Page 28 of Elsie's Strong Shelter

“We’re all here to lift you up,” Jenna said. “Any way you need.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Leaning back in his chair, Dean scratched the dark whiskers on his jawline. “As far as Malcom and his work habits are concerned, it may play a key part in figuring out where Justin is and why he’d take Mila—if he’s the one who has her.”

Elsie frowned. “How so?”

“Remember that bag of cash?” Dean asked. “If Justin and that money are linked to Malcom, then we need to understand why.”

A headache pulsed against her the back of her head. She wanted to throw her hands in the air and demand the men just give her the damn answers instead of stringing out questions like she was on a stupid trivia game.

But then a lightbulb went off in her brain. “If Justin has a bag full of money, chances are he didn’t get it legally. And if he didn’t get it legally, he needs to do something with it to make it look like he earned it in a legitimate way.”

Dean grinned. “Exactly. He’d need to clean the money. Which could make Malcom a pretty big player in whatever scheme Justine’s involved in. So we not only track down Justin, we get as much dirt on Malcom as we can.”

“You think they may be using the bar to launder money?” Jenna asked.

Calvin shrugged. “It’s a possibility, and one I plan to run past the sheriff’s department.”

“What does this guy look like?” Jenna leaned forward for a better glimpse at the computer and her face went white.

“What is it?” Elsie asked, her nerves stretched tight.

“I’ve seen him before.”

Elsie frowned. “I thought you said you’ve never met the new bar owner.”

Jenna bounced her gaze between Dean and Calvin before settling on Elsie. “I didn’t see him at the bar, it was at the hospital. He came into the emergency room a few weeks back. I didn’t tend to him, but I heard murmurs. He said he’d been in an accident but that wasn’t what the doctor who treated him thought really happened.”

Elsie’s throat went dry. “What did he think happened?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jenna said, wincing. “All I can say is it wasn’t an accident, and it appeared this man must have really pissed off the wrong guy.”

Disappointment weigheddown every step Dean took toward Elsie’s house. They’d spent the last hour at Town Tavern, but Justin Pauly never showed.

And neither had Malcom Miller.

Elsie sank onto the porch stairs, looking out into the quiet neighborhood, as if unable to even make it the rest of the way to the door. She leaned her head against the white pillar and sighed. “I’ve never felt so defeated in my entire life.”

He plopped down beside her. He’d experienced his fair share of setbacks—both in work and in life—but the stakes had never been so high. The constant countdown hanging over his headticked away precious seconds. “The good news is Calvin talked to Owen, and Owen is heading into the sheriff’s station to pick up where we left off.”

“Do you think he’ll find more than you and Calvin already did?”

Dean scrubbed his palm over his face and winced at his longer than normal whiskers. “Hopefully. Calvin and I are damn good at our jobs, but a sheriff’s deputy still has more resources and can get results quicker. Especially when that deputy is the son of the county sheriff. In the meantime, I’ll work on pinning down an address. The one Malcom has on record is bogus. If he’s the front of whatever the hell this money laundering operation is, then he needs to maintain a somewhat clean appearance. Can’t stand out too much.”

Elsie sighed. “How can I help?”

“You can rest.” They’d been going a hundred miles an hour since they’d woken that morning. Not to mention the emotional stress of both Mila’s disappearance and her store being vandalized.

Elsie straightened and looked him in the eye. Her jaw was clenched, and eyes narrowed. “I’ll rest when you rest. No reason for you to be up burning the midnight oil while I cozy up in bed. Besides, I don’t think I could sleep even if I tried.”

An image of her cuddled up to him in bed the evening before turned his blood to molten lava. Shifting, he cleared his throat. They hadn’t spoken one word about the night they’d shared. Maybe that was for the best.

She frowned. “What is it?”

“We’ve, uh, been so busy today that we never discussed last night.”

“A lot happened last night,” she said with a small snort. “Can you be a little more specific.”

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