Page 14 of Fate and Fortune

Okay, she wasn’t answering her phone, and she wasn’t currently driving to work, caught in some traffic jam.

As if Winslow Heights had traffic jams.

Had she taken up some sort of wild hobby and stayed out all night partying and drinking? He didn’t think so, and that little voice in his ear was now screaming that something wasn’t right. His little sister would tell him he needed to listen to those little voices, because it was the universe speaking its truth to him.

Or something like that.

He wasn’t sure if he believed in hearing the universe, but he also wanted that voice to shut the hell up. Slamming his laptop closed, he strode straight to the elevator, pressing the ground floor button. He’d just go down and take a look at Leigh’s car. Perhaps it had a flat tire or had been damaged in some way, and she’d taken a rideshare home.

That would explain a few things. Not everything, but some things.

The elevator ride was quick and silent. It was still early in the morning, although more people were beginning to arrive. When the doors slid open, about ten people were waiting for the elevator to head to their offices.

A few of the employees gawked at him while others studiously avoided his gaze as if they were late punching a time clock. Winslow Financial had flex hours, for heaven’s sake.

He should know. He’d signed the new rule into being on Day One.

A few cars dotted the lower level, but Leigh’s silver sedan stood out. She was third from the end, right next to the thick support column, the same space she’d parked in every day since the firm moved to this building.

He slowed as he got closer. Shit, he didn’t like this. Not one bit.

His heart pounded against his ribs, and the voice from the universe was still in his goddamn ear.

Someone was in the driver’s seat of Leigh’s car, head down, unmoving. For a second, Sam wanted to believe she’d dozed off, or maybe she was listening to the radio with her eyes closed, or maybe…

But his gut was telling him a far different story.

Leigh’s head was tilted against the wheel. Her hair, usually precise, was fanned out over her forehead, darkened and matted at the crown. Sam saw the stain then, black-red and shiny, crusted along her hairline and running in a line to her left ear and pooling at the back of her neck.

With one hand, he pulled out his phone to call 911, while his other hand tried the door handle. It was unlocked.

It was the smell that hit him first, copper, something sharp underneath. Her body slumped toward him, seatbelt on, her face pale, lips slack, eyes closed behind the smudged lenses. The side of her cheek showed a dried smear, streaked into her hair. Her handbag sat in the passenger seat, the contents strewn across it.

He reached out to feel for a pulse at her neck, but then stopped himself before grabbing the top of the door frame to keep his knees from buckling. He stared, brain fighting to reconcile the scene before him with Leigh’s usual precision and order.

The wound in her scalp and the vast amount of blood spoke of a violent altercation at someone’s hands. This time, he did reach out and place two fingers at the base of her neck, praying that he wasn’t too late. That somehow, Leigh was still alive, and an ambulance would take her to the hospital, where they would make everything better. Life would go on just as it had yesterday and the day before.

Nothing.

Leigh was gone.

The voice of the 911 Operator came over the speaker on his phone, forcing him to form words despite the horror he’d found this morning.

“I think there’s been an accident. Or maybe…a murder.”

Chapter

Five

Alli had planned to park her Civic in the visitor lot at Winslow Financial, but she’d ended up in street parking due to all the first-responder vehicles. She counted at least four police cars, two fire trucks, and an ambulance, blocking the entrance to the garage. Luckily, she’d left the house with plenty of time to spare. Her phone read 9:14. The interview was at 9:30.

Clearly, something was going on here, however. These people weren’t here to greet her and wish her a good interview. Had someone collapsed? Or worse, had there been some sort of attempted robbery?

Squaring her shoulders, she grabbed her leather binder from the passenger seat and exhaled slowly, hoping to calm her nerves. But nothing this morning was sedate and serene. The Winslow Financial parking garage was in chaos.

Red and blue lights. Yellow barricades. People in business dress clustered behind them, shoulders hunched and necks craned. She couldn’t get to the entrance of the building without walking through the large crowd at the edge of the garage.

She didn’t see Leigh Gabler in the crowd, so at least there would be someone inside the building to greet her. When she met Ms. Gabler, should she pretend that she hadn’t seen anything in the parking area? It might be gauche to bring it up, and she wasn’t sure it would reflect well on her if she asked what was going on.