Chapter Ten #2
Instead, both of them scanned the tree line, the parked vehicles, the distant walking trail that cut through the park like a scar. Griff didn’t see anyone—no movement, no sign of a lingering threat.
But that didn’t mean no one was there.
He’d seen enough ambushes to know the worst ones came when things looked the quietest.
They reached the truck, and Lily didn’t hesitate before climbing in. Neither did he. It was only a short drive across town, but with a killer mimicking a fifteen-year-old murder, Griff wasn’t in the mood to take unnecessary chances.
They pulled into the parking lot at Langston Holdings, and Griff didn’t see Catherine’s car. Only a blue Ford Focus parked in the spot reserved for employees. He made a mental note to put out a BOLO for the vehicle.
They made their way inside, and unlike their earlier visit, the receptionist’s desk wasn’t empty.
Holly Duran, he presumed, sitting stiffly behind her computer.
Late twenties, maybe, with a sleek ponytail and the kind of perfect posture that usually came from years of dealing with demanding people.
She wasn’t crying, but her face was pale, eyes rimmed with the kind of strain that didn’t come from a morning of answering phones.
When she looked up and saw them, her attention slid to their badges, and the breath she took sounded shaky. “Is it true?” she asked. “Is Mrs. Langston… is she really dead?”
Lily stepped forward, voice gentle but steady. “Yes. I’m sorry, Holly. It’s true.”
Holly’s lips parted like she had another question, but what came out instead was a whisper, raw and stunned. “Who killed her? Do you know?”
“No,” Lily said gently. “Not yet. That’s why we’re here. We need to see Catherine’s office.”
Holly’s expression tightened. She shook her head automatically. “No one’s allowed in there without Mrs. Langston’s permission. She doesn’t—” Her voice caught, and her eyes widened slightly as the words turned to dust in her mouth.
Doesn’t.
She looked away, swallowed hard, then gave a small, tight nod. “Right. I… of course. Let me know if you need anything.”
Griff met her gaze briefly, searching for any flicker of something more than shock. Fear, maybe, or guilt. But saw nothing but the stunned glaze of someone trying to process that their powerful, untouchable boss had just been murdered in broad daylight.
No fuss about a warrant. That was one less complication for Hallie to handle. One less delay. And they needed every second they could get.
Griff didn’t move yet. He kept his voice calm, even. “Holly, when was the last time you saw your boss?”
She blinked, refocusing. “A little before two o’clock,” she said. “That was the last time I saw her come out of her office.”
Griff glanced at his watch. It was just past three-thirty. So Catherine had left less than two hours ago, and with the ME’s estimated TOD, there wasn’t much time between her departure and her murder.
“Did she have any appointments on her calendar?” he pressed.
Holly shook her head slowly. “No… nothing scheduled after lunch. But she seemed distracted all morning, and when she left, she didn’t say where she was going. She didn’t even take her coat.” Holly paused, clearly replaying it. “She moved fast, like it was important.”
Griff nodded. “Did she take her car?”
“I-I don’t know.” Holly frowned. “I didn’t hear it start. I mean, maybe? I was on a call.”
He caught Lily’s glance and gave a subtle nod. They still needed to locate the car. And whatever had pulled Catherine out of this office in such a rush, that might’ve been what got her killed.
They made their way down to the hall, retracing the same path they’d taken that morning. When they reached Catherine’s office, Griff pushed open the door, and the first thing he noticed was the lock. It was scratched and slightly bent at the strike plate.
Not broken. But definitely jimmied.
He exchanged a glance with Lily. She’d seen it too.
The second thing he noticed was the mess.
Drawers were open. Files scattered across the floor and the desk, some spilling from folders like they’d been yanked in a rush. A lamp had been knocked sideways. The wastebasket was tipped over, its contents half-tread into the carpet.
“Someone got here before we did,” Griff muttered, scanning the room, eyes flicking to the window, closed but not locked.
One look at the ground below the window, and he could see that the shrubs there had been trampled down. So maybe the intruder had come in or gone out that way. Or both.
He stepped back into the hallway and returned to the reception area where Holly still sat, hands folded tightly on her lap.
“Holly, has anyone been in Catherine’s office since she left?”
She blinked and shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so… Just Mr. Langston. He was in and out today.”
Griff’s jaw tensed. “When exactly was he here?”
“Most of the day,” she said. “He came in mid-morning, I think. He and Mrs. Langston had some sort of meeting. He was here until—” She paused. “Until shortly after she left. A little after two.”
So Everett had been here. Alone. After Catherine left. Before she turned up dead. And now her office looked like someone had been hunting for something worth killing over.
Griff paused at the doorway, his instincts tugging at him. He turned back toward the reception desk where Holly sat, still clearly shaken but trying to hold it together.
“Were you away from your desk at any time after Mrs. Langston left?” he asked.
She nodded. “Sure. I went to the ladies’ room a couple of times. I was in the breakroom for a bit too—making coffee, tidying up.”
Holly frowned, clearly replaying her steps. “Oh, and I went outside for a little while. Someone called and said there was a puppy wandering around the side of the building. I didn’t see one, though. I looked hard. Even checked behind the shrubs.”
Griff silently groaned. “Who called about the puppy? And what time?”
“I don’t know exactly who,” Holly said, sounding a little embarrassed. “They said they were from the feed store, but I didn’t recognize the voice. The call came in about an hour ago.”
Griff’s jaw tightened. That was the opening. Whoever ransacked Catherine’s office had used that exact window of time—when Holly was out of sight—to get in. The jimmied marks on the lock confirmed it.
Which meant the call about the puppy had been a setup. A distraction.
And whoever placed it had known Catherine would be gone. Had known the timing.
He looked back toward the trashed office. Pulling Catherine out, killing her, and tearing through this space—all within two hours?
It was a hell of a lot to orchestrate.
But someone had.
Griff stepped back into Catherine’s office, pausing as he caught sight of Lily still crouched by the credenza. Papers were spread in careful layers around her, the chaos of the room now shaped into something more intentional.
He was about to speak, to tell her what Holly had revealed about the phone call and the timing, but Lily held up a folder.
“Found something,” she said, standing. Her expression was tight, unreadable, but her eyes told him everything. This wasn’t just another business file.
Griff moved to her side as she handed over several printed documents. Bank transfers, recurring monthly payments pulled from Catherine’s personal account. The name on the receiving line stopped him cold.
Rhett Hale.
He flipped through the pages, his pulse slowing. Fifteen years’ worth of payments.
Every month.
Two thousand dollars.
All marked under vague descriptors, such as consulting, research, private advisory. But there was no record of Rhett ever working for Catherine. No affiliation with Langston Holdings.
Lily’s voice was low. “The first payment was dated less than a month after Hannah’s murder.”
Griff stared at the pages. “She was paying him.”
“To stay quiet,” Lily said. “Or to keep a story straight. Maybe both.”
Griff looked up at her, the folder heavy in his hands.
“Fifteen years,” he said. “That’s not hush money. That’s control.”
And maybe Catherine had kept Rhett on a leash all this time.
Until someone cut the chain.
Yeah, they needed to have a chat with Rhett right now.
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