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“Hey, Bev, are we doing a cover for N.T. Smalls?”
Beverly looked up and blinked. “Who?”
Anna gave the name again. “One of Coran’s authors. He gave me her new manuscript to read, but I can’t tell whether it’s headed out for publishing. Can you see if there’s a contract—or, hell, even a way to contact the author?”
Beverly nodded. “It’s a mess around here with him gone—we’re all trying to figure out what deals he had pending.”
Anna perched on the edge of Beverly’s desk. “Did IT get anything out of his computer?”
Leaning close, Beverly glanced around and then said, “From what I hear, IT couldn’t find it. It wasn’t in his office—and no one can find any backups.”
Anna widened her eyes. “No wonder everyone’s in a tizzy.”
“Yeah, and it looks like I can’t help you much here. N.T. Smalls has a PO box, and that’s all I’ve got.”
Leaning over Beverly’s shoulder, Anna scanned the records. “Not even a Social Security number?”
“Nope—it’s blacked out for me. I don’t have authorization to see it, thank you, Mr. Williams.”
Standing, Anna squeezed Beverly’s shoulder. “Thanks for trying. I owe you lunch.”
Beverly gave her a smile. “Great—there’s a new deli I want to try.”
With a wave, Anna continued on to HR. There had to be a way to access that blacked-out information in Natalie’s file—and she was betting HR might have access.
She knocked on Julie Ferguson’s door, got a smile in return, and had the same thought she always did when she saw Julie: the woman was wasting her looks sitting behind a desk.
Medium-brown skin, high cheekbones, and startling green eyes would have put Julie on top in the modeling world, especially when paired with her slim figure and long legs and hands. As always, the sight of her had Anna itching for her Hasselblad.
Julie, however, greeted Anna and got straight to business. “We want to confirm you haven’t experienced any side effects from being in the building during the explosion and the fire. Why don’t you walk me through what the experience was like for you—where you were when it happened and where you went from there.” Anna took a seat and recounted the events of the day. Julie nodded along and took careful notes.
“And you’re sure you didn’t sustain any injuries?”
“My legs were sore from all the stairs,” Anna joked. “But other than that, I’ve been fine.”
They talked for a few minutes more. Julie was able to share a bit more information on the employees who’d been injured, and Anna was relieved to hear that they were all doing well and were expected to recover fully.
“What about our authors?” she asked, forcing herself to sound casual. “Any of them nervous or thinking of bailing, what with Coran still absent?”
Julie glanced toward her screen, which was dark since she hadn’t been typing, but then shrugged, smiling stiffly. “Contracts would know about that before I would. I daresay it’ll trickle down to me eventually, if it does end up being an issue. It seems like everything routes through my inbox one way or another.”
Anna knew it was a long shot, but she wanted desperately to get a look at Julie’s computer. She gave a small cough, then a larger one, and in a hoarse, choking voice asked, “Water?”
Startled, Julie stood. “Sit tight.” She left the office, and Anna leaned over and hit a key. The computer woke, and the screen brightened, displaying the preview pane of Julie’s email inbox. Anna pulled out her phone and quickly snapped a photo. She’d figure out later what she had. Hearing footsteps, she started coughing again.
Julie handed her a glass of water, and Anna sipped, managing to “accidentally” jar the mouse so Julie wouldn’t be surprised to see her computer was no longer in sleep mode. “I’m sorry. I’ve had this cough for days, even before the attack. Allergies, you know.”
They chatted for another minute, and then Anna went back downstairs. She glanced at her watch. Gage was twenty minutes late—and she was pretty sure he was never late. She made it to her cubicle, grabbed her purse and her camera bag—just in case—and headed for the lobby. She found Gage stuck at security.
He was arguing with the guard—and looked about thirty seconds away from throwing a punch. “Gage, there you are,” she said. “Thanks, Joe. I’ll take this.” She linked her arm in Gage’s. “Come on.”
After throwing a last narrow-eyed glance at the guard, Gage looked her up and down before nodding. “Good. We’re going to need your camera.”
19
Five minutes later, Gage had Anna in his car, her camera bag on her lap and her mouth pressed into a line. He was waiting for her to give him a sign of what she needed from him, but she wasn’t talking.
Say something, he told himself.
