Page 25 of Midnight Rebel

“Margaret, finally, you’re here. I’ve been trying to talk to you without?—”

I spin around in the plush leather chair, coming face to face with Frank. Whatever the estate manager was about to say dies on his lips.

Frank’s pinched expression makes it clear he’s not pleased to see me occupying this space.

I lift my chin, meeting his disapproving gaze. I have every right to be here, regardless of what Frank thinks.

“Only me,” I say breezily. “Margaret went to town to pick something up. And before you ask, she didn’t tell me when she would return.”

Frank’s face goes through a series of micro-expressions—irritation, disdain, resignation—before settling into a sickly sweet smile that doesn’t reach his rheumy eyes.

“No problem, Miss Clarke. How is your investigation coming along? Found anything interesting yet?”

His voice holds a sneer as if he’s certain The Manor is squeaky clean, all thanks to his meticulous work. The way he carries himself, you’d think he single-handedly ran the place.

“It’s going fine, thanks for asking,” I reply coolly, casting my gaze at the paperwork in front of me. “Do you need to access something from the office? Am I holding you up?”

Frank sniffs haughtily as if the notion of asking permission galls him. “Not at all, Miss Clarke. I’ll leave you to your good work,” he says, effectively dismissing himself.

With a final sneer, Frank turns on his heel and stalks out, leaving an oppressive atmosphere in his wake. The tension lingers like gunpowder smoke after a duel.

I breathe a sigh of relief once Frank is gone. He’s such a slimeball. I’m grateful to be working primarily with Colt on this investigation.

Thanks to Colt granting me access to The Manor’s financial records, I’m uncovering some intriguing details that match information from various other sources.

Although I don’t have the full picture, the pieces are slowly coming together.

As I sift through ledgers and booking forms, I’m struck by how involved Colt is in the estate’s operations. He’s always downplaying his role, acting as if he’s an absentee, but the evidence tells a different story.

Colt does more than he gives himself credit for, visiting frequently and handling major decisions.

Then there’s a trove of financial data that doesn’t have Colt’s name attached to it.

As I delve deeper into these records, discrepancies jump out—lapsed insurance premiums, overdrawn accounts, profitable events with income either unrecorded or recorded incorrectly.

I’m no math whiz, but even I can see something’s not right here. My heart races as I process this information. Money is missing, but why?

More importantly, who is taking it?

A chilling thought strikes me—what if it’s Margaret? What if Colt’s mother has a valid reason for these irregularities?

My heart sinks. I can’t unsee it now that I’ve found it. The question is, what am I supposed to do about it?

The last thing I want is to cause problems for Colt. My presence and investigation are already complicating things for him.

Both he and Margaret have been so welcoming; the idea of repaying their kindness with accusations makes my stomach churn.

For now, I decide to keep my suspicions to myself. Colt is under enough pressure as it is. I won’t add to his burden until I have concrete proof.

Where is Colt? It’s been several hours since I last saw him. My musings are interrupted by a notification on my laptop.

I open the email from a trusted source—Detective Connors from the local police department.

My eyes widen as I read her message:

Autumn, I’ve got some information you might find interesting. Those anonymous phone tips about the Midnight Riders being involved in The Manor’s problems? We traced them. They’re coming from inside The Manor House itself.

My mind races. Who could be making these calls? A chill runs down my spine as a possibility occurs to me.

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