Forcing my attention back to the security system, and the issues at hand, I haven’t had time to even hit a computer key when the actual security system buzzes and I jolt as the front door opens.
CHAPTER TEN
Pushing off my stool, no weapon readily available, I turn to the front door, holding my breath. To my utter shock and relief, Nancy, who is supposed to be on vacation, enters the storefront, her long brown hair wind-blown, her pale cheeks pinched pink from the wind, and two cups of coffee in her hands. “Morning,” she greets. “I brought you coffee.”
I pant out another breath of relief, inspecting her perfectly prepped make-up that says she’s here to work. “I thought you were on vacation?”
“Okay, that was like two weeks ago, Aria. You’re scaring me right now. Obviously with Gio gone, you’re overwhelmed and it’s a good thing I’m here.”
I gave her the time off to keep her safe, and clearly not enough, I think, before I say, “I just thought I gave you more time off. Were you here earlier this morning?”
“Yes,” she says, joining me behind the counter, and handing me my coffee. “I came by about half an hour ago to check the messages and decided to go and grab a coffee.”
I’d be comforted by this announcement except she’s standing close to me now, and she smells like roses. It’s a delicate, subtle smell, not the same sharp, sweet smell that had greeted me earlier. I accept the cup. “White mocha,” she declares as I do, and her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. What happened to your hand?”
“It’s a long story,” I say, “but I’m fine. You need to go home.”
“Not with your hand all bandaged up. No. Absolutely not. Now,” she says, pulling up a stool. “Tell me the story. How’d you get hurt?”
I know Nancy. Once her jaw is set hard, there’s no getting her to budge. She’s not leaving and if Gio’s alive, and I believe he is, I could also use her help generating revenue anyway. I concede and offer her the short version of my mishap. “I cut it on a piece of wood that might have had a nail in it.” I change the subject. “Was the security system on when you arrived?”
“Yes,” she says. “Why?”
“I just wasn’t sure I put it on.” I indicated my hand. “I wasn’t exactly myself.” As expected, this leads to more questions about my hand, but it avoids topics of safety and security, as I’d hoped. We chit-chat for a few minutes and I get her started calling around to hunt down bottles of wine before I head back upstairs to grab my MacBook that I’d forgotten up there. Once inside my apartment, I pause and inhale, looking for that sweet scent I’d smelled downstairs, but find nothing.
Returning back downstairs, I find no hint of that smell and once I’m in my office behind my desk, I can’t seem to dismiss it as my imagination. I pull up the security feed and start tabbing through it. To my surprise, there’s a random three minutes blacked out at seven AM, which could be when Kace left but that feels too early, though I never checked the time. Seven just doesn’t feel right, though, and why would Kace blackout the feed? Confused and concerned, I tab further into the feed and find Kace leaving at nearly eight. Maybe the blackout was a power outage. This building is old.
Nancy buzzes me with a client call I take, followed by another, but I never stop tabbing through the feed.
I’ve just finished a promising call with a lead on high-dollar wine when the feed catches my eye again. I straighten, a chill running down my spine. There’s another dead spot in the security feed, for three minutes again, but the timestamp is what sets me on edge. I grab my cell and check the time of the missed call. Three-eleven. I then check the time of the dead spot on the security feed. Three-eighteen.
A chill runs down my spine. Was someone here when that call was made? I swallow hard, thinking of the perfume I’d smelled. Could it have been Sofia?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two hours later, those missing spots on the camera footage still taunt me, even with my work in full gear. I’ve located a treasure for a client, a set of antique clocks she’s been pining for, and while it’s only a five-thousand-dollar commission, it’s a start. Unfortunately, the wine hunting is going slower than I’d hoped. I’ve found small jewels here or there, but nothing that will appeal to buyers like Ed and Alexander. I need a prize bottle to attract those kinds of high caliber collectors, and to ensure a pricey commission. And this is important to me now not just for the singular urgent need for a big commission. It also seems logical and smart to approach Ed about a retainer to replace the one Alexander offered me and that’s my plan. A deal with Alexander is not a good idea and as panicked as I am in some ways, I’m not a rash decision kind of person. The problem is, Gio is not me. He would make a rash decision. He’s seen the carrot and bitten it before he realized it had its own teeth.