Hidden Agenda. Kara Lennox

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       CHAPTER TWO

      JILLIAN ROLLED INTO THE Mayall Lumber parking garage at 6:45 a.m., bleary-eyed but pleased to have missed the worst of the rush hour traffic. That was one benefit of showing up to work at the butt-crack of dawn.

      She couldn’t think of any others.

      No matter how hard she tried, she’d never been a morning person. Years of 6:00-a.m. swim practice, early college classes and working for Daniel—who also had expected her to rise early—hadn’t cured her of the tendency to sleep until noon if nothing woke her up.

      Still, she was self-disciplined enough to manage to do a good imitation of a lark when called for. She’d driven through Starbucks for a Venti cappuccino and had been sipping on it nonstop during her commute. A healthy dose of caffeine now coursed through her system; at least her eyelids no longer drooped.

      She opened the parking garage door with her new magnetic key card and smiled at the security guard seated at a desk just inside the door. The guard’s name tag identified her as Letitia, and she wasn’t exactly intimidating with her three-inch fingernails and an avalanche of springy curls pointing every which way. But Jillian tried not to judge by appearances.

      Letitia looked at her quizzically, and Jillian showed her the badge on a lanyard looped around her neck.

      “My first day,” she said.

      The roly-poly guard looked her over, then decided to smile, revealing a row of crooked but bright white teeth in her round face. “Yeah? What department?”

      “I’m an admin in Timber Operations.”

      “Don’t tell me you’re reporting to Conner Blake?”

      “Yes, that’s right.”

      The smile turned to a dubious frown. “Good luck, sister. You’ll need it.”

      Jillian saw no reason not to start her undercover work on the spot. Letitia could be a good resource, seeing as she knew everyone and saw them coming and going to and from the building. “He couldn’t be that bad.”

      “If you’re still here by lunchtime, there’ll be a betting pool started. Everyone puts in a dollar and guesses the exact hour you’ll quit. I usually pick 10:00 a.m. the second day—so far, I’m up twenty bucks.”

      “Really.” Was Letitia having a joke at Jillian’s expense? “What if I stay?”

      “You think you’re made of pretty strong stuff?”

      Jillian thrust out her chin. “Yes, I do. No one could be as bad as my old boss. Imagine the ruthlessness of Attila the Hun combined with the incompetence of Barney Fife.” She hoped Daniel never got wind of that description. He wasn’t at all incompetent, but he could be ruthless when he wanted something.

      Letitia snorted, almost a laugh. “Maybe your old boss was bad, but was he a murderer?”

      Jillian’s heart thudded so loudly she was sure Letitia could hear it. “Excuse me?”

      “I guess you haven’t heard about Greg Tynes.”

      “Oh, the man who was killed. Yes, I did hear something about that.” Jillian didn’t want to appear terminally ignorant.

      Letitia nodded. “He worked in Mr. Blake’s department. We all think Mr. Blake did it.”

      “Why?” Jillian didn’t have to fake her horror. She’d known someone at Mayall Lumber might be a killer, but she’d never imagined it might be her boss.

      “Mr. Blake is mean, that’s why.”

      “Does he have a temper?” She couldn’t recall Conner ever losing his temper, but he did have a devilish streak.

      “Not a temper. It’s more like…a darkness,” Letitia said, warming to her topic. “There’s a reason that man can’t keep an assistant. They always just…” Letitia lowered her voice to a whisper “…disappear.”

      Dear Lord.

      Letitia clapped a hand over her mouth. “Now I’ve gone and said way more than I should. Never mind me. I’m sure you and Mr. Blake will work out just fine.”

      “We will.” They had to.

      As Jillian rode the elevator up to the third floor, she congratulated herself. With a little idle chitchat, she’d laid some groundwork for getting to know Letitia better, and she’d picked up some juicy gossip.

      But she was also treading on dangerous territory. Her job was to observe and report, not ask questions, not snoop. In fact, Daniel had told her to talk as little as possible, and to keep to the truth as much as she could. She’d memorized a few pertinent facts about her fictionalized work background, and she was not supposed to elaborate.

      But how was she going to learn anything important if she didn’t talk to people?

      Just before stepping out of the elevator, she checked her appearance one more time. Following Celeste’s advice, she’d altered her wardrobe to look more like a working girl. She wasn’t chairman of the board, she was a secretary. She’d chosen a pair of wheat-colored linen trousers and a blouse in muted earth-tone stripes. Leaving all her good jewelry at home, she’d opted for inexpensive costume pieces.

      But she hadn’t compromised with the shoes. She loved her high heels; they made her feel tall and invincible.

      She was pleased to see she had beat Conner to work. His office was open and dark. Since no one was about—and since she was feeling brave—she fished the small, black disk out of her purse and peeled off the backing to expose the adhesive surface. Checking the hallway to make sure no one was coming, she dashed into Conner’s office, slapped the bug under the front ledge of his desk, then dashed out again.