Buch lesen: «Big Shot»
PROTECTION WAS PART OF THE COWBOY CREED
Fate brought Texas rancher Durk Lambert face-to-face with his ex-lover, Meghan Sinclair. The reckless but gorgeous P.I. had been beaten and left for dead, with no memory of her attacker, of Durk…or herself. Years ago she’d broken his heart, but no cowboy walked away from a woman in need.
While Durk kept her safe on his Bent Pine Ranch, his own memories threatened him—laughing with Meghan, making love. He still wanted her, but he feared Meghan was the one woman he could never have—and the one he’d lay down his life to protect. Because while Durk wanted her to remember, a killer needed her to forget.…
Hunger for her was pushing him over the edge.
If he kissed her—Hell. What was he thinking? He was supposed to be watching over her.
He walked out onto the porch, seeking distance, but Meghan followed. “You know you really are a cowboy at heart,” she said. “Seeing you on the ranch, I get it.”
“I’m not that complicated once you get to know me.”
“How well did I know you when we were dating?”
He turned to her. “I couldn’t say. We didn’t do a lot of talking. We were too consumed with the physical side of the relationship.” Somehow he’d let the conversation take a bad turn. “Are you sure you want to get into this?”
“What I want is for you to kiss me, Durk. The way you did when we first met.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Then stop thinking.”
Big Shot
Joanna Wayne
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Joanna Wayne was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organization. Her debut novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.
Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list for romance and has won many industry awards. She is also a popular speaker at writing organizations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.
Joanna currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star State. You may write Joanna at P.O. Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356.
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CAST OF CHARACTERS
Meghan Sinclair—A private investigator who precariously walks the thin line between daring and duty.
Durk Lambert—CEO of Lambert, Inc. He’s still a cowboy at heart and lives by the Cowboy Creed.
Bill Evers—Meghan’s bodybuilder neighbor, who rescues her when she’s attacked in her condo.
Lucy Delmar—Meghan’s sister.
Ben Conroe—Meghan’s assistant, who is murdered in their office.
Detective Sam Smart—He’s in charge of investigating Ben Conroe’s murder.
Dr. Levy—Meghan’s doctor after she’s attacked.
Connie Latimer—She’s hired Meghan to find her sister’s killer when the cops didn’t.
Roxanne—Connie’s murdered sister.
Edward Byers—A possible suspect in Ben’s murder.
Carolina Lambert—Durk’s mother.
Damien and Tague Lambert—Durk’s brothers.
Belle—The foster daughter of Emma and Damien.
Alexis Lambert—Tague’s wife.
Tommy Lambert—Alexis and Tague’s son.
Sybil—Durk’s aunt.
Pearl—Durk’s grandmother.
To my sisters, Mary, Barbara, Linda and Brenda. Always great to get together. You warm my heart. And to everyone who’s ever loved a real or fictional cowboy! And thanks to my editor, who makes me want to keep writing Harlequin Intrigue novels even after fifty-plus books.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Epilogue
Excerpt
Chapter One
Meghan Sinclair smiled as she exited the elevator to her fifth-floor condominium in downtown Dallas. Her afternoon coffee date had been a resounding success.
Her condo was at the end of the empty hallway, near the stairwell. Meghan slipped out of her shoes about halfway to her door and let her aching tootsies sink into the deep carpet. She slowed enough to bend over and hook the leather shoe straps with a crooked finger.
It was nice to live in luxury, thanks to the generosity of a former client who owned the complex. The fancy handbag was a bit of overkill for this time of day, but it and her dress had done their job. He’d given her a heck of a deal after she’d been instrumental in finding his daughter’s killer. The depraved maniac had been arrested and tried and was now serving a life sentence. Case closed.
If she ever married and had a family, the condo would be too small. But if her love life kept to the same trajectory it was on now, that might never happen.
The door to the stairwell opened as she retrieved her key fob from the silver clutch. She fit her key into the lock before looking up, certain it was Mr. Muscles who lived two doors down.
A bodybuilding fanatic, Bill Mackey claimed elevators were for wimps. But then again, Mr. Muscles didn’t own one pair of stilettos.
Meghan spun around at the sound of heavy breathing and running footsteps. A man bound into the hallway, masked and dressed in black. Definitely not her neighbor. She pushed through her door and tried to slam it shut behind her.
His foot stopped it. Two strong gloved hands closed around her neck, pressing so hard they blocked her airway.
Her P.I. self-defense skills were ingrained and automatic. She jerked upward, bucking hard with her head while she reached into her purse for her pistol. One of the attacker’s hands left her throat, but before she could aim, her body started jerking uncontrollably.
She spotted his stun gun as her pistol fell from her shaking fingers. The attacker kicked her weapon in front of them as he pushed her flailing body into the condo, knocking her to the floor. When she tried to stand, he shoved her and sent her slamming into the wall.
The room began to spin. The scone and coffee she’d just eaten came up, mixed with blood. The last thing she saw was his body coming at her like a demolition ball bent on destruction.
The last thing she heard was her own terrified scream for help.
* * *
D URK L AMBERT STEPPED out of Lambert Towers and was greeted by blinding sunshine and a brisk breeze. The perfect fall afternoon, low seventies and not a cloud in sight. Just the kind of weather he needed to kick off his much-needed vacation.
His black Jaguar was waiting for him in front of the towering skyscraper, motor running with Miguel behind the wheel. Durk shed the jacket of his suit coat as Miguel climbed out of the car.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Lambert. Great weather to start a vacation.”
“Couldn’t ask for better,” Durk agreed.
“Are you leaving town?”
“I’m leaving the city but going no farther than the Bent Pine Ranch.” He loosened the knot in his tie, yanked it from around his neck and tossed it in the backseat with his jacket. “Goodbye, ties. Hello, boots and jeans.”
“Good for you, boss man. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
“Thanks, Miguel. You, too. Do you have plans?”
“I’m driving down to Brownsville to spend a couple of weeks with my daughter and her family. Plan to do some fishing and roast one of their farm-raised goats over a spit. Now that’s eating.”
“Nothing like good cabrito,” Durk agreed. He shook Miguel’s wrinkled hand and climbed behind the wheel. He waited until Miguel had rounded the car and was back on the sidewalk before pulling into traffic.
The man was thin and slightly stooped, his weathered face showing the strain of seventy-seven years of living. He’d been a fixture around Lambert Inc. as long as Durk could remember.
He’d retired as maintenance engineer eight years ago when a heart condition had forced him to slow down. He’d come back on the payroll five years ago when his wife died.
He claimed he hated the empty house after so many years of marriage and he liked to keep busy. As long as he wanted to hang out at Lambert Inc., Durk would make certain they found a few non-stressful things for him to do.
The afternoon traffic was heavier than usual. It was still one full week before Thanksgiving, but already the stores were decorated and pandering for holiday shoppers to give into their whims and the store’s enticements.
Shopping was the furthest thing from Durk’s mind. After the summer and autumn he’d had, he needed to get back in the saddle again. And to reacquaint himself with his family.
While he’d been traveling back and forth to the Middle East working on a new project that was a go and a merger that wasn’t, his brother Tague had taken the plunge into wedlock and instant fatherhood.
No one had been more shocked at that than Durk—unless it was Tague himself. But Tague had adjusted well and had never seemed happier. Neither had his brother Damien, who’d been married for four months now.
Marriage and family weren’t in Durk’s foreseeable future—if ever. Some men were cut out for family life. Some weren’t. He fell into the latter category.
Besides, the one time he’d let himself fall hard for a woman, it had ended badly. Talk about messing with his mind. No way would he go there again.
He turned at the light and headed toward I-45. He was almost to the freeway when his cell phone rang. He punched on his hands-free receiver.
“Durk Lambert.”
“Glad I caught you, Durk. Are you still in Dallas?”
He tensed at the apprehension in his mother’s voice. “I just left the office. What’s up?”
“Sybil’s friend Bessie George called. She said Sybil started having chest pains while they were out shopping. She called an ambulance and they took Sybil to Grantland Hospital.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I just got the call. Bessie was on her way to the hospital to be with Sybil, but she’s stuck behind a fender bender and traffic’s at a standstill.”
“That’s Dallas for you. Traffic’s moving here. I’ll stop by the hospital now and check on Sybil.”
“Thanks, son. Call me on my cell phone as soon as you see her. I’m driving in as well, but it will take me over an hour to get there from the ranch this time of day.”
“Just hang tight until I call you back, Mom. No use for you to make the trip unless they’re going to admit her. The last two times that Aunt Sybil rushed to the emergency room, it turned out to be acute indigestion.”
“Yes, but you never know, Durk.”
“I’ll know after I talk to the doctor. Pour yourself a cup of coffee and try to relax. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find out something.”
“I guess that does make more sense than rushing into the city before I know if it’s serious.”
“Perfect sense,” he agreed.
Durk’s hands tightened on the wheel, the tension returning to his muscles. In spite of his reassurances, he was concerned about his aunt. She was his father’s older sister—not that she was old. Her sixty-fourth birthday was coming up in a matter of weeks. She had lived with them for years, ever since her husband had died from a massive heart attack at the young age of fifty-eight.
The rambling old ranch house that had been in the Lambert family for generations served them all well. Aunt Sybil and his grandmother each had a private suite on the first floor. His mother was still in the master suite that she’d shared with his father before his untimely death, though she’d offered it to Damien and Emma when they’d married. They’d decided the west wing was the better choice for them, probably because it offered more play space for their foster daughter, Belle. Tague and his new wife, Alexis, and stepson, Tommy, had the suite on the second floor above Damien’s, though they were already planning to build their own cottage on the ranch.
Durk’s quarters were just off the huge billiards and game room on the second floor in the east wing of the house. He didn’t need much space since when he wasn’t traveling he spent most of his time in his penthouse condo in downtown Dallas.
In less than twenty minutes, he was standing at the admittance desk in the E.R. The young blonde nurse on duty looked a bit harried, but she managed a smile when she looked up at him. “How can I help you?”
“My aunt, Sybil Ratcliff, should have arrived by ambulance in the last few minutes. I’d like to check on her.”
“Yes. I think the doctor is with her now.” The nurse rifled through a half-dozen admittance slips. “She’s in Room Four. I’ll have someone escort you back there. You say she’s your aunt?”
“Yes, I’m Durk Lambert.”
“Durk Lambert.” She repeated the name as she placed her hands on the counter, showing off her perfectly manicured nails and her ringless wedding band finger. This time her smile lit up her face. “Actually, I’ll walk you to your aunt’s room. If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to let me know. My name’s Pam.”
She looked around and motioned to a middle-aged nurse who was adding information to a chart. “Can you man the desk for a minute, Ethel? I need to see that Durk Lambert finds his aunt.”
Ethel eyeballed Durk, nodded and smiled conspiratorially. “Sure. Take your time.”
He felt like a participant in The Bachelorette. No doubt the nurse had read the stupid article in a local publication that had named him the wealthiest and most eligible bachelor in Texas.
It amazed him what people posted in the name of entertainment.
They passed several partitions and had almost reached the fourth one when Durk had to step aside to permit a gurney guided by two paramedics to pass. The patient was muttering and fighting the restraints that kept her from propelling herself to the floor. Blood stained the white sheet.
Another nurse rushed over to meet them.
“We called ahead as soon as we got her on board,” one of the paramedics explained. “Patient was attacked in her condo. She was unconscious when we got there and blood pressure is roller-coastering. A Taser was found on the premises. Not sure if it was used on her or not, but somebody’s fists definitely were.”
“Trauma unit is expecting her. Did she call for the ambulance before she blacked out?”
“No. A neighbor dialed 911. Apparently he heard her yell for help and went to her rescue. Huge guy with bulging muscles. Just the kind you want around when you need help. He took a couple of blows himself, but he refused to come in.”
The gurney’s occupant groaned and tried to sit up.
“You can relax. You’re safe now,” the nurse said. She walked beside the patient as they hurried off.
“Who’s driving my car?” the woman asked.
“You’re not in a car. You’re in a hospital.”
“Someone has to drive.”
The voice was slurred, the tone bordering on delirious, yet the familiarity of it cut through Durk like a knife. He caught up with the gurney and caught a glimpse of the battered, confused patient. The right side of her face was red and swollen and her hair was matted with blood.
His insides rolled violently. “Meghan.”
She showed no response. He reached for her hand. “It’s Durk, Meghan.”
“The car is going to wreck.”
She was so out of it that she wasn’t aware he was standing there, nor even where she was.
Pam caught up with him. “Do you know this woman?”
“I do.”
“Are you related?” the other nurse asked.
“No, just friends.”
“Then please stick around in case we need some information about her that she’s not coherent enough to give.”
He followed the gurney around the corner.
“You’ll have to wait out here,” the nurse said as they rolled Meghan through a set of double doors.
“I’d like to make sure she’s okay.”
“Someone will talk to you after she’s been examined. There’s nothing you can do now. She doesn’t even know you’re here.”
He took a few steps back and then leaned against the wall while he struggled for a grip on reality.
Meghan Sinclair, the one woman he’d never been able to forget. Brutally attacked. So confused she didn’t know where she was. Likely suffering from a concussion. Possibly much worse.
Durk had never sought vengeance before, but this was different. Whoever did this to Meghan would live to regret it. He would make damn sure of that.
Chapter Two
“They’ll be awhile. Would you like to see your aunt now?”
Pam’s question jerked Durk back to the situation that had brought him to the hospital in the first place. He nodded his agreement and followed her back down the hall, though his concern for Meghan didn’t let up.
“How qualified is the trauma unit to handle head injuries?”
“We have one of the best in Dallas. Your friend is in good hands.”
“Is there a neurologist on duty?”
“There is and several others they can call in if your friend’s condition warrants it.”
“Good.”
“You seem very concerned. The patient must be a very close friend.”
He let Pam’s comment go without a response while he tried to deal with the emotions bucking inside him. It had been two years since he’d seen Meghan. But he doubted there had been a day since then that he hadn’t thought about her. Not a night that he hadn’t ached to hold her in his arms again.
He heard Sybil’s voice even before they reached her curtained cubicle. She sounded a bit croaky, but her words were distinct.
Pam shoved the curtain back enough to peek inside. “You have a visitor, Mrs. Ratcliff.”
“Who is it?”
“Your nephew, Durk Lambert.”
“Durk. Really? My sister-in-law must be calling the whole family.”
“He can come in,” another female voice said.
Pam pushed back the curtain and ushered Durk inside. “I’ll be back to check on you and your aunt in a bit,” she said. “But don’t leave before the trauma team can talk to you.”
“No, I won’t.” That was a definite.
A female in a white doctor’s coat looked up from the chart she was reading. “I’m Dr. Preston. And this is Bill Henley,” she said, motioning to the nurse who was adjusting a blood pressure cuff on his aunt’s arm. “We’ll be looking after your aunt.”
“Except that I don’t need looking after,” Sybil protested. “What I need is to go home.”
“If you keep saying that, you’re going to hurt my feelings,” Bill teased.
“It’s not you. In fact, you should go home with me,” Sybil said. “A few days on the ranch and away from all these sick people would do you good.”
“Amen to that,” Bill agreed. “Where do I sign up?”
“As you can tell, she’s feeling better,” Dr. Preston said. “The good news is she didn’t have a heart attack.”
“That’s a relief,” Durk agreed.
“I never thought it was a heart attack,” Sybil said. “But when I told Bessie I was having chest pains, she insisted on calling for an ambulance.”
“Always better to err on the side of caution,” Dr. Preston said. “Chest pains are nothing to fool around with.”
Sybil nodded. “I lost my husband to a heart attack almost eleven years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Dr. Preston handed the chart to Bill. “But that means you know how important cardiac care is.”
Bill took the chart and left the room.
Durk stepped to the side of the bed, leaned over and gave his aunt a peck on the cheek. She looked a bit frail and her thick black wig had twisted on her head so that it looked as if it were trying to crawl away.
“When did the pains start?” Durk asked.
“About an hour ago.”
“And you were feeling okay before that?”
“I haven’t been feeling great the last few days, but I haven’t really been sick, either—just tired and out of breath easily. Then, like I just explained to Dr. Preston, Bessie and I were walking to my car in the parking lot outside Neiman Marcus when all of a sudden I had stabbing pains in my chest. I told Bessie what was going on, and she called 911.”
Durk turned to the doctor. “But you’re sure that wasn’t her heart?”
“No. I’m only sure she wasn’t having a heart attack. The symptoms could have been caused by any number of things. We won’t know for certain until we run some tests. Bill’s arranging for those now.”
“Pshaw. It was just indigestion,” Sybil said. “I don’t need any tests.”
Durk took her hand in his. “I think we should leave that decision to Dr. Preston.”
“A good plan,” the doctor agreed.
“What kind of tests are we talking about?” Durk asked.
“I’ve ordered a chest X-ray and some blood work for starters. Then we’ll work from there until we can pinpoint the problem.”
“I’m already feeling much better,” Sybil insisted. She tried to sit up, but winced in pain and let her head fall back to the thin pillow.
“I won’t have to stay the night, will I?” Sybil asked, though her tone was less argumentative than before.
“Why don’t we decide that after I see the initial test results?”
Sybil nodded in agreement but she looked worried and her breathing seemed shallow even to Durk. Someone should probably stay with her, but he doubted it would be him. Any other time, he’d easily be up to the task, but seeing Meghan in that condition had him so shaken it was difficult to focus on anyone else.
“I’m going to step outside and call Mom,” he said. “She made me promise to let her know how you were the second I saw you.”
“Tell Carolina there’s no use in her rushing up here. I’m fine,” Sybil said. “And there’s no reason for you to stay, either. I’m sure I can drive home.”
“I’ll give Mom that message.” Which she’d immediately ignore. And then she’d question him about why his plans had changed and he wouldn’t be coming to the ranch—at least not tonight.
Once he’d made the call to his mother and she’d declared she was on her way to the hospital, he walked back to the area where they’d taken Meghan. One of the nurses approached him.
“Are you here with the patient who was assaulted?”
“Meghan Sinclair?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t come in with her, but she’s a friend and I’m greatly concerned about her.”
“Good. Hopefully you can help us. It’s urgent that we get in touch with a family member.”
Panic swept through him. “How serious is this?”
“Her condition is still being assessed, but she’s unable to give us any medical history. We need to talk to someone who’ll know if she has any allergies or other medical conditions we should be aware of. And we need a next of kin to make medical decisions until she is able to do that for herself. Do you know how to reach Ms. Sinclair’s parents?”
“Her parents are dead.”
“What about siblings?”
“She has a sister who lived in Connecticut,” he said. “I assume she still lives there.”
“Can you give us the sister’s name and phone number?”
“Meghan called her Lucy. She’s married, and I don’t know her last name or her phone number. I’m sure Meghan’s assistant, Ben Conroe, can give you everything you need.”
“Do you have his phone number?”
“Not off hand, but I can get it. In fact, he needs to be notified. I know he’d want to be here.”
“Would he also have her medical insurance information?”
“He’ll at least know who holds the policy.”
“Then have him contact us at this number ASAP.” She handed him a business card for the trauma unit. “Tell him to ask for Jane. I’ll be here until midnight.”
“I’ll get in touch with Ben,” Durk said, “as soon as you give me the honest truth about Meghan’s medical condition.”
“I’m sorry, but since you’re not a family member, the only information I can give you is that she’s being treated.”
Durk understood rules, but he’d never been too keen on following them. “I’m the only one here to make sure she’s taken care of. You want me to cooperate, then do the same,” he said.
It was a bluff. He’d cooperate and do what was best for Meghan no matter what they did or didn’t tell him.
“Wait here,” the nurse said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
A couple of minutes later, she returned with a man in a white physician’s lab coat. The apprehension on the man’s face as he stuck out his hand was anything but reassuring.
His handshake was firm as he introduced himself as Dr. Levy.
“I’m Durk Lambert, and I appreciate you talking to me.”
“I understand you’re a close friend of Ms. Sinclair,” the doctor said, his voice matter-of-fact.
“Yes,” Durk agreed even though it was an exaggeration. “How serious are her injuries? I mean, are we talking critical?”
“All I can tell you now is that her condition is being assessed.”
“Exactly what does that entail?”
“Examination, routine neurological tests and a CAT scan.”
“Is she conscious?”
“She’s alert, but exhibiting altered mental status.”
“What does that mean?”
“She’s confused. That frequently goes along with a concussion. But we do need to contact a family member. That’s the one thing you can do at this point to help your friend.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Durk said. “In the meantime, I want to make certain that Meghan receives the best care possible, even if that means airlifting her to a different facility.”
The doctor’s brows arched. “At your expense?”
“Yes. I can sign whatever is needed.”
“That’s a very generous offer, Mr. Lambert, but there’s no reason to move her at this time.”
“In that case, when can I see her?”
“That depends on her progress and the test results, but likely within the next several hours. It will be good for her to hear a familiar voice—unless there’s some reason why seeing you would upset her. There isn’t, is there?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll let you know when you can see her.”
Durk reconsidered his answer to that last question as he walked away. He and Meghan hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Not that she’d made a scene. Meghan Sinclair was not one to lose control. But she’d clearly dumped him.
That had been two years ago. When he’d recommended her professional services to his brother Tague just months ago she’d accepted and done a bang-up job.
She’d moved on. For all he knew, she was in a serious romantic relationship. The thought bothered him, though it shouldn’t. He’d bow out quickly enough if he found out that was true.
It wouldn’t change the fact that he planned to make damn sure that whoever did this to Meghan would not get off scot-free.
But the first order of business was contacting Ben Conroe. He searched for a quiet space. When he found none, he walked outside and into the gathering twilight. The siren of an incoming ambulance punctuated the brisk air as he called Meghan’s office.
He got a busy signal instead of the answering machine, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully, that meant Ben was still at work. The office was on the second floor of a three-story office building across the street from a strip mall only a few blocks away.
Durk jogged to his truck and a few seconds later was heading out of the parking lot. He dialed the number again as he sped toward her office. The line remained busy.
He glanced at his watch as he parked in the mostly empty lot. It was ten before six. He entered and raced up the stairs to the second floor. He tapped on the closed door to her office. When no one answered, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
Ben was there, but he was not on the phone. He wouldn’t be talking—not now and not ever again. A bullet had apparently ripped through his brain.
Durk went into defensive mode instantly, reaching for the pistol that lay near Ben’s body, listening and looking for any sign the killer was still on the premises.
The office remained as quiet as death.
Feeling a bit more confident that he was alone, Durk stepped closer to the body. Ben’s eyes were open, staring and lifeless. Durk stooped and checked Ben’s pulse, knowing there wouldn’t be one. The body was still warm. He’d missed the killer by mere minutes.
Reality burned in the pit of his stomach as he tried to assess the situation with some degree of clarity. Ben was dead. And whoever had killed him had probably planned the same fate for Meghan. Something had apparently stopped him before he could finish the job on her—possibly the neighbor who’d called the ambulance.
Fury and determination strained every muscle as Durk took out his phone and dialed 911. He gave the operator the information. She asked a few questions, assured him the cops were on their way and warned him not to touch anything before they arrived.
A little late for that since he was likely already holding the murder weapon. Survival topped crime scene protocol any day. Too bad he hadn’t thought to grab his own pistol from the car, but then he hadn’t expected to crash a murder scene.
He let his gaze roam the small outer office. File cabinet drawers were open, loose papers strewn about the floor and across what had been Ben’s desk.
Gun still in hand, he crossed the room and, using the tips of his fingers to hopefully keep from destroying possible fingerprints, he cautiously turned the knob and opened the door to Meghan’s office. The usually neat space was a total wreck.
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