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Authors: Robena Grant

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary

Unlock the Truth (2 page)

BOOK: Unlock the Truth
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He looked at her for a moment, and then beyond her, toward the office door.

“Ms. Roman, this is Rocky, my foreman. He knows the running of Three C’s better than I do. Rocky, we have a problem.”

Rocky bobbed his head in her direction. Gripping his cowboy hat, he gave Zeke a wide-eyed stare, and then sat on the edge of the chair next to hers. He didn’t make further eye contact.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Dena offered her hand but he didn’t seem to notice. She sat back. She’d have to play her cards right to get Zeke to sign a contract. Maybe Rocky was her ace, since he ran the place. “Rocky. That’s an interesting name.”

He eased back a little in the chair, but still gripped his hat. “Me and Zeke, we’re second generation Argentine. Rock is my last name, been called Rocky since grade school, right Zeke?”

Zeke gave a brief nod.
Good, Rocky is a talker. I have a chance with a talker
. Dena observed both men, and felt in control for the first time since she’d entered the office. The men were a set of salt and pepper shakers, one tall and cool with light eyes, the other square, muscular and dark. She figured she had the two of them pegged, as far as personalities went.

“You can see the problem,” Zeke said, looking at Rocky. “We had requested a male rep, and—” Police sirens wailed nearby.

Dena’s stomach clenched. “Are the police coming here?”

Zeke stared at her for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” she said, but her stomach felt queasy. Had they found another woman’s body, a third victim? How many could there be?

Zeke turned toward the window, tilted his head and listened. Rocky fiddled with his hat.

Zeke had been proven innocent in Carli’s case. There had been no DNA match. Besides, who in their right mind would murder women, bury them on their land, and then sell that land? But that didn’t mean someone working on the estate couldn’t be the murderer. She looked away from him and focused on the large legal-type tomes in the bookshelves. She’d forgotten he was a lawyer. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. The sirens softened. Zeke turned to face her.

“We’ll discuss the contract first,” Dena said, sensing her time had come to a fast end and not wanting to lose even a second.

“Ms. Roman, I can’t—”

“Dena.” She flashed a smile, and slid the contract across the desk. She thought she heard him sigh in resignation.

Zeke lowered his head and began reading.

That’s a surprise. That’s good
. He perused the papers, and one long tapered finger underscored each line. She waited impatiently. She’d tell him the truth on Monday. Of course she would.

He raised his head and slapped a hand on the contract. “I’m sorry. I can’t have you represent me.”

“But…why not?”

“I don’t want to work with a woman. No offense.”

She was being turned away because of her gender? She began to sweat again and her annoyance grew. She softened her eyes and leaned forward. “I’m considered one of the best crisis communications experts on the West Coast. I have excellent references.”

He tilted his chin.

She tilted hers higher. “I’m here. Why not hear me out? It will cost you nothing but fifteen minutes of your time.”

****

Zeke twirled the pen between his fingers, his jaw clamped hard against the accusations threatening to burst forth. He gave Dena a tight-lipped glance, and then pushed back in the chair and stood. With both hands shoved in his pockets, he stared out the window.

He’d taken the woman’s call this morning and assumed she’d been a secretary. He’d gone to the PR firm’s website, seen the list of agents and liked what he’d read, and confirmed an appointment with a woman named Wendy. Could he be losing his professional grip in this god forsaken place? He hadn’t asked enough damn questions.

Had Dena known he’d asked for a male agent, or did the secretary not explain his needs? He didn’t want to talk about the murders with a woman, any woman, but especially not with one so young and attractive. When exactly had he decided she was attractive? He blew out a gust of air and turned around.

“I’m not promising anything,” he said, and sat down, annoyed at the sudden shimmer in her blue eyes. He’d had enough dealings with sophisticated women like her. Absolutely no way would he fall for her charms. “You’ve got your fifteen minutes.”

“We could hear the whole thing.” Rocky shifted in his seat. “I’ve put a couple of guys out in the field in my place—”

“Fifteen minutes.” He shot Rocky a dark look. On this subject, he was the boss.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s start with the contract.”

The cheerful tone in Dena’s voice irked him. He preferred to conduct business with a serious tone. If this were a court case, and he the defense counsel, he could be detached, weigh all the pros and cons, but even then he’d be serious.

“Fine.”

“I’d suggest a six month retainer,” Dena said. “If you’ve finished, maybe Rocky should look over the—”

“Standard contract,” Zeke said, and passed it to Rocky. Dena straightened. She handed him a glossy brochure and an equally glossy smile. He didn’t smile back, knowing he’d have to shoot a hole right through that slick confidence of hers. No way in hell would he hire Ms. Roman.

“Read over these. There’s mention of the mission statement—” she stopped suddenly, and her face colored.

He’d interrogated enough people to know when someone lied, well, most of the time. He squinted, put the brochures down. What could the chatty little lady be hiding?

“I’ll read them later,” he said, and settled back in his chair, hands behind his head, fingers intertwined. He had the upper hand. “Tell me a little about the firm from your experience.”

“Brennan & Associates is—”

“Not the slick PR crap. Tell me about the real firm. Why did you choose to work for them? How do they treat you?”

She took a deep breath and smoothed her sleek blonde hairdo. She would fight for this job, he could see that.

“I started as an intern, right out of college—”

“Which was?”

“Pepperdine.”

“Good school.”

She smiled a natural, almost shy smile, not that fake PR one. She lit up from within and transformed her rather long face. It took her from attractive to beautiful in a second. He lowered his eyes and focused on the blotter.

“Ours isn’t your typical Los Angeles firm that deals primarily with the entertainment industry,” she said. “I’m the only one who handles celebrities.”

“What?” His head shot up. Her gaze floated away then dropped. She’d probably recalled that he’d asked for a conservative agent, as well as a male. The last thing he needed was some Hollywood type let loose on the estate.

“I also handle business and corporate clients,” Dena said, her voice clear, her speech precise. “I can furnish references.”

He shifted in his chair. He liked her quick composure. He’d hear her out.

“Seems in order,” Rocky said. He handed Dena the contract.

She put it beside her presentation papers, placed a gold pen on top, and looked across the desk. Her steely determination made her eyes colder. In that moment, Zeke knew, if he did hire her, his life would never be the same.

“The plan I’ve developed is two-fold,” she said. “One is for the national and international aspect, the packing and shipping. The other is local, your community image—”

“I don’t get involved with the community,” Zeke said, aware that he sounded surly. He’d become a stranger in this town, the place he’d grown up.

“And that is precisely
where one of your problems—”

“Let’s focus on the business.” To hell with community, the damn locals were blackballing him. “And I still want to work with a male—”

“I have eight minutes left.” She tilted her chin. “Besides, as I mentioned, I don’t think gender should be an issue.”

“Well, it is.” Zeke tossed the pen onto the blotter. Whatever she came here for, she had to tell it straight or get the hell out. He cleared his throat with a slight cough. “This is about me personally, and the best thing for Three C’s.”

“Exactly. That’s why I suggested representation.”

“You don’t get it! I’m not being sexist—”

“Yes, you are.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“Zeke,” Rocky said. “Hear what she has to say.”

He scowled at Rocky then looked away. She wanted something more than to represent him. But what? He’d let her play this out, let her trip herself up. He eyed her thoughtfully for a moment, and lifted the pen, twirling it between his fingers.

“When your name is smeared the stink and suspicion remain,” he said quietly. “There will be more questions, discussions about the victims.” A prickle of irritation stirred at the nape of his neck. He tossed the pen and raised both hands, unable to hold back his anger. “Hell, the murders happened on my property, while I still owned the land.”

“I know,” she said, her glance sympathetic.

He didn’t want sympathy—he wanted results—three months and still not one clue, and now, another victim. There’d been female investigators, reporters, and with the second woman’s body found, the questions would start again. His stomach did a couple of churns. He was sick to death of women and questions. Men he could deal with. They spoke the same damn language, straight shooters, no emotional crap. But the female investigators, they all looked at him, sized him up, the questions visible in their eyes.

“I’m sorry for my anger.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “The first murder victim had my phone number in her purse. I never knew her.” He didn’t add that she’d been raped and strangled. That sounded harsh when spoken.

“No subject is off limits,” Dena said. “I’m a crisis communications expert. I’ve heard everything. I can advise—”

“Why would you want me as a client? I might be a suspect.”

She made eye contact, a defiant look on her face. “I know you’re innocent.”

He raised his eyebrows, and then sat straighter. “Based on what?”

****

Seconds ticked by. Dena thought about admitting to being Carli’s sister, but would Zeke throw her out if she did? Better to stick with her first plan. Get the contract. Investigate over the weekend. Tell the truth on Monday.

“You’re not…you weren’t the woman’s type. I read a lot about her.” She tried for a casual, relaxed pose, even though her heart pounded. “She always went for the artistic type…theater, film, struggling artists.”

Carli had never been attracted to tall rangy men, especially blonds. She claimed she liked her men like her coffee—dark and hot—but Dena wouldn’t tell him that. Some things should stay between sisters. Would she give herself away under his lawyerly appraisal? She thought of Carli, her vibrant life snuffed out, and let icy determination fill her veins. This could be her chance, probably her only chance, to do something to avenge Carli’s murder.

“I believe the woman knew her murderer. She’d never mentioned your name, or the town of Rancho Almagro, or Three C’s to…to her family, and—” She took a deep breath. “I think her murder took place elsewhere.”

Zeke remained silent but his posture relaxed.

Dena continued before he had a chance to stop her. “The CEO of a fruit farming company as large as Three C’s, wealthy, educated, well, she would have gone against type. I’ve fully researched the case and I know people. It’s my business.”

Zeke gave Rocky an inquisitive tilt of his chin and raised his eyebrows, maybe he even half-smiled. She couldn’t be sure. Rocky gave a quick shake of his head. Both men became even quieter for a few moments. Maybe Rocky held a higher position than she thought.

“The murderer could have been a stranger,” Rocky said. “A drifter—”

“But I don’t think so. I have a theory.” Dena leaned forward, excited. “You see—”

“I’m sorry.” Zeke pushed against the edge of the desk. “I like your idea of representation. The firm has a good reputation. However, this would not be a comfortable work arrangement.”

Her heartbeat kicked up a notch and her brow and upper lip felt damp. Darn it, why hadn’t she kept her big mouth shut? Theory, why did she say that? She clasped her hands together and resisted the desire to pat at her damp face.

“Would you like me to call Mr. Brennan?”

“No. Thank you,” Zeke said. “I’ll show you out.”

She restacked her papers. So, he wasn’t even going to use the firm. Would Steve fire her? Never one to give up easily, she turned toward Zeke.

“Wouldn’t the fact that I’m female be to your benefit?” she asked. “It would show the public that our firm trusts you, believes in your innocence.”

“I am innocent,” Zeke said curtly.

Darn.
“Well, yes, I know that.”

“Small towns…lot of narrow minds.” Zeke pushed his chair back even further and stood. He leaned one palm on the desk and stared down at her. “The agent would be a guest of Three C’s. We would need to work closely over the next few days.”

“We’re all adults,” Dena said. “Staying here would not be a problem.”

“It would be for us,” Rocky said.

Zeke nodded. “I’m a bachelor, and this isn’t L.A.”

“Yes, but—”

“I want to stop the gossip and speculation, not start more.” Zeke walked around the desk. “I’m sorry.”

What an old-fashioned toad.

“I understand your mind is set,” Dena said, with a tilt of her chin. “It’s obvious there’s no room for negotiation.”

He was her first client to get away; her first business loss. She frowned, stuffed the contract back inside the laptop case and yanked on the zipper. More than the career aspect, the chance to learn about Carli’s connection to this place had been lost. She had to give it one last shot.

“When you were questioned before, at least in the newspaper and television accounts, some things raised a red flag for me.” Dena stood. She even smiled, although it almost killed her.

“Such as?”

“Don’t lash out with comments. Don’t be a smart-ass. When you’re under scrutiny, every word, action, every grimace counts, and you never know who is snapping a photograph—”

“I might as well sell the damn business,” Zeke huffed.

BOOK: Unlock the Truth
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