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“Mrs. Smith!” Louis’s partner stood in the doorway, gaping at her. Then his eyes moved to his desk where the pile of papers rested. “What are you doing in my office?”
“Ah, I, um, came to look for something.”
“What?” He moved further into the office, his eyes taking in the open file drawer, the file in her hand, and the neat stack on his desk.
“I, ah, hoped to find some information on Louis’s finances so I could . . .” Her words drifted off as she fumbled to think of a reasonable explanation for her presence in the man’s office.
“Could what? Your husband saw fit to leave you nothing. I guess he preferred to leave everything to a whore instead of a slut.”
She reared back at his comment as if she’d been slapped. His initial surprise at finding her in the office had turned into something frightening. His eyes narrowed as he came closer. “I suggest you vacate my office, Mrs. Smith.” He nodded to his desk. “And whatever it is you have there, just leave it and go.”
She eased out from behind his desk, keeping her eyes on him. Knots formed in her stomach and her heart continued to pound. She’d only been in Mr. Sanders’ presence a few times, but he always seemed a meek and mild man, the epitome of a gentleman. The man standing in front of her now frightened her as much as Louis had.
As she moved around the desk, she glanced again at the pile of papers. Right there in that stack was evidence that would put Sanders behind bars for a long, long time. And possibly convince the police there were plenty of others who had a motive to kill Louis. She dragged her finger along the desk as she moved forward.
“Mrs. Smith. I suggest you leave now. Right now.”
She licked her dry lips and gave him a brief smile. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
He seemed to relax at her words.
“Oh, dear,” she said, looking over Sanders’ shoulder. When he turned, she snatched the papers from the desk and ran to the door, slamming it behind her.
“Son of a bitch . . .” The door to the office flew open as she thundered down the stairs, Sanders on her tail. “Stop!”
Taking deep breaths, as much from fear as the run, she kept going, heading straight for the rear of the building.
She burst through the back door and looked wildly around. A short distance in front of her to the right stood a decrepit old building on the verge of collapse. A ‘condemned’ sign hung sideways from the doorway swinging in the slight wind.
“Stop right now, or I’ll shoot you,” Sanders shouted.
“Oh my God.” She glanced behind her and screamed as Sanders pulled a gun from his inside jacket pocket, waving it in her direction. Clutching the papers to her chest, she raced up the few steps to the condemned building and yanked the old wooden portal open, coughing and choking on the dusty air as she darted inside.
Slamming the door behind her, Emily looked frantically around the broken down space. The building was so dilapidated it appeared to be crumbling before her eyes. Light streamed through broken windows and holes in the walls. Animal droppings and dirt covered the floor. On her right she spotted a staircase and made for it.
The stairs creaked and a couple split as she stepped around broken boards to the next floor.
Oh my God, this whole building is going to collapse.
Hopefully there would be a place to hide up there until . . . Until what? No one knew where she was, and Sanders had a gun. A gun! When did that meek and mild man become so frightening?
The rotted wooden planks beneath her feet on the second floor also groaned under her weight. She walked on her tiptoes, carefully picking out the strongest looking pieces, not sure if that made it better or worse. The sound of more stairs breaking through signaled the arrival of Sanders. Emily focused on the door straight ahead, which appeared to be a back staircase. If she could make it there, she could leave the building, and scream for help.
“Don’t move!”
Emily stopped and looked over her shoulder. He stood in the doorway, panting heavily, his gun pointed directly at her.
“Turn around, Mrs. Smith.”
Hunter figured the best place to start was at Smith’s office. Emily had been begging him to allow her to help in the investigation ever since Jeremy’s death. Stubborn and protective, he’d refused, and now he was certain she’d gone ahead and gotten herself in deep.
They hopped off the trolley, and with Hunter leading the way, they entered the building that housed Smith and Sanders. Hunter’s jaw tightened remembering the last time he’d been in this building. The day he’d looked into the face of the man he’d spent a good many years searching for.
Taking the stairs two at a time, they sprinted down the hallway to the office. The door stood wide open.
Hunter cursed under his breath as they both moved cautiously into the room. The door to one of the two inner offices gaped open as well. McNeil drew his gun as they peeked around the doorjamb.
The place was a mess. File cabinet drawers stood open and papers were scattered on the floor. A diploma from the College of New Jersey, awarded to Gregory Sanders, hung on the wall behind the desk.
