The Perfect Murder by Kat Martin

TWO

Four weeks laterDallas, Texas

For McKenzie Haines, her day as executive assistant to Reese Garrett started as usual. After a few minutes spent with her own assistant, Louise Dennison, an older woman with short, iron gray hair, Kenzie began her early-morning briefing with Reese to go over his daily schedule and discuss what he needed from her.

Seated across the desk from the CEO of Garrett Resources in his spacious office, she waited as he finished an unexpected phone call. With his wavy jet-black hair and amazing blue eyes, Reese was one of the best-looking men Kenzie had ever seen. Keenly intelligent and highly successful, he was a combination of virile masculinity and brooding reserve that attracted women of every age, shape, and size.

She could still see the faint scar on the side of his head near his temple from the helicopter crash that had killed two men and put Reese in the hospital.

At the time of the accident, Kenzie had worked for the company only five months, but in that time, she had come to admire and respect her employer. She could still recall the sharp stab of fear when his brother Chase had phoned to inform her of the accident.

Three days later, Reese was back at his desk, running the company with the iron control he was known for. Unfortunately, even now, four weeks after the incident, NTSB investigators remained unable to pinpoint the cause of the crash.

Reese’s phone call ended and his dark head came up, his intense blue eyes locking on her face. No matter how she worked to ignore it, Kenzie always felt the impact.

“Where were we?” he asked.

“You wanted me to reschedule your visit to the offshore platform.”

“Yes. I’ve put it off too long already.”

“I probably shouldn’t say this, but after what happened, I don’t blame you.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up. “Maybe not, but I want this deal done. We’ve been working on it for months. We need to finish our due diligence and make it end.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to go with you?” Traveling with Reese when he needed her assistance was part of her job, though he hadn’t asked her to go with him the day of the crash, thank God.

One of his rare smiles appeared. “You want to hold my hand in case I get scared in the chopper?”

Kenzie laughed, a little embarrassed he had hit so close to the truth. She liked him, admired him. He could have died that day. “I just thought you might need me.”

Reese shook his head. “Not this time. I won’t be discussing business while I’m out there. I just want to get a feel for the way things operate out on the rig.”

She nodded, not surprised since he had said something similar before. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

As she looked down at his calendar on her iPad, thinking of what she would need to rearrange, a soft knock sounded at the door. The knob turned and Louise stood in the opening.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the police are on the phone. They’re looking for Kenzie. Apparently it’s some kind of an emergency.”

Kenzie shot up from the chair in front of Reese’s polished dark walnut desk.

“Put the call through on my line, Louise,” Reese said before she had taken a step. “She can talk to them in here.”

“Yes, sir.” As the older woman backed out of the room, Kenzie’s pulse began to pound. The police were calling. What could have happened? She prayed it wasn’t Griff, her nine-year-old son. Or, dear God, maybe it was Gran.

Her long dark hair swung forward as she leaned over to pick up the phone. “Hello...this is McKenzie Haines?”

“Ms. Haines, this is Sergeant Bothwell, Dallas Police Department. I’m afraid there’s been an accident involving your son.”

Kenzie’s fingers tightened around the receiver. “Is he... Is Griff all right?”

“He’s been taken to Baylor Medical at Uptown, ma’am. That’s all I know.”

Kenzie swallowed. “Baylor. Thank...thank you for calling.” Desperate to get to the hospital, she started to hang up, but Reese grabbed the phone out of her hand.

“This is Reese Garrett. I work with Ms. Haines. Can you tell us what happened to the boy?”

She couldn’t hear what Sergeant Bothwell said but Reese’s expression looked grim. She was trembling by the time he set the phone back down in the cradle.

“What did he say?”

“Griff was riding his bicycle in front of the house. He swerved to dodge a car, fell off, and hit his head. The babysitter called an ambulance.”

Suddenly light-headed, she swayed on her feet, gripping the edge of the desk to steady herself. “What was he doing in the street? He’s not supposed to be riding out front by himself. Tammy Stevens was watching him while my grandmother went to her doctor’s appointment. Oh, God.”

“Take it easy. You’ll know more when you get to the hospital. Come on, I’ll drive you.” Before she could object, he called down to the garage to have his car brought up.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said. “I can drive myself.”

“You’re in no shape to drive. Get your purse and let’s go.”

Since he was right, she didn’t argue, though she was surprised he had offered. Reese was her employer, CEO of the company. They didn’t really know each other on a personal level.

Somehow she managed to walk out of his office on legs that felt weak and unsteady. Louise’s desk sat in the open area out front, Kenzie’s desk and credenza in a spacious, more private location closer to Reese’s impressive executive office.

He paused at Louise’s desk. “Kenzie’s son was in an accident. He’s been taken to the emergency room at Baylor. I’m driving her to the hospital. If you need me, call my cell.”

“Yes, sir.” She turned to Kenzie. “Let me know what you find out about Griff, okay? I’ll worry till I know he’s all right.”

Kenzie nodded, her stomach clenched tight with nerves. “I will, Louise, I promise.” Hurrying over to her desk, she grabbed her handbag then continued with Reese to the private wood-paneled elevator that serviced the executive offices on the fourteenth floor of the building in the nineteen-hundred block of North Akard.

The elevator descended, then the doors opened in the underground parking garage behind the valet stand. A shiny black Jaguar idled in front, the air conditioner running, the September temperatures still uncomfortably high.

Reese walked her around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, waited while she settled herself in the sporty, red-trimmed, black leather seats. Tugging down the navy blue pencil skirt she was wearing with a matching jacket and heels, she pushed her dark hair out of her face.

“Put your belt on,” Reese commanded as he slid behind the wheel and put the car in gear. He was the kind of man who was always in charge, always in control, yet somehow he seemed more efficient than overbearing. Working with him had been exhilarating, challenging, and exhausting. It was a job she truly loved.

Her heart was still racing as he drove the Jag out of the parking garage. The brakes slammed the instant they pulled into the street, and Reese softly cursed.

Dozens of people carrying signs and banners rushed up to surround the car. SOS, Save Our Shores. Stop Deep Sea Oil. No Drill No Spill.

“Son of a bitch.” Reese eased the car out into the street, nudging protesters aside, the vehicle crawling along when it was clear he would rather have hit the gas and charged forward. There weren’t more than a couple of dozen, most of them young, in their twenties or early thirties, wearing everything from purple hair and nose rings to Bozo the Clown masks.

“I’m sorry, Kenzie,” Reese said. “I knew there’d been some trouble at the Houston office, but this is the first time we’ve had protests here.”

She’d known about the recent protests to halt more drilling in the Gulf. She hadn’t realized they had expanded as far as Dallas. The odd thing was, the deal to buy the platform had been in progress for months and the rig had been producing oil for years.

She looked at the jeering crowd blocking their way and fear for her son intensified. Griff needed her. She had to reach him.

“Don’t worry, they aren’t going to stop us from getting there,” Reese said, reading her mind.

He increased his speed, the Jag’s powerful engine purring, the vehicle forcing the crowd to separate and really pissing them off. Though the windows were up and the air conditioner was running, she could hear the foul things they were saying about Garrett Resources, some specifically aimed at Reese as head of the company.

Reese ignored them and increased his speed, breaking free of the unruly mob and leaving them ranting and raving in the middle of the street behind them.

As he continued along North Akard toward Baylor Medical, Kenzie’s mind remained on her son. She checked her phone messages, found call after call from Tammy Stevens, her next door neighbor’s teenage daughter who’d been babysitting Griff. But when she tried to return the call, Tammy’s phone went directly to voice mail. Kenzie’s worry continued to build. Dear God, let him be okay.

As soon as Reese pulled the Jag into a space in the emergency parking lot, Kenzie opened the car door, jumped out, and ran for the entrance, praying all the way that Griff would be all right. He was only nine years old, his life just beginning. The thought that something terrible might have happened to him clogged her chest with fear.

Reese’s long strides caught up with her before she reached the glass doors. He was tall, his expensive suits custom tailored to his broad shoulders and narrow hips. She knew he enjoyed sports, played tennis, and worked out with a martial arts trainer three times week. As his personal assistant, Kenzie knew a lot about Reese Garrett.

He held the door as she hurried into a scene of organized chaos: nurses and doctors in scrubs, carts rattling by pushed by lab technicians, worried family members huddled together. The hospital smells of antiseptic and ammonia made her stomach roll. Vaguely, she wondered if Reese’s recent hospital stay had left him feeling equally unsettled.

He steered her directly to the nurses’ station, identified himself, and introduced Kenzie as Griffin Haines’s mother.

“We’d like to see the boy and speak to the doctor,” Reese said. “As soon as possible.”

Kenzie was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Reese Garrett had driven her to the hospital and instead of leaving was staying to lend his support. Reese had never met her son, yet she could sense his concern. It steadied her, kept her from sliding into total panic.

A petite, redheaded nurse behind the counter took one look at Reese and couldn’t move fast enough to help him. “I’ll find the doctor for you.” She took off at a run, and as they waited, Kenzie’s heart continued to pound.

Where was Griff? How badly was he injured?

“He’s just a boy,” she said, unconsciously speaking her thoughts. “He’s got to be okay.”

Reese caught her shoulders, turning her to face him. It was the first time he had ever touched her, she realized. In today’s business climate, there could be no hint of impropriety. As her boss, Reese had been scrupulous in his treatment of her. Never once had he stepped out of line.

“He’s going to be okay,” he said firmly. “You need to believe that unless you learn something different. If that happens, you can deal with it then. I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

She swallowed. “You’re right. I need to be strong for Griff.” But it wasn’t that easy to do.