“She can’t not be at work for two days without someone asking questions.”
“She could be taking a couple days away.”
“You don’t understand. Miranda doesn’t take days off. Never.”
“One of those, huh?” Sawyer asked, sighing. “How about she works remote for a few days?” he asked. “Maybe she came down with some severe food poisoning. People don’t question not coming to work when there is a stomach issue,” he said.
And pretty much every woman I’d ever met would rather someone think they were insane than having embarrassing stomach issues. But he was right. It would probably work.
“You could work for her, could you not?” Sawyer asked.
“I, ah, yeah, I could do that,” Cam agreed.
“Okay. So you do that. Make it look like Miranda is getting all her work done from home in between trips to the can. Then when she shows up Wednesday looking tired and not herself, people will understand.”
“Okay. Right. Yes. That can work,” Cam said, pulling out his phone and jotting notes.
“Now, we can take on this case, but we can’t get permission from your boss until she’s free.”
“That’s fine. I’ll pay you.”
“You’ll pay us?” Sawyer asked, brows raising.
“She’s my boss. But she’s a good friend.”
“I don’t think you understand what the fees could be…” Tig reasoned since even the best personal assistants made, tops, eighty grand. Good money, sure, but not CEO money. Not full-scale personal investigation money.
“Whatever it is, I will pay it,” Cam said, lifting his chin, making it clear that Miss Miranda Coulter paid him very well for his services. Which explained not only his loyalty, but his willingness to go above and beyond for her when she wasn’t able to do so for herself.
“Okay. Marg,” he said as she came in with the coffee tray. “Can you draw up a contract?” he asked.
“Sure,” Marg said, giving Cam a hard look again.
“Thanks,” he said as he took a coffee, looking a bit sheepish under her disapproving, maternal glare.
“What do you need from me?” Cam asked Sawyer over the rim of his coffee before taking a big gulp. The man clearly hadn’t gotten any sleep in the thirty hours since he’d become aware of the situation with his boss.
“As much information as you can give us. Friends and enemies of your boss. Names of disgruntled employees. Anyone she might have fucked over in business. All that kind of shit,” Sawyer told him.
“I will have a list emailed over before the end of the day,” Cam said, jotting a note with one hand as he kept holding onto the coffee like a lifeline with the other.
“We will also need to know the name of the hospital. And when she will be released.”
“It took a lot of digging that was borderline illegal, but I got the hospital information. She was taken from the local hospital to…” he started, looking down at his notes.
“Bluestone,” I supplied, getting another of those looks from Sawyer that I promptly ignored.
“Yes. That’s the one. It’s an hour from here. I don’t understand how they got her there.”
“Strapped to a gurney in the back of an ambulance,” I told him.
“Can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think Brock is going to be taking the lead on this one,” Sawyer said, giving me a look that even I couldn’t read, and we’d been tight since our military days. “Give him your card,” he demanded to me.
“I’d have to go get one from my office,” I said, watching as he shook his head at me.
“Always working hard to network for the business, I see,” he said. “Alright. Here. Take Tig’s but this is Brock’s number,” Sawyer said, jotting down on the back of it. “You can call him day or night. He might want access to your boss’s home to look around for clues.”
“I have the keys and codes,” Cam said, nodding, looking like a small bit of the weight on his shoulders had been shrugged off.