Chapter 2

TWO

STEPH ARRIVED AT THE OFFICE , her heart still beating the rhythm only grief knew. Lela Simmons was at the reception desk, tears drying on her cheeks. When she looked up and caught Steph’s gaze, the tears flowed once more.

Steph hugged her. “I know.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t either, but we’ll get through this. Brenda would be the first one to tell us she’s happy right where she is, but to take care of her family.”

“That’s very true, but it still hurts.” Lela sniffed and snagged a clean tissue to mop up her face. The phone rang and she sucked in a breath. “I need to get that.”

“Of course.” Steph left her friend and pushed through the door that led to her office. Although “office” was a stretch. It was a cubicle. One of many in the center of the large open floor. The perimeter contained private offices.

But Steph didn’t mind the noise, she relished it. She lived alone, and sometimes the quiet threatened to suffocate her.

Only today, for the first time in the five years she’d been an employee, it was quiet, the atmosphere thick, heavy with grief and disbelief. Coworkers exchanged hushed whispers and shared condolences, the tragedy casting a somber shadow over their usual bustling workplace. Stephanie settled in at her desk and tried to focus on her tasks, hoping to find solace in the familiarity of numbers and spreadsheets.

Unsure of how much time had passed, she finally blinked and realized what she’d done was going to have to be done again.

Stan walked over. “Steph?”

She looked up. “Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “I ... uh ... hate to bring this up in light of the fact that Brenda’s only been dead for a few hours, but I need to clear out her desk and see where she is with different clients and notify them.”

Steph blinked. Well, that was a little soon, but Stan was always worried about the clients more than propriety. Not that he didn’t care, but ... she had to admit, this rankled. “Stan—”

He held up a hand. “I know. I know. I’m a horrible person, but word is getting out and clients are going to hear and then the phone is going to start ringing, wondering who will be taking care of their money. They won’t mean to be unfeeling, and neither do I, but I need to get ahead of this. We all do.”

Steph blew out a low breath. “It’s okay. I understand what you’re saying.” And she did, but it just seemed wrong somehow to be worried about clients and their money when Brenda was dead. But ... “Okay. Someone has to do it and I know she’d want it to be me.”

Alarm flashed in his eyes. “Oh, no, that’s not ... I mean, I’ve got this. I just didn’t want to be harshly judged when I started working on her desk.” He cleared his throat. “And reassigning clients.”

“No one’s going to judge you. I’ll do it after everyone goes home so they don’t have to watch me—or you—do it.”

For a moment, she thought he might offer more protests, then he nodded. “All right. Thanks, Steph.”

“Of course.”

“And there’s a basket of vegetables in the break room. Please take some home. I’m going to drop some off to Greg on my way home.”

Greg. Brenda’s husband.

“I know he’ll appreciate the gesture,” she said.

Stan’s garden was legendary in the office. No doubt he’d already had his stash picked and loaded to bring in to the office before he’d gotten the call about Brenda.

He returned to his office but paced to the window instead of taking a seat behind his desk. He walked to his little watering pot and began to care for the multitude of plants in his office. His hand shook and he lowered the can. He was more upset than he was letting on.

For the next few hours, Steph worked, but her mind kept drifting back to Brenda. Why had she been on Youngstown Road, nowhere near her home? Had she been going to Bolin’s? Bolin’s Nature Nurture Expeditions, an ecotourism spot, was one of her favorites, and she worked there one weekend a month simply because she loved it. Youngstown Road would take her there, but so would one of the other safer roads. Granted, Youngstown was ten minutes faster, but still ... No, there had to be another explanation. But what?

Steph finally pushed her chair back and stood, stretched out the ache in her lower back, and made her way to the break room for a cup of coffee. Brenda’s mug had been rinsed out and placed on the rack next to the sink. The basket of fresh vegetables was right where Stan said it was.

More tears threatened, and Steph turned away to see Detective Cole Garrison and another man step off the elevator. The new partner James had told her about? He was handsome. About six feet tall with red hair, kind eyes, and a well-trimmed beard.

Stan walked over to greet them, then pointed in the direc tion of her cubicle with a frown. Steph took a deep breath and went to see what this was all about.

TATE LOOKED WITH ENVY at the steaming cup in the pretty woman’s hands. She was about five feet six inches and had dark blue eyes and brown hair with subtle blond highlights. Definitely pretty. Gorgeous, actually. At the moment, however, he was more interested in her coffee. What he wouldn’t give to be able to chug it. He cleared his throat and met her gaze while his partner took the lead on the case that had dropped into their laps as soon as they realized it was most likely a hit-and-run at the very least. Since Tate had been with it from the beginning, they’d agreed they’d be the best ones to see it through to the end.

“Hey, Steph,” Cole said. “This is my new partner for the time being. Tate Cooper.”

“Hello.”

Tate nodded. “Good to meet you. Sorry it’s under these circumstances. I’ve heard a bit about you from your brother.”

“Don’t listen to anything he says.” She attempted a smile, but it faltered, her blue eyes sad and red rimmed.

Tate offered a smile in return, hoping his sympathy was reflected in it.

“Can we talk?” Cole asked.

“About Brenda?” Pain flashed on her face, but she kept the tears at bay.

“Yeah.”

“Sure. Let’s go back to the break room. It’s more private.” She shot a knowing look at Tate. “And there’s coffee if you want it.”

She’d accurately read his longing. He fell halfway in love with her just for that. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

He and Cole followed her into the small area equipped with a table and full-sized kitchen. She motioned toward the disposable cups and Keurig, and Tate helped himself. Cole did the same, then the three sat at the round table.

Cole leaned forward. “We’re going to need to talk to her closest friends and coworkers.”

“Well, then I’m a good place to start. She and I met at the gym twice a week, then worked together every day. We hung out some on the weekends. I even let her lead me down the river occasionally when she was working at Bolin’s.”

“The ecotourism place,” Tate said. “I know it.”

Cole nodded. “Yeah, me too.”

“Then there’s Stan Gilchrest, our boss. You’ll need to talk to him if you haven’t already.”

Tate scratched his chin. “Not in detail.”

“Virginia Carson and Patti Smith were also good friends with Brenda. What else do you need to know?”

“Did she have any enemies that you can think of?” Tate asked.

Stephanie blinked, then frowned. “Enemies? Brenda? No. She was the kindest, most gentle soul you’d ever hope to meet. She had an incredible mind for numbers and was very good at her job.”

“Like you, I’m told,” Tate said. At her questioning look he said, “James.”

She sipped her coffee. “Hm. Well, I like to think so.”

Cole set his cup aside. “Look, Steph, I hate to say it, but it’s possible Brenda’s accident wasn’t exactly an accident. It’s possible someone ran her off the road on purpose.”

She gasped, then gaped. “What? You mean as in ... killed her ?”

“Maybe. We found paint from another vehicle on the side of her car in different places. Like someone bumped her twice and it was enough to send her over the side.”

“B-but could it have been someone who was careless or drunk or—”

“It could be, but either way, they left the scene, so for now we’re treating this like a homicide.” At her stunned expression, Cole sighed. “I know it’s terrible to ask this, but could you show us Brenda’s workspace? We’re going to need to go through it in case it was someone she knew. If it was just some weird accident by a stranger, that’s one thing, but we’ve got to rule other stuff out.”

“Stan was just talking about needing to clear out her desk this morning, and I told him I’d do it after everyone left for the day.” She frowned. “It’s right there in the middle of the room next to mine. If you guys start going through it, everyone will...” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“We get it,” Tate said, “but it’s possible she might have something in the desk that can lead us to why she’s dead. The faster we find that, the faster we hope to find out what happened on the road.”

“Right. Of course.” Steph stood and waved for them to follow. Tate snagged his coffee and pulled up the rear.

She stopped at a cubicle that was neat and organized. Ready for its occupant to settle into the chair and start work. Unfortunately, Brenda wouldn’t be coming back. Tate pulled in a deep breath while a sense of rightness settled over him in spite of the reason for his position being necessary. This was why he did this job. To get justice for those who couldn’t get it for themselves.