The Wrong Man: A Novel of Suspense by Kate White Read Free Book Online

“I’m not sure what you mean.” But the very word had made her stomach knot.
    “You see him in the hotel and then he just happens to pop into a small shop at the same time you’re there. Perhaps that wasn’t as random as it looked.”
    “Well, it seemed perfectly random at the time,” she said, still trying to figure out what he was getting at. “It’s a small town and there are only so many shops there.”
    “I’m just wondering if he felt there was something to gain from talking to you. . . . Information, for instance.”
    “What information could he possibly want to extract from me?” Kit exclaimed. “I’m a decorator .”
    She opened her purse, located a business card and handed it to Ungaro. “There, you can see for yourself. Even if he tied me up and put a gun to my head, all I’d be able to tell him was how to make his ceilings look higher—or what to do if he ended up with two shades of red that didn’t match.”
    “I didn’t mean to concern you,” Ungaro said, sensing her agitation. “You’ve been quite helpful, and I should let you go.”
    “Thank you.”
    “By the way, what do you do with two shades of red that don’t match?”
    Oh, that was funny, she thought. Was he really hoping for a decorating tip? Maybe he was just trying to gauge if she knew her stuff.
    “You add a third shade of red. And then the eye isn’t bothered by the discrepancy anymore.” She rose from the chair, eager to split. “Am I supposed to talk to Mr. Healy again?”
    “He has a trip scheduled so I offered to walk you out,” Ungaro said, rising himself.
    “All right. Please tell him I said good luck sorting this out.”
    “I will. Just one final question, something that puzzles me.” He was watching her intently now. “Why do you think the man you met created this whole ruse of inviting you to dinner at Mr. Healy’s apartment? If he’d sensed eagerness on your part to meet again and he felt he had to placate you, why not just stand you up at a restaurant?”
    “I’ve wondered the same thing,” Kit said somberly. “But I have no clue. Inviting me to his apartment actually exposed the lie.”
    He cocked his head. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”
    “If he hadn’t done that, I would have never discovered that he was an imposter.”
    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the office door swing open and to her surprise, another man entered the room. He was slightly older than Ungaro, late fifties and handsome, with hooded eyes and thick silver hair. Now what? Kit thought.
    “Ms. Finn, I’d like to introduce you to our CEO, Mitchell Wainwright,” Ungaro said. He didn’t seem surprised by Wainwright’s appearance and Kit suspected it had all been orchestrated in advance.
    Wainwright reached out to shake her hand. His grip was powerful, as if he could crush her fingers in the time it took her to plead for mercy.
    “Matt Healy explained the situation to me. We’re grateful for your cooperation.”
    “Thank you,” she said, edging toward the door.
    “I was just seeing Ms. Finn out,” Ungaro said. “She’s been very helpful.”
    “I’m headed to the front,” Wainwright said, “so why don’t I accompany her.” A statement more than a question.
    She didn’t care who showed her out as long as they got it over with. After nodding goodbye to Ungaro, she strode withWainwright along the outside of the bullpen. His barrel-chested body seemed to give off power, the way a stove gave off heat, and she saw at least a half-dozen people discreetly lift their eyes from their computer screens. They were keeping tabs on the silver fox who ruled the empire.
    Wainwright didn’t say a word, just walked along in tandem, practically hugging her side with the force of a magnet. But in the reception area, he finally opened his mouth to speak.
    “So how was the weather when you were in Florida?” he asked.
    “The weather?” she said. Why would he care? she wondered.
    “Sunny. Nice.”
    His eyes were