Chapter 634 Calling the Police

The snacks in the break room were gone, so Anne poured herself another cup of coffee. "Rinatta, I don't think Mr. Finnley is coming back," she said, her voice low. "What makes you say that?" I asked. I knew Anne and Mr. Finnley had a history—at least something close enough that she might have insight others didn't. She glanced around to ensure we were alone before continuing. "I went to his apartment over the weekend." She added quickly, "Don't get the wrong idea. I left some clothes there—nice ones—and I didn't want to lose them. He wasn't home. His suitcase was still in the closet, but the place was a mess. Not his normal kind of mess, but the kind that makes you think something's really off." Mr. Finnley wasn't the best supervisor, but he was meticulous, almost obsessive, about keeping things tidy. Many designers shared this trait, and his office reflected that same precision—always organized, with him dressed to the nines in tailored suits. "I felt it the moment I