Chasing Frost by Isabel Jolie

Twenty-Nine

Chase

The sheets bear a distinct coolness. Without opening my eyes, I stretch and confirm. She’s not in the bed. That’s just my luck to fall for an early riser.

I rub my hands vigorously over my face, then squint into the bright morning light piercing my bedroom windows. How late did I sleep?

After spending the afternoon in Sadie’s real apartment, I convinced her to pack a bag with some of her casual clothes to bring back here. She might end up using that place if she’s working some projects with late hours, but if I have any say, we’ll be spending our couple time here. Her apartment is a hole. I sometimes forget how compact New York City apartments can be.

There are no sounds of another human being moving around, but the distinct smell of coffee permeates the bedroom. After slipping on some boxers and brushing my teeth, I wander into the den. Sadie’s lacing up her running shoes by the door.

“For the record, this is not the way I like to be woken up.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She stands, and I take her in. She’s wearing black leggings and a tight, long sleeve running shirt. Her hair is pulled back to create the tiny bud of a ponytail, and she’s got white ear pods poking out of her ears. She looks delicious, and while I’d like to pull her back into the bedroom to show her exactly how I like to wake up, energy pulses around her. It’s abundantly clear she’s ready to get the day started.

“You off for a run?”

“Yeah, I figured I’d go for a run, then stop by my apartment to change for work.”

“Which apartment?”

“FBI. All my business clothes are still there, remember?”

“Yeah.” I take two steps and pull her against me, aware she’s chomping to go, but needing to get my hands on her. “This weekend, I’ll help you clear that place out. Maybe you can keep your work clothes here?”

Her eyebrows go sky high. Too much.

“Or at least some of them.”

She smiles then lifts on her toes and kisses me. I’m instantly aroused, and she notices. She pushes back on me with her pretty smile in full force.

“I’ll see you after work, mister.”

“Looking forward to it, Ms. Frost.” I cringe. “Wait, I can’t call you Ms. Frost anymore. I love that name.”

“Yeah, Keating doesn’t have the same ring, does it?”

“Nah. I’m still using Frost. It’ll be our code name. An inside joke. What do you know? I’m actually dating an FBI agent. Code names for real. I’ll get you watching the superheroes, and we can brainstorm superpowers.”

“I’ve seen superhero movies.” She bites her lip and grins, all coy and sexy. “I tend to prefer movies like James Bond and Mission Impossible.”

“Yeah? I dig those too. So, that’s your jam, huh?”

“Well, to some degree. Now I sit there and think that is such bullshit.”

That cracks me up. “If that’s your take, then maybe the superheroes aren’t for you.”

She grows serious. “Hey, be careful today. Alert. I believe you’re safe, but—”

“Going to the office today. No reason to worry, dear.” Maybe it should bother me that my woman is all protective, and can probably kick my ass, but it really doesn’t.

She places those soft, tempting lips on mine once more, then she’s out the door, and I watch her like a lovesick puppy until the stairwell door closes behind her. Because, of course, she’d rather take the stairs.

I lock the deadbolt then jump in the shower. I might’ve played a better game at luring Sadie back into bed this morning, but the fact is, I’ve got a shit show waiting for me at the office today. I’m already behind schedule.

By seven a.m., I’m flipping light switches on in reception and along the hall to my office. No one’s in yet. A slow trickle of arrivals will commence around 7:30-ish, then gradually transition to a steady flow between eight to nine.

My message light’s flashing. I play the messages on the speaker as my computer powers up. I caught up on email last night. Sadie and I both worked on my sofa. It felt good. Going to bed with her last night definitely felt good. Something I have every intention of making our norm. Anna’s going to be blown away when I tell her I’ve got a girlfriend. Girlfriend. Damn.

I have nineteen voice messages that entail “call me” and some version of “are you okay?” Why don’t people just text? Why do I even have voice mail? In all fairness, these messages are from BB&E colleagues who have my office extension, not my cell. Still annoying to comb through.

Rhonda taps on my doorframe, announcing her arrival.

“You’re in early, boss.” She places a steaming cup of coffee on my desk.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be an interesting day. Hey, could you start listening to my voicemail? Would you mind?”

“I already do that.”

“I had nineteen messages this morning.”

“Wow. That’s a lot. Normally it’s like one or two. But I normally get in here earlier than you. You know those slips of paper where I list who you need to call?”

“Yeah. I thought those were calls you took. Huh. Great.” I slurp back my morning joe, and the warmth coats my throat.

“Everyone’s grateful you’re okay. I’m grateful. I don’t know what I would have done.” Her eyes glisten. Fuck…she’s gonna cry.

“Rhonda. I’m okay. Unscathed.”

“Yeah. You know, I keep thinking, if I had taken you up on those tickets, it could have been me. Or my husband.”

“Hey, but you didn’t go. You’re safe.”

She nods and sniffles. “You sure you’re all right? I’m surprised you’re back. That’s got to be so much to go through.”

“Yeah. It’s a bit surreal. Like it didn’t really happen.” She nods, understanding. I’m still numb. And I don’t want to talk about it. “What am I gonna do? Sit in my apartment all day? Besides, we’ve got a lot to deal with in the office. Someone from the executive floor is going to call today about setting up a meeting for me with the board. Make me available for whatever time they need, okay?”

“You mean the board of directors? For BB&E?”

“Yeah. And can you bring me last year’s original documents from Biohazard Waste, Medical Supply, and McLoughlin Charity?”

“You got it, boss.” She taps the doorframe again as she leaves, then bends backward with a parting message. “I really am glad you’re okay.”

Within minutes, Rhonda stands in my doorway. “Did you move the files?”

“Yes, Rhonda, I decided to dust them off.”

“No, I’m serious. All of the files are gone.”

“What?” I spin in my chair to the file cabinets that line my back office wall. I grab the key from my desk drawer and open each one. They’re all empty. Even the drawer I use for my personal crap.

“Can you ask other people if they had their files removed?”

She nods. Her skin’s gone pale, and something tells me my face might match hers. I pick up my cell and call Sadie’s office line. I get voice mail. I call her personal cell and again get voice mail. I text her. My work files have been stolen.

In under sixty seconds, she calls me back.

“What do you mean? Was there a robbery?”

“Nothing’s damaged. All the file cabinets are emptied out. They took everything.”

I cross the hall to double-check all the cabinets that line the wall behind Rhonda’s cubicle. Just like she said, they’re all empty. Rhonda returns, hands on her hips, her head shaking in disbelief.

“All the files from your team have been removed. Gone. Vanished. No one knows what happened.”

Sadie hears her through the phone.

“That’s so stupid for them to do that,” she tells me, annoyance pouring through. “There are so many charges we can throw at them for impeding an investigation and tampering with evidence.”

“If you can prove who did it.”

“Well, who else would it be? They would’ve been smarter to burn the building down. That’s a ton of paperwork to remove. Is there a security camera on the hall outside your office?”

I scan the ceiling for a camera or a telltale black glass dome.

“Don’t see anything. There’s security footage of the elevator and lobby, probably reception on each floor. Building security has footage of all communal areas. Parking garages too.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go talk to our surveillance team. For all I know, they’re already tapped in, but if they’re not, we can obtain the footage. I’ll tell the team what we need them to look for. Someone had to have been moving boxes of files out. It shouldn’t take too much work to identify who.”

“You need me to do anything?”

“No. Let me go update my supervisor. We’ll probably send someone over to fingerprint the cabinets. I doubt there’ll be fingerprints, but you never know.”

When I hang up, Rhonda peers up at me. She’s curious, but she doesn’t know how far she can push it with her questions. I know her looks.

“Was that Sydney?”

I swallow. Sadie and I already discussed this. Her cover’s blown, so there’s no reason to lie about who she is now. “Her name’s Sadie.”

“So, it’s true? She’s FBI? She was working here undercover?”

“Yeah. Rumors are flying, huh?”

She nods, eyes forced wide for effect. “Rampant. Kowabunga style. Was that really her on the YouTube video?”

“You don’t watch much news, do you?”

“Not broadcast, no. But Jared shared the YouTube link to everyone in our office distribution.”

“Come with me.” I close the office door and sit down at my desk with a pen and my notepad.

“Give me a rundown of all the rumors. The plan is to hold a company address later this afternoon. I might as well know what’s out there so I know what to cover.”

My office line rings. It’s an internal extension and name I don’t recognize.

Rhonda pops out to her desk to answer it. I follow her, and after speaking briefly, she covers the mouthpiece. “Ms. Bellusca wants you to come up to a PR meeting on the fifteenth floor.”

“Sounds good. Remember, if anyone from the board calls, that’s priority. Call me. I have my cell.”

The meeting with the PR team turns out to be more of a debriefing. They’ve been working all night on press releases and speaking instructions for client managers. They want me to review everything they’ve done, so I spend as much time listening to them as reading their work. Ms. Bellusca leads the team, and she’s cordial, but her body language tells me she’s unsure who I am and why she’s been instructed to involve me. Given I’m hardly the best choice for Interim CEO, I can’t say I blame her. I doubt the idea that she’s been instructed to involve me because of that soon-to-be-announced appointment has even crossed her mind. But we work together well.

We’re going with the key message that BB&E remains a trustworthy company and will work with authorities to ensure any illegal activities are brought to light. The suspected fraudulent activities are limited to a small number of related accounts, and all involved are no longer employed by BB&E.

Rhonda calls my cell. I wave goodbye to the PR team and head to the elevator bank, gesturing to the group gathered around the conference table that I need to take this important call. I’ve spent hours with them. They’ve got it under control. They don’t need me.

“You’re on a call with the board at twelve thirty.”

“It’s a call, not in person?”

“Yes, not everyone is in town. It may only be the chairman of the board and you. I’m not sure.”

I check the time. I’m starving. I need fresh air.

“I’m gonna run out and get a falafel. You want anything?”

“I can get you lunch.”

“Thanks, but I need the air.”

“If you’re sure. I’m jonesing for a grilled cheese, so I’m gonna head down to the cafeteria.”

“One day your arteries are going to repay you.”

“Maybe. But if they’re gonna clog, I’d rather it be because of melted cheese than fried chickpea.”

“Ha ha.” I hang up and scroll through text messages.

As I wait for the elevators, the silent television in the corner of the reception area catches my attention. The weatherman is on, but the white scroll on the bottom of the screen reads Evan Mitchell, CFO, and Tom Bennett, CEO of BB&E served indictments.

Grand. Cat’s out of the bag and all hell’s gonna break loose. My phone lights up and vibrates as if it’s internally combusting.

Once outside, I search the perimeter for the falafel guy then head his way, lost in the barrage, scanning for client messages, as those rank of the highest importance. Damnit. I had hoped we’d have more time before the media got hold of it.

Frank, SVP of Operations, and I are scheduled to meet at two to go through the list of clients to determine which ones need to be contacted before the end of day. Most clients will get a call from their client services manager with our prepared message. The most important clients will get a call from Frank, who technically oversees all client relationships, or from me, Interim CEO. The title makes my head spin. Frank might be pushing eighty and speaks with the speed of a tortoise, so unless he has a relationship, I’ll be making all the calls. Fuck, it’s gonna be an insane afternoon. I should’ve met with Frank earlier, but I needed the announcement about my interim post to be made.

When it’s my turn in line, I step up to order my normal. I don’t even get a chance to open my mouth.

“Chase, my man. I heard you were at the shooting.”

“Yeah.”

“So crazy. Tragic. Awful. I heard there were, like, five shooters. You must’ve been freaking out.”

“There was one shooter. I’m pretty certain they’ve confirmed it was one shooter.”

“No, man. I saw it on my wife’s Facebook. Crazy. You lucky you made it out alive.”

“Yes. I am.”

He hands over my falafel, just like I like it, with extra sauce. “You need water?”

“No. I’ll get it inside.”

I pull out my wallet, and he waves it away. “Nah. This one’s on me. Glad you’re alive, man.”

“Thanks, Manny. You da best,” I say as we fist bump. And that, my friends, is why it pays to be a repeat customer.

As I step away from Manny’s stand, my cell vibrates with yet another text. A large man crowds me from behind, and I step out of his way, closer to the curb. The fucker’s about to make me drop my falafel.

There’s a text from Sadie. Headed over to fingerprint. See you soon.

Something hard jabs against my side, and I spin, ready to push back. New Yorkers who push and shove are one of my biggest pet peeves. I take two steps out of the guy's way, off the sidewalk and into the street between two parked cars. What the fuck is his problem?

The fucker grabs onto my bicep and pushes me hard. My falafel goes flying out of my hand.

“What the fuck, man!” I belt out as another guy comes out of nowhere and grabs my other side. This is fucking nuts.

The guy shoves his chest out, and his buddy comes out of nowhere. Like we’re about to brawl on the street. Assholes.

I move to get away from these whack jobs. There’s nothing to gain from a fight. A van is double-parked on the street, and I go to get between it and the street parked car.

“Move it or I shoot,” the giant to my side growls.

My heart stops. Like, no blood pumping anywhere when I register the glint of stainless steel jabbing into my side.

The side door of the van slides open. The guy behind me edges me forward, then at the last minute, shoves me with a hard thrust that smacks my shin against the van. Fuck. Pain ricochets through my leg. I go to rub the source, but the asswipe snatches both my wrists, and I hear the sound of handcuffs clicking.

The guy in the driver’s seat stares straight ahead, and his right hand grips the wheel. A black cloth bag falls over my head. Ho-ly shit. I’m being kidnapped.

“You guys know you won’t get away with this, right?”

“Shut up,” a deep voice snarls beside me.

“Who hired you guys?”

“Shut up,” the same voice repeats.

“This isn’t gonna end well,” I warn. My hands are locked behind my back, but I shift, attempting to locate the phone that should be in my pants pocket. It won’t take Sadie long to track it. She’ll find me. The only thing is, as I shift around, I don’t feel my phone.

“I can’t believe we fucking did this in broad daylight.” It’s a different monotone voice.

“Didn’t have a choice. The feds’ve been staking out his apartment.”

“Not smart.” The guy sounds pissed.

“What do you care? You’re unrecognizable. Drive.”

“You guys can change your mind. Just let me out. No harm, no foul,” I offer.

“You speak again, and I knock you out. Got it?”

I nod, compliant. In safety courses, they tell you getting out of the car when kidnapped is imperative. Only, I’ve got two muscled giants on each side of me, a black bag over my head, and I’m fucking handcuffed.

“I’ve already provided testimony to the FBI. Kidnapping me doesn’t help your bosses.”

A crushing, painful, blunt object slams into the side of my head, and I smash against the hard body sitting to my left. Pain radiates through my head and the base of my neck.