want.”
Keely glanced across the room at the two closed doors—one was her dad’s and one belonged
to Dave.
Charlie yanked open the top drawer and loosened his grip on the briefcase. “Here.”
He held out a ring with a dozen keys on it. “This one,” he said, pulling out one of
the keys with a dot of red paint on it, “is Ben’s and Dave’s. They have the same lock
on their doors. I color-coded the keys myself.” He yanked a tissue out of a box on
his desk and blotted sweat from his forehead and face.
“Thanks, Charlie. We’re all on edge about my dad’s attack, so please don’t take anything
personally. We’re just trying to find facts.”
Charlie tucked his briefcase between his feet and set back to work on the computer.
Keely unlocked her dad’s office door, acutely aware of Logan’s breath on her neck
as he stood close behind her. She forced herself to refocus and walked into the small,
cluttered room that smelled of old books. She eased behind her dad’s desk, sat in
the worn-out vinyl chair, and opened the bottom file drawer.
“What the hell was that all about?” Logan murmured, his gaze darting to the spot in
the reception area where Charlie sat.
“I don’t know, but Charlie is obviously hiding something. Do you think you should
get a search warrant even though it’s not my dad’s briefcase?” she asked. Had they
let Charlie off too easy?
“I doubt a judge would sign off with so little evidence. I don’t know why he wouldn’t
open it if he didn’t have anything to hide, though.”
Logan’s gaze connected with hers. What would it be like to run her fingers through
his hair, or to have those strong arms around her?
“What sort of private stuff do you think he keeps in his briefcase?” She nodded at
Charlie.
Logan pursed his lips. “Drugs? Money?”
“I don’t think so. He’s always been so nice and so good at his job. It’s hard to believe
he’d do anything to hurt my dad.”
Logan gave her a look.
“I know, I know. Everyone’s a suspect.” She keyed open the drawer and flipped through
hanging file folders. “Here’s the Loving Arms section.”
Many of the names on the files she recognized, some she didn’t. Since several cases
dealt with private adoptions, her dad often had to keep names confidential. She riffled
through the file tabs twice.
“Su Lin’s file isn’t here.” She closed the drawer and stood.
“Maybe it’s one of these.” Logan leafed through a pile of files on her dad’s desk.
She glanced at the piles of paperwork on a nearby cabinet and thumbed through them,
finding nothing on Su Lin or her family. Loudly, she called out, “Charlie, do you
know if anyone’s been in this office since Ben’s attack?”
Shuffling footsteps moved toward the office. She looked up to see Charlie leaning
against the doorjamb.
“Don’t think so. Ben’s the only one who comes in here. The only time other people
come in is to meet with him.” He drummed his fingers on the wall and stared at the
ceiling. “Since the day he left for the airport to pick up the girl, nobody’s been
in here as far as I know.”
Her gut twisted and frustration grew. She thought it’d be easy—they’d find the copy
of the file, read it, and gain some insight on who might want the information. They
really needed to find Su Lin’s parent’s phone number, too. If she was missing for
real…
“Okay, thanks.” She threw a half-hearted smile at Charlie, who turned and left the
room. “Anything?” she asked Logan, blowing stray hairs off her face. Couldn’t anything
be simple in this search?
He tapped a pile of colorful folders in a neat stack on her father’s desk and straightened.
“Nothing with Su Lin’s name.” He scanned the room. “Who else has access to this room?
Who else has a key?”
“I think just Charlie, my dad, and Dave. But you saw where the key is kept. Anyone
could have gotten
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Charles River Charles River Editors