Lost and Found (Masters & Mercenaries: The Forgotten #2)(40)

If her little show of temper bothered him, he didn’t let her know. He simply laid out an envelope that had her name typed on the front of it. “I think you’ll like Tucker. He’s very respectful, and from what I can see, he knows his stuff. He’s assigned to Dr. Huisman right now, but I’ll snatch him up for you if I can. This came by courier.”

“On a Saturday?” She worked most Saturdays, but one of the things she liked about it was how she didn’t have to deal with administrative stuff. She didn’t get mail on weekends.

“I suppose whoever sent it knows you don’t take a lot of time off work,” he replied. “It was a bike messenger. Not the usual. He didn’t have me sign for it or anything.”

That was unusual to say the least. In her world there was always paperwork. Sometimes she expected the vending machines to need a signature to deliver a can of soda. She looked down at the plain white envelope in her hand. It wasn’t thick. Her name had been typed neatly on the front and there was nothing else distinguishing about it.

“Is there something wrong?” Carter asked. “I was about to run some errands. I’ll be back around six and we can head out together. If you like we can talk about your calendar for the next month. I’d like to get that on the books so the interns don’t make excuses about not having the schedule in time.”

She glanced up at the clock. She was supposed to be at River’s in a few hours. She was surprised to discover she wasn’t even thinking of canceling. It was what she usually did when it came to social events. She would say yes with all the good intentions in the world, and then the day would come and she would find some excuse to not put herself out there.

She wasn’t even thinking about it today. Today she was eager for some lasagna. It had been a long time since she’d had a home-cooked meal, and her stomach growled at the thought. “I’m heading out early. I have a party to go to.”

A single brow arched. “Party?”

Yep, she was working on her reputation. “Yes, I go to parties.” At least she did now. “I have one tonight, so I’ll see you on Monday.”

“You’re taking Sunday off?” The poor man looked like the world had shifted on him.

“I have a lunch date. I told you about it.”

“I would assume it won’t last all day.”

“Only if I’m lucky,” she replied pointedly.

His face flushed and for a moment he seemed to not understand. Then he backed away and she could see the shock in his eyes before he buried it under the veneer of professionalism. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you Monday then. You…have fun this weekend.”

Carter left without a backward glance. He was such a prissy man, much like a lot of the academic types. He was more focused on the job than the people they were trying to help. She’d known a lot of Carters. Somehow he’d latched on to her when she’d come to work at the foundation, and he’d been helpful at first. It had been nice to have someone who lived in the same building and was willing to show her around, but over time she’d gotten to realize he was pretty much a misogynist asshole. If her newfound sexual freedom made him put her in the same basket as the Annies of the world, she would happily go and bring a bottle of wine.

She should bring a bottle of wine to River’s. She shouldn’t show up empty handed.

That thought made her glance down at the envelope again. She should head out and stop somewhere along the way to grab a bottle. Red went with Italian, right? She might ask someone.

As she thought about the dinner, she opened the envelope and drew out the single sheet of paper.

If you want to know where the money went, meet me at Casa Loma where the Duchess overlooks the troops. 2 p.m. Next Friday.

What the hell did that mean? She stared at the note. It wasn’t signed and there was no Dear Rebecca. Just those words printed on plain white paper.

The money. Fuck. There was over a million dollars missing and she’d been praying it was nothing more than an accounting error. Now it looked like not only was it not some kind of mistake, but something sinister.

Had she lost that file? Had it fallen out of her tote bag?

Or had someone taken it?

She grabbed the note and shoved it into her purse, the one nothing ever fell out of. It was time to go and talk to the security guards, to see if they had any video footage of whoever had sent the note.




After running down the security guard, she had a name. The note had been sent over by bicycle messenger and the security guard had recognized the young man who’d brought it to him. Arik Wheeler was a frequent visitor to the foundation. She’d been told he worked for several courier services, but this time the paperwork had been from City Messenger Toronto, one of the newer companies in town. She’d tried to call, but no one had answered, the business closing early on the weekend.

This mystery would have to wait until Monday when she would go straight to the head of accounting and start unravelling whatever the hell this was. She wasn’t an accountant. She’d wanted to get a grasp on what was happening before she brought in her bosses, but this had officially gone over her head.

If she wasn’t an accountant, she damn straight wasn’t an investigator.

Frustrated, she closed up her laptop. It was getting late, much later than she’d planned on leaving. She glanced out the windows of her office and noted the street lights had come on and evening had fallen across the city. From her office, she could see the sparkling lights of Toronto.