Page 6 of Unbound
Chapter Two
As it turns out, Jasper had taken my accusation about Russ Daly to heart, because the next morning he agreed to a meeting with the other man.
“Do you really think it’s Daly?” I asked while looking out the window.
Jasper’s eyes were trained on the road, scanning ahead as we drove to Daly’s office. “I’m not a hundred percent convinced that he isn’t,” he said finally, his face betraying no emotion. The softness he’d shown me in the night was gone—he was back on the job.
“Yeah, it just seems a little…I don’t know.”
“You seemed convinced earlier.”
Of course I’d seemed convinced earlier. I’d just taken a shower with broken glass. I was ready to blame whoever stuck their hand up, and Russ just happened to fit the bill.
We pulled into Daly’s office parking lot. It wasn’t exactly humble and inconspicuous. There was a big sign out front reading Daly Enterprises in glittery gold letters, like Russ Daly was the cream of the crop and wanted everyone to know it. Being the middle of the day, the lot was half full, and Jasper had to park a good distance from the front entrance, which didn’t strike him as ideal.
“We’re exposed,” he grumbled. “And I don’t know if my truck is on camera.”
“You think someone is going to mess around with your truck while we’re in there?”
Jasper shook his head. “No, I just don’t like that someone could, and easily. Let’s go.”
We started for the front doors, Jasper right on my heels. “So, what, we’re just going to walk in there like we own the place? You really think Daly’s security is going to let us do that?”
“We’re expected,” Jasper grunted.
That was the end of it.
He held the door for me, and we stepped inside. The ground floor of the multi-story office building struck me as being very “office-like,” as though Daly had based his design plans on a picture from a magazine. An eyesore of a fountain—one of those waterfall things with a pond at the base, all made of dark rocks with fake vines—greeted us on the way inside. The interior smelled sterile, like cleaning products, and the carpet was a labyrinth of zig-zagging gray and brown stripes. There were a couple of doors along the walls, each accompanied by one of those rectangular gray key card readers. A bland-faced police officer in full uniform stood at one end of the lobby.
“We’re in Meadow Ridge, Georgia,” I mumbled. “You think this security is necessary?”
Jasper didn’t say anything.
“I bet this has less to do with security and more to do with Daly’s ego,” I said, answering my own question. Again, Jasper remained silent.
We rounded the fountain to find the receptionist sitting at a desk with a polished marble countertop. She looked up at us as we approached. “Can I help you?”
“We have an appointment with Russ Daly,” Jasper said. “We’re expected.”
The receptionist turned to her computer and clacked on the keyboard. “Yes, Miss Dunn, correct?”
“Dr. Dunn.” I ground my teeth together.
Jasper just nodded.
“Great! Take the elevator to the third floor. You’ll find Mr. Daly in the third door on the right.”
We boarded the elevator and listened to smooth, generic jazz as we rode to the top.
As promised, Russ Daly was in the third door on the right. He greeted us with a too-bright smile and a booming “Ah, right on time!” while extending one meaty slab of a hand.
I shook it reluctantly. I couldn’t help but remember that the last time I’d seen this man, he’d oh-so-generously offered to knock me up.
“Who is this?” I gestured to a police officer who stood quietly in one corner. He had a shiny star pinned to the front of his shirt, so big I wondered if it was fake.
“This is Sheriff Mack Sands.” Daly smirked at me.
“What’s he doing here?” I sucked breath in through my nose, trying not to let my temper ignite.
