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“No,” she said and took a bite, chewing as she talked. “I found blueprints for the original structure and prints for the renovation. But we have to pick them up.”
Charlie glanced at the time. “That was fast, and good job! Where are they, and how much time do I have to go get them?” he asked.
She swallowed her bite, licked the sugar off her thumb and then answered.
“They’re at Allen Carson’s home. He’s an architect, and the owner of the Detter House, and he’s really rich.”
“As rich as you?” Charlie asked.
She shrugged. “No, but they found the original blueprints in the library when they began reconstruction. He said he collects historic blueprints. And he has the newer ones, too. He said we could pick them both up at his house around six o’clock this evening.”
“That’s awesome!” Charlie said. “Good call. I’ll do it. Just tell me where he lives.”
“In University Park. I’ll text you the address. I need to see if Dyer has sent the list of residents’ names. If he has, I’m going to start running background checks.”
“Send me half the names. I can run backgrounds, too, and we’ll compile the info at home tonight.”
She nodded, then took another bite of Danish and walked out.
Charlie sat back, watching the easy sway of her shoulders in rhythm with her hips, and the stride of such long, perfect legs. Six feet of poetry in motion; he couldn’t help but wonder whose DNA was responsible for that.
Unaware she was the subject of her boss’s thoughts, Wyrick slid back into her chair, sent Allen Carson’s address to Charlie’s phone, then pulled up the email. Wayne Dyer had come through. She printed off the list of names and addresses, and took two sheets to Charlie.
“Here you go, and just know that you’ll need to leave here no later than five to get all the way to University Park during rush hour traffic.”
“Remind me,” Charlie said.
“I just did,” Wyrick said and strode out of his office at full sail.
He blinked. Damn woman. Then he set the alarm on his phone and picked up the list, but he was grinning as he typed the first name in a search bar.
Wyrick started on her list, hoping something popped for them soon.
Hours later Wyrick was forwarding files on the background searches to a computer she had at home when Charlie came out of his office.
“It’s five o’clock. I’m off to Allen Carson’s home to pick up those blueprints. I’ll deal with dinner when I get home,” he said.
She glanced up. “I’m leaving, too.”
He hesitated.
“I’ll be fine. I promise to check outside for vipers and snipers, so go. I can’t live in constant fear, okay?”
“Fine,” Charlie said and left the office.
But the moment he was gone, Wyrick realized how vulnerable she felt. So she packed up her bag, turned out all the lights and hurried to the elevator.
The ride down was brief. She came out of the car with her keys in hand, turned the corner in the hall and saw Charlie leaning against the wall beside the exit, waiting.
“Don’t go having yourself a fit,” he said. “I’m just walking you to the car.”
“I don’t have fits,” she said and lifted her chin and waited for him to open the door.
“You had some part of one the other night when you spewed Pepsi all over yourself,” he said, then pulled his gun as he exited the building.
She couldn’t argue with the truth, and waited as he looked until he was satisfied, before he motioned her out. She went straight to her car with Charlie beside her, then got in.
“Drive safe. I’ll call if I’m delayed,” he said and then stood back and waited as she drove away.