Page 6 of Targeted at Christmas

It was Reese’s. She seemed almost embarrassed. “Excuse me,” she uttered, and pulled the phone from the pocket of her designer yellow roll-cuff jacket and answered sharply with, “What is it?”

Lexi watched her expression go from one extreme to another before she disconnected. “Something wrong?”

“Yeah, more like weird…” Reese took a breath. “Just heard that one of the building inspectors, Horace Eckhart, was killed last night in an apparent carjacking.”

“Oh no.” Lexi reacted to the shocking news. She was certainly familiar with Horace on a professional level, as he had given the green light to some projects she had designed. Now he was dead? How tragic. “Hope the police can get him the justice Horace deserves.”

Reese pushed her glasses up. “We’d all like to see that happen.”

Jessalyn frowned. “This sucks.”

“Unfortunately, it’s something that can happen to any of us,” Terry said calmly, “if caught in the wrong place.”

“Tell me about it.” Lexi could only imagine the grief that those in his life would have to experience, having been there herself when Jonathan died prematurely.

Reese gazed at her sympathetically. “You’ve come out stronger, Lexi. We should all be so fortunate.”

“Thanks.” Lexi took the words to heart.

Reese nodded. “This might sound terrible, but as an architect and developers, we’ll have to continue to work with other building inspectors to get the approvals we need to keep our developments on schedule.”

Even if it may have seemed in poor taste on the surface, Lexi knew that she was simply being practical in wanting to keep the ball rolling in their contributions to developing the Phoenix metro area. Whether they liked it or not, life went on, as she knew all too well.

WHEN HE WALKED up to the De La Garza Architects studio, the first thing Cooper noticed was the eucalyptus wreath on the front door. It reminded him that he hadn’t even bothered to put up any Christmas decorations at home, not really feeling the holiday spirit this year. Though Melanie loved this time of year, going the extra mile in decorating their place to the hilt, he’d had trouble gaining the same enthusiasm since her death three years ago. Not that he hadn’t tried to go with the flow in her memory to one degree or another—but seemed to fall flat. Maybe it wasn’t too late this time around with a little inspiration.

He stepped inside the door and onto a bamboo floor in a small vestibule. There were more holiday decorations on display, with framed photographs on the walls of residential and commercial structures, apparently the finished product of the architects’ handiwork.

Good for them, Cooper thought admirably, aside from the fact that he wasn’t there to applaud the achievements of Lexi De La Garza, in particular. Especially if any of them had come as a result of bribery to aid her cause.

He watched as a striking and slender woman in her early thirties walked down a hallway toward him. She was around five seven or eight, perfect for his own height, and wearing a beige button blouse, black straight-leg pants and dark pointed-toe flats.

“Can I help you?” she asked in a pleasant voice, rolling a hand through one side of her long and curly brunette hair, as if unaware she was even doing it.

“I’m looking for Lexi De La Garza,” he told her.

“That’s me.” She regarded him with mesmerizing brown eyes that went well on a heart-shaped face that included full lips. “Are you looking for an architect?”

I am, but probably not for the reason you think, Cooper told himself. “Not exactly.” He whipped out the ID from his pocket. “FBI Special Agent Cooper Reid. I wonder if I could have a few minutes of your time?” Not as if he was giving her much of a choice, but was respectful anyhow.

“Sure.” She lifted a thin brow. “Mind telling me what this is about?”

“I need to ask you some questions about Horace Eckhart.”

“The building inspector?” Lexi looked genuinely surprised, while seemingly aware of his death.

“Yes.” Cooper met her eyes. “He was killed last night.”

She nodded. “I just learned about that a little while ago. It’s so sad.” Lexi paused. “I understand it was a carjacking?”

“We’re still looking into that,” he told her candidly.

She considered this. “Not sure how I can be of any help to you, Agent Reid, but I’ll try my best. If you like, we can go into my office—”

“Fine.” He followed her into a spacious room with interesting angles, surrounded by window walls, contemporary office furniture and some typical architect tools, such as a drawing board.

They sat by the window in chestnut-brown barrel swivel chairs.

Lexi waited a beat, then asked curiously, “Why is the FBI looking into a possible carjacking? Or am I missing something here?”