Dane

"What did I miss?" she said, her voice low and clipped, as she pulled out a chair at the table, keeping her eyes on Chris and ignoring Dane behind her. Tank smiled, but Chris was the one who spoke. "Nothing. We've been setting up."

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Dane heard her phone buzz and prayed she'd read the text he'd actually been preoccupied by: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL

He hadn't had time to type up anything else. He hoped she'd just take it as reassurance, as his way of showing her he hadn't gone cold, as she'd been afraid he would. Because there was no doubt he was going to yell at someone this afternoon. He'd do his best to make sure it wasn't her.

He slowed his steps so he could follow her back to the table, to keep space between them, then he took his seat two chairs away from her, both of them across from Chris. That left Tank sitting awkwardly at the head of the table. Dane narrowed his eyes.

Tank didn't even have a computer with him. Why had Chris brought him for this operation?

Dane glared the question at his brother, but Chris ignored him. "Okay, so the brief is this: Becky Hanson is dead." Dane ground his teeth. Lila swallowed and moved her pen to the other side of her notebook as Chris continued without a pause. "At about eleven this morning, Becky's mother went to her apartment. We've confirmed that she had already been in the home earlier in the week, taking Police for a second search. But no one had stepped foot in there since Tuesday. This time, her mother went in to water plants and check in case Becky had returned. She heard noise in the bathroom and rushed through the master suite. She found Becky's body in the shower, on the floor, fully clothed. She's now at the hospital awaiting an autopsy and, because it's a possible suicide, there will be a coroners report, also."

Everyone stared, waiting, but Chris was done. He looked at them one by one. It was Lila who spoke first.

"She was found in the shower and they think it's suicide?" The tension in her voice made Dane want to reach for her hand.

Chris nodded. "We're waiting on toxicology because we were told by one of the medics who was brought in to transport the body that there were no visible injuries. She was simply slumped on the floor of the shower. Dead. There were empty pill bottles next to the sink. Police took photos and examined the scene, but only for a preliminary report. The house has been closed off in case it's a crime scene, but that's not the way the officers were talking at the scene."

"Any clue how long she'd been there?" Dane asked quietly.

Chris sighed and glanced at Lila before answering. "Long enough to smell," he said and met Dane's gaze. "Though not… badly. The mother didn't notice it until she entered the room." Chris sighed again and tapped on his computer, then nodded. "The water in the shower was running cold--because it had been set that way, not because it was out of hot water. There was a debate between officers about whether the cool temperature would have slowed the decomposition, or the water might have sped it up."

Dane looked at Lila from the corner of his eyes. Her throat bobbed, but she didn't look at him. Chris gave him a look. But he shook his head.

He knew he should have been disturbed by this conversation. They were discussing the decomposition of the body of a woman he knew, had spoken to, had shaken hands with. A woman he'd worked with. A young woman who'd been alive and vibrant—if a solid pain in his ass—until a week ago. But once again, he found himself falling down the rabbit hole of his father's programming. The prison of his mind that locked him into that analytical mental state, killing his feelings and any sense of compassion he still possessed.

He glanced at Lila. In contrast to him, she looked pale and slightly green. "Are we sure it was suicide?" she asked quietly.

Dane shook his head, but Chris scoffed at her. "Of course not. But we can't rule it out, either."

Lila gave him a cold look, but didn't say anything as she made a note on the laptop. "Until we know which way the public story is going to go, we can't comment. We can't afford to make a misstep with this that even smells wrong—and that includes accepting a suicide story because it suits us."

"What have you found this weekend?" Chris asked. "Have you got anything on her so far that would support the suicide angle—or make it obviously suspicious?"

Lila stared at him for half a breath before she blinked and came back to life. "You're talking about my report. Sorry, I'd switched gears. I've dug pretty deep even months ago. Off the top of my head there's nothing that would…" she trailed off and the men waited. "Wait…" she frowned.

Dane prayed the others just put it down to her working too hard as Lila sat there, frowning, her eyes flipping back and forth as she tried to figure something out. "I can't believe I never… did I?" Different feelings chased each other across her face. Then her head snapped around to him.

Dane frowned. "What is it?"

"I need to speak with you about something…something I thought I told you weeks ago. I planned to…but I was distracted by…Dane I need to speak with you. Privately. Right now."

His eyes narrowed. He knew she wasn't stupid—this wasn't a disguise for a stolen moment in the bedroom. She really thought she had something that only he should hear. But she also looked shaken—afraid. As if she doubted herself. "You're certain it has to be now?" he said flatly, though inside he was begging her to convince him.

"Certain," she said.

Without another word, Dane got up from the table and tipped his head at her to follow him through the living area and into the bedroom. He could feel the eyes of Chris and Tank following them.

This was normal, he told himself. If this meeting was in his house with three men and one wanted to speak privately, the open plan of the Penthouse offered few options. He would have taken any staff member in here. He just prayed Chris and Tank realized that, too.

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