Symphony of Bones by L.T. Ryan (most romantic novels .TXT) 📗

cleared his throat. “And thank you. For meeting me here. I know you have a lot going on.”

Cassie opened one eye and smiled at him. “I may have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh?

Cassie saw a swirl of curiosity, hope, and something else cross his face and looked away. Now was not the time to divine the truth from his eyes. She pulled out the photo of the strange woman instead. “This is a long shot, but I was hoping you could do me a favor?”

“I can certainly try. Who’s this?”

“That’s what I’d like to know. My sister took this picture when she was five. This woman may have information about a bunch of kidnappings happening while I was growing up. My best friend at the time was one of them.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Viotto took the picture in his hand and held it as though she’d gifted him something precious. “The quality isn’t great, but there are enough definable features here that we may be able to pinpoint someone. What other information can you give me that’ll help narrow this down?”

“It happened in Savannah, Georgia, in 1995. My friend’s name was Sarah Lennox. Sebastian Thomas and Ethan Miller might also be connected.”

He tucked the photo away. “I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. I mean that.”

“You’re welcome. Besides, it’s a small price to pay to have someone by my side when we interview this person.”

“Yeah, where’s your partner?” She looked in the backseat like maybe he had ducked down on the floor. “He didn’t want in on the action?”

“More like he warned me to stay away.” When Cassie shot him a puzzled look, he shrugged. “Things got weird after you left. Davenport high-tailed it out of there. He said he was following up on some loose ends, but I think he was just pissed that Anthony Lewis was looking less and less like a suspect. Grayson hasn’t been arrested or charged yet, but it’s only a matter of time. And Mannis took me aside and told me not to kick the hornet’s nest.”

“Apex?”

Viotto nodded. “Apparently, it’s not the first time he’s heard of them. He made them out to sound like the boogeyman. The top echelon of the company is smart enough and rich enough to keep their hands clean. They use trusted employees to do their dirty work. But they’re also a legitimate business that gets results for their clients. They’re untouchable.”

“Sounds like the mob.” Cassie couldn’t believe she’d never heard of them before, at least in passing. “The underlings get arrested, and the bosses replace them with a snap of their finger.”

“Basically.” Viotto squinted as he looked up at the building. “Grayson’s publicist, Anastasia Bolton, lives here. From what I’ve gathered, she’s not too high up on the food chain, but she knows more than Grayson. She might have some idea who killed Connor.”

“I’ve seen her on TV. I wouldn’t want to cross her. Or Apex. You’re not worried?”

“Oh, I’m terrified.” He pushed his door open, and a gust of wind ruffled his hair. “But she’s our only solid lead. We have to follow it.”

Cassie didn’t argue. Instead, she followed Viotto right up to the front of the building and into the gold-inlaid front entrance. It was a sprawling lobby dressed in white marble with minimalist touches like a golden bundle of wheat behind the front desk. Everything about it looked like an upscale hotel with all the amenities.

Viotto approached the front desk. A young woman with jet-black hair and dark-rimmed glasses eyed them as they approached. She looked startled when he pulled out his badge and showed it to her.

“Can you tell us which apartment Anastasia Bolton is in?” When the woman stumbled over her reply, he leaned forward and gave her his most charming smile. “We’re not here to cause any trouble. We just want to chat with her. All I need is her apartment number. She doesn’t have to talk to me if she doesn’t want to, and I won’t press it.”

The woman’s eyes were wide, but she hit a few keys on her keyboard and clicked a few buttons until she found the file she was looking for. “Top floor. Apartment 3302.”

“Thank you so much. We’ll be out of your hair quickly, I promise.”

The woman nodded and watched as Cassie and Viotto made their way over to a bank of elevators. She was still staring after them when the doors shut. Viotto pressed the button for the thirty-third floor, and Cassie took a deep breath.

“This must be a new building,” she said.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Why?”

“It’s quiet. Older buildings are louder. I can feel the energy when I walk inside them. This one hasn’t experienced much tragedy yet.”

“You say a lot of spooky things, don’t you?”

“It’s been known to happen from time to time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cassie blushed, but then tamped down on the feeling. Did she want Viotto to stick around and get used to her weird ramblings? Maybe. But it was never going to happen. Soon enough, they’d part ways, and the chances of them ever running into each other again would be close to zero.

When the elevator dinged, she was glad for the distraction. Unlike Mara Young’s floor, this one didn’t smell like anything. It was just clean and inviting and bright. Everyone here knew how much body spray to apply. They were also more familiar with the kind of drugs whose stench didn’t linger in the air.

Viotto knocked on the door of apartment 3302. Ten seconds later, Anastasia Bolton opened the door wearing a pencil skirt, a blouse, and stockinged feet. She had a wineglass in one hand, filled with the appropriate amount of a dark red. Cassie was sure she’d never have the money to buy a wine as expensive as this one likely was.

“Agent Viotto. It’s nice to see you again.” Anastasia sounded like she truly meant it. Her eyes shifted to Cassie. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Cassie Quinn. She’s assisting us on