Hopefully Spike entrusted most of the day-to-day operations to his managers. Once he wandered through the warehouse and discovered the identity of his newest employee, chances were good there’d be one less person on the payroll by the end of the day. In the meantime, Shane needed to uncover everything he could.
He lifted two more boxes onto those already stacked on the pallet and again checked the list attached to his clipboard. The only downside to his new job, other than its likely brevity, was that he had to forego walking Jess to work. He tamped down his uneasiness. She wasn’t likely to be mugged in broad daylight. At almost nine a.m., downtown was hopping, with people opening shops, heading to the Hometown Cafe for their morning coffee and Danish or just out because they had nothing better to do.
He’d never admit it to another soul, but the morning walks were likely as much about spending time with her as seeing to her safety. Somehow over the past two weeks, she’d moved from a possible suspect to a valuable contact for his investigation to a friend.
It had been a long time since he’d connected with someone. It was more than the forced proximity while they worked together to solve Prissy’s murder. Somehow, they connected on a deeper level. Maybe because they were each dealing with their own tragedies. Hers was a series of misfortunes that would leave a lesser person beaten down and defeated. His was one big blow that knocked his world off its axis. He dealt with his loss by putting up walls that kept anyone from getting too close, all the while praying for strength. She dealt with hers by forging ahead, refusing to let the past get her down, but not allowing herself to trust.
He checked the last item off the list he’d been given and motioned to the forklift driver. The pallet was complete—several cases of vases and figurines ready for shrink wrapping, labeling and, according to his paperwork, shipping to a chain of gift shops out west.
He watched the forklift driver take it away, then dropped an empty pallet in its place. When he turned to retrieve the paperwork to ready the next shipment, the warehouse manager was walking toward him. Tom Voss was an older gentleman with a relaxed posture and easy manner. Though he didn’t put up with any slacking off, he seemed to have a good rapport with the employees and was liberal with encouragement. The tension Shane sensed likely came from higher up.
Tom’s ever-present smile widened. “How’s it going?”
“Great. I’ve almost made it through my first day. I don’t know if I’ve accomplished everything you wanted me to, but my body thinks so.”
Tom laughed and slapped him roughly on the back. “No problem there. You’re way ahead of where we expect someone to be on their first day. I’m impressed.”
Shane raised his brows. The job wasn’t exactly brain surgery. Anyone who could count and match item numbers and descriptions could do it. “Thanks for the compliment.”
“It’s well-deserved.”
Tom had just started to walk away when Spike came through one of the open bay doors twenty feet from where they stood. It was the first time he’d been around all day. He made a beeline for Tom, his gait that of someone with important business on his mind. He’d almost reached his target when his gaze drifted past Tom. His eyes narrowed.
Yep, just what Shane suspected—Spike had been left out of the loop on at least one recent hiring decision. He obviously wasn’t pleased. He looked at Tom and nodded toward the other end of the warehouse. Well, not really nodded. More like an almost imperceptible tilt of his head. No one else would have noticed. Shane did. It was his job to pick up on the little nuances that others missed.
He watched them move down the wide center aisle, then slipped between some pallets to parallel the path the other men had taken. He moved in a fast but silent walk, staying out of sight. Near the end of the large space, he stopped to listen. Neat clusters of boxes rose before and behind him, stacked six feet tall on the pallets that held them, product that had arrived but not yet made it to the manufacturing end of the operation.
“Who hired him?” Spike’s voice carried over the beeping of a forklift backing nearby, and Shane poked his head around the loaded pallet. From his vantage point, both men stood in profile, facing one another. Nearby, double doors led into a part of the warehouse Shane hadn’t seen yet, something he planned to remedy that afternoon.
“I did.” Tom’s voice held a note of defensiveness, as if he expected to get some grief from his boss.
“Get rid of him.” Spike issued the command in that authoritarian style that was standard several decades ago. Someone needed to tell him it didn’t work so well in the twenty-first century.
“Why? He’s doing a great job.”
“I don’t care what kind of job he’s doing. I don’t want him here.”
“I have no reason to let him go.” Tom dug in his heels with a stubbornness that seemed at odds with the easygoing manager who’d made his regular rounds through the warehouse.
“You don’t need a reason.”
“What have you got against the guy?”
“Let’s just say I don’t like the way he looks, so get rid of him. If he’s not gone by the end of the week, I’ll take care of it myself, and you’ll both be gone.”
Tom stood in silence, fists clenched. Then, without a word, he spun on his heel and started to stalk away.
Spike continued. “And Tom, one more thing.”
Tom stopped walking but didn’t turn around.
“From now on, all hiring decisions will go through me.”
Now he did turn around. That warm, friendly air had disappeared. He was all
