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There’s an array of cubicles set up for the paralegals, staff, and other administrative positions that help our firm run as smoothly as possible. Most of those cubicles are still in the same condition they’re always in. There are two, closest to the desk outside of my office, that have the contents from their desks and drawers scattered about.
The door to my office is wide open, which isn’t how I left it. When I walk inside, there are only a few dozen sheets of paper on my desk.
“I think that whoever broke into the office was looking for something your partner is in possession of. Having realized this wasn’t Mr. Olsen’s office, they left things mostly intact.”
I let out a sigh, staring around the room I usually spend about 60 hours a week working in. These past two days with Raina make me reevaluate how much time I spend here. I don’t want to be slaving over client documents while she’s at home washing that naked body of hers and I’m not there to lick her dry.
“Mr. Remington?” Detective Petrov calls my name to snag my attention.
“Yes?”
“Did you want to see Mr. Olsen’s office?”
I nod and she takes me next door where the desk is on its side instead of standing upright. There are gashes through the carpet like someone tore it up looking for a hidden safe, but there’s not enough space between us and the office on the floor below to have a safe in the floor.
“It’s going to take us forever to sort through what was taken and what wasn’t. There are dozens of client files here and all of it’s compromised.” I groan with frustration as I kneel on the floor and thumb across a few pages splayed in front of the desk.
“Try not to touch,” the detective warns from the doorway.
I stand up and shove my hands into my pockets.
“Do you have security footage, Mr. Remington?” she asks.
“Only at the elevator bank. We pride ourselves on keeping things confidential with the caliber of clients we work with. They enjoy the privilege of privacy with our firm.”
“Your firm is a crime scene and you’re throwing attorney-client privilege in my face? I thought you’d be more helpful.”
“I am being helpful,” I tell her. “There aren’t any cameras inside the offices beyond the ones pointing at the elevators. Have you checked the footage?”
Her frustration is audible as she jots down something in a notebook. “No one arrived or left through the elevators.”
I chuckle to myself.
“Something funny, Mr. Remington?”
“None of this is funny, but I can see the humor in you thinking your job would be as easy as checking the security cameras for the intruders. Even if they took the elevator into the office, you’re assuming they’d be stupid enough to not have masks on. Your best bet is to talk to the guards and see if there were any deliveries.”
“Thanks for your input on how to do my job, Mr. Remington.”
“Just a suggestion, Detective. If you’re done with me, I’m not sure if there’s anything else I can do for you here.”
“Stay in Colwood, Mr. Remington. I may need you for additional questioning.”
I shrug and nod. “I’ll be around.”
I leave the office and immediately pull out my phone to send out an email. The office is closed and folks will have to work from home for the next few weeks. I just want to be sure they stay out of the way and out of danger.
The moon is high in the night sky by now, and I don’t have time to put my phone away before it starts ringing as I walk toward my car. It’s another number I don’t recognize. Still, I answer it, wondering who’s trying to get a hold of me now.
“Hey, partner,” Owen says. I can still hear the pain in his voice, but he’s trying to mask it with a lightness that’s not serious enough for everything that’s happening.
“What the fuck, Owen?” I practically hiss, glancing over my shoulder to see the detective standing with the other officers in front of the building. “Some biker-looking guy was waiting for me at my house looking for you. Said he was an agent. Where are you?”
“A nurse helped me leave the hospital last night. The feds need my books, my ledgers where I kept track of everything I’ve done for Lorenzo and his friends.”
“You know the office was broken into?”
He lets out a low growl. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Rex. Is it bad?”
