Martin stepped forward. “If you don’t need me, sir, I’m more than happy to accompany Mrs. Burnham anywhere she’d like to go. I will not leave her side.”
Alexander looked between Olivia and Martin, an unassuming pair of co-conspirators. He was still having trouble wrapping his head around the knowledge that they had been working together on hiding these women for months and never let on. Alexander knew his wife. She was as stubborn as he was, if not more so. If she wanted to leave the house, she was going to, no matter what he did to prevent it. The best he could do was give her a way to do so as safely as possible. If Alexander couldn’t be with her, Martin was the next best thing.
“Stay with Olivia,” he ordered, the reluctance obvious in his voice. “I’m heading into the office to work with Simpson on this audio. The snow is supposed to pick up and become heavy after eight tonight. You’d better believe I fully intend on having Melanie in her own bed by that time.” He turned and headed toward the door.
He could hear Landon’s voice in his head saying, “Ninety-nine percent of achieving something is believing you can.” That was what he had to do at this moment. He needed to believe he would find Melanie in the next six hours.
Chapter Thirty-Four
December 20
2:30 PM
THE PARKING GARAGE BENEATH Alexander’s building was practically vacant when he pulled his SUV into its usual spot among the fleet of company cars. After swiping his keycard for access, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the twenty-ninth floor. Leaning against the wall as the car ascended, he dug his phone out of his pocket and replayed the audio of the FaceTime call. The quality wasn’t great, but it was the best they had. He just hoped Simpson could work his magic and make the voice less distorted.
When the doors opened, he walked through the reception area and past the security door leading to the offices, expecting to be met by silence and relative darkness. Instead, it was a beehive of activity, agents coming and going, phones ringing off the hook.
Alexander stopped at one of the receptionists’ desks outside the conference room. “What’s going on here?”
The blonde receptionist jumped up from her chair, coming around to greet him. “Mr. Burnham, I apologize. I wasn’t expecting you today. Your secretary didn’t mention you would be here.”
He furrowed his brow. “Did I miss something?”
She pulled her lips between her teeth. “No, sir. We’ve all been working pretty much around the clock. It’s been all hands on deck.”
“For what?”
A small smile crossed her face. “To help find your daughter, of course.”
His mouth agape, he turned from the desk and stared at a dozen men who worked for his company in various investigative capacities. It was a Sunday, just days before Christmas. Instead of spending time with their families, all these people had come into the office…to help him.
For the first time in recent history, Alexander found himself speechless. He didn’t believe he had done anything in his life to deserve having people so caring and selfless working for him. He’d never been one to get to know his employees very well. Hell, he couldn’t even remember the receptionist’s name and she’d worked for the company for at least a year. But none of that mattered to them. The second they heard about Melanie, they sprang into action, doing what they felt was right and just…something he should have done months ago when Landon came to him for help.
He approached one of the agents, silence falling in the halls. When he held his hand out to him, the agent took it. “Thank you,” Alexander said.
“Of course, sir. If it were my daughter, I’d hope people would do the same for me.”
Alexander nodded, overwhelmed by their kindness. A year ago, even a few days ago, if this had happened to one of his agents, he doubted he would have done more than offer his condolences and perhaps use of company resources. Then he would have simply headed home and forgotten about it. For too long, he had let the company’s bottom line consume him. Instead of making decisions based on what he knew was the right and selfless thing to do, he had weighed that against the success and profitability of the firm. That all ended now.
He continued down the row of people, shaking hands as they offered him words of encouragement.
“We’ll find her, sir.”
“Whatever you need, boss.”
“We’ll get the bastard, Mr. Burnham.”
All he could do was shake their hands and offer them his thanks, even though it was completely inadequate for what they had given him. They gave him hope in a cloud of despair.
“Mr. Burnham,” Simpson called out. Alexander snapped his head up to see him rushing down the corridor. “A moment of your time, please.”
Nodding, he gave his agents an appreciative smile, then turned and followed Simpson toward his office. Glancing over his shoulder, he observed his employees continuing with their work, the hallways full of commotion once more. He didn’t know how he would ever repay these people for all the time and effort they were putting in to finding his daughter.
“When did all this happen?” he asked Simpson.
“What?”
“All this. Everyone working on a weekend to help find…” He swallowed hard.
“They’ve been here since yesterday. After the press conference, people began trickling in, offering help. They’ve been pulling their contacts, calling in favors. We’ve got eyes everywhere, sir.”
He rubbed his temples, fighting off his exhaustion from running on fumes. “I hope it’s enough.”
“Nothing’s come of it yet,” Simpson said, and Alexander met his eyes, “but I think I might have something.”
He narrowed his gaze at him. “From the audio I sent you?”
Simpson nodded and unlocked the door to his office, allowing Alexander to enter in front of him.
Monitors filled a large desk that took up three walls of the darkened room. Computer units were stacked against one wall, cables and wires going every which way. Simpson sat down in a chair, then typed feverishly at a keyboard in front of him. The monitor directly in the center sprang to life.
“Now, it took a bit of work, but I was able to isolate some of the background noise. The quality isn’t great, but if you listen closely enough, I think you’ll hear it.”
He handed Alexander a pair of headphones. Sitting in the chair next to Simpson, he pulled them over his ears, the noise of whirring computers eliminated. All he could hear was his own breathing and heavy heartbeat. Simpson hit a button on the keyboard and the audio from the FaceTime call played in his ears.
Alexander listened to the sound of cars whooshing by, then his voice cut through.