“And you would be wrong,” Jackson said, his tone as polite as hers. “However, if you wish to check our authority, you can give PIT a call—the person you’ll need to talk to is Chief Inspector Richmond.”

“I’ll have to discuss this with someone in management. Please take a seat—I shouldn’t be long.”

“A woman immune to your charms,” I murmured as we walked over to the waiting area. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Neither did I. What’s more interesting, however, is that they’ve seriously ramped up security.” He motioned toward the two security officers. “That’s the first time they’ve had armed guards in the foyer.”

“It’s not really a surprising step, given research was stolen and Wilson, Rosen, and now Janice were murdered.”

“True—although they surely wouldn’t know about Janice’s murder yet.” He sat down and crossed his legs, his expression contemplative as he studied the blonde. “I might have to come back when all this is over. I do so like a challenge.”

“Seriously, haven’t you got enough women to deal with already?”

“Oh, I’m not talking about anything serious. A simple flirtation lasting no more than a night or so will do.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand the sexual drive of a dark fae.”

“There’s nothing to understand,” he said easily. “We simply live for sex.”

The woman in question replaced the receiver and gave us another of those polite smiles. “Brad Jenson will be down to assist you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Jackson said, his tone warm. There was little response from the blonde.

I grinned and leaned back in my chair. About five minutes later, a chime sounded as an elevator arrived; then a tall, thin man with receding brown hair strode toward us.

“Brad Jenson,” he said. “How may I help you both?”

As he propped himself on the sofa beside me, I caught a whiff of garlic and tuna—lunch, obviously.

“Are you in charge of ordering storage and shelving items?” I asked.

He nodded. “Rosen Pharmaceuticals is a large company, and we have a range of suppliers—why?”

“Is one of the companies you deal with Holdright Industries?”

“No—they specialize in the manufacture of warehouse storage rather than stuff suitable for our needs.”

I frowned. “So there’d be no work-related reason why Janice Green would have a visitor tag from them in her car?”

His expression became somewhat perturbed. “Janice Green is our founder’s secretary, so certainly not.”

I glanced at Jackson. Maybe she knew someone who worked there?

Possibly. He paused. We might have to go through her phone and do a check of all the numbers.

Tedious. And it was extremely doubtful we’d find anything, given Amanda had deleted at least one number—her alias’s—from Janice’s phone.

Amanda—and Rinaldo—will make a mistake sooner or later, Jackson said.