Chasing Frost by Isabel Jolie
Eight
Sadie
Anna, Chase’s good friend, loops her arm around mine and ushers me into the kitchen, where other women are gathered around an island. From where I am, we can see through the glass wall onto the terrace. All the men are sitting on two facing sofas in front of a gas fireplace. I’m new to New York City, but I’ve lived in enough cities to know this apartment must be insanely expensive.
My immediate thought when surrounded by such excess is how did they get this money? Anna passes a gin gimlet to me as I put on a convincing smile and sharpen my senses. Time to start digging.
“So, help me understand how everyone here knows each other.”
Anna pauses then points around the room as she speaks. “Delilah and I work together, and Olivia and I used to live together. Chase and I knew each other at Carolina. My boyfriend, Jackson, and Chase lived together in grad school. And then, Maggie’s fiancé, Jason, is childhood friends with Sam. Sam is the guy out there with cowboy boots on. This is his place.”
I point to Olivia, a woman who towers over me, and ask, “And Sam is your boyfriend?”
She finishes nibbling an olive before answering, “Yes. We live together. Jackson and Anna live together, Delilah and Mason live together, and well, obviously Maggie and Jason do.”
“Interesting. There’s no way I’m keeping all that straight.” I point out to the terrace, where I do want to understand the connections. “So, do all of the men work together? Or are they just friends?”
Delilah, the blonde, laughs, and her hands flail out in front of her as she speaks. “Oh, no. Mason’s a veterinarian. He didn’t know any of these guys until we met. But he was Anna’s veterinarian.” She raises an eyebrow and in a firm tone directs, “And that’s a story we will not be sharing.”
“What about Sam’s business? Esprit. Are they a BB&E client?” All the women look at me. Shit.
Olivia taps a nail on her glass, considering as she answers, “I don’t know who Esprit uses for an accounting firm. But, really, Sam isn’t the one who would be dealing with that. He’d see top-line reports. Sam’s more involved now in investing in other start-ups, almost more like a spin-off of Esprit. But, you know, if Chase ever wanted to pitch BB&E to Esprit, I’m sure Sam would help him out.” Her nose wrinkles. “Does Chase do new business for BB&E? Or do you?”
“No, he doesn’t. And I’m not trying to look for new business opportunities. Chase is more of an account manager, like client services. I do internal auditing.”
Olivia gazes out the window at the men. “Hmm. I can definitely see Chase in client services.”
Anna sidles up next to me, tapping my elbow. “What about you and Chase? Are you guys…?” She lets the question trail.
“Colleagues.” I make a point of looking her directly in the eye, so she knows I’m not being coy. “I recently moved here, and he brought me along so I could meet people. He said he wants me to like his city, and he had great things to say about all of you.”
Delilah pipes up. “That’s our Chase. He’s like a one-man welcome wagon.” With enthusiasm, she points to Anna. “That’s how he got Anna and Jackson together. Trying to make Jackson feel at home when he moved here.”
Anna gives a half-laugh. “I’m not so sure I’d say he got us together.” Then she redirects the conversation back to me. “You know, Chase can come off as a bit of a jerk, but under all those jokes, he’s a good guy. He’s been a good friend through the years.”
Delilah adds, “Yeah, we love our Chase. If you decide to give him a chance, be good to him.”
“First, he’s a colleague.” I hold out my index finger as if I’m directing a class. “Nothing is going on. Second, he doesn’t strike me as someone who’s exactly looking for a relationship.”
Olivia responds with a slight smile. “I tend to agree with you that he’s a player. But we’ve been hanging out with him for years, and you’re the first woman he’s brought around us since his ex-girlfriend. All that said,” she pauses to make eye contact with both Anna and Delilah, “leave her alone, guys. I understand what it’s like to not want to date a work colleague. Drop it.”
“It’s okay.” Ex-girlfriend. Maybe she couldn’t handle corrupt dealings. Harder to be in a relationship when you’re skirting the law. But what about Mrs. Bennett…? “So, the player bit. Do you know, has he dated anyone through work before?” I twist my heel back and forth, hoping to come across like a tentative, curious girl, someone who may be debating dating a guy.
Olivia and Delilah look to Anna to answer. She shakes her head slowly. “No. But I wouldn’t know. It’s been years since he told me about anyone.” Her squint and tilt of the head tell me she’s questioning if I’m asking for me, so I offer additional background.
“I met Chase at a function last weekend, and there was a woman there he seemed close to. I just wondered.”
Maggie sets her glass on the counter and asks, “Were you at the McLoughlin Charity Gala last weekend?”
“Yes. Were you there?”
“I knew I’d seen you before.” She snaps her fingers. “I was trying to place you. Yes, I was there. I work for The Health Foundation, but I used to work for McLoughlin. The group I work for now does some work with McLoughlin, and since it’s my old company and a lot of my connections, they sent me out. We’re planning a similar fundraising event this holiday season.”
I step around the island to stand closer to Maggie. “When did you work for McLoughlin?”
“Up until, let’s see…” She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I guess a little over nine or ten months ago. It’s crazy how time flies. McLoughlin was my first job out of college. It’s hard to find jobs in the non-profit sector, and cancer research is important to me, so I stayed there for a long time.”
“So, is that how you met Chase? Because BB&E handles the McLoughlin Charity account, right?”
She shakes her head, which is the wrong answer. Because they absolutely do.
“I don’t really know. I didn’t handle that. I don’t have any idea about that.” She tilts her head and stares out the window as if she’s thinking about something. My gut tells me she just realized something.
“What is it?” I aim for light and hope I’m coming across as if I’m making casual conversation.
She blinks rapidly as if dismissing an idea. “Nothing. It’s nothing at all. So, which woman did you think Chase was close to?”
This right here is what makes being undercover so tough. If I were interrogating her, I could get right to the point and find out exactly the connection she just made between BB&E and McLoughlin. Instead, I’ve got to take it slow, meander through the conversation, and not raise any suspicions.
“She was beautiful. Decked out in diamonds. Purple gown.”
“You mean Mrs. Bennett?” Maggie’s mouth gapes open, and her face contorts into a look of mild disgust. “No way. First, I don’t believe Chase would go out with a married woman.”
Olivia angles her head. “Really? I could see it. It’s the perfect non-relationship. No threat of commitment.”
Maggie shakes her head, firm. “Not the CEO’s wife. No one is that stupid.”
“She’s the CEO’s wife? Yeah. No. Chase wouldn’t. And the thing about his player status? He’s more talk than anything. Trust me. I could tell you stories.” Anna looks me in the eye, ignoring the others. For some reason, she wants me to believe her.
Olivia squeezes Anna’s shoulder while smiling at me. “Anna sees the good in everyone. And Chase is like a brother to her. So, weigh anything she says with that background info.”
Anna wrinkles her nose at Olivia then sets about refilling everyone’s glasses. The conversation changes to Maggie’s remaining wedding preparation.
My team thought it was great I was going out tonight. They briefly discussed if I needed backup, but for white-collar crime, it’s not needed. It’s not like I’m infiltrating a gang. This is hardly a dangerous assignment, but it is moving more slowly than I anticipated.
I’ve gained full access to the BB&E intranet and haven’t discovered anything suspicious. I’ve shared tons with our team, who are currently doing additional analysis. There’s a whole set of people listening in on audio in the building. We know someone at BB&E is falsifying records, but who? The most likely person is still Chase.
My gaze flits from face to face, circling the kitchen island, and out onto the patio. If he’s indicted, his friends will be shell-shocked.
When Sam enters the kitchen to announce it’s time for us to leave, the only one he looks to is Olivia. The saying I only have eyes for you comes to mind. All the couples have the goo-goo eyes thing going on. It’s sweet. These seem like nice people. But, unfortunately, sometimes nice people make bad decisions.
All the couples pair up as we head out, leaving Chase and me together. When we exit the building, there’s an extra-long limousine awaiting us. I notice a man in a black t-shirt and dark jeans hovering nearby. He’s watching all of us, but standing back, out of the way. What catches my attention is the bulk on his hip. He’s carrying.
No one else notices the guy. Why would they? They’ve all been drinking and are out to have a good time with friends. Sam’s the last one to pile in, and he gives a quick nod to the man before ducking into the car. I watch as the man gets into the passenger seat of a black Tesla that’s sitting behind our limousine. Does Sam have security?
We pull up in front of the Moxy hotel for dinner reservations at the Fleur Room, a rooftop club lounge. We’re all admiring the panoramic skyline when Chase circles his arm around my waist. “Are you doin’ okay?”
His proximity is unnerving, but Chase touches everyone. I exhale to relax into my role. “Yeah. Your friends are really nice.” Be truthful when you can. Undercover 101.
“I knew you’d like them. You don’t have to stay the whole night. From what I’ve been able to gather, Sam and Olivia have reservations for us at several places tonight, and they’re planning on playing it by ear. Seeing what everyone wants to do. Knowing this crew, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the last place they make it out to. Rallying them to multiple locations is next to impossible. I mean, they might make it to three a.m., but they’ll probably own their one table the whole night.”
“No, I’m having fun. Are you afraid I can’t keep up if it’s a late night?”
“Nah, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to hang. I have to cut out around midnight.”
The others are making their way to a private table, specially reserved for us, but I lean into Chase to hold him back for a moment.
“What do you mean? Where are you going?”
“I’ve got clients I’ve got to meet.” He looks pissed.
“Are you serious? On a Saturday night?” My tone becomes more shrill with each question, genuine surprise leaking through. Then it hits me, this is when the real business occurs. And I need to be there.
He shrugs. “Tell me about it. EJ’s in town.”
“Who is EJ again?”
“CEO of Medical Supply out of Chicago. He’s in town for the week.”
“Didn’t you say you went out with him Thursday night?”
“Yeah, I did. Apparently, he likes the way I hold his hand.”
Sam stands and waves us over. Chase places pressure on my lower back to guide me to the table. Two empty seats have been left vacant for us.
When we sit, I notice the man with a concealed weapon is standing back behind the hostess desk, near the elevator entrance. I lean closer to Chase and whisper, “Does Sam have security?”
He nods and adds, “Mainly to keep media clear. He used to have it everywhere. I don’t think so much anymore.”
Interesting. Our team will need to look into Sam. It doesn’t seem someone whose job is to keep the media away needs a concealed weapon. There could be something more going on there.
Two waiters have arrived with plates of hors d'oeuvres and are setting them down in the middle of the table. A waitress makes her way around the table for drink orders, even though Sam has already ordered wine and champagne.
I stay close to Chase’s side. Our legs touch beneath the table. He wraps his arm around the back of my chair, and it’s tempting to lean into him, but I don’t. Chase is at ease during the dinner conversation and pays careful attention to me, bringing me in and asking questions to keep me engaged. At one point, he offers me a bacon-wrapped scallop then feeds it to me. Back at Sam and Olivia’s, he was keeping an eye on me. I know this because I’ve been tracking him, and every now and then, I’ve had to glance away quickly. There’s an interest level that I can leverage.
Chase plays the role of the perfect host, making me feel like I’m a part of his crew, even though we just met. If this was real, if I really was simply a colleague, I’d be making friends in my new city. Girlfriends I could call on. Yet, I remind myself, this is work. These people won’t have anything to do with me when this case concludes.
I’m careful with the alcohol, but after one glass, my shoulder muscles loosen up and the conversation flows more easily. As dinner progresses, Chase and I rub against each other. Not on purpose, but our knees knock. His arm grazes my back when he rests it on the back of my chair, relaxing. My body reacts each and every time. It shouldn’t, but it does. The flutter, the burning warmth, the mild electrical current zapping me each time we bump. The sound of his laughter, a deep chuckle, warms me from the inside out. When he laughs, I laugh. It’s infectious.
My physical reaction is disconcerting, but it’s not like I’m in danger of falling for a guy about to do ten to twenty. Flirting will increase the chances he’ll bring me along later on tonight, so I do it. Leveraging this attraction is part of the job. If I play it right and let Chase think he’s gonna get lucky, maybe I can overhear some of what they talk about. A meeting late at night is definitely suspect. This is not standard client service. I should be there. Whatever it takes.
Chase’s cell vibrates, and he excuses himself. He steps outside of hearing distance from the table. I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room and walk up behind him. He sees me, smiles, and nods. I slow down as I pass, hoping to overhear his conversation.
When I exit the restroom, he’s still on the phone. I stand by the door observing him, unnoticed. He might be the gym’s all-star social attendee, but he’s lifting some weights during all those hours too. As I skim lower, I confirm that yes, he’s sporting a firm torso and he fills out his jeans nicely. He says he runs or bikes every single morning before work. His trim waist proves he’s speaking the truth.
“I’ll be out in a few.” He winks at me as he ends the call.
He drops his phone into his pocket. “I’ve got to go for that client thing I mentioned. But you stay out with everyone tonight and have fun. You’re getting along with everybody, right?”
“Yes.” I step up to him and do something the real me would never do. I press my body up against his and place my fingers on his chest. My cheeks heat at the absurdity of what I’m doing and my last-ditch effort to be included, almost like a real-life sparrow. “I want to go with you.”
“Trust me. You don’t want to go where I’m going.” He glances down at my hand, and I pull it away, knowing this must seem like it’s coming out of nowhere, but he captures my retreating hand and places a light kiss over my knuckles.
“Sydney, trust me, I’d love nothing more than to bring you along tonight. If you’re up for it, maybe we can go to dinner another night?”
His hand loops behind my back, and his brown eyes fall to mine.
“I’d like to go to dinner sometime.”
His eyes narrow. “As a friend or a date? Since we work together, I’ll let you lead.” His dark eyes focus on me, full of interest, and inside I flip, which is ridiculous.
I suck on my bottom lip to buy time. I could play this two ways. I could go back to acting like we’re just colleagues, which is the role I’m supposed to play, or I could express interest and hope I learn something by going deeper under cover. Or, well, at least playing a more involved role.
“I’d love to go on a date with you.” His gaze narrows on my lips. I inch closer, close enough I can breathe in his musk scent. My heartrate quickens.
“You let me know when you’re available, and I’ll plan a first date you’ll never forget.” With a glance at his wrist, he places pressure on my lower back to guide me back to our table.
I grab his hand, preparing to beg him to take me, but I stop myself. If I do more, it’ll be suspicious, too out of character for Sydney Frost.
When we make our way back to the table, I can’t help but notice all the smiles cast our way from the ladies.
Chase announces his departure. “Everybody, I’ve got to head out. Sydney’s going to stay and hang out for a bit longer.”
Jackson’s the first to speak. “Where are you off to?”
“Pain in the ass client. Take care of Sydney, okay? Car’s outside waiting, so I’ve got to run.”
He gives me a quick nod, takes two steps, then backtracks and places a soft kiss on my cheek. “Looking forward to our date,” he says so only I can hear. I watch him hustle out of the restaurant, pausing to say something quickly to Sam’s security guard.
I stand before the table as all of his friends gawk at the stranded girl.
Anna breaks the awkwardness. “Sit down. Where’s your drink? Are you drinking red or white?”
“I’m not. Thank you, guys. It was so wonderful to meet you, but I think I’m going to head out, too.”
Maggie jumps up, arms out, as if she’s going to embrace me or something, and I hold out my palm. “Seriously, I’m wiped, guys. It was so great to meet all of you.”
Maggie smiles and proceeds to wrap her arms around me. As I’m hugging her goodbye, I congratulate her on her upcoming wedding, and she says, “Oh, you should come with Chase! It’s going to be in my parents’ back yard. It’s not a big wedding, and I’ve been worried about Chase not having fun. Please come.”
“Well, he hasn’t asked me to come.” You can tell she’s one of those girls who’s nice to everyone. She reminds me of my sister. She’s super soft, whereas I’ve always been the harder one. Harder to get to know, slower to let you in.
“Oh, he will. He hasn’t been able to stop looking at you all night. I’ll work on him.”
“That’s okay. It’s very sweet of you—”
“No. It’ll be sweet of you if you come. I really hope you do. It’s gonna be a relaxed weekend. It’ll be fun, I promise. And everyone’s coming out on Sam’s private plane, so you don’t have to worry about airline tickets.”
“I’ve been telling Chase he should bring you,” Anna adds. These guys are too much. Did they not see him leave me behind tonight?
I rush my goodbyes, and with a backward glance at the table, I doubt they’ll be making it to any of the other locations Sam and Olivia planned. Delilah mentioned the disco balls up at Paul’s Cocktail Lounge, but all the couples look too content to envision them heading out. Several customers stand waiting for the elevators. A small sign on a door farther down indicates an exit stairwell, and I push the door open and sprint.
When I exit the Moxy lobby, a dark sedan awaits us on the curb. The driver’s wearing a suit, and I spy Chase slip into the back seat.
I step out onto the street and hail a yellow taxicab.
“Can you follow that car?”
The cab driver glances in front of him, to the black sedan, then back at me, and laughs. “Are you joking?” he asks in a thick, heavy accent I would place as New Delhi.
“No. I’m not. Please. Now.” I stare straight ahead, determined not to let the black sedan out of sight. “I’ll pay you twenty extra.”
He presses on the accelerator, and we lurch forward, moving a couple of cars behind Chase. Traffic is heavy, but so as long as we don’t get stuck behind a stoplight, we shouldn’t lose him.
Inside, anticipation stirs. I’m giddy. My first chase. It’s not high speed, and it’s nothing like I imagined as a kid, but I’m in pursuit.
“So, he’s cheating on you?” The taxi driver asks. He’s facing forward, but he’s watching me through the rearview mirror.
That’s not a bad cover story, so I go with it. “I think so. I don’t want to lose him. Can you stay close?”
I settle back into the seat, keeping an eye on both the black vehicle ahead and the street signs passing by. We’re headed in the direction of the midtown tunnel.
“Keep following?”
“Yes. Please.”
Shit. This isn’t smart. I didn’t put on a wire because it didn’t seem necessary tonight. This was more of a get-to-know-the-friends night. I hadn’t anticipated anyone would open up with any details I needed on wiretap. Now, I’m leaving the city. But it’s fine. I’ll just see who he’s meeting. Snap some photos. He’ll never know I’m there. There’s no risk. No reason to call Hopkins.
The drive over continues about fifteen minutes after we exit the midtown tunnel.
“Slow down,” I tell the cab driver once we’re on more vacant city streets. Even a yellow cab following closely will get noticed eventually. My cab driver has a smile on his face, fully entertained.
The neighborhoods have disintegrated quickly the longer we’ve driven. Graffiti lines walls, and the streets are darker. The cars parked along the street are banged up and a mix of older models.
“Where are we?”
“Warehouse district. Jersey City. That way is Hoboken.” The cabby points out the passenger window.
The sedan stops in front of a nondescript brick building. There are no visible business signs all along the rundown, poorly lit street.
“Turn right on that next block.”
He does so, turning at the corner before Chase’s exit point. “You sure you want to get out here?”
“Yes. I know the area. It’s fine.” I lie.
The moment we’re out of sight of Chase, he stops the cab, and I toss him the money. I should get a receipt for reimbursement, but I don’t take the time to do so.
“Good luck, lady,” the cabbie calls before driving off.
I rush along the side of the building, returning to the street where I saw Chase exit the cab. I peer around the corner, hidden by the building. Cigarette butts and broken glass litter the sidewalk. A couple of sedans are parked farther down the street. There’s a broken streetlamp on the corner, which explains the darkness. Farther down the block, a streetlamp is partially busted, and the light has gone spastic, flicking on and off.
Chase looks calm. He raps his knuckles against a heavy metal door. The door at one point in time may have been painted red, but it’s heavily faded, and some of the paint has completely chipped away, exposing smooth stainless steel.
The door opens, and a tall, muscular man blocks the entrance. He takes one look at Chase, and a big smile spreads across his face. From my hidden perch, his teeth glow white. The guy is enormous in a bodybuilder kind of way.
Chase disappears inside, and the door closes again. The black sedan drives away.
I cross the street. My heels click clack across the pavement. A stumbling couple turn the corner and approach the door Chase passed through. The woman is giggling and leaning on the man for balance. The man appears fairly intoxicated himself. He pounds on the door, and the woman squeals. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into coming here.”
“You love it.” When the door opens, he’s sucking her face.
I stand on the corner of the street, fully aware that I probably look like a prostitute. But, standing on the corner, I can observe without gathering suspicion.
“What the fuck? Let us in, man.”
“Members only. I can’t letchu in.”
“Come on. It’s Caitlyn’s birthday.”
“How much have you had to drink? Fuck. Did you take a cab?”
The next thing I know, he’s leading the woman and man over to the far corner. All three are shouting at each other. That’s when I notice the door is slightly ajar. The bouncer left a wedge in place to keep the door open.
Headlights appear farther down the street, and the bouncer waves his arms. When the cab pulls to a stop, the woman falls backward, and both men huddle over her while peals of laughter fill the street.
I jump at the opportunity while the bouncer’s back is to the door and he’s working in tandem with the drunk guy to try to pick the woman up from the sidewalk and get her into a cab.
The last thing I hear as I slip past the door is the cab driver shouting, “Aw, man, I don’t want no vomit.”
A dark, velvety curtain hangs from the ceiling, feet from the door entrance. A pulsing beat with a deep bass plays and the lights are dim.
The bouncer will be back any minute. I need to move. Exhilaration courses through me, my senses on high alert. I slip past the velvet curtain and find myself in a bar.
I survey the area. Maybe ten small round tables line the perimeter. The front of the bar is wrapped in leather, and about fifteen bar stools are in front. A man and woman sit in one of the small tables with cocktails. Three men are seated at one end of the bar. A lone man sits about midway along the bar talking to the bartender. Club music pulses louder on this side of the curtain, uninhibited. Velvet curtains hang, covering all walls. There are no windows. It’s difficult to discern where the door is as the heavy drapes hide all exits. No emergency signs light the way. This room is not to code.
I stand to the side, partially hidden by the velvet curtain. I don’t see Chase. I watch as the lone man stands and pulls back the black velvet curtain on the far side of the room and disappears.
I straighten and nod to the bartender. He focuses on the drinks he’s mixing, disregarding me. I stride toward the same panel I saw the man go through. Behind the curtain is another door. The music plays louder.
The man I followed is engaged in conversation with another man. They appear to be watching video on a phone together, with both heads bowed and focused on the screen. The man is standing behind something that looks like a hostess stand, and there are small cubbies behind him that are filled with phones and slim evening bags.
I inhale and go for it, stepping past the men, aiming for a confident air, and slip past another velvet curtain.
A blue light over a center stage lights the room. On stage, a woman is down on her knees, blowing a guy.
So, it’s that kind of club. I’ve read about these places, but I’ve never been to one. I’m staring, transfixed. I force my gaze away from the performance and survey the room. Farther off is another dark stage, with a cross and swing. All along the perimeter of the room are dark alcoves. Rhythmic, low music pulses as a backdrop. The walls and floor are black.
One entire wall is a series of alcoves with leather semi-circle booths. A man sits in the back of one booth, his head tilted back, eyes half-closed and a look of ecstasy plastered on his face. His hand presses on the back of someone’s hair, forcing the head down. The table is pushed back, giving them enough room. The space is dark, but the two are clearly visible.
A woman parades by dressed in heels and a black leather thong. The piercings on her nipples shimmer in the blue light. She smiles at me as she passes. In another booth, the woman crawls onto her companion’s lap. She’s wearing a looser skirt that drapes his thighs. His hands grip her hips, and he guides her up and down.
The carnal scene is an assault on the senses. It’s dreamlike. A bizarre fantasy. I sink back against the black velvet curtain, thankful I’m wearing a black dress, but fully aware I’m not invisible. My demure, chaste black cocktail dress, as compared to the attire of the other women in here, hardly fits into this scene.
What the hell is Chase doing?