“When was the last time you saw her?”
A small frown creased his forehead. “We had a breakfast meeting three days ago.”
“Which was when?”
“Seven A.M., give or take.”
“Did she seem upset or distracted?”
“She’s a tense woman. Always has been. But that’s what I like about her. Advertising is a very competitive business and I like to surround myself with people who are on the edge. Maybe even a bit neurotic about working long hours.”
“Lot of burnout in this industry. ”
“Sure. AEs, account executives like Sara don’t generally have a long shelf life. Clients like working with younger people. It makes them feel younger. So they have to make hay while the sun shines, so to speak.”
“They’re disposable.”
“Sure.”
“So Sara worked killer hours?”
Fairchild raised a brow. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“What’s ordinary?”
“Eighty, ninety hours.” Fairchild tapped his manicured fingers on the conference table’s polished wood. “Have you found Sara?”
“We did.” Garrison studied Fairchild’s face closely. “A jogger found her body yesterday on the WD&O trail. She’d been murdered.”
The color remaining in Fairchild’s gaunt cheeks drained away. For the first time his rigid posture eased. “My God, how?”
“We’re not releasing that yet.” Garrison glanced at Fairchild’s smooth and perfectly manicured hands. No scratches or torn nails, something a killer might have if his victim fought back.
“I can’t believe this. Not three days ago, Sara stood in this conference room laughing and smiling.”
Malcolm eased back in his chair. “Did she date anyone?”
Fairchild shrugged. “No, not that I’m aware of, but she didn’t tell me everything.”
“Close friends?”
“No time for that, she said. She lived her job.”
“Making hay while the sun shined.”
“Exactly. ”
“Did she notice any odd people around here? Sending her texts or e-mails.”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d like to have access to her computer.”
Fairchild stiffened. “I can go through it and send along any personal data. ”
“I’ll go through it.”
“That computer contains a lot of confidential business information. I can’t just let it leave these offices.”
Malcolm leaned forward. “I’m good with computers and I’ll protect the information.”
“I’ve got millions riding on several campaigns. I can’t have Sara’s information leaked out.”
Garrison leaned forward. “I promise it won’t be leaked.”
Fairchild’s frame stiffened. He’d recovered and retrenched to protect his business. “I’ve seen how other police departments leak information. Accident photos, mug shots and police reports. No one knows how the information got out but the fact is that it did.”
Garrison could feel the muscles in his neck tighten. “Nothing’s ever been leaked from my department.”
“I can’t take that chance.”
“You’ve no choice.” Garrison removed a slim sheet of paper from his pocket. “I’ll obtain a warrant to seize all of Sara’s belongings, her computer and her files in an hour if need be.”
Fairchild nodded. “Get your warrant.”
Malcolm cocked an eyebrow. “A young woman was brutally murdered. That’s got to mean something.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The picture on your credenza. It’s of you and Sara.”
“So?”
“The way she’s looking at you suggests there were shared feelings.”
He brushed imaginary lint from his coat sleeve. “I won the Chamber’s service award that night. She was proud of the honor. ”
Garrison sensed he’d hit a nerve. “She’s smiling at you like she thought more of you than just an employee would. She wasn’t thinking about the award.”
His chin raised a fraction. “You’ve no proof of that.”
The old man’s reaction shredded Garrison’s patience. “You were having an affair with her, weren’t you?”
His spine stiffened so much, it looked as if it would snap. “Don’t even say something like that. Even a rumor can be very damaging.”
Garrison’s gaze dropped to the man’s ring finger and the gold wedding band encircling it. “Did your wife know about the affair?”
Fairchild rose. “You need to leave.”
Garrison stayed seated, knowing he’d hit a few major nerves. “So that’s a no? If you can’t tell me I’d be happy to ask her.”
Fairchild fisted his fingers. “It’s time you left.”
Malcolm leaned forward, his muscular build radiating raw power. “If you don’t make me work for the computer, I can go out of my way to keep any damaging e-mails secret. You make me work for it and I promise you I will recover every bit of data and make it as public as I have to.”
Color rose in Fairchild’s face as if he were teetering between anger and raw fear. “I’m calling my attorney.”
“Do that,” Garrison said. “Where can I find you
r wife?”
Lips pursed, Fairchild rose and his fingers pulled away from the buttons on his phone. “Fine. Have a look at the computer. But if one word leaks out about our ad campaigns or clients I will have your job.”
Garrison rose, straightening to his full six-foot-three frame. “I really don’t think you’d want it.”
Malcolm rose. “Not nearly as glamorous as television portrays it.”
“We start early here.” Fairchild’s gaze skipped between the two until finally he nodded. “This way.”
They followed Fairchild down the corridors past open offices. With each open door they passed, more stunned employees glanced up at them. Several moved to their office doors to watch their boss.
At the end of the hallway, they reached a corner office whose doorplate read SARA MILLER. Garrison blocked the doorway, halting Fairchild’s advance into the office. “We’ll take it from here.”
Malcolm sat behind Sara’s desk. He opened the laptop and turned it on. “Let me check her Internet history. Might give me an idea of what she had planned.” After three clicks of the button, he said, “She checked out The Warehouse restaurant and O’Malley’s Bar.
“She had reservations at The Warehouse for dinner. She had a client meeting at eight.”
Garrison frowned. “Which client?”
In the doorway, Fairchild hesitated then said, “Cross Industries.”
“Cross Industries,” Garrison said. “As in Darius Cross of Cross Industries.”
“Darius died eight months ago. We were pitching to his son Micah. They’re switching ad firms and it could be a big coup for us to get them.”
“You went after them?”
“No. They came after us. Asked us for a proposal.”
“Who contacted you?”
“Micah. He recently took over the firm after his father’s death. He’s looking to shape up the company image.”
Garrison glanced at Kier. “Check her e-mail.”
Fairchild cleared his throat.
“How long did your affair with Sara last?” Garrison asked.
Fairchild moved into the room and closed the door. “Does it matter? My wife can’t find out.”
“How long?”