a longish style that he probably hadn’t changed since university, even though it was starting to recede on the sides. With his pale skin and dark-rimmed glasses, he definitely looked the part of the intellectual. More Geek Squad than sensitive artist, he’d wager.
“Sorry,” Boyd said, releasing his grip. “I seem to be scaring the hell out of a lot of folks lately.”
At Boyd’s words, the conversation around them died abruptly, leaving just the noise of the unseen machine. A quick glance around confirmed they were all looking at him.
“No, I’m sorry,” Bradley said, his eyes meeting Boyd’s for just a second before skating away. “I should have warned people. I guess I forgot the detail that you two were identical.” He turned to address the other reporters, all of whom were frozen in place. “Josh’s brother,” he called.
Like someone had thrown a switch, they went back to their conversations or keyboards. It was almost comical. Nothing like a deadline to bring focus, he supposed.
That’s how Josh used to be. Boyd’s chest tightened with the memory.
“There’s an empty office we can use if you’d like a little privacy.” Bradley gestured to a room almost directly opposite the reporters’ station. While it had a window for a front wall, it was enclosed and had a door. “It’s hard to have a conversation out here and not be overheard.”
Interesting. Bradley was being friendly, but he seemed uncomfortable. His tone and his facial expression didn’t match the message entirely. And he sure wasn’t much for eye contact. In fact, he looked as though the last thing he wanted was a sit-down discussion. Was he just too busy? But if so, why had he agreed to the meeting?
Maybe it just freaked the guy out that he looked so much like Josh.
Or maybe he was nervous about something.
“This doesn’t require privacy,” Boyd said, watching for Bradley’s reaction. “I just wanted to come by and collect any of Josh’s personal belongings he might have left here.”
Bradley’s expression lightened. “Of course. I boxed up his things. His cubicle is still empty at the moment, but we’ve got interns coming and will have to shoehorn a couple of them in there soon.”
“Can I see his space?”
“Certainly.”
Boyd followed him around the corner to an empty cubicle. A banker’s box sat on top of the desk. Boyd flipped the lid and looked inside. “This all there was?”
“There were some files on his desk, but they were all works in progress. They’ve since been handed off to other reporters.”
“Nothing personal?”
“His laptop.”
“Which the cops have.” When Bradley’s eyes slid away, Boyd added, “I turned it over to them for a forensic analysis. You never know, right? Best to make sure there wasn’t anything sketchy on there, nothing that might lead someone to want to hurt Josh.”
Bradley swallowed. “Right.” His gaze met Boyd’s again finally.
“No desktop unit?”
Boyd already knew the answer. He’d been the one who’d collected the laptop, not the cops, since they didn’t have a warrant. The paper’s editor had handed it over personally, noting Josh had been the only reporter to use his personal laptop as his work computer. Josh had maintained that his life as a journalist was on that computer, from bookmarks to browser history to contacts, not to mention reams and reams of research, and he’d argued he would be more effective using it than the desktop computer they’d provided. The editor had been more than happy to make that concession, especially since it freed up a computer for another intern.
“No. He preferred to use his own computer. Said he had a lot of shortcuts or something, and it would be quicker and easier.”
“No personal files?”
“Nope, nothing like that.” Bradley glanced away again.
Boyd wasn’t certain if that was evasive behavior or whether his eyes were distracted by motion in the other cubicles. Damned glass walls. Boyd
“Sorry,” Boyd said, releasing his grip. “I seem to be scaring the hell out of a lot of folks lately.”
At Boyd’s words, the conversation around them died abruptly, leaving just the noise of the unseen machine. A quick glance around confirmed they were all looking at him.
“No, I’m sorry,” Bradley said, his eyes meeting Boyd’s for just a second before skating away. “I should have warned people. I guess I forgot the detail that you two were identical.” He turned to address the other reporters, all of whom were frozen in place. “Josh’s brother,” he called.
Like someone had thrown a switch, they went back to their conversations or keyboards. It was almost comical. Nothing like a deadline to bring focus, he supposed.
That’s how Josh used to be. Boyd’s chest tightened with the memory.
“There’s an empty office we can use if you’d like a little privacy.” Bradley gestured to a room almost directly opposite the reporters’ station. While it had a window for a front wall, it was enclosed and had a door. “It’s hard to have a conversation out here and not be overheard.”
Interesting. Bradley was being friendly, but he seemed uncomfortable. His tone and his facial expression didn’t match the message entirely. And he sure wasn’t much for eye contact. In fact, he looked as though the last thing he wanted was a sit-down discussion. Was he just too busy? But if so, why had he agreed to the meeting?
Maybe it just freaked the guy out that he looked so much like Josh.
Or maybe he was nervous about something.
“This doesn’t require privacy,” Boyd said, watching for Bradley’s reaction. “I just wanted to come by and collect any of Josh’s personal belongings he might have left here.”
Bradley’s expression lightened. “Of course. I boxed up his things. His cubicle is still empty at the moment, but we’ve got interns coming and will have to shoehorn a couple of them in there soon.”
“Can I see his space?”
“Certainly.”
Boyd followed him around the corner to an empty cubicle. A banker’s box sat on top of the desk. Boyd flipped the lid and looked inside. “This all there was?”
“There were some files on his desk, but they were all works in progress. They’ve since been handed off to other reporters.”
“Nothing personal?”
“His laptop.”
“Which the cops have.” When Bradley’s eyes slid away, Boyd added, “I turned it over to them for a forensic analysis. You never know, right? Best to make sure there wasn’t anything sketchy on there, nothing that might lead someone to want to hurt Josh.”
Bradley swallowed. “Right.” His gaze met Boyd’s again finally.
“No desktop unit?”
Boyd already knew the answer. He’d been the one who’d collected the laptop, not the cops, since they didn’t have a warrant. The paper’s editor had handed it over personally, noting Josh had been the only reporter to use his personal laptop as his work computer. Josh had maintained that his life as a journalist was on that computer, from bookmarks to browser history to contacts, not to mention reams and reams of research, and he’d argued he would be more effective using it than the desktop computer they’d provided. The editor had been more than happy to make that concession, especially since it freed up a computer for another intern.
“No. He preferred to use his own computer. Said he had a lot of shortcuts or something, and it would be quicker and easier.”
“No personal files?”
“Nope, nothing like that.” Bradley glanced away again.
Boyd wasn’t certain if that was evasive behavior or whether his eyes were distracted by motion in the other cubicles. Damned glass walls. Boyd
Similar Books
