Page 98 of Lost Lake
“Oh man, you’re a woman after my own heart.” His playful little-boy grin almost distracted her from the door opening.
Almost.
The door was automated, and no one stepped out.
El’s phone chimed, and she checked the text. “Message from Deputy Price. The guy who stole my computer finally turned it on, and they tracked it to a guy named Justin Ward. They went to his address, but he wasn’t there so they’re staking out the place.”
“I’ll get Hayden to do a deep dive into this guy.” Gabe took out his phone and started tapping the screen.
He’d just shoved his phone into a pocket when an older woman in a formal navy suit entered through that automated door and stepped their way. From what El had heard about Trent, she expected another young and beautiful woman, but with the business he did, his priority had to be someone with solid experience.
“I’m Ms. Carlisle,” she said, her voice pleasant and not at all antagonistic.
El held out her credentials and introduced herself and Gabe.
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Ms. Carlisle said. “I’m Mr. Trent’s assistant. Can I ask what this is in regard to?”
“I’m sorry,” El said. “But the information is confidential. Just know that it’s for a life-or-death investigation we’re working on, and it’s very time sensitive. If it wasn’t, I would make an appointment when it was convenient for him.”
Her tongue flicked across lips covered in the palest of pink lipstick. “Follow me.”
She pivoted on her low-heel, sturdy black pumps, and marched back to the same door she’d stepped through. She flashed a card on the keypad and held the door open for them, revealing another small waiting area. “Have a seat, and I’ll tell Mr. Trent you’re here to see him.”
She waited for them to sit, then disappeared through another door behind a desk holding a plaque with her name on it.
“I’m really starting to get irritated,” El said. “But I guess I can’t blame the gatekeepers. They don’t know Lucy’s missing and it might relate to Trent.”
“Still, all I want is to bust down the door and confront him.”
She gave him a pointed look. “But we won’t, and we’ll do our very best to handle ourselves as Christians.”
“Got it,” he said. “No busting down doors, and I’ll do my best to have a good attitude.”
The door opened, and Ms. Carlisle stepped out. “He’ll see you now.”
So quickly? El honestly didn’t expect to get in, and wasn’t as prepared as she should be for such an interview. Her usual composure took a hit, but she got it together to cross the room. “Thank you so much.”
El entered his office. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the place with light. The décor was clean and minimalist, with dark walnut furniture,
Trent sat behind a massive desk holding three or four huge monitors running financial terminals, in a big leather chair that looked insanely comfortable.
He stood, coming to his full six-foot height. He was dressed in a formal black suit with a white shirt that set off his jet-black hair to perfection. He was like his receptionist. Model perfect. But a guy El could never be interested in. She liked hers rough and tumble. Street smart, not financial investor smart.
Gabe.
Trent came around the desk, his hand outstretched. “Detective Lyons.”
She took his hand, the firm grasp almost punishing. She gave back as good as she could before she let go.
He nodded at Gabe. “Have a seat.”
He pointed at a sleek leather sofa sitting below colorful abstract art.
As they sat, she couldn’t help but notice the whole vibe was calm, quiet, and expensive without being flashy, just serious money and total control. The exact opposite of Sloan.
He sat in a club chair across from them. “What can I do for you?”
“We’d like information on your role with Safe Harbor.” She wouldn’t expose any more until she heard what he had to say.
