Page 39 of Wild Sentinel

We pulled up to the luxurious office building in Century City. The valet hustled to get Jack's door. He gave Jack a ticket, and JD slipped a few bills into his palm. We stepped inside the opulent lobby. Sunlight filled the atrium. I showed my badge to the receptionist. "We're here to see Rachel Langford.”

"Do you have an appointment?"

"This is official police business."

She cringed. "Can I tell her what this is in reference to?”

"Vivian Steele."

She swallowed. "Hang on just a minute.”

She picked up the phone and dialed an extension. Rachel answered a moment later, her voice crackling through the speaker. It was too quiet to hear what Rachel said.

"There are two deputies here to see you regarding Vivian Steele,” the receptionist said. “What should I tell them?"

She listened intently for a moment.

Rachel replied.

“Okay, I'll tell them."

I gave it 50-50 she would talk to us.

“I’m sorry, but Rachel’s unavailable at the moment.”

It was a long shot, but I said, “Tell her it’s Tyson Wild.”

The receptionist held her ground. “I said she was unavailable.”

“Just tell her.”

With a huff, she dialed the extension again. “I’m sorry to bother you again, Mrs. Langford, but he says his name is Tyson Wild.”

After a beat, Rachel replied to her.

“Okay. Very well.” She ended the call and looked at me with a tight face. "Mrs. Langford will see you. You can take that elevator right there up to the 9th floor. Just tell Tonya that Rachel is expecting you.”

I smiled and thanked her.

JD and I strolled across the lobby to the elevator, pressed the call button, then stepped aboard when the door slid open. It zipped us up to nine. We stepped off and entered another posh reception area with comfy couches, a minibar, and a flatscreen display. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of Century City.

Tonya greeted us with a smile. "You must be the deputies?"

I nodded and made introductions.

Tonya was a cute blonde. Probably an aspiring actress who got the job in an agency, thinking it might lead to something. But everyone would just see her as a desk clerk. A dead-end for an aspiring acting career.

"There's water, soda, and coffee, if you’d like anything to drink. Help yourself. Rachel should be with you shortly.”

A moment later, an assistant stepped into the lounge and escorted us back to Rachel's office. It was a big corner suite that had a view of the high-rises and the Hollywood Hills beyond.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Rachel said, standing to shake hands. “Tyson Wild, huh?”

“In the flesh,” I said with a smile.

“Are you seeking new representation?” she asked in a hopeful tone.

Rachel was a good-looking woman—long chocolate hair, elegant features, tawny eyes, a trim figure. Good looking, but tough. She was a power player.