Page 18 of Crash Course
She checked her watch. Only 4:30. The Randolph IT guys worked until 5:00 and should still be in their offices three floors above. She scooped up her cell phone, found the number, and tapped the screen.
"This is Derek."
Derek. Great. Mr. Cocky. Mr. No-Help. Mr. You’re-an-idiot-and-stop-calling-me.
No amount of sweet-talking had ever worked onthatguy. The others on the IT staff? Fantastic. They didn’t mind when she called for advice even when it pertained to her law practice and had zero to do with Randolph Industries.
"Hey, Derek. It’s Cilla Randolph."
"Oh. Hi."
Mr. Excitement. Cilla stuck her tongue out, mildly satisfied with herself over the childish gesture. "Hi," she said. "I’m getting an access denied message for DOC."
"Hang on."
The tippety-tapping of a keyboard sounded and the theme fromJeopardyplayed in Cilla’s mind.Do-do-do-do.
"Here it is," he said. "Your credentials were pulled."
At this, Cilla laughed. Couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t bother asking Derek if he knew who the hell she was and that her father, nearly on the daily, shared highly confidential company information with her.
"Huh," she said. "That’s a problem. Who pulled them?"
More tippety-tapping. "Doesn’t say specifically, but every quarter we review who has access to what and update it. You probably got mistakenly locked out."
"Can you get me back in?"
"Not without HR. I’ll call Wilma. She’s in charge of that. Hang on."
Once again, theJeopardytheme streamed through Cilla’s mind. While waiting, she peeked at the files Layla left her.
Kalper gunshot residue report, filed motions, a continuance on one of her cases.
Given her options, the GSR—gun shot residue—report took precedent because, according to the prosecution, her client was covered in GSR on the day of the murder. Something he had no explanation for and which she’d have to figure out how to resolve.
"Cilla?"
"I’m here."
"Wilma is gone for the day. We can’t do anything until she comes back on Monday. I left her a voicemail."
Dang. Cilla grunted. No sense yelling at Derek. HR probably had to click a button somewhere that he had nothing to do with.
"There’s nothing we can do tonight, then?"
"Nope. Gotta go."
He hung up and Cilla let out a sigh as she dropped her phone and sat back, studying her laptop screen.
Denied. Denied. Denied.
How she hated being stuck. Being unable to move forward when Dad's behavior puzzled her enough to make her want to dig deeper. The idea of him lying to her? Not trusting her?
Devastating.
But if he hadn't lied, she'd feel a lot better. She'd simply chalk his attitude up to fatigue.
Drumming her fingers against her thigh, she considered her options.Shemay have been locked out, but she might . . .
