On the street, Lana walked with purpose. She was scheduled to meet a potential client at a coffeehouse only a few blocks from here. Over the phone, Gia Burrows had sounded enthusiastic and honestly impressed with Lana’s past projects in and around the city. Gia said she was a friend of a long-time client of Lana’s and said that client had suggested she meet Lana. Curiously, she had not told Lana the name of the person who had referred her.
Minutes later, she was standing in front of the trendy coffeehouse. Suddenly nervous, she smoothed her dress down in an attempt to hide the fact that she was wiping her sweaty palms. Taking a deep breath, she entered the establishment and her eyes scanned the place. Young professionals, mostly, populated the tables and booths. The delightful smell of fresh-roasted coffee assailed her nostrils and relaxed her. She could use a cup of java.
A petite brunette wearing designer jeans and a sleeveless silk top in jade stood up and waved her over. “Lana?” she called.
Smiling, Lana crossed the room and shook hands with the woman who appeared to be in her early thirties. Sitting down, Lana said, “Hello, Gia, nice to meet you”
Gia smiled. “Thanks for meeting me. I’m at my wit’s end trying to get our place done before July. Derek’s parents are supposed to come for a month-long visit and his mother hates me, totally hates me. The last time she visited all she did was complain about the amateurish way I’d decorated the house.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Her family owned a mansion on Nob Hill. She and my father-in-law live in Montecito now. By comparison, I come from the ranch-house set. She never lets me forget how lucky I am to have landed Derek.”
Lana’s first impression was that she liked Gia Burrows. However, lately, due to what she’d gone through with Jeremy, she reserved judgment.
“I feel for you,” she told Gia with a smile. “But if you don’t mind me asking before we go any further, who was it that referred you to me?”
Gia was one of those people who turned red when she was embarrassed. That was the first clue that something was wrong here.
She cleared her throat. “Well, actually, I...um...read about you online.” She smiled, showing perfect white teeth. Looking sheepish, she continued, “I thought it would totally piss my mother-in-law off when she found out who decorated the house. She and my father-in-law had invested money with your late husband.”
Lana was speechless with shock after hearing that. However, somewhere in the back of her mind she was thinking she really shouldn’t be surprised that the only reason someone was thinking of hiring her was to piss someone else off. She was also disgusted with herself because she was seriously thinking of accepting the assignment. After all, she had bills to pay.
The part of her that still had some pride wouldn’t bend to the desperate Lana in her, though.
She got up. As she looked down at Gia Burrows who was still sitting, she said, “Look, I’m not judging you on how you get your jollies. Several of my clients have just picked me out the phone book, but the reason you chose me makes me leery. So, I’ll have to say no thanks.”
Gia looked genuinely let down by her decision. Pouting, she said, “Are you sure? I’d pay you anything you asked for. If you met my mother-in-law, I assure you that you’d totally be on my side.”
“Look, Gia, if you should change your mind and you seriously want to work with me and it’s not just to stick it to your mother-in-law, then you know how to reach me. You say you have read about me online. Then you know my life is pretty screwed up right now. I’m barely keeping my head above water and I don’t have time for frivolous offers of work. I need concrete business opportunities.”
With that, Lana left the coffeehouse.
She heard Gia mutter, “Damn!” as she walked away.
* * *
Lana had already quickly walked three blocks back in the direction of Grant’s office building. Her encounter with Gia had helped her make up her mind about the divorce. Jeremy was most likely somewhere getting on with his life. It was time she got on with hers.
She took out her cell phone and dialed Grant’s cell phone.
“Hey, Lana,” he answered in his usual upbeat manner.
“Are you busy right now?”
“Yes, but I can see you in half an hour,” he replied.
“Great. I’m coming to sign those papers.”
“All right,” he answered cheerfully. “See you soon.”
She then hung up the phone. Damn you, Jeremy, for putting me in this position. You’d better run. Run far away. Because if I ever get my hands on you again, you’re going to be in for a world of pain.
As Lana shoved her phone into its slot in her purse, she heard heavy breathing behind her. She turned to see Gia Burrows hurrying toward her.
“Lana, wait. You’re right. I wanted to hire you for all the wrong reasons.” Gia stopped in front of her and took a moment to catch her breath. “I apologize, but I really need you. I know you’re one of the best and if you’ll forgive me for my crassness I’m ready to make you a serious offer.”
Lana smiled at her. Was she going to turn down a genuine offer of employment? No way. She stuck out her hand for Gia to shake. “Apology accepted.”
Chapter 2
Tennison Isles made it a habit of taking the stairs. His work schedule made it difficult to get to the gym every day. However, as a special agent with the FBI he had to stay in good physical condition. As he stepped onto the thirteenth floor from the stairwell this morning, he had nearly collided with the special-agent-in-charge, Josh Kagen.
Kagen was in his mid-forties, of average height, and stocky with thick brown hair that he wore so close to his scalp from a distance he looked bald. Ten was thirty-five years old, six foot four, weighed 225 and his body was honed not just from walking up stairs but running, weight-lifting and twenty years of martial arts.
“Ten, you’re just the guy I wanted to see. I suppose you heard about that Corday investor who tried to commit suicide. If his wife hadn’t come home in the nick of time, he would have done himself in using a 1965 Mustang. He’d passed out, and she got there in just enough time to turn off the ignition and open the garage door.”
Ten was about to say that he’d heard the report on the morning news. The deputy director often asked rhetorical questions, especially when he felt strongly about a case, as he did about the Jeremy Corday case.
Kagen began walking toward his office. Ten fell into step beside him.
“I feel for the family,” Ten said, “And the widow. I’m sure she was glad the hoopla had died down a bit. Now the media will be clamoring for her thoughts on the matter.”
Those who worked the case had started referring to Lana Corday as the widow even though they didn’t believe Jeremy Corday was dead.
“How is he?” Ten inquired about the man who had attempted suicide. He was certain Kagen, known for his thoroughness, had gotten an update on the man’s condition.
“He’s going to be fine,” said Kagen as he opened the door to his office and entered the large utilitarian furnished space. It complemented its owner, as it was highly efficient.
Kagen did not sit down but paced the room as he continued, “I don’t know about you, Ten, but I’m feeling mighty frustrated with the lack of progress we’ve had finding Corday. There’s no paper trail, no sighting of him on airport security cameras,