Page 224 of Secrets Hidden In The Glass

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“Here you are, sir.” Trace Miller’s secretary handed Nate a glass of water in the swank forty-fifth-story corner office at Sanderson-Miller Advertising in the heart of downtown Boston.

“Thank you.”

“Mr. Miller should be out of his meeting in just a few minutes.”

“I appreciate that he’s able to see me on such short notice.” Not that Nate had given the business executive much of a choice. A flash of his badge to the secretary and her phone call mentioning that the sheriff from Carter Island was hoping for a few words had put Mr. Miller on the spot—Nate’s intention all along. It was rare for people of Mr. Miller’s caliber to make themselves readily available to law enforcement. They typically lawyered up, which Nate wanted to avoid. Why make something that could be perfectly simple a pain in the ass?

“Please make yourself comfortable.” The efficient brunette smiled politely. “Mr. Miller will be in as soon as he can.”

“I appreciate it.” Nate studied Trace Miller’s workspace as the door closed behind him—top-of-the-line computer equipment, a leather chair that probably cost more than six months of Nate’s salary, and several family pictures on the wall of Trace’s smiling children and grandchildren and his wife who’d clearly spent a little time under the knife. Nate wanted to see what the co-president kept in his desk, but he was willing to bet that there were well-hidden security cameras keeping an eye on him. He stood with his glass, then walked to the window several steps to his right, taking in the view of the gorgeous waterfront park a short walk away and East Boston across the harbor.

The door opened and the man Nate recognized from his RMV picture stopped in the doorway.

“Sheriff Carter.”

Nate offered a polite nod, gathering his first impressions of Evan Sanderson’s business partner: high-class, decent salt-and-pepper looks for someone in his mid-sixties—a no-nonsense guy with sharp, scrutinizing gray eyes. Definitely a shark in the boardroom. “Mr. Miller.”

“Call me Trace.” He closed the door and met Nate halfway for a handshake. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“No problem. I appreciate you letting me have a moment of your time.”

“Of course. Can I get you anything?” Trace asked, moving around to his chair behind the desk and sitting up straight as he folded his hands

“No. Thanks, though.” Nate gestured to his water glass and sat too, well aware that Trace’s rigid posture was meant to be an intimidation tactic. Nate folded his leg and rested his ankle on his opposite knee, making certain Trace understood that crap like that didn’t work on him.

“So, what brings you here to see me today, Sheriff Carter? I assume you know Evan if you’re from the island.”

“Very well. The Sandersons are family. Evan’s like an uncle.”

Trace’s shoulders relaxed. “I think I recognize you from some of the pictures Lily keeps over at the house.”

“I’m sure I’m in several. I grew up next door to the Sanderson compound.”

Trace smiled. “That’s quite a place.”

“Sure is. Although this is quite a view you’ve got here,” Nate continued, wanting Trace completely at ease before he started asking difficult questions about his children. “The park must be something in the spring.”

Trace nodded. “I’d say it’s at its best in the fall. The leaves are a sight to behold. This was Evan’s office for years, you know. After the renovations were completed a few months ago, he decided on the room on the opposite side of the building—a change of scenery after nearly twenty-five years.”

“Sounds good.”

Trace sat back, resting his head against his chair. “So, tell me why you’re here, Sheriff. If I’m not mistaken, I’ve seen you in the news with the stained glass artist.”

Nate nodded. “My girlfriend, Callie Davis.”

“It’s a shame about her situation. I don’t know how any parent could abandon their child.”

“It’s certainly unfortunate. My long-distance partner, Detective Sanchez, and I are working hard to get to the bottom of her case.”

“Surely you’re not here to see me about that.”

“Actually, I am.”

Trace raised his brow. “Should I be contacting my attorneys?”

Nate shook his head. “Not at all. I received some information I’m hoping you might be able to help me clear up.”