Misdirection (Pros and Cons Mysteries #1)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

TODAY

O live Sterling paused in the stark hallway and stared at the polished concrete floor.

A drop of blood stared back at her.

Then another. And another.

Her chest tightened.

A trail of blood stretched in front of her.

This was not supposed to be part of her job.

Figure out the mole? Yes.

Find a dead body and draw attention to herself? No.

But she couldn’t walk away now—not with evidence like this staring her in the face.

Instead, she glanced down the Sensitive Compartmented Information corridor, or SCI as it was called.

Six gray doors lined the hallway, three on each side. A blank white wall waited at the end of the hallway.

She glanced behind her at the thick metal door with its narrow, rectangular window. A scanner hung on the wall beside the door latch. Anyone coming or going from this corridor had to use both their badge and fingerprint in order to open it.

Of the four thousand employees at Conglomerate, only fifty-seven had access to this area.

Olive was one of them.

She rubbed her waist, the area where her holster would normally be.

She really wished she had her gun right now. But the only people allowed to have weapons inside this building were the paid security officers.

That blood was fresh.

Sweat spread across her skin. The fact she worked as an investigator didn’t matter. Dead bodies took the situation to a different level.

She followed the trail, noting how the drops stopped at a doorway to her right.

At once, flashbacks hit her.

Flashbacks of the most horrible night of her entire life.

The night that had changed everything.

The night that had changed the entire course of her future.

Eight years of counseling hadn’t prepared her to find herself in this situation again.

Her heart slammed into her ears, and shivers claimed her muscles.

You can do this, Olive. Just keep breathing.

She stepped to the door.

Olive reached the door at the end of the blood trail and paused before slowly pushing it open.

A dark room greeted her.

Followed by the pungent smell of blood.

Nausea roiled in her stomach.

With her heart pounding in her ears, she reached around the door for the light switch and flipped it on.

Then she sucked in a breath.

A man wearing a gray suit and white shirt lay on the floor.

Beau Lebowski. Conglomerate’s Chief Executive Head of Development.

Olive had met the man several times, but they’d never really talked.

Now blood pooled from a wound in his chest.

Someone had shot this man, probably within the past couple of hours.

Olive’s throat tightened.

Snapping back into action, she touched his neck.

He had no pulse, confirming what she already knew—the man was dead.

She needed to call 911. If she delayed, she’d only look suspicious.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialed.

“This is Olive Whiten”—she never used her real last name while on assignment. “I work at the Conglomerate headquarters in downtown Chicago. One . . . one of my colleagues has been shot, and we need an ambulance, and the police.”

The operator promised to send someone right away.

In a moment, Olive would call her boss at Conglomerate and tell him the news.

But first, she texted Tevin McIntyre, her colleague for this assignment. She kept her message simple.

We have a problem.

Within five minutes, Duncan Rudiak, the president of Conglomerate, appeared in the SCI corridor.

The fifty-five-year-old always appeared put-together. His shirts were crisp, his thinning hair in place, and his face perfectly shaven. The man was reserved and quiet—and, in return, intimidating to many who worked with him.

He was Olive’s contact at the company.

What he didn’t know was that he was also a suspect.

“Olive . . .” He offered a curt nod. “Where is he?”

“First door on the right. Watch the blood trail.”

He stepped that way and peered inside. Then he muttered a profanity under his breath before stepping back and raking a hand through his hair.

She didn’t know the man well, but she’d never seen him look so out of sorts.

He stepped back toward her. “I can’t believe this.”

“The police should be here any time.”

His expression remained hard. “I’ve already informed security downstairs to watch for them.”

“Is this connected to what’s going on here at the company?” she asked softly.

The storminess in his gaze grew more tempestuous. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll need you to find out.”

Olive had started this job only eight days ago. She’d officially been hired as an External Information Security Analyst. Her job was to objectively examine the company in order to pinpoint any shortcomings and security breaches. Most people in this position would stay a year.

She’d be here until she wrapped up this assignment.

Duncan was the only one at Conglomerate who knew she was really investigating a potential mole within the corporation who was trying to broker a deal with Russia. Some of the company’s technology was cutting edge, and in the wrong hands could prove destructive on a global scale.

Someone within the CIA had caught wind of the impending transaction and had gone to Duncan with the information. He’d hired Aegis Strategic Enterprises to find the mole. Because of the agency’s undercover investigative skills and exemplary track record, they often received high-level government assignments. Plus, they could do things a government official couldn’t—all under the radar and without any red tape.

Olive’s job as an Aegis employee was to figure out who was behind the deal so she could stop the transaction before it happened. Her position at Conglomerate had been especially created for her and allowed her security clearance in this section of the building. She’d come into this corridor under the guise of researching a contract.

Top secret prototypes were kept here as well as physical copies of patents, design plans, contracts, and vendors—everything a thief would need to recreate the product.

A records clerk usually managed everyone who came and went. But when Olive had come down, she’d discovered he had the day off. No one was working in his place.

Instead of finding the contract, she’d found Beau.

Just then, law enforcement flooded the scene.

Detective Angelos, a man in his late forties with thick black hair and a heavy brow, took Olive’s statement, while another officer got information on Beau from Duncan. They would definitely need to let their government contacts know about this.

As she recounted her story, she tried to hold back her trembling.

She never wanted to get used to dead bodies. Never.

However, she needed to ask questions—casually, of course. Nothing to draw suspicions.

Was this related to the mole within the company?

Olive didn’t know. But it was a good guess.

Just as she finished her talk with the detective, someone tapped her shoulder.

“Olive, I’d like for you to meet the head of security here at Conglomerate,” Duncan said from behind her. “He just returned from an overseas trip, but he’ll have some questions for you also.”

She turned, poker face engaged.

Until she saw the man standing there.

Her jaw went slack.

The man in the black suit with no tie had broad shoulders, thick arms, and short dark hair. She never thought she’d see those brown eyes, thin nose, and square face again.

Her heart lurched into her throat at the sight of him.

No . . . it couldn’t be.

“Olive?” The man stared at her in disbelief.

“Jason?” The word escaped at a whisper.

Jason Stewart. The only man she’d ever loved.

The one she’d never had the chance to say goodbye to.

The one she’d never forgotten even after all these years.

Tension spread across her chest until an ache started, clutching her heart in its grip.

“When did you start working here?” Jason’s hands went to his hips as he glared down at her. “And why wasn’t I informed?”

What was with his hostile reaction? Sure, things hadn’t ended well between them. But still, they were in a professional environment. Besides, their breakup had been nine years ago.

Awkwardness jostled between them.

His scowl deepened as she hesitated.

Finally, she pulled herself together. “Only a few days ago.”

More awkward silence. She was usually good at reading people, but right now, she had no idea why Jason looked angry.

“You two know each other?” Duncan narrowed his eyes as his gaze flipped back and forth between them.

“We used to.” Jason continued to stare at Olive, not even a hint of affection in his expression. It was . . . bitterness if she had to guess. “A long time ago.”

“We lived in the same town back in Texas,” Olive explained.

Jason’s gaze still burned with accusation.

Sure, she’d left without saying goodbye. But that hadn’t been her choice. She’d only been sixteen.

There was so much she needed to say. Olive had thought about what she would do in this situation so many times before. But she’d do none of those things . . . especially not while Duncan watched and listened. Not with the police around. Not with a dead body on the floor.

Besides, nine years had passed. A lot had changed in those years. So why the antagonism now?

Before either could say anything else, a detective swept in, asking more questions.

Jason stepped away to talk to the man.

Relief washed through Olive. She could use some breathing room. But Jason remained on her mind.

Tevin was supposed to vet everyone at the company. How had he missed this connection with Olive’s past?

What was the Texas boy doing here in the Windy City?

Then Olive remembered a conversation she’d long forgotten, a conversation she’d once had with Jason. They’d been watching TV together when he’d told her he wanted to live in a big city for a while. His favorite TV show back then had been Chicago PD . He said life in the hustle and bustle of a thriving city sounded exciting, even if he only got to experience it for a short while.

Olive’s prior relationship with Jason could blow her whole assignment. At this point in the game, no one else could take her place either. They were out of time. Whispers in the intelligence community indicated the deal was supposed to happen on Friday—in only three days.

A ripple of anxiety swept through Olive, the feeling not one she was accustomed to. The feeling only intensified when the detective wandered away thirty minutes later, leaving her alone—and wide open for anyone else to talk to her.

Jason swooped in, something clearly on his mind. He leaned close and whispered, “I’ve been waiting for years to ask this. So was it a boy or a girl?”

Her lungs froze. “Excuse me?”

His gaze narrowed. “The baby. Was it a boy or a girl?”

Olive blinked, unable to hide her confusion. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Did he think her mom had another baby after they moved? It was the only thing that made sense.

He leaned close enough that Olive could feel his breath on her cheek and ear.

Her pulse quickened at his familiar, not yet forgotten nearness.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” he said in a harsh whisper. “I may have been naive back in high school, but not anymore. You know exactly what baby I’m talking about.”

Before he could say anything else, Duncan called Jason over.

Jason glanced at her again, his voice still hard and accusatory. “We’re going to finish this conversation. Soon.”

Then he walked away with Duncan.

As soon as no one was watching, Olive grabbed her phone and texted Tevin again.

We have an even bigger problem.