Page 129 of Wrecked
Anton drove Addison to Langley, pulled up to the security gate at the CIA. Now, Addison was completely confused. Sin ran Develin & Associates. He worked for ALPHA. He was on the BLACK OPS team. Why was he sending her to the CIA and what didtheywant?
“I’ll transfer your bags,” Anton said after he passed through the gate. He pulled up to the building, got out, and opened the back door.
She exited. “Where can I find them?”
“You’ll have them when you leave.” With a tight smile, he shut the door, but he didn’t get into the vehicle. Instead, he escorted her to the front door.
“Good luck, Ms. Skye.”
“Thank you for the ride, Anton.”
In the lobby, she spotted Henry Bufford’s assistant waiting on the other side of security. Once through, he came bustling over.
“Ms. Skye, come with me.”
What was so urgent that she needed an armed escort and a chauffeured ride to the CIA on a Sunday?
They entered the elevator. He inserted a key, then pushed a button marked with a star. The doors closed and the elevator descended. Up until that moment, she didn’t know there was a “down”.
The doors split open to a quiet hallway devoid of employees. The walls were a bright white, the hall well-lit. She was whisked to a windowless room where three people sat at a conference table talking. They grew silent as their eyes met hers.
Sin sat at the head. Flanking him were Anita Robinson and Henry Bufford. Her mouth went dry.
“Hello, Addison.” Sin slid his unblinking gaze to Henry’s assistant. “Bring Ms. Skye a bottle of water.”
“Water for anyone else?” the assistant asked.
Addison wasn’t sure she wanted one, but at the moment, that seemed pretty damn irrelevant. She sat on the edge of the chair next to Henry. “What’s going on?”
“Your asset, Melinda, is dead,” Sin said, like he was reading a financial report.
Her chest constricted while the air got sucked out of her lungs. “No, no, no. That’s not true.”
“I’m sorry, Addison,” Anita said. “She didn’t show up for work yesterday or this morning. Her employees were concerned and one of them called the police for a welfare check. She was found in her apartment.”
“Was it a burglary?” Addison silently prayed that Melinda’s death was random. Wrong place, wrong time.
“No,” Anita replied. “Gunshot wound. Her neighbors didn’t hear or see anything. The lock was picked, but it appears nothing was taken.”
The assistant returned with the bottle of water. With shaking fingers, she took a few sips. The chilled water hit her stomach and she felt like she was going to throw up. “Excuse me.” She stood. The room went all wonky, so she dropped back down. “I need a minute.” She didn’t care that they were staring at her. She sat there, peering at the table, trying to calm her frenetic heartbeat and stop her shaking.
First, Ronald, now Melinda.
Anita placed her hand over Addison’s. “Would you like an escort to the ladies’ room?”
Addison swallowed hard, raised her chin, shook her head. “Melinda was a wonderful person, and she was my friend.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” Sin asked.
“Thursday night at her coffee shop.”
“Did you contact her by text or phone?” Henry asked.
No point in making them ask her for every little detail.
“I was concerned for her safety, so I stopped by her shop that morning and told her I’d be back at ten thirty. That evening, I took care to be sure I wasn’t tailed, and I parked in the alley by the employee entrance. I told her about Ronald, offered to hire a guard for protection, and told her I’d pay for it. We chatted for a little while, then I drove back to my nightclub and worked there until it closed.” Her shoulders dropped. “It’s my fault she’s dead.”
Her heart was shredded.
