hand tightly around the pin. Lightning strike. The words echoed in her head but meant nothing to her. For a brief moment she had a vision of dirt darkened with blood, the smell of gun powder, a flash of body parts. It was the body parts that made her gasp and drop the pin.
Muffled voices came from the hallway outside the door. She quickly placed everything back in the safe and retreated to the closet just as the door to the study opened.
Carefully, she edged the closet door open. Feet padded across the carpet and a button was pushed on the phone.
“Sorry to put you on hold, Av. I didn’t want to take the call downstairs,” Preston said. “Where are you? The party’s almost over.”
“Sorry. My meeting in Springfield took longer than I expected. I couldn’t get away.” The caller’s voice drifted from the speaker phone.
“That’s not good. I wanted you to make the announcement tonight at my reception. Are you backing out on our deal?”
“I don’t care to talk…” dgedMy phone in the study is secured and there’s no one in the room with me.”
Sam could hear the caller inhale deeply. Worse yet, she recognized his voice. She could see a portion of Preston through the partially-opened closet door. He was sitting at his desk, an arrogant smile plastered on his face.
“It’s bad enough you’re pressuring me into this. The least you can do is let me pick the time and place.”
“All right,” Preston said. He turned the pages on his calendar. “Pick it now.”
“Come on…”
“Pick it now.” Preston’s voice was even, sharp. “And this time it better be kept.”
Sam could hear the caller’s shallow breathing, the sound of pages being turned.
“July nineteenth. Take it or leave it,” the caller said.
Preston threw his pen across the room. “July?” Preston forced a laugh. “I don’t think you’re in a position to bargain.”
“I’ll be in town next week. If you’re available, I’ll stop by to discuss it further. I can’t talk right now.”
“Fine.” Preston hung up, leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window for a few minutes. Turning back around, he reached under his desk. Sam heard the press of a switch. The computer started to hum, the printer beeped.
Preston pounded the keyboard muttering unintelligible remarks. A sinister smile formed on his face. “You deliver on July nineteenth, or July twentieth will be the end of you and your career, just with the press of a button.”
Preston straightened his tie, gave his computer one last command, and left.
Chapter 3
When Sam heard the office door close, she emerged from her hiding place. Checking the computer screen, she noticed that the menu was filled. Preston seemed to have purchased every on-line service available. In the bottom right-hand corner she saw the icon of a lock and key. Her curiosity piqued, she moved the mouse on the icon and clicked.
A question on the screen asked: PASSWORD. Sam exited the program and returned to the menu. She pressed the SCREEN PRINT key and waited for the page to come off the printer. She folded up the copy and just as she was placing it in her purse, noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Security,” the man said. “Move away from the desk, slowly.” He was tall, tuxedo-clad, and aiming a 9mm pistol at her. His eyebrows slowly formed a brown line across his forehead.
“I just wanted to use the phone. There’s no need to point…”
“Keep your hands up.” The unsmiling eyes and ruddy complexion were almost as threatening as the gun.
Sam rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. This guy was taking his job way too seriously. He probably didn’t even know how to use the gun. She imagined him spending his nights as a bouncer in some dance club looking for wiry accountants to bounce off the walls. Anyone who had to spend his Saturday night playing bodyguard to Preston Hilliard led a sorry life. The thought of swiping the Nambe silver ashtray off the desk just to aggravate the hell out of this guy crossed her mind. But he had that stern look in his eyes that said, not on my watch you don’t.
“Identification.” He rippled his fingers back and forth in a gimme gesture as he backed up to the door.
Great. She didn’t have any on her, not even a driver’s license, which was in the glove compartment of her Jeep. The security guard put his hand on the door knob and opened it slowly, as though getting ready to call for assistance. That was when she bolted.
Back inside the closet, Sam slid the back wall open and ran down the stairs. Her right hand retrieved a small flashlight from her purse. Pressing the button, she lit up her path of flight.
But she wasn’t alone. She heard footsteps on the stairs behind her and suddenly remembered why she hated wearing heels. Now she was grateful that her skirt, or lack of one, allowed her room for movement.
She ran to the same freight delivery door she had used in the past and in seconds was hit with the dewy smell of fresh air as it opened into the backyard. Seconds after exiting the door she heard her pursuer. She didn’t have to see him, she could hear him breathing, hear his footsteps. And he was a lot quicker than she gave him credit for.
The backyard was bathed in soft moonlight. She felt damp grass under her feet. Suddenly, strong arms reached around her and a weight slammed into her as she was tackled from behind.
She cried out as she hit the ground. He was up on his feet in a split second. Rolling over on her back, she propped herself up on one elbow and gazed up at the security guard looming over her. His eyes were glued to her legs. When she looked down, she saw her skirt within two inches of being totally obscene.
Maybe the frail female bit might work about now. She slid her hand down her leg. “I think I sprained my ankle,” Sam whined.
One eyebrow on her pursuer shot up. He reached out a hand to her and said, “Get up.”
So much for the Pitiful Pearl routine. Alternate approach needed. She guessed him to be about two hundred, maybe two hundred and ten pounds. But he had broad shoulders, probably into body building. Would not be easy to handle unless she caught him off guard.
She reached for his outstretched hand. As he started to lift her off the ground, she clamped her left hand on top of his and pulled. Her properly placed heel against his chest aided in flipping him over on his back.
He landed with a thud and a “whoooaaa.” She didn’t wait around to see if he had broken anything. Grabbing her purse, she ran toward the front of the house by the employee parking lot, away from the main lot and front entrance.
Once inside her Jeep, she scrunched down behind the wheel and watched the front door to the mansion. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to catch her breath. Glancing over at the passenger seat at her purse containing her camera and pictures, she said, “I hope you’re worth all this.”
“Hey, you okay?” Frank helped Jake to his feet.
Pressing a hand to his stomach, Jake limped along the sidewalk to the front of the house. “Getting away,” he breathed hoarsely.
On a bench in front of the entrance sat a parking attendant. Earphones protruded from the sides of his head as his entire body be-bopped to a phantom tune.
“Hey, buddy.” Frank tapped the valet on the shoulder. “Did you see anyone run by here in the last couple minutes?”
“Excuse me?” The attendant pulled off the earphones. Frank repeated his question. “Sure, people have been leaving in droves.”
“Great,” Jake said. “Just fuckin’ great.”
“What the hell happened?” Frank asked.
Jake leaned over to catch his breath. “I caught someone in Preston’s office, trying to access his
