Page 53 of The Mood Board

It was a normal, everyday gesture, which made it that much more surreal. I had spent only about a week in prison, but it had seemed to last years, if not centuries, and it was startling how much doing something like strapping my watch on or putting on regular clothes felt odd.

The thing was surreal.

“The charges have been dropped,” he said, as though that explained everything. And I supposed it did, but it didn’t explain nearly enough.

It took me a few tries to find my words, and it was only one. “How?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I was dropping my kid off at school and got the call.”

His gaze flicked to the guards, the one behind me and the one behind the glass, and I held back the questions I was about to ask until we were at his car.

“You have no idea what happened?” I asked as soon as we had shut the doors.

“I have my people trying to figure it out, but no. All I got was the call that you were being released and to come get you.” He shook his head. “I wish I had more to tell you.”

“That doesn’t make sense. They don’t just let people out. Did the judge decide to grant bail after all?” I asked.

My lawyer started his car and answered as he looked behind him to pull out of the space. “No. That would have been a different process. The charges have been formally dropped—you’re free.”

“What the hell is going on with all of this?” I said it primarily to myself, more rhetorical than anything, but my lawyer shook his head.

“I wish I knew. I’ve never had anything like this happen before. At least, not without a reason” was the reply. “Home?” he asked.

“No, take me to the office.”

I had to ensure the company was okay and my employees were safe. Tom had passed a few notes on through the lawyer, but beyond that, I had no idea what was happening and if anything was still intact.

Finding Bailey was my priority, but I had to ensure everything was running smoothly at work. Sick people and hospitals depended on us.

My lawyer gave me a look. “You know there are reporters there, right?”

“They’re going to be anywhere I look anyway,” I sighed, pulling down the visor to look in the mirror. “Can you text Tom and ask him to open the back door? The one facing the park?”

My lawyer did just that as I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked rough and unshaven, with dark circles under my eyes from sleepless nights, my hair a mess that I tried to finger comb to something resembling respectable.

“Do you have a baseball hat or sunglasses?” I asked.

He had both, handing me a pair of aviators and his son’s little league baseball hat. I put them on, and the reflection in the mirror looked a little wild and mismatched, but at least I didn’t look like I had spent the night in jail.

Or a week in prison.

Tom met me by the back door, ushering me in and leading me to the conference room in the back of the building, the one we used for storage instead of meetings.

I slipped into the room, no one the wiser, to find Bianca there as well. She had shoved several boxes of extra monitors to the side of the conference table to make room for us, but as soon as she saw me, she leaped up from her chair and threw her arms around me.

“I’m so happy to see you, boss,” she said.

Tom, surprisingly, was next. My best friend wasn’t exactly known for his affectionate nature, and his rare “hugs” usually consisted of a bump on the shoulder. But this time, he took me in for a bear hug. He didn’t let go right away, either.

We finally sat down, and I tore into the bagel Tom shoved at me, relishing the freshly baked taste and the thick cream cheese I knew had been made in the bakery—we got an order every morning for our staff.

“So tell me what’s been going on. Are we still floating?”

Tom filled me in on the business, painting a picture that wasn’t nearly as bad as I had imagined. Business was still running smoothly despite the ancient, slow computers, no one had quit, only a handful of investors had pulled out, and not one hospital had canceled their contract with us.

“I called them all personally,” Tom said. “I told them what was going on, and Jordan even hinted that should they pull out when you were found innocent, it would make them look bad.”

“Don’t mess with Jordan,” I said around a mouthful of bagel.