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“Do you think it has to do with the press?” I ask. “They’ve been overzealous. Maybe a reporter got a little too cocky.”
“I doubt an eager reporter would require this many officers,” Rhys says.
“I guess not.”
Since the guards recognize Rhys and the chauffeur, they wave us by. We barely come to a stop, when Rhys and I jump out. We rush to the front door, passing groups of employees huddled together outside of the building. As much as I’d like to think I have psychic powers, it’s impossible to read the expression on their faces.
“Is anyone hurt?” I ask Paula when we stop in front of her desk.
“I don’t think so,” she says. “The paramedics and the firefighters were on site, but they just left.”
“Thank God,” I say, relieved.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Rhys asks Paula.
“I swear, I thought I was on the set of an action movie. About twenty minutes ago, the head of security came barging in here with a bunch of his guys and an army of police in tow,” she says. “No one knows what’s going on. We were just told to stay put.”
“I can’t rely on Cecilia to find out what’s going on, but what about Valerie?” Rhys asks. “She must know.”
Rhys’s executive assistant is home, playing nurse to a sick child today.
“Have you talked to her, Paula?” I ask.
“Valerie is out of the office,” Paula says. “She went out for lunch with a girlfriend. I texted her and she should be back any minute now.”
“This is unsettling,” I say.
“Well, you’re about to get briefed because Beckett wants you on the executive floor asap,” Paula tells me.
“Good stuff,” Rhys says. “Let’s go!” He grabs my hand and we head to the elevators.
When the doors close, my heart is palpitating so hard, I place my hand against my chest to calm my erratic heartbeat.
“Something tells me we’re in for a shock,” Rhys says.
I look up at him. “I think you’re right.”
When we step out of the elevator, a tall, bald man with piercing dark brown eyes greets us.
“Miss Buchanan. Mr. Hartford. You’re finally here,” Clyde Kendall, the head of security, says.
“Clyde, talk to me,” Rhys says.
“Mr. Christensen asked me to usher you and Miss Buchanan to his office,” Clyde says. “We have a situation on our hands, but I’m not at liberty to say much more. Mr. Christensen wants to be the one to fill you in.”
Paula is right. There’s the same frantic energy you’d expect from watching a nail-biting scene of a gripping action movie.
“Alright, lead the way,” Rhys says.
“After you, Miss Buchanan.” Clyde extends an arm.
I give him a tight nod.
As we rush down the hallway, I spot more officers posted on every corner of the floor. I can’t imagine what kind of scenario would warrant this level of police presence.
Did a competitor infiltrate the building in an attempt to steal market intelligence?
What else could it be?
