Deception (Infidelity #3)(87)

“Hello?” The voice answered.

I recognized Tina Moore immediately. “Mrs. Moore, this is Alex Collins.”

“Alex.” Her normally gregarious tone dulled. “It’s nice to hear from you. I’m surprised you called.”

My fingers gripped the phone tighter. “Why would you be surprised?”

“It’s that Chelsea told me what happened. I don’t blame you for being upset. Sometimes things happen. I was shocked myself.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been trying to reach Chelsea for nearly three weeks. Her email is changed, and I’m not even sure she’s getting my texts.”

“Probably not,” Tina said matter-of-factly. “She has a new phone now with her job. I don’t think she’s using both.”

That knowledge made me feel better, in a way. At least Chelsea hadn’t been ignoring me, but why hadn’t she called? “Her job?” I asked. “The last time we spoke she said she didn’t get the job in DC.”

“No, not DC. She’s in Savannah.”

I blinked as Clayton drove us through late-afternoon traffic. “What? She’s in Savannah, as in Georgia?”

“Yes, dear. You really should talk with her. This is rather awkward.”

Since when did Tina Moore worry about anything being awkward? “I’d love to talk to her. I don’t know why she thinks I’m angry. I’m worried. I’ve been worried sick since our last conversation.”

“There’s nothing to be worried about. Chelsea’s fine. She’s working for some large cigarette company in the human resources department. Silly me, I thought a psychology major would go into counseling or something, but apparently it’s a good background for HR.”

Cigarette? Did she mean tobacco?

I had to be somehow misconstruing. “The company, do you know the name?”

“Yes. Goodness, she’s said it a few times. Milburn or Montgate… something like that. You know like the old Shakespeare play everyone reads in high school.”

“Montague?” I asked. Acid bubbled from my stomach as I said the name. “Montague Corporation.”

“I think that’s it!” Tina declared triumphantly.

“Chelsea is working for Montague Corporation?”

“Yes, in their HR department.”

I didn’t give a shit what department she was in. I was more concerned with why in God’s name my best friend would be working for Montague. She had to know it was my family’s company. Or did she? I’d purposely avoided all things Montague while at Stanford. Chelsea knew my name was Collins and my parents’ last name was Fitzgerald. I couldn’t recall if I’d ever mentioned Montague. But without a doubt, she knew I was from Savannah.

“Mrs. Moore,” I asked, “why does Chelsea think I’m angry?”

“Well, like I said, you two should talk. Are you still seeing that incredibly handsome gentleman?”

Subject change!

“I am. Please don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. That’s the point. That’s what I told her. Really, you two should talk.”

I took a deep breath and held the phone between my shoulder and ear as I unzipped my backpack and searched for a pen and a piece of paper. “Would you please give me her new number?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. Why wouldn’t you know if you can give me her number? She’s my best friend and something isn’t right. I can feel it.” I was getting more worked up than I’d been before I called.

“You know, I believe in those things.”

“What?”

“It’s like a sixth sense. I think they’re real.”

The woman was batshit crazy.

“Her number?” I asked again.

“Alex, dear, I’ll tell her we spoke. I’ll tell her to give you a call. You really don’t sound as upset as she said.”

“Not with her,” I clarified. “I’m upset that I can’t reach her.”

“Yes, well, I’ll let her know. I need to go now.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Moore.” For nothing.

I held my phone as I peered out the car’s window. The skies were gray and a cold rain had been falling off and on throughout day. It was the perfect weather for the way that call made me feel.

What the hell?

Chelsea was working for Montague. Maybe that was why she thought I’d be angry. Maybe she did know it was my family’s company, and I knew without a doubt that she knew how I felt about my family. But a job is a job.

If she’d gotten hired solely based on her degree and qualifications, I didn’t give a shit. I was happy for her. What concerned me was the rodent of suspicion that began to claw to life in the recesses of my mind: the belief that everything wasn’t that simple.

Why would my roommate, Chelsea Moore, whom my mother never seemed to like, be offered a job at Montague?

Someone was up to something and I feared that Chelsea would be the one who’d end up hurt in the process.

Once I was back in our apartment, I went to my office and Googled Montague Corporation. The picture on the website of the CEO made my skin crawl. It was probably taken over ten years ago. Alton’s hair still had a hint of blond, but his eyes were just as beady as ever.