Free Secure Location by Beverly Long Page B

and Tommy went. They didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Good day.” She closed the door.
    Cruz could have stuck his foot out, like he’d done with Mason Hawkins. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. First, he didn’t want to bully an old woman and second, she was either telling the truth and she didn’t know or she was lying and she knew but wouldn’t tell. Either way, she wasn’t going to be helpful.
    His cell phone was ringing as he walked back to the car. He glanced at the number and recognized it. As quick as that, his stupid heart started to beat faster. Not so long ago, he’d gotten a couple of these calls every day. Just a quick check-in, a sweet I was thinking of you. “Hi, Meg,” he said.
    “I got your message from Charlotte,” she said. Her tone was brisk, businesslike.
    He could see her sitting at her fancy wood desk, her short hair pushed behind her ears, maybe a half-empty cup of coffee at her side. No. Scratch that. She’d given up coffee. Just one small sign of how much had changed.
    “How’s it going?” he asked.
    “Fine. Busy day,” she said. “How’s it...uh...going for you?”
    “Pretty good. I have run into a snag with Troy Blakely and Tom Looney, though. I need more information on them. Previous addresses. Past employers. Stuff that would either be on their employment applications or maybe even background check authorization forms.”
    She didn’t respond.
    “You still there, Meg?”
    “I’ve already given you a lot of information. It doesn’t seem right that I would dig deeper into confidential files to help myself.”
    Meg had always been a rule-follower. Had never wanted to use her position to her advantage. Once, when she’d gotten pulled over for a busted taillight, he’d been pissed off that she hadn’t mentioned to the cop that her husband was also one of Chicago’s finest. It was practically a guarantee that she’d have driven on, ticket-free. Everybody did stuff like that.
    Not Meg.
    “Look, I’m not trying to steal either one of their identities. Once I find them and know that they’re not behind this, I’ll have short-term memory problems and everything I know will be forgotten.”
    She sighed. “I’ll have to get the file from the human resources department. Their offices are down the hall.”
    “I’ll hold,” he said.
    Eight minutes later, he had information he hoped would help. He thought he had enough time to check out a couple of Blakely’s previous employers before he needed to head back to the hotel. “In case I need more information, what time are you leaving the office?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being too obvious.
    “By four. I need time to get dressed for the dinner. I’ll have to take a cab to the event since my car is still out of commission.”
    She wouldn’t be in the cab alone. But he didn’t want to have that argument now. “Okay. I’ll see you later,” he said.
    He programmed the address of Smitty’s Gemstones into his GPS. Blakely had worked security for Smitty’s before joining BJM. The store was in downtown San Antonio, nestled between other small retailers. When he opened the door, the lighting was dim, the carpet had seen better days and the man standing inside, arms folded across his chest, didn’t look friendly.
    Cruz ignored the guy and walked toward the older woman standing behind the counter. Here the lighting was a little better but dim enough that a customer might have difficulty picking up any flaws in the massive amount of jewelry and loose gemstones stuffed in the glass display cases.
    “Can I help you?” she asked. Her tone was businesslike, indicating she liked buyers, not lookers. She was on the downside of fifty and had rings on every finger.
    “I hope so,” Cruz said, flashing her a smile. “I’m looking for somebody who used to work for you. Troy Blakely.”
    The woman frowned. “A friend of yours?”
    Cruz went with his instinct and shook his head. “I’ve never met him. But I want to talk to