“I shouldn’t have come here this evening,” Josh said. “I need to be alone. I’ve got some work-related problems I need to think about. I can’t concentrate on them when I’m with you.” He managed a ghost of a sexy smile. “You’re a major distraction.”
Laurel watched him from the kitchen doorway. Josh was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, forearms braced on his widespread thighs. He looked weary, beat.
He wasn’t drunk but she could tell he’d had a drink somewhere between the office and her place. That was not like him. Their affair had started a couple of months ago. She knew him well enough by now to know that work was Josh’s drug of choice. He was driven by one passion: the desire to make Night Watch a dazzling success.
He was desperate to repeat the brilliant performance he’d given back at the start of his career when he’d been one of the young guns of the tech world, a real wunderkind. But that kind of a comeback almost never happened in their industry, a world in which even the smartest guys in the room had a use-by date stamp. Josh was in his midthirties. That made him an old man in the eyes of his much younger competitors.
“You’re here now,” Laurel said gently. “Let me get you a beer. We can talk. You always say I make a good sounding board.”
“No, I don’t want anything else to drink. Like I said, I need to think.”
“About what?”
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he surged to his feet and started pacing the room.
“How well did you know Sandra Porter?” he asked.
“Not well at all. Why?”
“Do you think she was doing drugs?”
“I have absolutely no idea. Josh, why are you suddenly so concerned about Sandra Porter? Did the police come up with some new evidence?”
“No.” Josh stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out at the view of the Seattle cityscape on the far side of Lake Washington. “But I talked to a private investigator named Cabot Sutter a couple of days ago. His client was there, too. Virginia Troy.”
“Troy? The owner of the gallery where Sandra was killed?”
“Yes. Sutter told me that he was investigating the death of an artist named Hannah Brewster. She lived on one of the islands up in the San Juans. Sutter’s client thinks Brewster was murdered.”
“What does that have to do with Sandra Porter?”
Josh turned around. “Sutter thinks there’s a link between Porter’s death and the death of that artist.”
Laurel absorbed that news. “I see. Where are you going with this, Josh?”
“Where am I going? I’ll tell you where I’m going. I’m afraid Sutter will find a connection between the two deaths, and if he does, it could bring down my company.”
“I doubt that there’s a connection. Sandra never had any interest in art. But even if for some crazy reason the two deaths are linked, it will probably prove to be something involving drugs. It won’t have anything to do with Night Watch. Sandra wasn’t even working for you at the time of her death.”
“No, but it doesn’t mean that she wasn’t still ripping me off.”
Laurel watched him for a while. “You think this might be about the embezzlement that’s going on at Night Watch, don’t you?”
“More money went missing within the past twenty-four hours.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I suppose that means that Sandra Porter wasn’t the embezzler, then.”
“Or it might mean that she had a partner who decided to cut her out of the deal.”
“How could that have anything to do with that dead artist?”
“I don’t know.” Josh turned around. “But if I don’t find whoever is bleeding me dry and shut down the embezzlement, I can forget going out for expansion capital. The rumors in the financial industry are getting stronger.”
“How is your investigation going?”
“Nowhere.”
“Josh, I’m so sorry. Maybe it’s time to bring in one of the big cybersecurity firms.”
“That would be the kiss of death. I’d become a laughingstock in the tech community.” Josh abruptly started toward the door. “I can’t stay here, not tonight. I need to clear my head and come up with a plan to find the embezzler.”
“Josh, wait —”
“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulled on his jacket and opened the door. “Good-bye.”
He went outside, shutting the door behind him.
Laurel started to follow him but common sense made her change her mind. Josh did not like clinging women.
But she wanted Josh Preston. She wanted him very, very much. And back at the start he had wanted her badly enough to break his own rules about dating his employees. Someone or something had changed his mind.
The way Josh had looked at her just now gave her chills. She could almost read his mind. He was starting to wonder if she was the embezzler.
She thought about the scene with Kate Delbridge in the women’s restroom that day.
Delbridge was just a writer. Writers were a dime a dozen. The ability to produce chatty blogs and catchy posts was hardly rare. Anyone who could string two sentences together could create content. But writers did have one special skill – a good writer who also happened to be jealous might be able to spin a story that an anxious CEO who was being robbed by a clever embezzler would be all too willing to believe.
Maybe Delbridge had planted the seeds of doubt in Josh’s mind.
Laurel went back into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine. She carried it into the living room and stood where Josh had stood earlier, looking out at the lights of Seattle on the far side of the lake.
She had worked too hard to get where she was. The brass ring was within reach. She would not allow a jealous woman to destroy her plans.
She took her time with the wine and contemplated the best way to get rid of Kate Delbridge.