Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Stone had become a family confidant with as much time as he spent consoling and listening to all our clients’ fears. He kept them on track. I felt a big bonus coming his way.
Maybe I was tired. Light dimmed the more exhausted a person was.
As I turned onto our street, I tried to summon my joy. My children were like hound dogs, sniffing out anything that was off. They’d pounce, peppering me with questions until I either lied or left the day behind. Might as well shed the melancholy before I saw them.
The cell phone’s ring startled the shit out of me. Stone’s name appeared on the screen.
A strong urge to ignore the call gripped me, but I answered anyway. “Guy, you’re making a habit of calling after work hours. Put it in an email. I’ll answer as I can. It’s not a hard rule to follow.”
Silence. The kind that stretched so long I checked the screen to see if we were still connected. If I spoke first, he’d win the silence battle. Keyboard clicks clattered in the background.
“The last time I called you after hours was last year. When I called you about this case.”
“Wow,” I said, trying to show my tease. “Correcting your employer? Bold move.”
“It’s not bold. We operate on a platform of open communication to evolve performance and productivity,” he said. “I know because I created the employee handbook.”
“Then not having the company’s best interest is actionable...” I couldn’t say it without laughter. Stone cared more about my company, honestly, our company, than anyone. Oh lord, was I thinking about law school and eventual partnership with Stone? My shoulders tensed.
“Sir, I’m calling for a reason,” Stone said sternly, clearly not seeing my humor. “We received five bags of shredded documents. They arrived a few minutes after you left.”
“Are you saying you received bags of shredded paper?”
“Yes. From an old school shredding machine. Example: let’s shred our documents because we had to print them on paper—because we’re old—kind of shred,” he explained.
My brain zipped through a million thoughts, but Stone’s words still made no sense. Piecing shredded paper together was a 1970’s police-style movie kind of detective work. In the real world, we used flash drives, wiped histories, and VPNs to hide the trail.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Tell me again.”
“We received five bags of shredded paper, maybe five minutes after you left,” Stone repeated. “The shipment came from Richmond Holdings in downtown Dallas. When I asked who within Richmond sent this to us, they didn’t know.”
Fascinating. “Is there a way to piece the information together?” Seemed a legit next question.
“Not without putting it together strand by strand. It’s not out of the question that this could be an attempt to spin our wheels. I could see their joy in making us put together a graphic message after a weekend’s worth of work,” Stone said.
“And it’s Friday,” I murmured. Beau was going to be angry.
“So where am I going to sleep?” Stone asked.
“Carter built a new guesthouse between us.” Of course Stone knew, but I said it anyway. “We can spread out in there if it’s vacant. I need to see if it’s free. Come on over now. I’ll figure a space for you,” I said, my finger poised to end the call.
“It’ll be more efficient if I can go home and pack a bag on the way to your house.”
“Maybe I should send Beau to ride with you. How do these things play out? I’ve never had a paper shred case before,” I said, my mind tumbling over Stone’s safety and the security of what was dropped in our laps. “Are these old records?”
“Don’t know,” he said calmly. “The paper seems fresh. You’ve made me nervous. Am I safe with the shred? Do we need to have it securely transported?”
“Let me hang up. I’ll call Carter then find Beau. You know what? Have the security guard load your car then you two ride over here together,” I said, now worried how Beau was going to view this interruption to our routine. “See if Brianne’s in town. Get her over here too.”
Somehow, I’d made it to the driveway and parked in front of the house. Beau wasn’t home yet. And a weird case just turned weirder. I certainly didn’t want my father to make any more of an ass of me than he had.
Forty-eight hours later, Beau wasn’t the only one growing a beard. While I worked through the days and nights with Stone, my mister slept, worked his charters, and played with our children. He also ate some of my tamale dinner while bringing it to the guesthouse.
Where Beau shined was in sending Livie out to help us. She thrived in the chaos, her sharp mind piecing together the fragments like a pro. If I could make this her daily life, I’d be her favorite parent forever.