Prologue
Hoping her smile sounded more genuine than it was, Judith Abernathy answered her ringing desk phone with a pleasant, “Owen Jennings’ office.”
“Judith. It’s Owen.”
No shit, Sherlock. And because Owen wasn’t in the office where he could see, Judith took great delight in performing a monumental eye roll. After eight years as the executive assistant to the senior partner of Jennings, Bradford & Mosley law firm, Judith could recognize Owen’s number when it popped up on caller ID with nothing more than a glance. God forbid she break protocol by answering with a cheerful, personalized greeting when she knew it was him calling. She’d tried that once. There was a slip of paper in her employment file that ensured if she wanted to keep eating, she wouldn’t try that nonsense again.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jennings.” Another ridiculous job requirement. It was okay for him to refer to himself as Owen when speaking to her, but she must address him formally. Because his money, power and position demanded more respect than her hard work and sweat.
“The courier,” he said without preamble. “The flash drive…,” the cell connection wavered, “left…desk. Have … deliver … Elizabeth King.”
Judith read between the lines. Owen—Mr. Jennings—wanted her to get the flash drive from his desk and send it to Elizabeth King via courier. She’d done the task a hundred times before, but usually Mr. Jennings handed her the flash drive personally. He didn’t like anyone in his office when he wasn’t there, including his personal assistant.
Mr. Jennings just granted her a limited key to the kingdom, making Judith wonder if he had a glass or two of wine at lunch.
“I’ll take care of it, sir. Anything else?” Oops. She hadn’t meant to sound so terse.
“Yes, Judith. Several things,” he replied in staccato, letting her know he noticed. “I need a moment to park.”
“Of course.” After all, she didn’t have anything better to do.
Judith glanced at the stack of work she had to finish before she left for the day. She’d be lucky to make it home before dinnertime.
Mr. Jennings’ voice boomed through the line again. “Make inquiries into upgrading Elizabeth’s internet service to a speed sufficient enough to receive and send files in an timely manner.”
She won’t like that any more than she likes being called Elizabeth, Judith thought as she jotted down the task on her notepad. At least the cell connection had strengthened so she wouldn’t have to ask him to repeat himself.
“Of course.” Her standard reply. “I will email the information to you.”
“On second thought, don’t bother. I don’t have time to deal with installers. Just take care of it. Find the fastest, most reliable service and see that the upgrade is done immediately.”
Treading carefully, Judith said, “Whichever service I select will need Ellie’s authorization to upgrade the service at her house. Is that going to be a problem?”
Judith suspected it would be, but as always, she kept her opinion to herself.
“Since the firm is paying for the service, Elizabeth will give the authorization.”
“All right. I’ll take care of it.”
“See that you do. Also, I’ll be taking her to dinner tomorrow evening. Call Truluck’s and tell them to reserve my usual table. Seven o’clock.”
She won’t like that, either. Nor will the people who will get their reservation at the premier seafood and steakhouse bumped.
“Yes, sir.” And by sir, she meant asshole.
“I’m due in court.” He hung up.
“You’re welcome,” she snarked into the dead line. “Happy to be of service.”
Judith sighed. Food. Mortgage. Electricity. The firm paid her well, which was the primary reason she tolerated Owen’s holier-than-thou attitude.
Dreading the next task, Judith punched the button for an open line and called the restaurant. By the time she finished commiserating with the hostess over thoughtless males, Mr. Jennings had his reservation.
She couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for Ellie, the name Elizabeth preferred to be called. Ellie had been Mr.—to hell with it—Owen’s assistant before Judith. Eight years ago, Ellie’s mother developed a debilitating, terminal disease. Refusing to allow strangers to care for her mom, Ellie struck a deal with the partners to take on all the transcription work for the office—making her a hero among the assistants—provided she could do it remotely.
The woman was a saint in Judith’s book. For eight years, she selflessly cared for her mother, who passed away only six months ago, while working furiously to keep up with the demand from the office.
Owen took an unsettling interest in helping Ellie through the legalities of her mom’s death—interest that now seemed to overflow into other, more personal areas. Internet service and dinner, indeed.
She would bet next month’s salary Ellie hadn’t agreed to either.
Judith pushed back her chair, circled around, and stood. She smoothed her skirt as she walked across the space that separated her desk from Owen’s corner office. A flutter of unease tickled her belly as her hand landed on the doorknob. She had permission, damn it. She’d been in his office more times than she could count. Still, she glanced left, then right, before entering her boss’s domain, as though she was about to commit a felony.
She stepped inside, leaving the door open. Owen’s office was impeccably clean, not a paperclip out of place. Neat, organized stacks of files decorated the corner of the desk by the phone. A flash drive sat on top of the stack nearest the edge. Bingo.
Three steps in, her spiked heel caught on the carpet. Judith stumbled, the missed step causing her ankle to roll from its tall perch. With a cry of pain, Judith lost her balance. Her hip hit the corner of the desk. She tried to grab on to the edge to keep from falling, but her hand landed on the files instead. They scattered and fell to the floor along with the phone, while Judith managed to just barely escape the same fate.
Breathing heavily, standing on one foot with her backside resting against the edge of the desk, Judith surveyed the mess.
“Oh, for the love of Pete.”
She kicked off her shoes, hiked up her skirt, and eased her knees to the carpet. There was a piece of plastic on the floor. It looked like something that would be used to cover batteries in an electronic device. Glancing around the chaos on the floor, she saw the desk phone and picked it up. She placed the handset on the cradle—thankful it hadn’t broken—and turned the phone over. Sure enough, the plastic piece fit over a small, empty compartment on the back. Her phone had the same feature—a place to store the extra length of a too-long phone cord.
She replaced the compartment cover and checked to make sure the phone still worked before placing it back on the desk.
The flash drive was on the carpet with the files, so she picked it up and placed that on the desk as well. Judith scooped the files into a pile. As she went to straighten them, another flash drive dropped from the stack.
She froze.
Well, crap.
She picked up the flash drive and compared it with the other drive she’d found. They looked exactly the same as every other drive she had sent to Ellie. Owen had said drive, right? Not drives, plural? The connection had been choppy, so he could’ve…
There was only one way to find out.
She quickly straightened the files and put them back on the desk, praying Owen hadn’t put them in any particular order. She’d rather not have to explain her clumsiness.
Judith stood, grabbed her shoes, and hobbled back to her desk. She inserted the first flash drive and called up the information. Audio files. Perfect. That’s what she was looking for. She ejected the drive and inserted the second drive. Audio files. Hmm.
She clicked one of the files and Owen’s voice sounded through her speakers. She listened just long enough to recognize the name of a corporate client and knew the audio was meant for transcription. She checked her watch. If she didn’t get the courier there soon, the information wouldn’t get to Ellie until late tomorrow instead of first thing in the morning. She thought about having to tell Owen she hadn’t asked for clarification and therefore his instructions hadn’t been carried out. That would not go well for her.
She didn’t need to check every file. If one was meant for transcription, it was safe to assume they all were. She switched the drives and opened the first file. Owen’s droning, dictation voice again. She stopped the recording.
Owen had said drives, plural. She had misunderstood because of the poor connection, right?
Time’s-a-wastin’.
Making an executive decision, Judith shoved both drives into an envelope and called for a courier.