Page 67 of Cruel Riches

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Alexis

My heart hammered. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I was surprised too,” Dan said. “He said he usually doesn’t even read the paper, but one of his kids used a recent copy to line their pet hamster’s cage. He caught sight of your ad, and then he tried to call you. When he couldn’t get through to your phone, he contacted me.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“Not a lot. Just that he knew Peter and wants to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

“I ran a background check on him after we spoke, because I figured with your particular subject matter, you’re bound to get a few crackpots here and there. But he seems legitimate.” Dan cleared his throat and started reading a list to me. “Jon Richter, born on the island in 1972. No criminal record. Wife and three kids. Worked at Blackthorne University as a gardener between 1998-2011. Started working at City Hall up in Avalon City after 2011 as a parks consultant.”

“So he definitely could’ve known my f—” I abruptly cut myself off before I accidentally blurted out my identity. “My research subject.”

“Yes, it seems so. Would you like his phone number?”

Excited heat rose in my cheeks as I grabbed a pen. “Yes, please.”

“Here it is.” Dan rattled off the number. “Get that?”

“Yes. Thanks so much. I’ll call him now.”

Jon Richter didn’t answer my first or second call, but he answered the third with a terse grunt. “Yes?”

“Hi, Jon. I was told you’ve been trying to get in touch with me. My name is Alexis Livingston, and I placed an ad in the Avalon—”

Jon cut me off. His tone was much nicer now, but also very hurried. “Oh, of course! Listen, before you say anything else, can we please agree not to use his name? The man you’re asking about, I mean. I know I sound paranoid, but you never know who’s listening in on phone calls.”

“I understand.”

He let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. “All right. First things first. Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Journalist?”

“Nope.”

“What exactly is your interest in him, then?”

I furrowed my brows and leaned back in my chair. “I’m friends with his daughter,” I said, the lie sliding easily off my tongue. “She’s looking for the truth about what happened to her father. I said I’d help her.”

That seemed to satisfy him. “All right. Like I said before, I’m not comfortable discussing this over the phone, and I know emails can be just as dangerous. Are you able to meet up in person?”

“Um…” I trailed off and hesitated, chewing my bottom lip.

Jon spoke up again. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. We can meet up in a public place so you know you’re safe.”

“I guess that’d be okay. Can you meet now?”

“No, sorry. My day is absolutely packed,” he replied. “I finish at seven. We can meet after that.”

“Where?”

“Hm.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know where Avalon City Hall is?”

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