Page 52 of Fresh Old Bounties

And yet.

With fast movements, he retrieved Grandma’s folder, put it on the table, then dumped the box of files on my lap.

“Knock yourself out.”

I took him at his word and began pulling files out and checking them. By the third one, I knew he was right, but something egged me on to keep checking.

“I’ve read every file in that box,” he said. “There’s nothing else about your grandmother.”

I’d have expected those words to come with an edge of pity or any sort of emotion, but his monotone voice made me abandon my box quest to study him. Ian could out-granite actual granite anytime, but even by his standards this was a bit too much. Was he nervous? Stressed? Something was off here.

I set the box aside and touched his leg. His muscles were rock solid under his black jeans. A literal marble statue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, my voice a lot softer than expected.

His features finally twisted—a slight grimace of irritation. “I didn’t know your grandmother was Hazel Oakes.”

Now that was almost as big a shock as the discovery of the file. “You didn’t run a background check on me when I took over the shop?”

He snorted, and something in me loosened at this show of humanity.

“Of course I ran a background check on you. Your father isn’t listed on your birth certificate, and your mother never married before your stepfather. I didn’t know your father’s family name was Oakes.”

“Oh.” That made sense.

Suddenly, I couldn’t take it anymore. He looked so stern and irritated at himself and guilty that I threw my arms around him and hugged him tight.

“I take it back. I do trust you.”

He squeezed my arm. “Good.”

Before he could do anything else, I stood and began pacing the rug on the other side of the low table.

All right, so there was a bounty hunter file on my Grandma. This couldn’t stand, even if the bounty hunter in question had been dead for a while.

If he’d suspected Grandma of something, who said someone else didn’t too? Maybe that’s what all the spellbook business was about—someone had mistaken Grandma for a dark witch, and that’s why her spellbook hadn’t passed muster for our robber.

I had to clear Grandma’s name. Restore her reputation.

The need burst inside me with the strength of a thousand Fluffys clamoring for attention.

“How do you learn more about old bounties?” I asked.

Ian watched me walk back and forth. “You don’t.”

That made me pause. “Aren’t there records somewhere? Payment records? Hiring notices? We could see who paid your partner for the job and go from there.”

“Yes, but it won’t work for this.”

“Why not? Is it because I’m a witch? They won’t share information outside of bounty hunters?”

“This wasn’t an official job.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some bounty hunters pick up side projects.”

“Like spying?” I thought of the man tied up in the shop’s kitchen. “Or stealing?”

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