‘I expect you’ll be wanting better terms on this book.’
Natalie grinned. ‘I won’t say no.’
‘I’ll bring up some figures on the computer.’
Natalie watched Sharon’s fingers fly over the keyboard. Information flashed up on the monitor screen. It was amazing how much could be stored and so easily retrieved on a computer.
The thought struck her that computers had been Brett’s business. Computers were everywhere these days. A publishing company might have very specific needs that were not answered by general purpose software.
‘Did this company ever hire anyone to do a computer conversion?’ she asked.
Sharon looked surprised. ‘Yes, they did. Everything runs beautifully now.’
Natalie’s mouth went dry. ‘How long ago?’
‘It was being completed when I first started here. A couple of years ago.’
‘Do you remember the people who did the conversion?’
Sharon’s bright hazel eyes sparkled. ‘Do I? Two of the most gorgeous hunks I’ve ever seen. Not that I got an introduction. They dealt strictly at the executive level.’
‘What was the company name?’
‘CCS.’
Damien and Brett. And Anne Smith was executive level. There was a connection.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, there’s nothing wrong.’ Natalie tried to smile, but the floodgates on her last missing recollections were swinging open.
The woman in black.
Black.
The memory slammed into Natalie’s mind with heart-stopping force.
The funeral!
Anne Smith was the woman who hadn’t stopped weeping, the woman Damien had had no time for, although he should have if their story had been true.
Natalie remembered now. All of it. Ryan and Brett and Anne Smith at the top of the cliff, Damien abseiling down the face of it. Anne Smith...the only witness to what had happened...how Ryan had come to fall...how Brett had failed to stop him from going too close to the edge.
She had said Ryan had chased after a ball. But what had she and Brett been doing in those few critical moments it took for Ryan to run out of reach?
The explanation had never rung true to Natalie. She had brought Ryan up to be careful. He had not been the kind of child who would run heedlessly into mortal danger. Despite his love of playing with balls, he wouldn’t follow one over a cliff. He would call out to Daddy to get it back for him.
‘Natalie? Are you all right?’
The question roused her out of the dark introspection. She refocused her eyes on Sharon.
‘You’ve gone as pale as a ghost,’ Sharon observed in concern.
The ghosts were gathering with a vengeance.
‘Just a bit faint,’ Natalie excused. ‘I was so busy rushing around this morning I didn’t have time for breakfast.’
‘Sorry. I should have offered you a coffee. How do you like it? Milk and sugar?’