Page 38 of The Boss

SEVENTEEN

JULIET

Since the flowers arrived two days ago, I’ve been digging non-stop. Based on what I’ve found, the unknown number and the one who sent the flowers are two different people.

I’m a trained forensic accountant, so I know how to find inconsistencies. I spent too much time during college learning how to find embezzlement, errors, and misconduct. In one of my internships, I spent the entire summer learning how to find out someone was embezzling money. It could be as simple as bills going unpaid from accounting, and no one catching it until it was too late and the money was gone. Or someone signing off on payments, but the invoices still go unpaid.

Half the text messages I receive are genuinely trying to help, and they come in the mornings. The threatening messages and the flowers come in the afternoon. Either this person really doesn’t want me to find out, or it’s two people.

I’ve spent the last weeks compiling the evidence to present to Gino in the office he set up for me. Our offices are opposite each other’s, and he’s started leaving his door open, which he’s never done before.

All this office has right now is a maple wood desk, a sage green chair for me, two chairs in emerald green for guests, and some art on the walls. I found some vintage paintings of dancers that I now have a place to put. And some paintings of New York in different mediums like watercolors, oil paintings, and professional photos.

Bringing my focus back to my computer screen, I’ve got everything ready to show Gino—cell tower records, phone records from the different unknown numbers, and I found the shop where the flowers came from.

After the note rattled me, I got to work. I asked Drew to see if he could grab locations from the numbers. Every time I get a text, it’s from a different number, so it was hard, but he was able to get regional locations. Not exact addresses, so we’ll probably never figure out where either of these texters live or where they text from.

Using my phone’s data, we could piece together some of the phone records, like timing and where the phones were from. All are burners they must have paid cash for, because without the phone’s exact serial number we won’t know where they were purchased from. But whoever they are must be keeping a store in business at this point with how many numbers and phones they are using. Although it’s more logical that they are buying them from different stores.

The flower shop owner was very sweet, but could unfortunately give me nothing, except that the person who ordered and the one who picked them up were definitely different people. And that man muttered something about someone owing him, upset that he had to pay.

Walking into Gino's office, I find him focused on something on his desk.

“Gino,” I call out as I sit down in the chair across from him.

“Yes.” He looks up; we make eye contact, and a wide smile comes across his face.

“I found something I want you to take a look at. I don’t know if it’ll be helpful, but I wanted to show it to you anyway.”

“Okay, what is it?” He leans back in his chair.

“I know we’ve been looking for this mystery person, but I don’t think it's one. I think it’s two or more, and they don’t know about each other.”

He leans forward, looking at me to continue.

“I had Drew try to pull phone records and cell tower data. All numbers were from burners, but from completely different areas. The non-threatening ones seem to be in the city, whereas the threatening ones came from upstate. Unless this person is driving up there to send these messages, it’s different people.”

“Any idea how we could figure out who it is or who they are?” he asks.

“Maybe. Since they’re burners, we can’t do much. But the flowers might have more of an opportunity. The shop is about fifteen minutes from here. I called them and asked if they remembered this order. The owner did, because the person who ordered them didn’t pick them up, and the person who picked them up wrote on the card.”

I pause, but he lets me continue.

“I asked if I could see her security footage, and she said yes, so Drew is over there now looking it over,” I reply.

“Jules, this is good. Very good.”

His praise lights a fire inside of me.

“There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

He looks nervous again. “What?” he asks.

“You need to tell Vanessa more of what’s going on. We both know she can handle it. And don’t you dare use the ‘she’s pregnant’ excuse because I will punch you,” I say as I glare at him.

“I know, but I can’t. Every time I see her, I lock up. I get scared if I say the wrong thing or tell her the wrong information; she’ll either lock herself in her house and never come over, or she’ll try to go to Italy herself.” He sounds defeated.

“The love of her life is currently being held somewhere and probably being tortured. Of course, she’s going to ask every question she can think of. And of course, every time she sees you, she’s going to ask if he’s dead. Because you aren’t telling her anything, she has an assumption in her head. Alonso is doing his best at keeping her informed, but you aren’t telling anyone, including me, what they are telling you. Have you even said anything to Gabe? He’s still there, and I’m pretty sure he would want to know what you’re being told.”