“Possibly,” Warren replied. “But liquid nicotine is dangerous, especially if someone doesn’t know how to use it. Even so, why bind his wrists and ankles?”
“Oh, Christ,” Dakota bit out.
“What’s wrong?” Providence asked.
“A few weeks ago, I received a vaping kit gift basket with liquid nicotine at work.”
“Do you vape?” Warren asked.
“No. And there was no card. I’ve gotten dozens of client gifts over the years, but there was always a card. The receptionist said it was delivered by courier. No signature required.”
“Dakota, where’s that kit?” Warren asked.
“In my office.”
Silence.
“Should I get it out of there?” Dakota asked.
“It’s incriminating, though it’s arguable that the person framing you for Mr. Hastings’s murder is planting evidence. Here’s my concern. If you’ve got employees who saw the gift and it goes missing, that only makes you look guiltier.”
“This isn’t going well,” Providence said.
“I’m sorry, guys,” Warren said. “I wish I had better news.”
“Thanks for the update.” Dakota hung up. “The evidence is mounting against me…against us.”
Ding-dong.
Dakota pulled up the surveillance cam out front and bit out a grunt.Fuck. Fuck me.“It’s Beeker. He’s got cops with him.” He tapped the secret button on the bookshelf, the shelf slid back, and he opened the safe.
Providence shoved their ALPHA laptops in there, along with their cell phones, and her handbag. Dakota closed the safe and the shelf slid back into place.
“We’ve got this,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, we do.”
He appreciated her confidence, the strength in her voice, and the determination in her actions.
Together, they answered the door. Detective Beeker stood there holding a piece of paper. “Search warrant.”
They stepped out of the way. “I’ve got warrants for both your residences and your office, Mr. Luck.” He nodded to Providence. “Ms. Reynolds, do you live here?”
“Temporarily.”
“How cozy.”
Neither of them responded to his snide remark, but Dakota wanted to deck him, then kick him the hell out.
Dakota and Providence waited at the kitchen island while four officers went through every room. Only their personal laptops were seized, but that didn’t stop the officers from sifting through every drawer, every cabinet, and every single closet.
“I need you to unlock the door to the basement,” Beeker said.
“That’s Miranda Morris’s private residence. She’s my daughter’s nanny. She has a lease, so legally, it’s a private apartment and not subject to your search warrant.”
Beeker huffed out a breath. “We’ll need your cell phones.”
“I misplaced mine,” Dakota replied.
