Page 94 of Just Between Us

I had grown to love the quiet comfort of the blue cottage overlooking the bluff. It was so easy to picture myself reading a book on a rocking chair as the sun set on the lake, or planting fresh blooms in the adorable planter boxes. Whenever I set foot in his house, everything else dissolved and I could simplybe.

With him, I didn’t have to be a powerhouse consultant with all the answers. Royal took charge and I could lean into my feminine energy in a way that was nourishing to my mind and my soul.

But wasn’t it too soon?

My entire life consisted of goals and plans and boxes to be checked. Never once had I made a reckless or rash decision based onfeelings.

But, god, how good he made me feel.

I tipped my face to the warm light that streamed through the dingy basement windows of the library archives. I was like a sunflower yearning for the sun.

I glanced at my phone. Zero service, but it was nearly lunchtime, and I’d already decided to surprise Royal with that ice-cream date he’d suggested. After gathering my bag and stuffing Bug’s notebook into the side pocket, I exited the library and blinked into the afternoon sunlight.

The light was harsh, but the coastal breeze was the fresh air I needed. My phone pinged as I regained service and immediately saw a text message from the private investigator Abel had hired to look into Maryann’s disappearance.

John Cannon

Are you free? I would like to talk. In person.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had given Abel my permission to share any of my findings, along with my contact information, should he ever want or need to compare notes.

I guess that ice cream will have to wait.

I pushed down the sting of disappointment and quickly fired back a text and agreed to meet.

John sent his location via a pin, and I frowned at the remote location on the outskirts of town. My fingers twitched with indecision before curiosity won out. I hustled to my apartment to pick up my car, and the air inside it was stale from neglect. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d needed a vehicle.

When I drove the few miles out of town, I was relieved when the location was near a park and not quite as remote as the map had made it seem. I got out of my car and offered a polite wave to John.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Bauer.” He extended his hand, and I shook it.

“Veda, please.” I smiled. My eyes went to work assessing the man. He was tall and muscular. His clothes were tidy but nondescript. Despite his size, I assumed he used his plain looks to melt into a crowd and go relatively unnoticed.

“My apologies for the strange meetup location. I’m making an effort to stay behind the scenes, and Outtatowner is a little small for my liking.” He reached into his bag.

“I understand. What do you have for me?” I asked.

“I’m hoping it might be information you have for me, actually. In my digging, I came across something a bit odd.” He handed me a manila folder, and I flipped through the pages.

“You see,” he continued, “when someone disappears without a trace, it bothers me. There’salwaysa trail. If there isn’t, I often assume the worst. I know that the family was hopeful that Maryann King would show up somewhere, but I have my doubts.”

My eyes flicked to his face. Though his words were harsh, there was sympathy in his dark-green eyes. “How can I help?”

He gestured toward the folder. “That town is tight-knit.Ifsomething were to have happened to her, getting rid of her remains without a single person noticing would be no small feat. I think it would be much more probable that someone would stay quiet ... for a price.”

I nodded. “I have been looking into various payouts—large and small—to see if there were any inconsistencies. I’ve flagged a few unaccounted-for transactions, but nothing glaring yet. To be honest, it’s a lot of sifting, so unfortunately it takes time.”

“What if I could narrow down a timeline for you?” My brows pinched, and he pointed at the top page in the folder. “That document there is a deposition from a former mayor of Outtatowner, Michigan. He was indicted several years back on charges of fraud and misappropriation of municipal funds. During that questioning, they asked him about various bank transactions he claims were not from municipal funds, but rather private business dealings with ...”

“King Equities,” I finished as my eyes scanned the page.

He nodded. “You got it.”

I scoured the paperwork, looking for dates and hoping something would click. Energy hummed in my chest. I couldn’t be sure until I confirmed it, but the timelines seemed to be around the same time Russell was attempting to buy the lake property and June Sullivan was trying everything in her power to stop him.

“Check out the last page.” John leaned against his car and crossed his arms.

I scowled, wishing he would just tell me what I was looking for when I flipped to the final page in the stack. My eyes went wide and my hand shook.

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