Chapter 14

 

Monday

 

Owen tried to focus on breathing evenly as he and Logan rode the elevator up to the top floor of GC headquarters. It wouldn’t be his first or even his tenth time stepping into the cool, clean executive lobby, but the jitters he’d felt as an intern couldn’t hold a candle to his current trepidation. He’d been playing Lena’s pep talk on repeat in his mind all morning.

“You can do it. I know you can. There was a moment yesterday when I saw a different side of you. You were more commanding than usual, like the natural dominance in your personality had pushed through whatever it is that’s been holding it back. You need to use that dominance, even if you have to fake it for a little while until it feels real.”

He pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin slightly, unconsciously seeking out the dominance that had given Lena reason to believe he could handle this. Owen knew that if he was really going to pull this off, he would have to make it believable. He would need to exude authority despite his youth and to command the respect of his elders. He had to look and sound as though he knew perfectly well what he was doing even if he didn’t actually have a clue.

But you do know, Lena’s voice seemed to whisper in his ear. They will believe in you once they see that you believe in yourself.

Owen exited the elevator and strolled through the lobby with a confidence that was only half-feigned, pausing to turn his attention to the young receptionist who greeted him by name. He’d spoken to her only once or twice before and was momentarily surprised that she recognized him, but then he remembered the company-wide email that had gone out the previous evening, announcing his new position.

“Good morning, Mr. Langford,” she smiled politely.

“Good morning, Ms…?”

“Lewis, sir, but you can call me Patty. Shirley’s expecting you whenever you’re ready.” She pointed in the general direction of Nate’s office, and Owen nodded.

“Thank you, Patty.”

Shirley Barrett stood at attention when she spotted Owen and Logan approaching and offered them a welcoming smile that was tinged with sadness. Shirley had been Nate’s PA for the better part of six years, and it was clear she was grieving for him, albeit privately. She was efficient and reliable, and she was someone they definitely needed to have in their corner.

“Good morning, Mr. Langford.” They shook hands briefly, and Owen made introductions for Logan again. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get to the hospital yesterday to visit with Lena, but I’m hoping to make it over there on my lunch hour. How is she?”

“She’s recovering well now that she’s out of the coma. It’ll be a long road, but her doctors seem confident.”

“She’s out of the ICU then?”

“Yes, they moved her on Saturday. I’ll let her know to expect you for lunch. I know she’s looking forward to seeing you,” Owen smiled kindly. Shirley nodded and gestured for them to follow her. To his surprise, she led them straight into Nate’s office, and he paused momentarily at the threshold, feeling like she’d beckoned him to tread upon hallowed ground.

“Is there anywhere more… appropriate for me to work?” he asked quietly. She turned to frown at him in a disapproving, maternal sort of way.

“Nonsense. You’re the acting CEO, and this is the CEO’s office. I’m quite certain Mr. Gardner would want you here. And in any case, I’d much prefer seeing you behind that desk than Mr. Phelps.”

“Phelps has been working out of this office?” Owen half-growled. Logan scowled behind him.

“Ever since he came back to work last Tuesday. His injuries were superficial, so he was only out of the office for a day.” Owen could tell by her expression that Lena had been correct in her estimation of Shirley’s feelings toward Phelps. Clearly, she was not a fan. “He didn’t move any of his own personal items in, but he did have me remove Mr. Gardner’s framed photographs. I have them in a box at my desk.”

“Bring them back, if you would, please. When you can.”

“Yes, sir.” She took a seat in front of the large, glass-top desk and began to swipe through various screens on her tablet.

Logan shifted on his feet behind her, slightly uncomfortable in his new suit as well as the new arrangement. He and Owen had discussed the logistics of things the night before, hammering out such details as where Logan would station himself throughout the day and what his regular shift would be.

“I’m going to check in with the security office, and then I’ll be outside the door. You know how to reach me, Mr. Langford.” Logan felt somewhat odd to be so formal with him, particularly after having spent the better part of the last week with Owen in the close quarters of Lena’s hospital room. However, they’d both agreed it would be best to stick with formalities when in a business setting.

“Thanks, Logan.”

As Logan strode from the room, Owen sat down gingerly in Nate’s expensive executive chair and took a deep breath. You can do this, Lena’s voice seemed to whisper in his ear yet again. He nodded as though she could actually see him and sat up a little straighter.

“Alright, Shirley. What’s first?”

 

 

The first and perhaps most important item on the agenda for the morning was a meeting with the various department heads. Owen knew who everyone was, but he needed to formally introduce himself and make it clear to any doubters that he was indeed the acting CEO and that, despite his youth and inexperience, he had full confidence in his own ability to lead them. He didn’t want to imagine what they must be thinking about him, much less what they might be saying about him. Sean’s arrival just before the start of the meeting was a subtle reminder to Owen that he was not in this alone, and he felt himself calming in the older man’s familiar presence.

Owen refused to let his insecurities take root in his mind, and as he entered the large conference room, he was pleased to see that everyone had taken their seats around the highly-polished, mahogany table. They wore a variety of expressions. Curiosity, speculation, resignation… A few gave him a kind smile and friendly wave as he made his way to the head of the table. Owen chanced a glance at Phelps, whose features were a mask of neutrality. He seemed almost bored as he gazed placidly back at the young man who settled into the seat Phelps had occupied just last week.

“Good morning, everyone. Since you’re all here on time, I’m going to assume you’ve read the email announcing the interim change in leadership,” Owen began, his voice growing stronger as he shook off the last of his nerves. “I share in your grief over the loss of Nathaniel Gardner, and if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to take a moment of silence in his honor before we get started.”

Owen rose to his feet, clasped his hands in front of him, and bowed his head respectfully. The others in the room glanced at each other in surprise before copying his movements, and Phelps, predictably, was the last to his feet. More than one of the employees found their respect for Owen increasing as they all took their seats again. While Phelps had run the meetings the previous week, he’d failed to do more than discuss what the company would be doing to keep things stable in the wake of Nate’s unexpected demise. Not once had he extended condolences or even expressed any grief of his own for Nate, and the absence of those sentiments now seemed rather cold.

“Thank you. Now, I’ve already had the pleasure of making everyone’s acquaintance, whether through an introduction from Nate or through my employment at GC over the last few months. I do, however, look forward to getting to know you all much better. I’d like to take this morning to get an overview from each of you of what your departments are currently working on, and throughout the week, I’ll meet with you all individually to make sure everyone’s on the same page.”

Owen paused as most of them nodded in assent and began to make a few notes. He looked to his right, where Gary Martin, the head of Strategic Development, smiled back at him in approval. It had been Gary who had shown the most confidence in his abilities as an intern, assigning him to a special project that many employees with far more seniority would have bungled.

“Gary, would you like to start?” he offered, feeling only slightly off-kilter when using the man’s first name.

“Certainly, Mr. Langford. First, however, I’d like to extend my sympathies and condolences to you as well as to Ms. Gardner. Mr. Gardner was an amazing man and a force to be reckoned with. We all have a special place in our hearts for his daughter as well, and the fact that she trusts you to step into his shoes says a lot about you,” Gary smiled. “I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that we will support you in any way we can.”

Owen made every effort not to look as shocked as he felt by Gary’s open and heartfelt approval. As he glanced around the table, he was pleased to see that nearly everyone was offering him similar smiles of encouragement. He was sure some, if not all, of them still had their reservations about his promotion, but he hadn’t expected to have so much support on his first day.

“I appreciate that very much, everyone, as will Lena. And I’m absolutely certain that Nate would as well.”

He listened attentively as Gary gave him a bullet-pointed list of the primary projects his department was focusing on at the moment, summarizing the objectives and naming the junior staffers in charge of each of them. The project he’d assigned to Owen would need to be handed off to someone else, and when Owen interrupted to suggest a particular employee, Gary nodded in satisfaction.

“That’s exactly who I had in mind,” he grinned.

“If I’m not mistaken,” Phelps interrupted in his smarmy southern tone, “that particular associate has been at GC for just over a year. Surely a task of that magnitude ought to be entrusted to someone with a little more experience.”

“Ms. Warner would’ve been my first choice for the project had Owen not been available, and he’s only been employed here since November. Seniority doesn’t always signify ability.” Gary was frowning slightly, puzzled as to why Phelps was attempting to influence the inner workings of his department.

“I agree with your assessment, Gary. Let’s move on,” Owen interceded.

They continued around the table, making sure everyone had a chance to speak. Ben Kearney from Human Resources reiterated Gary’s support, as did Denise McMillan from Public Relations and Morgan Tenner from Marketing. Aside from Phelps, the only person in the room who seemed a little more reserved was Vincent Graves, who headed the Engineering Department. He spoke with respect when addressing Owen, but he offered only minimal details as to the many projects his subordinates were handling.

Phelps sat directly to Owen’s left, fuming beneath his trademark facade. More than once during the proceedings, he interrupted to voice his unsolicited opinion, and by the third time, Owen’s patience was wearing thin. Sean remained silent in his seat next to Shirley, each of them taking notes on very different subjects. While Shirley documented the meeting, Sean studied its attendees, particularly one Jeffrey Phelps. He also noticed that Owen wasn’t the only person in the room who was reacting negatively to Phelps’ persistent interruptions.

“Mr. Phelps, I believe you’ve had your turn to speak in regard to the current status of your own department. At the moment, Ms. McMillan has the floor, but I can assure you that if any of us have need of your opinion, we’ll ask for it.”

Owen’s features were glacial, and the chill in his tone actually left many in the room feeling intimidated by him in spite of his youth. Phelps seemed to chew on his own tongue for a moment, his face red with the effort to conceal his rage. The room fell into silence as though everyone were holding their breath, waiting for the breaking point. Most of the other employees had never witnessed Phelps in such a state of discomposure, and they struggled to hide their expressions of shock when he rose to his feet unexpectedly.

“Then I suppose, since I’ve given my report and am fully aware of every other department’s operations, my presence is no longer necessary,” Phelps sneered. He practically slammed the door as he left the room, and all eyes immediately shifted back to Owen.

“We all grieve in our own ways,” he said smoothly. “Please continue, Denise.”

“Right,” the woman said nervously, clearing her throat a little before she went on. “Well, as I was saying, I think you and Ms. Gardner should consider a press release as soon as possible. An actual press conference would be even better. The authorities haven’t released much information, and in the absence of that access, the media has been hounding us. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a few reporters follow you when you leave here this evening, sir.”

“Lena’s in no shape to hold a press conference, I’m afraid. She’s recovering, but it will be quite a while before she’s ready for anything like that.”

“Of course, sir. I assumed she would be included in the decision-making, but I actually meant that you should talk to the press,” she clarified. “I’m more than happy to help you draft a statement.”

“Is it really necessary? I assume Phelps released something last week.”

“He did,” Denise hedged, clearly uncomfortable. “However, his statement had more to do with him than the company. He thanked the public for their support during a difficult time and vowed to cooperate in every possible way with the authorities. There was little mention of GC.”

“I see,” Owen replied wryly, cursing under his breath as she went on.

“Unfortunately, the longer reporters have to wait for information, the more tenacious they’ll become. I’d hate for their presence to impede the investigation. If that becomes an issue, I’d imagine the FBI would address it, but it would be good for GC to present a united front with the authorities. It would help to put people at ease.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for being a bit out of the loop as far as the public’s reaction. I’m aware that news crews were at the scene even before the fire was out, but as to what went on the rest of the week, I have no idea. Until this morning, I’d only left the hospital once since it happened,” Owen explained. Every pair of eyes in the room softened at his admission.

“At first, most assumed the explosion was merely a gas leak, and the Seattle PD initially stated that to be the most likely cause. But everyone expected to hear relatively quickly that the evidence had confirmed it. Neither the police nor the FBI has released any further information other than that the investigation is ongoing, so now there’s a lot more speculation. People are suggesting every possibility from a jilted staff member to an act of terrorism.”

They’re not far off. Though I doubt anyone suspects the jilted employee blew up his own house, Owen retorted silently. He sighed and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Speaking to the press was something he’d known he would have to do eventually, but he hadn’t expected it to come up on his first day.

“Alright, thank you, Denise. I’ll talk to Lena about it, and we’ll try to come up with an answer for you. We expect someone from the FBI to come talk to her soon, so we’ll bring it up with them as well.”

“Sounds good, sir, thank you.”

As the head of Scientific Research took his turn to speak, Owen had to push the CFO’s behavior out of his mind so he could focus and maintain his composure. In one of the spacious offices down the hall, however, Phelps was anything but composed. In fit of explosive rage, the furious man chucked a heavy glass paperweight across the room, watching as it shattered on the granite floor.

By all appearances, Jeffrey Phelps was a fairly even-tempered man, but his anger constantly simmered just beneath the crisp, tailored suits and courteous smiles. Few would guess that his inner monologue bore more resemblance to that of a psychopath than to a Southern gentleman. As he paced back and forth across his gleaming floor, he had to fight to regulate his breathing. He knew full well that his situation was precarious, but until that moment, he hadn’t seriously considered making a run for it.

Maybe I should just go… Take the money… Tell Madi to get out of town too…

The FBI had been swarming all over his property like a plague of locusts, but they hadn’t yet given him any reason to believe they considered him a suspect. Phelps doubted the wisdom of waiting around for that to happen. If things progressed to that point, it might end up being too late to get away. Perhaps it would be best to just take the money and go buy himself an island somewhere…

No, he thought stubbornly. I’m too close now. I’ve come too far. The wise thing to do is stay the course. Maybe the entitled little shits will realize they’re in over their heads and let me buy them out…

The first thing Phelps had done after Nate’s will had been read was to give his attorney the task of verifying whether or not he was in a position to challenge it. He hadn’t truly expected a positive answer, but his attorney’s denial had still pissed him off. Three years of being ‘like family’ to Nate Gardner, and all the bastard had left him was a plea to help his daughter cope with his passing.

He’d hoped the bitch would die on the operating table or perhaps succumb to some post-op complication, but fate had fucked him over yet again. Not only had Lena survived, but she’d put that arrogant little boy in charge. Langford had never been so much as a blip on Phelps’ radar, and now he was already set to ruin everything Phelps had planned.

As though to add insult to injury, his inside man had refused to follow orders. Cook did apparently have some small degree of intelligence, however, as he’d managed to hide his ex and children somewhere. Phelps cursed his own negligence for not having had anyone watching them around the clock. By the time his hired muscle had sought them out, their home had been abandoned, but it didn’t matter. If the last few years had taught Phelps nothing else, they’d certainly granted him the virtue of patience.

He would have to draw on that patience once again and bide his time. He needed to let things settle down, as he was sure they eventually would. He would let the FBI point the finger at someone on his staff or any of the known threats the GC security staff had identified. Phelps was confident that his alibi would hold up. The timing of his trip to London had been no coincidence, and neither had the fact that he’d included his daughter. The likely suspects would therefore be those who had access to the house just before the bombing, and he knew everyone on his staff had already been questioned by the feds at least once. He’d been questioned too, of course, but he’d played his part well, vowing full cooperation and offering any assistance the authorities might find beneficial.

Phelps was supremely confident that nothing would be traced to him, even if the forensics did indicate the presence of explosives. He’d seen the damage after the fire had been extinguished. There hadn’t even been a body for them to recover.

No way in hell can they find concrete evidence that would implicate me after that kind of destruction.

All in all, it was best to wait, he decided. Phelps’ steps slowed to a more reasonable pace as he traversed back and forth across his office, remembering the phone call he’d made after leaving the hospital the previous night. His private investigator had already commenced a thorough search into the background of Owen Langford, and Phelps was hopeful that something useful would turn up. He was also extremely grateful that he hadn’t gotten around to removing the bugs he’d planted in Nate’s office. He needed the kind of information Langford would never divulge intentionally.

The right leverage could make all the difference.