For Her Protection(51)
Charlize chewed her lip. Her father, who, like her uncle, had given himself a stroke working here. She wouldn’t do the same. Had these things been happening when her dad was there? Is that why things had been so bad before the stroke?
“I’m sure you haven’t let him down and you haven’t let me down. Not unless there are things you haven’t told me. If there are, tell me now.” She leaned forward. “Is there anything I should know?”
Bob shook his head and raised his gaze. “No there’s nothing I can tell you. But if you want my opinion?” He glanced over his shoulder then back at her and scooted forward.
She leaned closer, focusing on Bob’s lowered tone.
“You should be very careful, Charlize. If someone is up to something, they’re not going to want to be found out. And that guard of yours…”
Charlize glanced at the doorway and back to Bob. A sensation like crawling insects trickled down her back. “What about him?”
“He’s been sneaking around. I saw him in Gregory’s office. Saw him asking question around the place.”
Her lungs froze—froze with an icy sharpness that shot pain deep in her ribs. “What? You think he’s some kind of corporate spy? You hired him…”
Bob blinked repeatedly. “I don’t know, maybe not a spy. Maybe government?”
Charlize sank back in her chair. He’d been a cop once—a detective. He was well educated, a little more so than a regular cop, he’d mentioned that himself. Maybe his business included more than simple protection?
“Thanks, Bob. I’ll be careful.”
Bob left but she hardly noticed. A haze formed over her eyes. Her fingers shook and she squeezed them in her lap. She picked up the cup of cold coffee from her desk and drained the contents.
She fished for her handbag and found the card buried in the zippered pocket then picked up the phone and dialed the number.
“Detective Mark Schorts speaking.”
“Hello, Detective, this is Charlize Halifax.”
A throat cleared at the other end. “Hello, Ms. Halifax. How can I help you?”
She breathed through her nose and watched the door. “Has there been any news on Gregory Craig?”
“I’m sorry to inform you he’s still on the run. But I believe it’s only a matter of time before we have him.”
She swallowed. Having him caught now would make things easier. “How worried for my safety should I be until you do?”
The line went quiet, not even breathing sounded on the other end.
“Detective?”
“I’m sorry. It’s always advisable to be vigilant in these situations but I don’t believe you need to be worried.”
“Thank you, I feel much better. Thanks for your help, goodbye,” she said then reset the phone and dialed an internal extension.
“Pete.”
“Ms. Halifax—” The voice on the other end of the line stuttered.
“I’m sending around our new security manager Connor Crowe to have a conversation with you about our IT security and fail-safes. This situation needs to be rectified.”
“But Mr. Crowe spoke to us already.”
Charlize pressed her dry tongue to the roof of her mouth. “He did? When?”
“This morning. A few minutes after we spoke. He conducted a comprehensive review of the system.”
Her stomach churned. The coffee she’d drunk earlier seemed to be finding a path back up. “Call him and ask him to come to you. Have a talk about the missing file. In fact—I want you to have a thorough conversation. If he’s in your office for less than an hour, you’re fired.”
“But—”
“No. I need to know this is being taken care of.”
She set the phone down and waited. Within a few heartbeats, Connor left the reception area. Charlize kicked off her pumps, not trusting herself to stand upright in them right now. She walked to the door, closed and locked it before leaning against it.
Connor’s laptop sat open at the table, his briefcase on the couch with the jacket he’d removed at lunch draped over it. She began with the laptop.
His computer was impossible to access. Not surprising, given he was in security. She only dared try entering two guesses for his password. Next the briefcase. She pushed his jacket out of the way and pressed the clips. The case clicked and swung open easily.
He hadn’t locked it. Apparently he trusted her. She held back the burning in her chest. Pity she’d trusted him too. Guess they both were wrong.
The cream interior held a row of neat pens slotted into their proper places and several manila files. She flicked through them. Files on Crowe Securities and then—one on Halifax. She ran her gaze carefully over each page, turning every one over and examining it for anything telling.