Be Your Everything [All for Love] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (14 page)

They rode in silence. The elevator didn’t stop for anyone else and there was no one in the hall when they disembarked. She didn’t know whether to be happy or not. Despite his thin body and advancing age, Mr. Grayson would probably harm anyone who tried to help, but she also longed for a rescue. The walk to Moesha’s door took only seconds and Grayson rapped on it with the butt handle of the knife, pinching her arm cruelly with his other hand. The sound made her blood run cold. Would Moesha look through the peephole first? Or would she throw open the door with her usual carelessness because she was expecting Heather?

As she feared, Moesha opened the door to the bogeyman.

“Hi Heather! You made good time! Hey, Mr. Grayson!”

Although Grayson stiffened at her friend’s bonhomie, he acted quickly. He pushed Heather ahead of him, never releasing her elbow. She saw him show Moesha the knife out of the corner of her eye.

“Shut the door, twit, and shut your mouth. You go get Heather’s plant right now.”

Heather didn’t miss the spark in Moesha’s face, but her friend hunched over a little and gasped as if intimidated. In a tiny voice she had never heard Moesha use before, one Heather knew was absolutely fake, her friend said, “What are you doing, sir?”

“I’m here to get what’s rightfully mine. Claim my money. All those years of paying out insurance claims to whining, puling clients. Never appreciated by management. No corner office and no chance for a partnership.

“I’ve got another way to load that data. With someone who’s smart as me and appreciative. We’re going to live life well off that money, and two more snivelling bitches won’t get in my way.”

“Did you hurt Meredith?” Heather had to know, and she wanted to warn Moesha not to go all warrior princess on Grayson. The man was dangerous and Moesha was trying to lull him into believing she was harmless. Moesha might not know what she was dealing with, but the cut on Heather’s back was reminding her that she did.

Grayson snorted. “She got too smart for her own good. Sneaking around my office at night like I wouldn’t notice. Trying to solve some discrepancies she picked up on.
Get the goddamn plant!
And don’t try anything or I’ll hurt little Heather here.”

Both Moesha and Heather jumped at his demand. The man’s face was stark with fury and something else. Heather thought he might be insane and her knees got weak. Moesha gave her a look and a sense of calm came over her. They were in this together. Moesha bobbed her head and rushed toward the kitchen. Heather got ready. Warrior princess it was.

Holding the lush plant high, by the side of the pot, one hand supporting the bottom, Moesha moved to them. Grayson reached for it, relaxing his hold on Heather’s elbow. Watching her friend’s face, Heather saw the tiny flicker of her left eyelid and kicked out toward her boss, catching him in the knee, causing him to falter and adjust his stance. Moesha swung the plant in an arc with a bloodcurdling scream, taking her hand from the bottom just before it hit Grayson’s head. He went down like a sack of potatoes, long limbs jumbled, amidst a shower of dirt, pottery shards, and foliage.

The knife fell from his apparently nerveless fingers and jammed into the hardwood. Heather dropped to her knees, grasping the haft to yank it free, and when Grayson made a feeble but successful attempt to roll onto his back, she set the blade in the hollow of his throat. He froze, skin a clammy color matching his name, eyes chalky blue with fear. She wondered how awful it would feel to push the blade into his flesh...

* * * *

Manny threw up his hands. Every ceiling tile was down, the metal hanging system inspected. The desks were examined from top to bottom, the underside of the desk chairs checked, and every nook and cranny of each and every cubicle searched. Every team member had been given a specific task and went about it with absolute dedication. There was nothing found. Nothing for Grayson to return for, yet he had indeed returned.

“Nothing.” Bryce sounded as frustrated as Manny felt. He shrugged.

“I doubt even sniffer dogs could have done a better search. Window frames, picture frames, light fixtures. We unscrewed all the outlets. Everything has been taken apart or examined with a fine tooth comb. It’s not here.”

“And the accountants haven’t found his back door either, yet. They are estimating a few more hours.” Bryce ran one big hand over his face.

Manny checked his phone again. Nothing from anyone, aside from that one brief call from Moesha to share Heather was fine and might call him at some point. He called Mrs. Humphries, but she was adamant Heather hadn’t returned. The search had distracted him, but now he felt at loose ends.

“I’m going to talk to Moesha. Heather might be there by now and might have an idea.” Manny was desperate to both see his woman and find that one missing piece.

Bryce’s face tightened. “We searched this entire floor, Manny. Not a stone left unturned and nothing got off this floor. Except one thing.”

He literally felt his entire body cool as all the blood in his extremities drained to his center. Fight or flight. The organism’s most primal reaction. The plant. Heather asked her friend to retrieve her plant, apparently the only thing she wanted from her office. He was assailed by questions and doubts. Shaking his head in an effort to clarify his thoughts, he looked to his partner.

“We need to go to Moesha’s place, retrieve that plant.” He would worry about everything else once that was accomplished. Worry about the unspoken implications.

Bryce was grabbing his jacket and straightening his tie as Manny spoke. They jostled through the conference room door and hurried through the rest of the floor, avoiding assorted detritus from the search, their colleagues involved in packing up some of the equipment. Manny punched the elevator call button and rocked impatiently on his heels. After an eternity the door slid back and McAllister stepped out, his face a thundercloud.

“No sign of Grayson,” he snapped. “And Heather Graham’s in the wind, too. Her apartment’s been emptied pretty much of anything perishable. Planning not to be around for a while. The building management have nothing listed as to next of kin or anyone to contact. I have no leads.”

Before Manny could reply, his partner urged the detective back into the elevator. “You need to come with us, McAllister. We think we might know where that missing piece of data is, and if we’ve figured out, Grayson might have also. And Miss Graham may well show up, too.”

Casting a grateful glance at Bryce, Manny followed the men and hit the button for the lobby. Bryce hadn’t thrown Heather to the wolves, although it followed that she could be in it up to her neck with her boss, sending Moesha to retrieve the plant. He hung onto his gut feeling, trying not to let his other strong emotions for Heather color his assessment. It had to be a coincidence. But that didn’t change the fact Grayson was still out there and Heather was returning to the city, heading for Moesha’s. Bryce was filling McAllister in while Manny steadfastly ignored the cop, willing the elevator to fly.

They poured out of the elevator at the lobby and Bryce led the way to the parking lot. McAllister forestalled them, gesturing to his police-issue sedan parked illegally at the curb. Manny got in the back. Bryce wasn’t buckled up before McAllister had the well-used car up to speed, powering toward the address Bryce provided.

“You think Grayson is looking for his secretary?” The detective’s voice held no inflection Manny could read, making him aware the other shoe would drop.

He shrugged, forgetting he was on the wrong side of the car for McAllister to see him in the mirror. “If I were Grayson I’d be looking for her if our suspicion is correct. That damn plant. Grayson has no way of knowing if she packed up her office or not, but she might have, so he’ll check with her first.”

“And you don’t think she’s involved. You
investigated
her pretty thoroughly, huh?” And there was the snark, the innuendo. But Manny didn’t bite. He was too worried for Heather, never mind the future.

“I trust my partner,” Bryce asserted. “And I interviewed Ms. Graham. I trust my instincts.”

“Yet she arranged for her friend to pick up the confounded plant!”

“We don’t even know if that’s where Grayson stashed it!” Bryce was on the defensive. Manny just willed the car to go faster.

“Well, then I guess we’ll see what this Moesha has to say, once we’ve had a look at the only item she retrieved for Ms. Graham. And then we’ll have a chat with Ms. Graham when she arrives.”

It didn’t look good. Manny knew the cop desperately wanted to find Meredith Fox’s killer and both Heather and Moesha might just get swept up in the hunt. McAllister might make himself believe they were in on it.

The sedan fishtailed to a stop inside the lot, Moesha’s apartment building set back from the street, a decorative stone wall back planted with vines and showy multicolored flowers obviously built to beautify the older building. Manny was out of the car before either of the other men, taking long steps toward the entrance when a bright spot of pink caught his eye. He veered left and McAllister ran up his heels.

“What the…”

“That’s Heather’s suitcase. She’s here.”

They fanned out and approached the car. McAllister ducked his head and looked inside while Bryce scanned the area in front. There was no sign of Heather as evidenced by the cop’s frustrated grunt and Bryce’s head shake. Manny stared at the suitcase. Why would Heather leave her luggage unattended? The area was deserted, but still…a glint on the ground had him reaching. Keys. The fob had a stylized
H
engraved on it, and a little fuzzy face in hot pink was attached via a silver chain. He held them up for the other men to see.

“She was either taking her luggage out of the trunk or putting it in and was interrupted.”

McAllister stared at the trunk and gestured wordlessly for the keys. Manny handed them over and his mind blanked. The remote clicked and the trunk lid rose with ominous slowness, resembling an enormous upper jaw of a great gray beast. One pink suitcase. One leather file folder. A purse. McAllister hefted the case sitting on the pavement and dropped it inside, pulling his sleeve down over his hand to do so, shutting the trunk with the same technique.

Aware of Bryce’s hand at his bicep, Manny willed his heart to start beating again. Heather wasn’t dead in the trunk, but she was in trouble. He couldn’t imagine anyone other than Grayson accosting her here in this parking lot, although he supposed it could be someone else. Unlikely. His quick brain swung into high gear, but McAllister was ahead of him, unemotionally involved.

“I’ll call it in, add to the BOLO on Heather.” Not the secretary, not Ms. Graham, the detective now saw Heather as a victim, and Manny nearly slumped in relief.

“We’ll go up to check on Moesha.” Bryce threw the comment over his shoulder and Manny hustled forward, adrenaline reasserting itself in his body.

“I’ll be right behind you. Don’t be heroes, though.” McAllister clearly wasn’t that concerned. He obviously believed Grayson snatched Heather and was on the run. Manny wasn’t so certain.

The same sequence followed, dash through the foyer, find the elevator, and hope for the thing to be quick. He passed Bryce and was punching the call button seconds before his friend arrived. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. They had worked together long enough to know the game plan. Stepping off on the correct floor, Manny scanned the hallway and saw nothing. Just as they ascertained the correct turn for Moesha’s apartment, they heard it. The sound of a scuffle punctuated by cursing and something Manny could only interpret as a war cry. Female.

Sprinting the few yards to the appropriate door, he drilled his left foot right under the knob, the force of the blow shattering the jamb, popping the lock, and the heavy wooden panel swung open. He and Bryce charged in, his partner hard on his heels, neither of them thinking about personal safety. Manny caught his forward momentum by dint of shoving a hand against the opposite wall. Bryce stumbled and crashed into him and Manny went to his knees, nearly landing on the outstretched legs of Gilbert Grayson.

Heather’s crouching form was but another three feet away, her thick hair swirling around her shoulders, clothing awry. She held a large knife in her hand, the knuckles white around the handle, the business end resting in the hollow of Grayson’s throat, right above the Adam’s apple. Those pale-blue eyes wide with terror, blood trickling down one side of his face, Grayson sprawled on the hardwood floor, festooned with dirt and shards of pottery. A clump of roots and green shoots lay to his left.

Panting with either panic or exultation, and Manny would bet on the latter, Moesha hovered over Grayson’s prostrate body. Her hair fairly stood on end, and he could swear her teeth were bared behind her full lips. She looked formidable and quite amazing. No guessing who had clocked Grayson a good one.

“Give me some room.” McAllister’s deep voice fractured the tableau. He eased past Bryce, and Manny shoved up to his feet. He inched toward Heather.

“Heather, sweetheart. It’s okay. Can you give me the knife and let Detective McAllister take care of Grayson?”

Casting him a wild-eyed glance, Heather mutely shook her head. The knife point scored Grayson’s skin and he swallowed audibly. “Get away from me,” he whispered.

“He killed Meredith! He bragged on it to both of us,” Heather choked out the words and Manny flinched. “He was going to kill Moesha and me, too!”

Moesha laughed, a bite of hysteria in the sound. “Not going to kill anybody today, Heather. He’s just lucky the cavalry arrived or—” The woman clearly recognized the fact there was a policeman present and shut down, leaving things open to interpretation.

“Give me the knife, Heather.” He reached her side without any further damage done to Grayson. There were a number of people in close quarters, but Manny left the situation to McAllister and Bryce. His only concern was Heather. He covered her hand with his, prying her fingers open with some difficulty, and the knife fell onto Grayson’s shoulder before clunking to the wooden floor. Grayson’s eyes closed in relief, only to pop open when McAllister dragged the older man’s skinny frame up with ease and slammed him, face-first against the wall. The sound of the handcuffs snicking shut was comforting.