The Finding (13 page)

Shaking his
head to clear the water from his eyes, he grabbed the soap and
began to lather up. He was here to do a job, after all. Washing
automatically, he pondered how to proceed in his search. They
didn’t have a clear picture of Greyson, just Ryne’s description of
her and, if the girl had any measure of sense, she wasn’t using her
real name. So how to establish her identity?

A good sniff
would determine if she was a werewolf, but other than that, all he
had was a vague memory of her scent, which he’d detected in the
motel room in Kansas. Would it be enough? His inner wolf rumbled in
the affirmative. It hadn’t forgotten the girl’s unique essence.

Bryan shifted
uncomfortably as his body stirred to life. The beast inside seemed
to have developed an exceptionally keen interest in the girl. It
was more than the thrill of the hunt; for some reason the animal
was eager to mate her, sight unseen. Down boy, he scolded. A sexual
encounter was a possibility if the girl was willing, but don’t
start planning anything permanent, okay?

An inner
silence greeted his warning. He frowned; the wolf hadn’t
automatically agreed which was odd. Usually they were of one
accord. Bryan hoped it wasn’t going to prove difficult. He’d have
enough to deal with once he found Cassandra Greyson. A contrary
inner-wolf would just complicate matters further.

Shutting off
the water, he grabbed a towel and quickly dried off before donning
clean clothes. It was just past noon. He’d grab a bite to eat, then
search out the grocery store. If luck was on his side, the girl
would be working and he could check her out. Should she prove to be
Cassandra Greyson, he’d make contact and...

His thinking
screeched to a halt as he pondered what to say to the girl.

‘Hi! I’m Bryan,
a fellow werewolf. The Finding clause means you’re part of my pack,
so come along quietly...’ Shaking his head, he chuckled imagining
how well that would go over. He considered the situation for a few
more moments, then shrugged. Nothing else came to mind, so he’d
just have to play it by ear. Talking to women had never been a
problem for him. The Greyson girl probably wouldn’t prove any
different.

*****

Chicago,
Illinois, U.S.A....

Marla stepped
into the Aldrich’s office and sat down in a seat near his desk. The
man was still with his nurse—Sylvia Robinson—whom he employed to
help deal with his trach tube. It required some daily maintenance
and the man preferred to have a ‘professional’ deal with it, even
though most individuals managed fine on their own.

As she sank
back in the leather chair, Marla looked around, pleased with the
decor she’d chosen. Aldrich had given her free rein with decorating
the penthouse and she gone with a modern look; chrome, leather,
stark white walls with vivid splashes of colour. Some might think
it was cold, but to her it fairly screamed exclusive,
elegant...expensive. A faint smile spread over her face at the
memory of the purchasing spree she’d had.

She sighed and
began to examine her nails for chips as she waited, not really
caring how long Aldrich spent with the nurse as long he didn’t
expect her to help care for the tube. Thank heaven he kept a silk
scarf over the opening. While it wasn’t really ghastly to look at,
she preferred to ignore the more unpleasant aspects of life. The
nurse was welcome to the job.

Mrs. Robinson
had started just a month ago and was the eighth nurse he’d employed
since the accident, the others having lasted only a matter of
months each. Either they hadn’t been able to put up with his moods
or they’d shown signs of excessive interest in the man. In the
former case, they quit of their own accord; in the latter, Marla
herself made sure they left. She wasn’t having anyone poaching in
her territory and she’d already staked her claim on Aldrich, even
if he didn’t know it yet.

A quick glance
at her watch, told her he’d still be another ten minutes. Aldrich’s
life was rigidly ordered and he demanded punctuality, which was why
she’d arrived early for their meeting. It also provided a good
opportunity for gathering information.

Getting up, she
wandered casually about the room, appearing as if she were staring
at the pictures on the wall. The man was obsessed with security and
he was always moving the surveillance cameras. As she moved about,
she surreptitiously scanned the room, trying to determine their
latest locations.

Ah-ha! There
was one over the door, pointing at the filing cabinet and the other
one… She bit her lip and continued to search…there! Near the
bookshelf. It was aimed at his desktop. Judging the angle
carefully, she determined the computer wasn’t within the viewing
area, though it had been last time.

Smirking, she
worked her way to the window and made a show of peering through the
blinds at the view. Idly she noted how sparse the trees were and
the lack of green space.

Not a suitable
place for us to live.

She frowned and
pushed her inner wolf’s foolish idea away.

Letting the
curtains fall back into place, she ensured she was out of camera
range, then carefully reached forward to jiggle the computer mouse.
The screen came to life and she began to read the information
displayed. It never hurt to know what Aldrich was up to when she
wasn’t around. He liked to spring surprises on her and she’d found
that a bit of judicious snooping helped her keep one step ahead of
him on most things.

The computer
file that appeared had to do with Cassandra Greyson, an image of
the heiress at the top of the screen. It showed a young girl with
long, dark brown hair, green eyes, and golden skin. A mischievous
smile seemed to lurk just beyond her full lips as if she were
secretly mocking the photographer. It was a candid shot, one of the
few that had apparently ever been taken of the child.

Marla didn’t
know much about the girl. Aldrich kept the whole thing close to his
chest, but she had gleaned some information over the years.

The missing
heiress had disappeared the night Anthony Greyson was
‘accidentally’ shot by Aldrich who purportedly had been trying to
scare off an attacking dog. If it hadn’t been for the severity of
his own wounds, Marla might have thought Aldrich had arranged the
whole thing—it had been such a convenient way of eliminating
Greyson, after all. However, Aldrich had been near death, so it
really must have been just a freak occurrence.

A wild dog
attack was so unlikely in Chicago. At times she mused if a werewolf
could have been involved, but decided it was just her own paranoia.
Lycans kept a low profile and as far as she could determine,
neither Greyson nor Aldrich had been dabbling in anything that
might have provoked an attack.

Returning her
focus to the screen, she skimmed over Cassandra’s file; Name, date
of birth, mother’s name, but no father was listed. After her
disappearance, she’d been traced as far as Kansas and then the
trail went cold. Nothing Marla didn’t already know.

About to turn
away, she saw a footnote. This file was linked to the Greene file.
She growled in frustration. There were certain files Aldrich kept
encrypted and this was one of them. He’d never shared the password
with her and so far she hadn’t been able to crack it. The only
other person who might know how to get in was his former assistant,
Mrs. Sandercock.

Mrs.
Sandercock, however, was unlikely to provide any help, should
anyone contact her over the matter of secret passwords. It seemed
the woman was rather bitter; something about an unexpected letter
of dismissal from Mr. Aldrich. Marla smirked, thinking of how she’d
bamboozled both Sandercock and Aldrich; each believing the other
had terminated their association. Aldrich had barely been out of
the hospital and in no condition to begin interviewing for the job,
so naturally Marla had just slid into the permanent position. As
for Mrs. Sandercock...well... Marla shrugged. Someone had probably
hired the woman eventually; not everyone demanded letters of
reference.

Checking the
time, Marla realized Aldrich would be finished with his nurse soon.
Casually, she strolled back towards her seat. On the surveillance
camera it would appear she’d been studying the view and the
paintings on the wall, while awaiting Aldrich’s appearance. The
computer screen would fade to black in a minute, erasing all
evidence that anyone had been looking at it recently. Everything
would appear untouched.

Gracefully
settling into her seat, she pasted a placid smile on her face,
crossed her ankles, and arranged her skirt so that a sufficient
amount of skin was showing. Now all she had to do was wait for her
employer. Inside, her wolf whimpered, saying it was tired of the
game she was playing, but she shushed it sternly. This was not the
time. Everything would work out perfectly fine.

Chapter 6

“Thank you,
Sylvia.” Aldrich slowly got up from his chair and nodded at the
nurse who was putting away her equipment.

His doctor
assured him there was no need for a private nurse, but Aldrich
wasn’t taking any chances. Sylvia suctioned the tube each morning
and night as well as before meals and whenever else the need arose.
She was also in charge of checking the condition of his stoma twice
a day, ensuring proper humidification of the air, ordering
supplies, cleaning, and maintaining his suctioning machine... The
woman was well worth the price of her paycheck. And besides, he had
his hands on the Greyson estate; money wasn’t a problem.

“You’re
welcome, Leon.” She smiled at him briefly, as she continued with
her task.

Aldrich spared
a moment to watch his nurse, not minding the familiarity with which
she addressed him; her faint British accent was pleasing to the
ear. Sylvia was fiftyish, slightly plump and had a bit of grey hair
appearing, but was still an attractive woman. Plus she didn’t grate
on his nerves and showed absolutely no interest in him whatsoever.
Not since Mrs. Sandercock—damn her for leaving with no warning—had
he appreciated the calm, soothing presence of the fairer sex.

His cheek
twitched as he thought of the other female in his employ; Miss
Matthews, or Marla, as she kept asking him to call her. The woman
was beautiful and efficient, but as cold and calculating as
himself. She thought she had him wrapped around her finger with her
pouting lips and oft-displayed cleavage, but he knew her game.

Miss Matthews
was out for whatever she could get and she’d set her sights on him,
or more precisely, the Greyson estate. If it wasn’t for the fact
she was damned good at her job, he’d have sent her on her way ages
ago. As it was, he could put up with her as long as she didn’t step
too far out of line.

“Leon? Is
something wrong?”

Aldrich
realized he was scowling at the nurse and hastened to reassure her.
“No. Just some business I was thinking of.” He paused, then spoke
hesitantly. “I...I believe the British are known for taking
afternoon tea. Is it a practise you follow?”

Sylvia smiled.
“I do like to have a cup mid-afternoon. Are you fond of tea?”

He studied her
for a moment, then nodded.

“If you’d like,
you could join me one day.” As she made the offer, a slight
pinkness appeared on her cheeks. Aldrich found it fascinating.

Suddenly aware
he was staring, he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling
inexplicably embarrassed—he was never embarrassed—and left the
room, only realizing after the fact, that he’d never answered
her.

He left the
area designated as the nurse’s room utterly bemused by the
exchange, arriving at his office door without even being aware of
the fact. The door was open a crack and he could see long, silky
legs carefully arranged for his viewing pleasure. Aldrich couldn’t
help giving the displayed limbs an appreciative look. The woman was
as sexy as hell and a certain portion of his anatomy couldn’t help,
but respond to the fact.

Wondering what
was wrong with him—first Sylvia and now Miss Matthews—he gave his
head a shake and corralled his wandering thoughts. Putting on his
usual bland expression, he entered the room.

“Miss.
Matthews, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.” He uttered the
socially polite words, not really caring if she had been waiting or
not. That’s what he paid her for after all, wasn’t it? Still, he
prided himself on maintaining a cloak of civilized
respectability.

“No, you’re
right on time as always, Leon.”

He paused in
the act of sitting down behind his desk and looked at her with one
raised brow. She caught his gaze, lowered her eyes demurely and
with a slight blush—fake no doubt—corrected herself.

“I mean, Mr.
Aldrich, sir.”

He gave a nod
of approval and finished seating himself. Leisurely, he surveyed
the surface of his desk, noting all his papers were exactly where
he’d left them. Good. She hadn’t touched anything, though the
surveillance cameras would have caught her if she had. He picked up
the file she’d prepared the previous day and flicked it open. After
a brief perusal he commented on her report.

“The Greyson
Estate continues to function well and is in good repair, I
see.”

“Yes.” Miss
Matthews leaned forward slightly, as if she were eager to talk to
him. Was it a coincidence her blouse gaped open? He thought not.
“The monthly expense report for maintenance supplies, utilities,
and employee wages is included.”

He glanced at
the next page and nodded. “Anything else?”

“Just the
matter we discussed earlier; Franklin’s advancing years.” She shook
her head and made a little moue. “I fear he’s getting quite
forgetful. The errors in the content inventory, claiming we’ve had
conversations which we haven’t...” Her face was a picture of regret
as her voice trailed off, but Aldrich studied her eyes instead;
they were flat and cold. The woman was up to something.