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I jerked my head around to look at her. She was staring down at her wrap, her remark had clearly been off the cuff, just her way of thinking out loud. “What?”
She jolted in her seat; her eyes frantic when they found mine. “Sorry…I just mean…well, the woman who died was his girlfriend after all. Maybe he found out you were there with her…you know…after hours.”
No one said a word, but I could hear all their thoughts kick into gear as they watched the exchange. My reputation as a playboy wasn’t a secret. They all knew I had a certain…appetite. But for Lana to throw it out there so blatantly was shocking.
“Lana, can I see you outside?” I stood from my seat, not giving her room to decline.
Her eyes went even wider and she shook her head. “I didn’t mean anything by it—”
“Outside,” I growled, starting for the doors.
“Mr. Rosen, I wasn’t trying—” Lana stammered once we were out the side door and onto the patio.
I stalked to the far corner, away from the other customers, and spun around to face her, silencing the rest of her sentence with the fire in my eyes. “Do you have a problem with the fact that I was at the museum after hours with a woman?”
“No!”
“Then why are you bringing it up and throwing it out there for the entire fucking crew to gossip about? What I do in my museum, on my own damn time, is my fucking business. Not yours.”
Lana stared at me, and then her face crumpled.
Shit.
Tears slid past her lashes. “Please, Mr. Rosen, don’t fire me. I wasn’t trying to make a statement or something…it was just something I was thinking.”
Red hot anger was raging through me, but I held it back as best as I could. “Stay out of my business, Lana. You have more than enough to worry about.”
She nodded and sucked in a gasping breath as she wiped away her tears. “Yes, sir.”
“Go discuss the reopening event. Get some ideas.” I flexed my jaw tight, locking back all the other things I wanted to scream at her.
She trudged away, and I turned to find half a dozen pairs of eyeballs blinking at me like I was some kind of monster that had just stalked out of the ocean and up onto their patio, shattering their peaceful seaside afternoon.
Without a word, I stepped off the wooden patio and started down the beach. I needed a minute to get myself back together or I was going to lose my shit entirely. My heart raced and my muscles were tense and tight.
My phone rang when I was ten paces from the cafe. I jerked it free from the pocket of my jeans and stared at the screen. An unknown number. Perfect.
“What?” I answered. My tether had been broken and I was in no mood for whoever was on the other end of the line. Part of me hoped it was O’Keefe just so I could rip him a new asshole.
It would feel good.
“Mr. Rosen, this is Gary, with the FAA. We need you back at the museum as soon as possible,” his tone was clipped and sent a surge of adrenaline through me.
They’d found something.
30
“How long have your security cameras been inoperable?”
I turned at Gary’s question, my eyes wide as a shiver of dread ran down my spine. “What?”
He pointed with the ballpoint pen in his hands as we walked through the hangar where a smattering of FBI and FAA agents were working to collect evidence and complete the investigation they’d begun earlier that morning. “That one, and that one,” he pointed again, sweeping the space, “are both out of order. Nothing has been recorded for days. We had our tech guys use all the tricks in their bags to retrieve the footage, but there’s nothing. So either your cameras are busted, or someone scrubbed the footage.”
“Shit.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “So we have nothing?”
Gary gave me a long look. His face grim. His jaw set. “Not exactly. Come this way.”
I cast one last glance at the cameras, recalling the thousands I’d sunk into security equipment when I first started making money back on the business. The museum contained millions of dollars’ worth of planes, memorabilia, and electronics. I’d written the check to the security company without hesitation. It was worth it to make sure my investment was safe and secure. The fact that someone could have so easily wiped that out both rankled and nauseated me.
Whatever was going on was getting darker and more sinister by the minute.
“Spears, bring me the images.”
Gary’s barked tone snapped me back to attention. I took steps to close the distance between us and arrived at his side just as an agent was rushing up, a tan manila envelope in his hands. Gary gave him a curt nod, dismissing him, and then dumped the contents out. “What are these?” I asked, watching over his shoulder as he rifled through the glossy images.
