Finding Tessa, Jaime Hendricks [best e reader for android .txt] 📗

“I don’t know. The cops are suspicious. They took DNA and—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up, Jace. Is this a murder investigation?” His eyes went wide, and he gritted his teeth. “We’re about to land the VistaBuild financing. If you’re implicated in a missing-persons case, then—”

“Jesus, Trey. Stop.” Jace huffed. “She wasn’t murdered.” He said it, but his voice wavered. “She’s just—I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. I stopped at the police station this morning and the detective in charge said the DNA will take a few days.”

“Oh. Terrific. A ‘detective’ is involved now,” he said, using air quotes. Then he looked at his watch, an expensive thing he liked to show off and called a timepiece. “Andy and Kyle from VistaBuild have been here all week getting liquored up on every bank’s tab in the state and they’re heading back later today. They’re taking the weekend and planning for final financing by Monday. The last thing I need is this story hitting the wire.”

The last thing Trey needs, even though this wasn’t about him.

“Nice, Trey. Thanks.”

His shoulders dropped. “You know what I mean. I’m sorry, man. I hope everything is okay with Tessa.”

Jace pressed his lips together. There was other scandalous shit going on behind the walls of this bank. But no, nothing compared to a possible murder. And he knew that once the story broke Tessa’s name would be leaked, and then of course Jace’s name and his association with the bank would be too. And then the online comments on the article would follow, where everyone would say either that he was a heartless prick, partying it up at the bar while someone attacked his wife, or worse—that he was behind it.

He had to find a way to control the narrative. There was no way he’d come out of this as a grieving husband. Especially once it came out that he didn’t even know his wife—literally and figuratively.

“Go home, Jace,” Trey said, an edge to his voice. “Take a few days, next week too. Sort this out.”

“But VistaBuild. They’re coming back in today. What if they go with us on Monday?”

This was Jace’s project—he’d groomed them from start to hopeful finish.

“We’ll have Rosita do the heavy lifting. Andy was particularly impressed with her, so I feel comfortable with her handling everything if we get the call Monday.”

Rosita must be happy as a clam that Tessa was missing. Boy, wasn’t this all working out in her favor?

“So, I lose my wife, and now my job too?” Jace asked. “This is my responsibility.”

“You didn’t lose your job. But if this story gets out, I don’t want you perp walking to your car when news vans and cameras show up later this afternoon. Because you know they will.” He stopped talking for a few seconds, then slammed both hands on his desk. “Dammit!” he said, louder than Jace would’ve liked.

Jace looked behind him to see the curious faces peering at him through the glass, likely wondering what was making Trey so upset. Hailey, the twenty-three-year-old college kid who worked part-time as a teller while getting her MBA, had her hand over her open mouth in shock. Mickey and Carla, the full-time tellers, both quickly looked away when Jace made eye contact.

“Way to have my back, Trey,” Jace said. “After everything I’ve done for you.”

He stared at Trey hard, letting the statement hang in the air. The truth was, if Jace was a ruthless climber, he could’ve had Trey fired months ago, and slid not only into a promotion, but right into Trey’s job as the boss.

People should be sympathetic. His wife was missing.

Trey softened for a hot second, realizing Jace held the cards. “Just take the rest of the day, Jace. It’ll all work out.”

Trey was still pissed, but Jace didn’t have time for that. He got what he wanted, in theory—time today, to figure out things about Tessa. He hadn’t expected to lose the project, though.

Jace turned and opened the door, and walked out while Trey called out “I hope they find her” behind him. He said it, but his words didn’t ring sincere.

Like he was naked in a dream giving a speech, Jace felt his cheeks go hot as everyone around him avoided eye contact, likely wondering what pissed Trey off this time. Back in his office, he shut down his computer, grabbed his wallet, and walked toward the door. Rosita stopped him with a hiss from her own office, and when he looked at her, she waved him in. He sighed, not wanting to do this with her, now, here, but for some reason, he went in.

He knew why. Rosita was undeniably attractive, with a whole J-Lo thing going on. They’d worked together for just about a year, and each day since then she’d made sure that he knew she was available to him. Mistakes were made, even recently, but what could he really say? She was a climber. If it came out, she’d scream #MeToo and sexual harassment for having relations with someone who was her superior at work.

“Hey,” she whispered, then motioned for him to close the door.

He did, only because she had a floor-to-ceiling glass panel next to her door, so anyone could see inside at any time. There was no way he’d be in a totally closed off room with her after the incident.

Her office was unabashedly Rosita. She couldn’t break protocol and make it as wild as she wanted, but her touches were everywhere. Two leopard-print frames, one holding a picture of her and a bunch of girlfriends on the beach, fruity drinks in hand and wearing bikinis, naturally, and another of her with her two nephews. Her desk lamp was red and gold, and there were red-framed pictures of zebras and cheetahs on the walls. All her tchotchkes were either red or gold or leopard, from her pens and penholder to the small pillow on her chair that she used to support her