“It’s getting crowded. Want to go chat on the balcony?” I ask.
She laughs. “Sure.”
The resort hosting the conference is simply lovely. The balcony shows off Camelback Mountain in all its shadowy reddish glory. Even though it’s warm outside, it’s still morning, just before noon, so the sun is a welcome break from the cool interior.
“We’re here for a reason,” Angie says, giving me a knowing look. “Ready to spill it? If this is about last night—”
“No. Yes. Maybe?” I cut in. Then I sigh again, knowing I can’t keep dancing around it. “So, I talked to Ruby, and she wouldn’t tell me much. What’s this big scandal everyone keeps talking about but never says out loud? What happened at HeronComm years ago?”
“Oh, um...” She shakes her head and puts a hand up. “Sorry, Brina, my lips are sealed. I don’t even know that much, honestly. It was before my time here. I’ve only heard bits and pieces from Hugo over the years.”
“But you know the gist of it, don’t you?”
She turns away, her glossy lips going pale as she presses them together. “Brina, trust me. You don’t want to poke at this.”
God. They all act like it’s a murder mystery.
“Well—what did it have to do with last night? I know there was something. Like, without getting into details, what’s Heron so pissed about? Was his father some kind of crook or...Angie!”
I call after her as she starts to go back inside, but then she pivots around and gives me this pleading, strained look. “Leave it alone. No one talks about it for good reason.”
And just like that, I’m alone. The cool desert breeze sweeps down from the mountains, sending a fluttery chill up my spine.
Seriously.
What gives?
I swear, they treat this thing like Fort Knox, and I can’t fathom why. I’m sure politicians would kill for this level of loyal secrecy. Whatever happened, it must’ve been terrible, but they’re acting like...
...like Magnus killed someone?
Yikes. Surely, he’s not that insane, and I hate to even go there.
So, I do the only thing I can. After today’s session ends, I head for my room and hit the internet sleuthing hard.
Last night, Ruby said the scandal wasn’t Mag’s fault.
So that rules out willful murder, assault, or some kind of huge calculated heist. It also had more to do with his father, right?
Maybe that’s why Paige’s searches haven’t yielded much. She Googled the wrong Heron.
I, in my infinite wisdom, look high and low for every little mouse crumb on Baxter Heron III.
Unfortunately, Mr. Google still doesn’t have much to say. Only that the elder Heron abruptly resigned and turned over the reins.
Some reports say he has declining health and doesn’t even live in the US anymore, but the way everyone walks on eggshells about his departure...yeah.
There has to be more here than a washed-up corporate expat.
After about an hour, I sit back and yawn, exasperated. The guy’s a digital ghost, and I don’t have more time to waste on this.
There’s no denying the bigger issue—the past dominates the present.
Whatever happened, happened.
Magnus can be a royal jackass if he wants as long as he signs my check, but I’d love to see him dial it down if this weird cloud hanging over him is the reason why he’s the mayor of Grumptown.
Rolling my eyes, I set to work on the weekly client summary to give myself a welcome distraction. Holding off just because we’re at a conference will only make next week harder. Besides, it gives me a reason to stay in my room and avoid people.
I send the report to Heron with no message. None of our usual banter.
Predictably, I get nothing back.
It’s hard to believe he’s morphed back into the roid-rage lunatic from the park. He’s almost acted like a decent human being for a couple weeks now. Why can’t I know what set him off?
Let it go, a voice hisses in the back of my head. He’s wounded and you know it’s none of your business.
Even so, I can’t stop my fingers from sailing over the keyboard and hitting send on a second email.To: Magnus Heron
From: Sabrina Bristol
Subject: WorriedMr. Heron,You’ve made it abundantly clear ever since I started this job that you’re a big boy who can take care of himself, but I still have to ask.
Are you okay? Do you need to talk? I’m here if you need me.Sabrina
Executive Assistant to Magnus Heron, HeronComm Inc.He replies immediately.To: Sabrina Bristol
From: Magnus Heron
Priority: HIGH
Subject: RE: WorriedMiss Bristol,You are my EA. You’re not my counselor. Or friend.M.
CEO of HeronComm Inc.My mouth drops when I read it.
You’re such a dickhead, I type out, stopping with my cursor over the send button. Then I delete that and go to bed. I still need my paycheck and this cruel joke of a job.
My phone pings again with another email, though, roughly twenty minutes later.