Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Gretel was pretty sure close relationships weren’t supposed to end in murder. She set her mug back down. “So are you the official CEO now?”
Marist shook her head. “I’m simply holding down the fort for Cedrick,” she said, and if she had ambitions beyond that, she
hid it perfectly.
“But the board of directors could make you CEO, right?” Gretel said. “Except, of course, Charles Stone just came out of retirement.”
“Where did you hear that?” Marist said with a tiny bit more of an edge.
“I like to stay informed,” Gretel said politely, because Marist wasn’t the only one who could give bullshit nonanswers. “Is
he going to be running Stone Solutions?”
Marist delicately shook her head. “Charles has always preferred the freedom to move behind the scenes. He was the first director
of the Empath Initiative, after all, but quickly passed that to Holt Traynor.”
“He kept those connections close, though, didn’t he?” Gretel said. “Wasn’t it Charles who secured some of the military funding
that goes to Stone Solutions? How did he ever move from defense contracting into the empathy business?”
Marist cleared her throat. “They’re really not as different as everyone assumes.”
“Except that empaths are harmless,” Gretel said.
Marist’s expression seemed to stay extra still. “That’s what they tell everyone.”
“I’ve seen that it’s the truth,” Gretel said. “I was here at an AMI meeting the night an empath broke in.”
“Reece Davies, you mean?” Marist said. “Yes, he’s been rather a problem for Stone Solutions for some time now.”
“But your guards roughed him up,” Gretel said. “And his pacifism runs so deep that he didn’t even defend himself.”
“The empaths are more complicated than the public has been led to believe,” Marist said more softly. “I’m not at liberty to
say more than that. Just know your sympathy for the empaths, and Reece Davies in particular, is misplaced, and our funding
is more necessary than most could even imagine.”
Gretel stared at her. What exactly was she implying—
The door opened. “Vivian, I’m sorry to bother you,” Anthony said, peeking his head in. “I’ve got the coffee, but the senator
is asking for you. He’s doing another interview from conference room C in fifteen minutes, and he’d love for you to join him.”
Marist’s lips pursed ever so slightly. Then she glanced at Gretel.
Gretel faked a smile. “I need to be heading out anyway.”
“Anthony can see you out. But know you always have Stone Solutions to turn to.” Marist reached into her purse and then withdrew
a business card. “My personal number. Call anytime.” She stood up, stilettos clicking on the floor as she made her way out
the door Anthony was still holding.
How very different this leather couch in this high-rise office was from the ancient couch in Jamey’s little house. Gretel had been awake that morning, on the couch, and heard Jamey’s quiet voice in the bedroom on one side of a phone call.
Actually, yes, I would very much like to know where the hell my brother is, Jamey had said.
Which didn’t make any damn sense. How could Jamey not know where Reece was? From what Gretel understood of Reece, and empaths
generally, they didn’t like to make anyone worry about them. Why would Reece disappear and not tell his only family where
he was?
She pulled her phone out, her gaze lingering on her texts, and a message that had come in the day before.
Alex: I’m sorry about your parents
It was the first message the two of them had exchanged since he’d sent the inexplicable picture of Officer Stensby and an
airsoft course manager outside Cedrick Stone’s office on the twenty-second floor of this very building. A fire had been set
at Stone Solutions that same night. Was that why she was now in a temporary office on the eighteenth floor?
She could have sworn Alex had been genuinely interested in Eyes on Empaths, had wanted to hear all of her theories and thoughts. What would he say now if he knew where she was and who she suspected
was behind her parents’ murders?
Her gaze stole to the closed door along the wall, the one that led into Marist’s temporary office.
Behind her, Anthony was approaching with a fresh coffee. “Here you are.” Gretel was already holding her cup, so he set it
awkwardly on the table. “Is there anything else I can help with before you go?” Anthony offered. “Senator Braun was just saying—”
“Actually,” Gretel interrupted, a glimmer of an idea waking up inside her, “I really do need to get a blog post up. Maybe something about how hard Senator Braun is working in the wake of my dad’s death.”
She wouldn’t write that in a million years, but sure enough, Anthony’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that would hit very well,” he said
eagerly. “I could get you a visitor’s office—”
“Maybe I could work in here?” Gretel said innocently.
Anthony hesitated. “In here?”
It was a long shot, thinking he’d let her stay in Marist’s suite unsupervised, but she had to try. “I won’t be long,” she
promised, holding the phone up. “Just a quick post from my cell. But I’d like to get it up as soon as possible: as you said,
there are a lot of eyes on me right now.”
“Well, I’d like to say yes, but this suite is really supposed to be private—” He cut himself off, pausing. “Actually, on second
thought, I think we can make an exception for you. After all, you don’t do anything except write blog posts, do you? You wouldn’t
need Vivian’s computer, because AMI handles all the technical stuff?”
Gretel forced a bland smile on her lips. “Everyone knows I’m just a figurehead. I write and post from my phone; I can barely
work a computer mouse.”
“Great!” Anthony got to his feet. “I have to join Vivian and the new senator for their interviews.” He added conspiratorially,
“You’ll have lots of peace and quiet to write your article about Senator Braun; it’s just going to be empty in here all day.”
“Sounds perfect,” Gretel said, her gaze straying back to the door to the office.