I started to go back to my desk, but he stopped me. “And once you’ve reached Lucas, could you please get those damned photographs off my computer and phone? I don’t ever want to see them again.”
I nodded and picked up his phone to take it back at my desk. As I did so he gave me a shrewd look. “I don’t know who led Scott to believe he’d been promoted,” he said and my heart leapt into my throat. “But I think I owe him – or her – a debt of gratitude for helping reveal Scott’s true nature.” I couldn’t tell for sure, but I think I saw the slightest of grins on his face before he resumed his normal manner. “Now about that phone call to Lucas . . .,” he said, and I scurried off to my desk.
By the time lunch rolled around, the news of Scott’s dismissal was all over the building, and stories about what had caused it were rampant. I did my best to avoid any conversations about the subject; I figured that I had been way too close for comfort and didn’t want any more conjecture about my role than there already might be.
But I did make it a point to go by Peter’s office. I wanted to let him know what Mr. Moffatt had said to me because I thought it might reassure Peter that there was no other shoe about to drop.
I expected that he would be greatly relieved, but after I’d finished I still saw the weariness etched on his face and that bothered me. Nevertheless, I asked him the question that had bothered me ever since I saw the incriminating slide show this morning: “Peter, who were those two women with Scott?”
He gave me a little smile. “I don’t know for sure, but I suspect they were ‘freebirds,'” he said. When he saw my confusion, he went on, “We get them at almost every trade show. They’re people who sneak into the show looking for free food, free booze and a free party in the hospitality suites. And if the conditions are just right, they also might be up for a little free sex.”
“You’ve never . . .” I started, but he waved me off immediately. “Never,” he said firmly. “In the first place, only a fool would risk exposure to whatever diseases they might have. Second, I’m a faithful husband and . . .” He stopped abruptly and his face grew bitter. My heart went out to him.
“So when do you plan to confront her?” I asked gently.
“When I get home from work today,” he said wearily. “I’ve been working with an attorney and I’m going to give Callie the papers in person tonight.”
“I’m so sorry, Peter,” I said softly. “I’ve been so focused on this mess with Scott that I almost forgot about her.”
Then a thought came to mind. “Peter, I don’t know if it would help, but I haven’t yet deleted those photos that Lucas Masterson took. Would you like me to print out a copy for you?”
He thought about it and then nodded. “Yes, please. I’d like to show Callie just what kind of man she chose over me,” he said grimly.
When I returned to his office to give him the prints I’d made, he was already preparing to leave. “I want to be waiting for her when she gets home,” he told me. “Besides, I might as well get out of here – I won’t be worth a damn until I get this over with.”
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