhere?”

He bites his lip then shakes his head. “We have no reason to believe that Ms. Harding is a target. Everything we found is focused on you. There were a lot of news reports written by a Ms. Carmen Dallas, and we found evidence of emails between Mr. Graves and an anonymous email address too, we’re working on tracing the owner right now. Hopefully our search on his desk and computer here will give us more to go on.” He pauses and tilts his head, studying me for a moment. “On second thought, I would probably recommend you get in contact with your girlfriend and ask her to be vigilant today. Maybe she should not be alone until we locate Mr. Graves.”

Then that feeling of foreboding returns ten-fold at the very thought of Graves getting anywhere near Lucia, especially if he sees it as a way to get to me.

“I’ll call her. I’ll call her right now.”

“I’ll just go check in with the officers conducting the search,” Detective Lawrence says, standing up from his chair.

I nod, fear choking me as I pick up my desk phone and call Lucia’s cell.

“Hello?” she answers after a few rings.

“Hey, it’s Cal,” I reply, with a huge sigh of relief.

“It’s only been a few hours, Cal. Surely something can’t have happened already?”

My responding laugh is hollow, not at all normal, and she picks up on that straight away. “Cal, what’s wrong?”

“Are you at your apartment?”

“Yeah, I’ve just been packing up my clothes into suitcases, then I was going to call by the restaurant to update Gino and head home.”

Home.

“I don’t want you to be alone. Until the police find Graves, we need to be extra vigilant. He’s not in the right frame of mind right now and is getting desperate. Whatever is going through his head, it’s not rational, and they think he might go after you in order to get to me. Can you stay with Gino?” Just the thought of Graves anywhere near Lucia has my blood running cold.

“Why, Cal? What’s happened?” Her voice lowers to a whisper.

“The detective investigating Graves has just been in with me. They’re searching Graves’s desk and office here. They think he drugged Jodi and left her to fend for herself. They can’t find him and when they searched his apartment, they found some . . . things about me.”

“About you?” she asks with a tight voice.

“I’ll explain later, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“I’ll be safe, Cal. We’ve been through too much to have anything stop us now,” she says softly. Her voice is resolute, her words definitive, yet she fails to hide the slight tremor in her tone. She’s scared, and all I want to do is reassure her that everything is going to be alright.

“They’ll find him, Luce.”

“They’ll find him. Then we can all move on,” she replies, ever hopeful.

“Call me when you get to the restaurant?” I ask.

“Of course. You stay safe, Callum Alexander. I have a lot of plans for you and they all involve you coming home to me.”

This time, I laugh, and I do it honestly. “Wouldn’t want to put a crimp in your plans.”

“No, definitely not.” I can tell she’s smiling now, and it buoys my heavy heart.

“Goodbye, Lucia.”

“Bye, Cal. I love you.”

“Love you too,” I reply before ending the call.

Apart from the detective coming into my office to tell me they had concluded their search and would be in touch, the rest of the day was uneventful. Annie ordered in lunch for Grant and myself and at four o’clock, we sent a company-wide email out explaining that Gregory Graves had been terminated from the firm and would be considered a trespasser if he was seen in the building.

Just before six, Annie comes in and delivers a set of papers she’d been working on.

“Thanks, Annie,” I look up and say, being met with a half-hearted smile. “Everything okay?”

“They will find him, right?” she asks me quietly.

“Yes, they will. Do you need someone to walk you to your car?”

She breathes out a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing as soon as I make the offer. “I think I would. I just can’t seem to relax today.”

“Annie, Graves has nothing to gain by targeting you. But if you can give me a minute, I’ll escort you to the parking garage.”

“I can do that,” Grant announces, appearing in my doorway.

I sit back and look over at him, switching my gaze between the two of them. Annie’s eyes are looking over at Grant dreamily, her fantasy knight in shining armor coming to her rescue.

“That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Richardson.”

“One day you’ll cave and call me Grant,” he teases, but I know it’s mostly for show. All day he has been on tenterhooks, his body tense, as if he’s waiting for something bad to happen at any moment. Dealing with him as well as my own trepidation has made the day go slowly.

“Never,” she replies haughtily, making both of us laugh. She turns toward me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Annie,” I reply, and nod to Grant as he steps aside to let her pass.

“I’ll be back soon and then we’ll leave together?” he asks. Gone is the joking and teasing, concern taking its place.

“See you soon,” I reply, and watch them leave.

I get up and stretch my legs, walking over to take in the breathtaking sunset painting the backdrop to the Golden Gate Bridge. Splashes of red and orange and splatters of pink contrast against the advancing blue-gray of night, decorating the landscape that has been an inspiration to me throughout my career.

I hear the stairwell door open and close in reception, the sound echoing around the now empty office. I take one more look over my beautiful city and spin around expecting to see Grant panting from running up all the stairs but my smile fades just as fast as it appeared when I find myself face to face with Gregory Graves, pointing a black handgun at the middle of my chest.

How did he get into the building? Where was security?

“Gregory—”

“You’re a hard man to get alone, Mr. Alexander,” he states, his voice defiant and matter-of-fact.

Although my body has gone into fight or flight mode, at the back of my mind I’m aware of the need to placate him until I can call for help. “Gregory, let’s sit down and talk.”

He tilts his head and watches me, his eyes overactive and darting from me to the window and back again.

“Sit at your desk, Mr. Alexander. I have a story to tell.” Then the corner of his lip curls up in a sneer and I lose the battle against the chill threatening to overtake my body.

I’m fully aware that if it came down to a physical altercation between the two of us, I would come out the victor. The game changer in this situation is the gun in his hand.

Deciding to do what he says, I walk slowly over to my desk chair and sit down to face him.

He looks tired; his blue eyes are bloodshot, his skin pale against the scattering of tan-colored freckles over his cheeks and his hair is oily and unkempt, haphazard and mussed. His white button-down is opened at the top, pulled messily out of his black office slacks I presume are the same ones he wore yesterday.

If ever there were a man on the ledge—something I have some recent experience with—Graves would be a shining example.

His finger twitches around the trigger of the gun, his hand jerking as he shakes his arm. “I thought you were everything I wanted to be,” he starts to say

“Gregory, I—”

His cold, callous voice interrupts me. “Your time to talk was months ago. When you missed the intern interview, when you cancelled our first appointment, then the second . . . you had your chance Callum . . .” he says my name with a snarl, the gun in his hand catching my eye with every tug and pull he makes. One wrong move and everything I’ve worked hard for—professionally and personally—could be gone in an instant.

“I want to see your plans. You’re a very talented architect. Grant and I were talking the other day about offering you a position once you graduate.”

“Oh, I bet you were talking about me. You’re threatened by me.”

The words I want to say get stuck in my throat.

Easy does it, Alexander.

“The night I met you, you were so enigmatic. You walked around that function room like you owned it and everyone inside was there at your bidding. Your suit was tailored to perfection, your smile had all of the women eating out of the palm of your hand, and the university was heralding you as the next pioneer of modern architecture. What more was there to like, right?”

I’m unsure what to say to that—even if I want to tell him how wrong he really is about me. He continues. “I watched you all night, waited for the opportunity to introduce myself. Do you know, I’d followed your work for a long time? I worked hard to get myself in a position where I could apply for the internship and get close enough to work with you.” He glares at me, his eyes darting from the gun to my face. “That night, that night I talked to Grant first. He told me you weren’t who they thought you were. You work together, collaborate, but you’re the face of the firm. The golden boy. In the space of a few minutes, he shattered everything I’d built you up to be.”

My head jerks back, wondering in what circumstance Grant would ever say something like that, but before I can say something, Graves begins to pace back and forth, and starts ranting. Seeing an opportunity and taking it, I move my hand sideways on my desk to my cell phone, discreetly swiping open the screen and dialing nine one one and quickly flipping the screen over. When his head turns to me, the call is connected but my hand is back resting on the wooden desk in front of me.

“I wanted to bring you down. I wanted to step in and become the new you. But nothing I did would knock you off that self-appointed pedestal—”

“I’ve never put myself out there Gregory,” I unwisely interrupt. He whirls around and stalks toward me, standing next to me, the metal of the gun digging into my temple as he leans down to talk into my ear.

My heart pounds in my chest, the threat to my mortality now a very distinct possibility. Any advantage I thought I might have over him vanishes in that instant.

“Do you feel it, Callum? That fear icing through your veins? One squeeze and your life would be over. No awards, no buildings, nothing but darkness. Never-ending darkness.”

I open my mouth to say something but slam it shut when I see Grant’s face at the stairwell door to the side of the elevator. He nods at me but then disappears from sight.

“What are you looking for, Callum? There’s no one to come save you. I’ve been here for hours, hiding, waiting, biding my time until you were alone and ready for me.”

“Gregory, can you put the gun down? We can talk. I have time now. Let’s talk.”

“Talk? You want to talk now?” he yells, his chest heaving.

“Why me?” I ask, unable to help myself.

“Because you are a mirage of what the world around you believes you to be.

“I was, but I’m not now.”

“You are to me. You’re not the great Callum Alexander anymore. I took care of that.”

“What did you do?” I ask, hoping the emergency operator is still on the line. It may be an amateur move, but if I can get Gregory talking, it may distract him enough to lower his weapon and give me the opportunity to regain some of the advantage I’ve lost.

“The complaint to the board was the easiest. So, so easy,” he says, standing to his full height and walking backwards around the desk. “But then they dismissed it like it was nothing. So I moved on and met the captivating Jodi. So hospitable, that one. She’d hooked herself deep to the great Callum Alexander bandwagon, and she couldn’t get herself free.” He lifts the gun to his head and taps the muzzle against his temple carelessly, oblivious the any danger there may be from doing so.

“You killed her,” I tell him, and his answering smile chills me to the core. My blood runs cold as he lowers the gun to his side, and leans over the desk.

“She was getting in the way. She was a liability I could no longer afford. She served her purpose. Ply her with champagne and she sings like a canary. She went into graphic detail about your encounters, but when she wouldn’t talk to my sister, Carmen, direct, I had to pass everything on myself. Carmen was over the moon. She’s been wanting to expose you for a while.”

My mouth drops open at the bomb he has inadvertently just dropped. Carmen Dallas is his sister. Suddenly all the news reports, the information she sourced but shouldn’t have had any way of doing so, all makes sense. All of it was because of Graves.

I look up at him, look for any sign that he’s wavering, but my heart sinks when I see none. “What about the building collapse? Two men died, Gregory.”

“And their blood is on your hands, Callum. Your actions forced me to do that.”

“My actions?” I ask unwittingly.

Again he stalks toward me, jabbing the gun in the air to punctuate every word. “You weren’t at the internship interview. You kept fobbing me off to Grant, or one of the other architects. You think you’re too important to look over my designs. You know what I think? I think you know . . . you know . . . that I’m better than you. More talented. More cutting edge. But soon it’ll be all over, Callum.”

“What do you mean?” My mind starts to race at the thought he might have more things planned that we do not yet know about.

“You’re going to die tonight. I’m going to squeeze this trigger . . .” I watch in morbid fear as his finger runs over the curve of the gun. “Then I’m going to claim your throne, and the beautiful Lucia while I’m at it.” He starts to laugh and turns toward the window.

At the mention of Lucia I see red. The moment he turns his back, I take my opportunity and take it. Jumping out of my seat, I take him down in a running tackle, landing on top of his body with a jarring thump as he hits the floor. We both grapple for the gun, Graves trying to twist the muzzle into my chest while I try to point it to the floor or ceiling.

His face goes bright red as we continue to fight, momentum shifting back and forth between us until I finally gain the upper hand and shove his arms to the left, giving me time to rear back my right fist and slam it into his jaw. The gun drops to the ground, an audible thud alerting me.

Then I’m shoved aside and away, suddenly aware of the multiple footsteps running toward us. Pushing myself up into a sitting position, I watch as Graves is shoved onto his stomach and his arms are roughly twisted behind his back. Detective Lawrence looms over him, securing Graves’s wrists with a pair of metal handcuffs unhooked from his belt.

Shifting back, he waits as two officers hook their arms under Graves’s armpits and drag him up to his feet.

“Gregory Michael Graves, you are under arrest for the murder of Jodi Malestrom. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law . . .”

The detective continues to read Graves his Miranda rights but needing space, I walk out of my office and into the lobby, confronted by the sight of police officers milling around, some in full SWAT gear and others wearing protective vests.

Grant leans against the reception desk, his body locked tight with concern. I make my way toward him, enveloping him in a hug and sagging into him the moment his arms go around my shoulders. “Glad to see you walk out of there,” he says quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“Glad to be able to,” I reply. I release my arms and step back.

“Lucia’s downstairs. I—” He stops mid-sentence, because as soon as the words leave his mouth, I am running down the stairwell. I take two steps at a time until I reach the ground floor lobby, then I crash through the door and stop still. Her legs are perched on the seat, knees to her chest, her hair covering her face as she sits and waits for news.

“Luce . . .” I say hoarsely, watching as her head snaps up and her eyes lock with mine.

Then without warning, she launches herself out of her seat and runs full speed toward me, jumping into my arms and slamming her mouth against mine. Her legs automatically wrap around my waist, and I stumble backward before righting myself. With one hand cupping her ass and the other tangled in her hair, I tilt her head to the side and deepen our kiss. We pour everything into that kiss. I give her every emotion I’ve experienced during the past hour—the fear, the shock, the pain, and the terror. In return she gives me everything she feels now—the relief, the joy, the elation, and the all-encompassing love we have for each other.

“It’s over, sweetheart,” I murmur against the skin of her neck.

She places her hand on my jaw and guides me back to her lips. “Now, we move on.”

Then the full impact of everything we’ve been through hits me like a wrecking ball. Just like the beautiful shades of the San Francisco sunset, throughout the darkness there is always the promise of a new day. You know the sun will set and rise again. You know there will always be a new dawn.

Lucia is my new day. She will always be my new dawn.

One that I will forever be grateful for and forever look forward to.

“No, Luce. Now we begin.”