Page 13 of Vision of Justice

“Agreed. Someone who knew him, or thought they did.” The body in front of him was crudely duct taped to the leather office chair, and the bruising around his face suggested he’d been roughed up. There was a line around his neck that looked as though he had been strangled to death by a garrote or thin rope. “Money, greed? A stolen client? Undercutting the competition?”

“A disgruntled staff member who feels slighted by corporate gluttony?” Her eyes were a hard, flinty gray as she narrowed her gaze to the desk. There’d been a struggle. Shattered glass picture frames, pens and pencils that had been swiped to the floor, business cards fanning over the crisp, white desktop.

“Look at his left hand.” Gus gestured toward the body with his chin. “Palm up, resting on the desk. Doesn’t look natural.”

“You think he was posed?” she asked, looking more closely. “He has a cut on his hand. Plenty of things to slice it on, or he got his hand beneath the murder weapon, trying to get air.”

He nodded. The signs of a struggle in the office meant the man had fought back. It would make sense that he’d try to save himself while being choked. “Let’s start with the person who found the body, work our way through the employees onsite. I want to know if there was an overnight cleaning service. They might’ve seen something. We can start to build a list of competitors, go door-to-door.”

“Just like girl scouts.” She rolled her shoulders, short dark hair skimming the collar of her blouse.

A short huff of laughter puffed from his chest. “And I’m sure we’ll be just as well received.”

They interviewed half a dozen onsite employees throughout the afternoon and notified his son and ex-wife of his death. From everyone’s accounts, Wilson Mayhew was a well-liked, respected member of Haven Security Corporation’s team. The man was a grandfather of three, quick to tell corny jokes, and enjoyed golf and wearing ridiculous socks, claiming they were great conversation starters.

“What are the chances we catch a CEO after five o’clock on a Friday?” Wright asked as they pulled into the parking lot of Blanchard Alarm Company, Haven’s largest competitor in the northeast.

“Let’s go find out.” They walked up the stone steps of a three-story brick office building and flashed their badges to the security guard on duty. Her eyes widened just a bit as she called up to the executive offices and confirmed that Larry O’Leary was still onsite.

“You can go up. Third floor, two doors down on your left.” She buzzed them into the main lobby, and they followed the directions to the offices above.

An assistant shot to her feet as they opened the door and stepped inside. If she was of drinking age, he’d be surprised. “I’ll get Mr. O’Leary.”

“It’s all right, Mary. I’m right here.” A man dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt strode forward with curved lips, looking casual and relaxed. “Come into my office.” He gestured toward the open door. “Let’s talk.”

The CEO dragged his rolling chair around to the front of his desk, sitting right next to him and Wright. The position was more suited to a team-building exercise or an icebreaker, not one you’d choose if two detectives showed up at your business unannounced.

“Mr. O’Leary—” He stopped short when the man waved his hand in front of him.

“It’s Larry.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs.

“Do you know a Wilson Mayhew?” He sat forward in the chair, feet planted wide on the carpeted floor.

One light blond eyebrow arched as he looked back and forth between them. “I’m certainly aware of who he is. He’s my husband Andrew’s ex.”

“Do you know of him from a professional setting as well?” Wright mirrored Larry’s body language, crossing one leg over the other, hands on her knees.

“Of course, it’s how Andrew and I met. He attended a chamber of commerce gala with Wilson. Gosh, that was almost five years ago. Nice enough guy. Of course, our companies are competitors, but we don’t have too much trouble with that.”

“How do you mean?” Gus spared a quick glance around the office space. Like the man in front of him, it carried a laid-back vibe. A Life is Good plaque sat on his desk, and a canvas of a man with a toddler hung on the wall.

“Well, our product is more effective and user-friendly, but Haven’s never done the business it once did. The company ran into some issues in the early two-thousands, then attempted to rebrand.”

“What type of issues?” Wright seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Something nagged in the back of his mind. He planned to do more research on Haven’s background the moment he was in reach of a laptop. If he couldn’t find anything, he’d call in a favor to Easton just to be sure. Even when they were in foster care, Easton would stun them with his computer abilities—legal or otherwise. He’d hack into secure databases just for the hell of it. Now with the full support of the FBI behind him, Easton was a formidable force in cybersecurity.

“There was a faulty product claim, but nothing came of it as far as I know. Changed the name, scaled down the offerings. Still a big player in home and corporate security, though. What’s this about? Is Wilson in some kind of trouble?”

“Wilson was attacked in his office.” He watched as Larry blew out a long breath and slowly stood. “We’re investigating his death as a homicide.”

Chapter Nine

Sasha tried to savor the pad Thai Ted brought over from her favorite takeout spot, but she kept glancing toward the tree line. She was still uneasy sitting out on her back deck until Ted insisted she needed fresh air and a double pour of wine. Maybe she’d move. She’d come here for a sense of peace, and there was no reason to stay if that was shattered. An apartment near the gallery, near Ted, would make more sense, but she couldn’t bring herself to seriously consider it. Moving would feel as if she’d given in, let Melissa’s abductor not only succeed at terrorizing one victim, but two.

Ted lowered his fork and sent a pointed gaze across the table, brows drawn low. “Let’s go inside, Sash. When I said we should sit out, I didn’t realize how affected you still were from the incident.”

“No, it’s okay.” She twirled some of the noodles around her fork, not completely meeting his eyes. “I need to get used to it at some point, right?”

“Honestly, you really don’t.” Ted set down his utensil and leaned back in the patio chair. “What’s here for you?” There was no heat in his voice. Instead, she heard exhaustion, maybe annoyance that they kept having this conversation. Ted had been trying to convince her to move closer to civilization since she closed on the house.

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