Colton Nursery Hideout Page 12

  “Don’t even joke about things like that,” she said. “Do you want to tempt fate?”

  She knocked on her wooden desktop in a superstitious tradition, and he leaned forward and did the same.

  “Hope it wasn’t too bad.”

  “The fate tempting?”

  He shook his head. “The indigestion.”

  She pulled out the trash can from beneath her desk and tilted it so he could see inside.

  Wrappers from both sleeves of saltines that she’d brought from the condo that morning were crumpled at the bottom.

  “At least it wasn’t what I thought you might be showing me.”

  She frowned over his lame joke.

  “Sorry you’ve been feeling crummy. I’ll make us something healthy when we get, uh, back to the house.”

  He’d almost said home, and the word rang hollow in her ears, anyway. She no longer had a place she’d come from or where she could return when she needed to recharge. Though she’d been back in Grave Gulch for days, she hadn’t been able to drive by the old place that her father had sold right after her mother’s death. At least she had a place to stay until they tracked down whoever had sent the email, but his home wasn’t and would never be her home.

  Travis cleared his throat, possibly realizing that he’d touched on a sensitive subject.

  “You know what I’ve been doing all afternoon?” He waited for her to shake her head before continuing. “Digging through employee records down in HR.”

  Relieved for the change in subject, she glanced up at him again. “You don’t mean physical records, do you? Don’t we have all that stuff on the company network in the encrypted files?”

  “They are. But if someone has hacked into the network, we don’t want them to see where we’ve been looking. We keep a physical copy of employment records in the locked file room.”

  “Good idea avoiding the network.”

  At that, he smiled. “I’d thought so, too, until the head of HR started hanging around asking me if she could help me find what I was looking for.”

  “Find out anything?”

  “Other than employees paranoid they’re going to lose their jobs? No.” He scooted the chair closer to her desk and planted both elbows on it. “I looked at all the men, and nothing seemed to be off in anyone’s backgrounds. It still could be one of them.”

  “What about the women?”

  “I haven’t looked yet, but I will.” He closed his eyes and shook his head before opening them again. “I still get the idea that it’s a guy.”

  “Or someone who wants us to think so.”

  “We’ll also have to take extra precautions at work to ensure you’re not alone with any of the employees, except for Jan or me—and your own assistant, once you have him or her in place.”

  Travis shook his head. “I hate to think someone got past one of our screeners. We check references, work histories, and social media profiles. We always try to root out any potential problems before we bring candidates in for interviews.”

  “It doesn’t always work, though.” She shrugged. “The board hired me.”

  He leaned forward and met her gaze. “You had my recommendation. And I wasn’t wrong.”

  “Your father would probably disagree,” she said with a chuckle.

  “I wasn’t wrong,” he repeated.

  She searched his eyes, but he didn’t crack a smile as he stared steadily at her. Finally, she had to look away from the intensity of his gaze. Whether his determination came from his opposition to his father or his support of her, she wasn’t sure, but how could he not see that bringing her into Colton Plastics was probably the biggest mistake of his professional life? Just like taking him into bed had been her worst mistake, personally and professionally, no matter how deeply they’d seemed to connect at the time.

  Travis sank back into the chair, folded his arms and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have brought your dad into this discussion. I wasn’t playing fair, and he had nothing to do with it.”

  He shrugged and then uncrossed his arms. “You’re probably right about what he would think, anyway.”

  Travis laced his fingers and glanced over at the line of windows again, likely seeing images in his memories instead of whatever was outside. An idea that had been playing at the periphery of her thoughts came into clear focus then.

  “If you were in HR, you should have been able to see the parking lot from those windows,” she said. “Were there still a lot of reporters out there?”

  “Yeah. Some. Fewer even than this morning, though. They might not be here because they’re at my condo, waiting for us to return from the office.”

  She hoped that wasn’t the case, but it was a possibility. “Or maybe they’re hanging around the police station, waiting for your sister to give an update on the murder from yesterday.”

  After standing up slowly to avoid the head rush, she collected both piles of résumés. “Wait here. I’m going to drop these off with Jan and have her shred the extras.”

  He started to stand as well, but she gestured for him to stay seated. “Just stick around. I’ll be right back.”

  She did as she said, hurrying to the opposite side of the building and returning only minutes later.

  “Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Travis asked as she moved to her seat.

  Instead of answering immediately, Tatiana grabbed the laptop and lifted its lid.

  “Better pull the chair closer,” she said.

  Though she’d signed into her email on the new laptop, she avoided checking her messages again. This was more important for her to take care of right now. Travis had done so much for her, from preparing healthy meals to checking in on her at work to that drive out of town to meet Ellie. It was time she did something for him.

  “Why? Are you making another list?”

  “No, I have to write a statement, and I’ll need your help.”

  “I don’t think this is how it’s done, though,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I try to know as little about this subject as possible, but to make a statement to police you have to be in the presence of an actual police officer.”

  She opened the document and started typing. “Good thing it’s not that type of statement.”

  He tilted his head, squinting. “Then what is it?”

  “It’s time for me to speak formally to the press.”

  Chapter 11

  Just before five o’clock, Travis reluctantly stood at the revolving door in Colton Plastics’ huge, slate-tiled lobby. Outside, several reporters were perched on curbs, probably freezing as they ate their dinners from takeout containers and talked. In minutes, they would pop up as his employees rushed out the front door and tried to escape without being cornered and questioned.

  “You’re sure you still want to do this?” he said over his shoulder to Tatiana, who was behind him.

  She didn’t look up from the document they’d prepared together. “Yes, I’m sure. Relax. It’ll be fine.”

  She wasn’t even peeking around him at the wolves about to devour her. Instead, she waved at the two day-shift security guards, who were getting more entertainment than they’d had all day.

  “Listen,” he said.

  “What?”

  “You’re used to controlled trials in an engineering lab. You won’t have any command over what happens once you step out in front of them. They could ask you anything. Anything. And if you don’t answer it, you’ll be on camera not commenting on it.”

  She held her gloved hands wide. “I can do this. Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. I don’t them.”

  “You sound like my dad before I went out on my first date.”

  He glanced back in time to see her eyes widen over what she
’d said.

  “We can still bail,” he suggested.

  “I want to do this. I’m sick of riding in the back of a cargo van.”

  He would have asked her what the van had to do with her stepping out in public this way, but a few of the reporters and camera operators started shifting outside as if someone had seen them.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  They stepped through the revolving door. Once outside, they continued together down the walk to the area where the press had been kept at a distance with lighted barricades. Reporters, some familiar, some not, rushed up with either their notebooks or huge microphones.

  “Good evening. I’m Travis Colton, founder and co-CEO of Colton Plastics. Our new co-CEO will be reading a prepared statement, and then she will take a few questions.” Or none, if he had anything to say about it. “So, I’ll turn this over to Tatiana.”

  She stepped in front of the collection of microphones. “Hello.”

  Immediately, she bent her head to look at the statement in her hands, appearing nervous and stiff.

  “My name is Tatiana Davison—”

  “Hey, Tatiana,” someone called from the back. “What’s it like to have a dad who’s a serial killer?”

  She froze, her eyes wide, her jaw slack. But movement continued all around her as other reporters, freed from the decorum of a press conference, began to shout questions at her from all directions.

  Travis held up both hands to stop the noise. “Please allow Tatiana to speak, or we will end this press conference immediately.”

  Finally, the crowd quieted.

  “Read,” he said in a low voice.

  She blinked several times, then lifted the folder and started reading again. But he knew her well-crafted statement had already lost its impact. No matter what she said then, the TV footage would show the deer-in-the-headlights look that had flashed across her face when that awful question was lobbed at her.

  “Please allow me to address the situation involving my father, Len Davison. Grave Gulch Police have informed me that my father is wanted for questioning regarding a murder that took place in Grave Gulch Park.”

  As she continued to read, her voice became stronger, and her shoulders straightened. This was the image she’d wanted to portray to reporters and the public. The one they’d planned. He couldn’t have been prouder of her for that recovery. Still, his hands twitched as he searched the crowd for the reporter who asked that awful question. Good thing he couldn’t identify the guy, or no one would have been able to guarantee that hack’s safety.

  “Also, be aware that all Americans, including my father, are entitled to a fair trial,” she continued. “He has not been convicted of any crime.

  “I ask that you please respect my privacy during this challenging time for my family. Also, please refrain from questioning Colton Plastics employees regarding this private matter. Thank you.”

  Travis leaned into the microphone. “Now we have time for a few appropriate questions.”

  A familiar woman with an olive complexion and a long black ponytail stepped in front of the others and extended a tiny microphone.

  “Ms. Davison, I’m Dominique de la Vega, investigative reporter for the Grave Gulch Gazette. Can you tell me if you’ve spoken with Len Davison since his release in December, following the disappearance of compelling DNA evidence connecting him to the murder of Vincent Gully? And are you familiar with a GGPD forensic scientist named Randall Bowe?”

  “Uh. I don’t think—” Tatiana shook her head. “Sorry. Could you repeat the question?”

  Dominique dutifully asked again.

  “Um, no, I haven’t. And, yes, I have been informed about the case against Mr. Bowe.”

  Travis held his breath as she answered the second question about Bowe. The strange thing was that though he didn’t know all of her story, he sensed that Tatiana had lied when answering the first question. The one about speaking to her dad. If that was true, she’d also lied to him.

  After a few more questions that Tatiana handled better than the first two, Travis ended the press conference and ushered her back inside the building.

  “That went okay, right?”

  She squinted as she asked it, hinting that even she recognized it hadn’t been a perfect appearance. He was tempted to take her in his arms and comfort her—and also to shake her for talking him into conducting a press conference when she wasn’t close to ready. He had resolved to hire a public relations director for CP. If he’d had one already—and that director had allowed the two co-CEOs to make that appearance—Travis would have fired the guy on the spot.

  “It wasn’t bad, right?”

  Tatiana lowered her head as she trudged past the elevator to the stairs. “Then it must have been even worse that I thought it was...and I thought it was awful.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” he said from behind her as he climbed. “Someone lobbed a verbal grenade at you for your first question, then they didn’t even step up and take credit for it.”

  She reached the second-floor landing and turned back to him. “I should have expected it, though. Maybe wrapped up in pretty, distant words, but I should have known that question was coming and had a response ready.”

  “That would have been a good idea.”

  Travis followed her as she returned to her office and they both dropped down in the seats they’d occupied earlier. “I shouldn’t have rushed it,” she admitted, planting her elbows on her desk. “Obviously, I had to speak to them at some point, but I should have waited until I was ready. Really ready.”

  Because she would get no argument from him on that point, he didn’t say anything at all. Like he’d told her, he’d made no mistake in recommending her for the position of co-CEO, but he couldn’t say the same for so many of the decisions he’d made involving her since then.

  “Do you think they’re going to trash me on the nightly news?” she asked after a long pause.

  He shook his head. “It will probably be all right. They know that the question the guy asked was a low blow.”

  “You don’t have to sugar coat it for me, you know.”

  He shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”

  “You know they’ll make me look like an idiot, which I made awfully easy for them. So, don’t lie.”

  “Funny that you should say that...”

  “What do you mean?”

  Travis stood up from the chair and crossed to her office door. He hated lies, but she’d told falsehoods to him and gotten him to cover for her to his cousins about the messages she ignored in Paris. Whether or not she’d asked him to lie, he was a fool to set aside his moral code to protect her when she refused to tell him the truth.

  He considered not answering her question at all, but as he opened the door, he couldn’t stop himself.

  “If you don’t think we should lie to each other, then tell me this. When did you really speak with your dad last? And why did you lie to me about it?”

  Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  * * *

  Tatiana had done her daddy proud at that press conference, in his opinion. Well, except for the part where she’d looked shocked after that amazing first question came from the gaggle of reporters. Go big or go home. Am I right?

  But the question seemed to surprise his lady love, which in turn had shocked the hell out of him. How could she not have been prepared for someone to ask that? Reporters and everyone else who would watch or read the articles later would be dying to know what it was like to be Len Davison’s daughter. Dying. He chuckled over his word choice. A little insider humor, and he’d earned his spot in the club.

  If he hadn’t known better, he might have thought she wasn’t as proud of her father’s accomplishments as she should have been. He was in on the gag, though. Tatiana was a brilliant woman, too
smart not to realize that Len Davison was a celebrity, a hero and a mystery. No one would even have heard of Grave Gulch if not for his work. The fear and shock in Tatiana’s beautiful hazel eyes had to have been part of her performance, making for better television. Who could blame her? She would be interviewed in documentaries for years to come, and she needed to start building her innocent persona now.

  It was unfortunate that the media presence at Colton Plastics was smaller tonight. But those reporters who missed the press conference had no one to blame but themselves for relaxing their vigils outside the headquarters.

  He guessed he couldn’t blame them for choosing, instead, to wait outside the Grave Gulch Police Department for updates on the newest murder. So many bodies, so little time. They were going by the old journalism adage “if it bleeds, it leads,” and the freshest one was still painting the snow red.

  He tried to ignore the extra little thrill that came with knowing that Chief Melissa Colton would be updating the press on his work this time. But that day he couldn’t help standing a little taller among the reporters finishing their feeds or hanging around for quick interviews. Too bad he would have to watch the event at the police department on TV. He also needed to remember that a protégé must not try to overtake the notoriety of his mentor. At least not right away.

  There was plenty of time for that later, after he and Tatiana consummated their match made in, if not heaven, somewhere awfully close. He couldn’t wait to introduce her to Polly, too. His dog was going to love her, though his furry friend might balk at giving up her side of the bed. He couldn’t wait to share his books with Tatiana and teach her about some of the most fascinating serial killers of their time, some more infamous than her father. He might even allow her to flip through the books herself one day, but only if she promised to wear cotton gloves and never to fold the pages.

  He smiled as he replayed the press conference in his mind, Tatiana’s hair tied back in a way he would never permit her to wear it. It had been so like a Colton to horn in on an event that should have been Tatiana’s moment to shine. Something about the way Travis Colton had hovered left him grinding his molars. The Colton Plastics founder had taken over the show, introducing her and then stepping in again the moment she’d faced her first question. The familiar way he’d tucked his hand under her elbow to guide her to the microphones had grated on him as well.