Page 52 of Cornered

The Quinns had been horrified by the decision. They were convinced that bringing outsiders to their mountain would ruin their way of life and corrupt Gossamer Falls until it became an unrecognizable tourist trap. The resulting arguments took the feud to a whole new level.

It had never been violent. But all ties had been severed. Business partners dissolved their contracts, children were encouraged to find others to play with, and the two families continued to live side by side with as little interaction as possible.

Life carried on in Gossamer Falls, and Donovan’s briefing had concluded with the interesting tidbit that the feud was losing ground with a few of the family branches. In particular, Bronwyn Pierce had been close to three Quinns since childhood—Cal Shaw (his mother was a Quinn), Meredith Quinn, and her brother, Mo Quinn. But there were rumblings that while the Quinns seemed willing to let bygones be bygones, there was a contingent of Pierces who clung to their hatred.

Despite what Bronwyn said about the business side of things, could one of those Pierces be behind the vandalism? The timing was interesting, coming as it did right before Bronwyn offered the job to Cassie.

Bronwyn glanced over her shoulder and leaned across the table toward Donovan. Her voice was loud enough for the voice recorder, but just. “If you’d asked me that question yesterday, I would have told you that Cassie has been an unqualified success. That she’s universally adored by the staff, and our guests have been delighted with her approach to the menu.”

Donovan kept his voice low. “But you can’t say that now?”

“There’s a problem, but I don’t know what it is. I tried to get her to tell me this morning, and she said she had it undercontrol. I was hoping that after I offered her the position, she’d be willing to tell me what’s going on.”

Bronwyn leaned back. “You probably already know how much Cassie abhors conflict. But when you talk to her, don’t let her off the hook. Something’s hinky in her kitchen. I want to know what it is and who’s behind it.”

FIVE

HOWLONG DID IT TAKEto discuss what happened this morning?

Cassie paused her pacing in front of the window in Bronwyn’s office and soaked in the extraordinary view. Hideaway’s dining room sported a breathtaking vista as well. It was too bad the kitchen didn’t have a window.

When Bronwyn finally entered the room, she held the door open and waved Cassie toward the conference room. “I’m not supposed to talk to you again until Donovan completes his interviews. But I have to say this.” Bronwyn reached for Cassie’s arm and squeezed it. “It’s none of my business, but I’m pretty sure being alone in a room with Donovan isn’t exactly what you were prepared for today, and I’m sorry.”

Cassie felt her face go up in flames. “I can handle it.”

Bronwyn squeezed once more and released her. “Oh sweetie, I know that. Quinn women are fierce and strong.” She leaned toward her. “But even the strong can fall when someone cuts their legs out from under them.”

So, so true.

Bronwyn stepped back. “You’ve got this. And when you’re done, we still need to talk.”

Cassie walked toward the conference room. Donovan stoodby the open door, and after she was inside, he closed it. She took a seat and waited. He stood, his back to the room, his shoulders rising and falling as he took a few deep breaths.

What was that about? “Donovan? Are you okay?”

He turned and gave her a smile. If that smile had been a paint color, it would have been called busted-by-my-ex-girlfriend sheepish. He took his seat and finally met her gaze. “Just needed a second.”

“Why?”

He scooted his seat back from the table, far enough that he could rest his elbows on his knees. He laced his fingers together and spoke to the floor. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Do what?”

“Interview you.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not as unbiased as I should be.”

Cassie leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Unless you think I’m responsible, there’s no reason any biases you have against me should make any difference. Welcome to small-town life, Officer Bledsoe. You don’t get to pick and choose who you defend and protect.”

He stood and ran his fingers through his hair. It had grown out some since—

She pulled back from that thought so fast her mind provided her with sound effects for a needle scraping across a record.

He put his hands on the table, and with his height and general disposition, she probably should have been a little concerned about the way he was towering over her. What did it say about her that she’d always liked it when he got riled up? Worse, what did it say that shestillliked it?

“Cassie.”

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