Read Tina Whittle_Tai Randall Mystery 01 for Free Online

the force?”
    “Yeah, a long time ago, back in my patrol days. We did Red Dog together.”
    The phrase was familiar. “Red Dog? The gangs and drugs unit thing?”
    “Yeah, that thing. I moved on to Criminal Investigations—Major Crimes, the fraud division—but Trey started working in Special Ops.”
    “Ops? Like in SWAT?”
    “Exactly like in SWAT.”
    I suddenly remembered Trey’s unnatural composure, his placid blandness. So cool under pressure, even in the face of a crazy woman with a sword at his throat.
    “That explains some things,” I said.
    “Some things, maybe. But that’s too much to get into right now.”
    I started to ask him what he meant, but Landon returned to the table, rubbing his hands together. The expression on his face was that of a smart man told to execute a real stupid order.
    “That was Marisa,” he explained. “She said that since we have everything we need here, we can close up and go home. And you. Ms. Randolph, you can get your things and go straight back to the Ritz. If you’ll do that—no fuss, no 911—then we bring you in for a full briefing in the morning.”
    Marisa. The name on the business card in my back pocket. Phoenix’s Executive Partner.
    I looked at Landon. “We leave together, all of us?”
    “Yes.”
    “And you don’t come back?”
    “No. And neither do you.”
    I considered his words. “Why should I trust you?”
    “You don’t have a choice. This isn’t your house, you don’t get to call the shots. But frankly, the situation being what it is, we don’t have much choice either.”
    “So it’s mutual distrust? That’s what you’re offering?”
    “Looking like.”
    I thought about it. As trade-offs went, it wasn’t so bad. I lowered my mug. “Okay, Mr. Landon. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Chapter 6
    Nothing about Phoenix Corporate Services LLC screamed elite security firm. Its location was in the unsexy industrial area north of the Perimeter, and the building matched its surroundings—three bland stories and a smattering of overlygroomed shrubs. Somewhere I heard the burbling of a fountain against the mono-drone of I-285 traffic.
    I shouldered my tote bag and stepped inside, the automatic doors opening and closing with a pneumatic hiss. The receptionist swiveled toward me.
    “Hi,” I said. “I’m here to see Kent Landon.”
    She made a check in her book, then looked up. She had a sweetheart face framed with tumbling coffee curls, soft round eyes, and the straightest, tightest mouth I’d even seen on a human being. She handed me a clipboard and an ugly badge the size of an index card that proclaimed VISITOR in bright blue letters.
    “Do I really have to wear this?”
    “That’s the rule.”
    I fastened it at the hem of my sweater. “I am so sick of rules. Everywhere I’ve turned the last twenty-four godforsaken hours, there’s been someone there spouting off about rules.”
    “Take the elevator to the second floor, third office on the right. Mr. Seaver will be waiting.”
    I looked up. “I thought I was seeing Mr. Landon?”
    She shook her head.
    ***
    Trey’s office was, without a doubt, the most freakishly neat piece of square footage I’d ever seen. More like a MOMA exhibit than a workspace, it featured matte white walls and a slick black floor. Late morning sunlight cut the room into acute angles.
    Trey himself was seated at his desk, dressed once again in a black suit and tie. He glanced up as I knocked.
    “I thought I was seeing Mr. Landon,” I said. “Then the woman out front told me to find you instead.”
    “That’s Yvonne. She’s the administrative assistant.” He returned his eyes to his computer. “Landon assigned me to answer your questions, since your brother’s case was filed under premises liability.”
    “What about Mr. Landon?”
    “All field work comes under him. But I’m your contact for this matter.” He gestured toward the client chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
    I sat. His desktop