Likely Suspects (11 page)

“
Thompson,” he called to his partner, “lock that up for now. We’ve got another issue.”

They entered my of
fice and carefully checked to make sure no one was still inside. O’Connell approached the storage closet while Thompson covered him. I was outside in the hallway where I was instructed to remain with Mark. We were prepared to rush in if need be when I heard a loud thump as the closet door opened.

Please
don’t be a dead body, I thought as I reached for my weapon and stepped into the office.

“You should have a talk with Martin about hiring a better janitorial staff,” O’Connell teased as the four of us stood over the ancient vacuum cleaner that had been stuffed in the closet.

“Clearly.”
I was looking around, positive someone had gone through everything looking for information. Information on what, I didn’t know. Perhaps it was someone checking to see if I was investigating Martin’s threats or maybe looking for information on Martin or me. Good thing I cleaned everything out yesterday before we left.

O’Connell and Thompson were looking at me as if I were insane.
“It just looks like the janitors got called away before they finished cleaning up,” Thompson declared. I wondered how long he had been on the job, or if he had any clue how serious this could be. I wanted to strangle him.

O’Connell eyed me curiously.
“Are you sure you shut the door? It doesn’t look like anything was really disturbed or damaged.” He didn’t seem concerned.

“Maybe
you’re right.”

I was
beginning to wonder what the surveillance tapes would show. Whoever was up here had less than twenty-four hours to get into my office, look around, and leave. Maybe the security cameras on seventeen had caught someone in the act, which was why I was downplaying the scenario now, in case I was being watched by the same person at this very moment. Parker, you’re being paranoid, I scolded myself. Unfortunately, things weren’t adding up. Griffin was missing, and my office had been searched. I was sure of it. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t after you. Mark looked at me skeptically.

“I guess I’m losing it.
I must have left the door open, and maybe the janitors got distracted and didn’t get a chance to take out the trash properly. My mistake.” I was lying through my teeth, and Mark knew me well enough to catch on.

“Maybe
we should check to see if the cameras have anything on them, you know, with Mrs. Griffin being gone and all,” Mark suggested, and I had a feeling he wanted to know who had been inside my office just as badly as I did.

“That would be most helpful,” O’Connell c
himed in, smiling sweetly. “If you could get us a copy, it would greatly help our investigation.” He was relieved I had something else to do with my time besides making him go on scavenger hunts.

I went back
to the lobby and found Todd in the security office. “Hey, I’ve got another favor to ask. The police want a copy of the video for the seventeenth floor from Thursday through today.” Todd began to type commands into the computer to retrieve the information. “Mr. Martin would also like a copy. He wants to keep up with everything going on around here, especially in his absence.”

“Of course.
” Todd saved the files to a disk and then copied the same information to another. “Here you go.” He handed me both disks.

“I
f you see anyone from cleaning, can you tell them they never finished in my office? It looks like they got distracted before they were done.” I wanted to appear naïve and ignorant. It never hurts to play dumb.

“Sure thing.
” He seemed uneasy but didn’t say anything more.

I went back upstairs and found O’Connell, Thompson, and Mark all inside
Griffin’s office. I slowly edged my way into the room. “Here.” I handed the disk to O’Connell, expecting him to berate me for entering the office, but he didn’t.

“Thanks.
” He took the disk and put it inside his jacket pocket. “We didn’t find anything. The only information here is work related, schedules of meetings and appointments for the board members, errands to run, mostly run-of-the-mill stuff.”

“It was worth a shot,” Mark responded.

“She’s still missing,
” I said. The detectives were losing sight of the problem. “She’s not at work. She’s not at home, and she didn’t show up at the airport for some trip no one was aware she was taking. There is something seriously wrong.”

“We’ll
look into it,” O’Connell said firmly. “If she doesn’t show up to work Monday, maybe Martin or someone from the company can file a missing person’s. But you told me Friday was an optional workday, and it’s the weekend now. She’s not missing, not yet anyway.”

I sighed.
His hands were tied and so were mine. I turned and walked out of the office. I was sick of the bureaucratic red-tape. Mark told the cops to do as they liked and to keep him informed before catching up with me at the elevator.

“Someone isn’t pl
aying well with others,” he chided, but I didn’t say a word. We left the building and went back to my car in silence.

Once we were on our way to
Mark’s place, I finally spoke. “There was someone in my office looking for god knows what, and despite what the cops say, I’m still positive something is very wrong when it comes to Griffin.”

“I agree,
but there is nothing you can do right now. Check out the feed, see if you can spot who was in your office, and Monday, if Griffin hasn’t shown up, then the cops can start searching. It’s all you can do.”

“Just for the record, play
ing by the rules sucks. For all they know, she’s the bomber, or she’s dead. What good is any of this waiting around doing?” I was annoyed. This was exactly the reason why I didn’t work at the OIO anymore. I pulled up to Mark’s house and stopped the car.

“It’s a start.
You’re going to work this thing out. Come on, you’ve already made better connections and have more leads than I ever did.” He patted my shoulder.

“It t
ook long enough to get to this point.”

“You got this.”
He opened the car door. “Just tell Marty to keep his head down until it’s all resolved.”

I drove around randomly for a little whi
le, thinking about things. Griffin was missing, and my office had been broken into. I was one hundred percent certain whoever was threatening Martin was a current employee at MT. Could it be Mrs. Griffin? Initially, that was what my gut said, but now with her missing and the unclaimed plane ticket to Nova Scotia, I was beginning to think something horrible had happened to her. I mean honestly, who the hell plans a trip and then doesn’t go? You’re just going to have to let the cops do their job, Parker, I reminded myself.

Arriving at Martin’s compound, I heard him talking on the phone
. “Thanks, I appreciate it. If you need anything else, let me know.” I shut the door, announced my presence, and looked at him. He held up a finger, indicating I should wait a minute. I put my belongings down and took off my shoulder holster, waiting for him to hang up. “That was Detective O’Connell,” Martin answered my questioning look. “He found a bus ticket confirmation under Suzanne’s maiden name. He’s got someone checking into it. He’ll let us know.”

I sighed and sat down
. “I’m glad he called,” I said more to myself than Martin. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back of the couch. The seat next to me sunk in slightly as he sat down. I turned to look at him. He looked like a lost puppy. “We don’t know she’s behind this. We don’t even know if she’s involved. Maybe she just got scared and took off.” It felt like I was coddling him, but I didn’t need him melting down again, or worse yet, having a replay of last night. He seemed to consider this for a moment.

“W
hile you were gone, I watched the surveillance a few times and checked into the employee records of our possible suspect list.” He held up the notepad to show me the list he made.

“I thought you didn
’t like lists?”

“
I guess I learned from the best.” He handed me the notepad. “Anyway, I’ve done some digging into the employee files.” He had crossed off about a third of the names. “It doesn’t seem likely these individuals would have access to manufacturing, let alone the knowledge to sabotage anything at the plant. Monday, we’ll get the surveillance, and hopefully, it will help narrow this down a bit further.” He hedged, and I suspected he might be hiding something.

“What?”

“I gave the list to O’Connell, figured he might as well do some ch
ecking,” Martin sounded sheepish.

“It’s okay.
We scratch his back, and maybe he’ll scratch ours.” It wouldn’t hurt to have some professionals looking into things, especially given the bang-up job I had been doing. “Why didn’t you go to the cops in the first place, when you received the first threat?”

“I didn’t want the publicity.
Bad press is never a good thing for a company. Plus, things like this happen all the time. Despite what you might think about me crying wolf, I’m really not one of those people.”

“Fair enough.
” It didn’t explain why he didn’t call the cops after things escalated, but I didn’t push the issue. I informed him about the trip to Griffin’s and to the office. Finally, I told him about the break-in.

“If you want
to back out of this, you can. No hard feelings.”

“Like
I said, I’m not going anywhere. This is what I do, and things like this come with the territory. I’m not one to run and hide whenever there are a few bumps in the road.” We were heading toward dangerous ground, flitting around last night’s conversation, so I tried to steer us clear. I pulled out the new surveillance disk. “But we might be able to figure out who it was.” I grinned mischievously.

He
smirked and got up from the couch. “I’ll let you get started on that, and I will start on some dinner.” A man who cooks, I could get used to this.

I popped the disk into the DVD player and flipped
my notepad to a new sheet of paper while Martin rummaged around in the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans.

“Hey, what do you know about Todd?”

“Todd?”

“Yeah, security guard, Todd.
I don’t even know his last name.” Why hadn’t I looked at his name tag? Did it not say? I thought about it for a moment and realized I didn’t remember seeing a name badge on him. Martin came back into the living room with an apron tied around his waist, and I tried not to laugh.

“
Jackson, I think.” He considered it for a second. “That’s it. He’s normally there when I leave in the afternoons. He’s just the night shift guy. Seems friendly. Why?”

“No reason
. He was just really helpful today.” Martin nodded in an ‘I see’ fashion and went back into the kitchen. He continued to cook while I stared at a mostly boring screen.

T
here was a single camera positioned at the end of the hallway on the seventeenth floor, and the only people on the footage were Martin and me as we walked from my office to his or vice versa. I hit fast forward and watched as we exited our offices in a Laurel and Hardy fashion and got into the elevator. The tape continued without any movement until 2:17AM, according to the timestamp.

A
t this point, the elevator doors opened, and a person wearing overalls and a baseball cap pushed a cleaning cart into the hallway. The person was male, and he kept his head down as he pushed the cart toward my office. The man stood in front of my door for a while before managing to get it open. It probably took him a few minutes to pick the lock, but then I remembered no one had noticed scratches or the telltale tool marks on the doorknob. He must have gotten the key from security.

“Do
the janitors have keys for all the offices?” I called into the kitchen.

“I think so, or they just borrow the master set from security.
Not really sure, I’ve never worried about it.” I ignored Martin’s unhelpful response and continued watching the footage.

Maybe what had taken so long was
the guy trying to find the right key to get the door opened. Once he got into the office, I couldn’t see anything else since the camera angle only covered the hallway. It was 2:33 when he exited, leaving my door open and walking down the corridor, his face still obscured from view, and into Griffin’s office. He opened her door faster than mine, and within ten minutes, he left her office, carrying something. I paused the playback and stood directly in front of the television, but I couldn’t make out what the item was.

“What is tha
t?” Martin asked, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Don’t sca
re me like that. Do you want me to shoot you?”

“Jumpy,”
he sounded amused. “Who else do you think is going to be behind you?”

“I didn’t hear you.”
I was still staring intently at the screen. It looked like a shoebox. “You need better cameras. Some color HD ones would be a vast improvement.”

“I’ll
add it to my list,” he mocked.

I
didn’t mean to bite his head off. I was just frustrated. I hit play, and the man on the camera headed back to my open office door. He was almost inside when the elevator opened again. He turned and dropped the item into the garbage bag on the cleaning cart and ducked his head.

“W
ho’s on the elevator?”

Martin
squinted at the television. “I’m not sure.” He got a little closer. “Looks like another janitor. See,” he pointed to the uniform, “and isn’t that a cleaning cart in the elevator with him?” He pointed to another indecipherable object.