Page 2 of Long Gone

He chuckled. “No. You.”

“Oh.” Did he mean in general or at the office? He’d never shown any interest in my personal life, so I went with professional. “Debbie seems pleased with my new filing system.”

He tilted his head as he studied me. “I can’t imagine you enjoy it much.”

Oh. Lord. He was about to fire me? From a personal perspective, hallelujah, but I didn’t have any other options, and at least this way I was making money. I kept a stoic face. “I’m grateful to have a job, Mr. Morgan, and I’m happy to help the firm in any way I can.”

He released a chuckle and waved his right hand, which bore a large gold ring embedded with tiny diamonds. It flashed in the light of the table lamp next him. “It’s Mitch. I’ve told you before, we’re both adults. None of this Mr. Morgan stuff.”

I forced a smile. “Then I’m grateful for the opportunity, Mitch.”

“But this job is a hell of a lot different than what you’re used to doing.”

“True.” I didn’t know what else to say. That I hated it? That I was biding my time until I got my shit together and figured out what to do next?

“You know, your father is still holding out hope you’ll go to law school.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “My mother too, but they’ll both be disappointed. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve realized that becoming an attorney isn’t for me.” Then, realizing I was talking to a lawyer, I hastily added, “No offense.”

A bright smile spread across his face. “None taken. Honestly, I would have called you a liar if you’d said you were interested. I can see that being cooped up in the file room has you practically gnawing your leg off.”

Oh shit. Had my boredom and frustration been that obvious? “I hope I haven’t given the wrong impression, Mr. Morgan.” I cringed. “I mean, Mitch.”

“Relax,” he said, patting the air. “You’re not in trouble and you’re not here because I plan on firing you. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.”

I breathed a sigh of relief…for the paycheck, not the job. But what did he mean? His words implied he was going to present me with an opportunity or a raise. Or both. I wasn’t qualified to do anything other than filing and janitorial work, which would be a demotion.

“I’ve heard you’re a very good investigator,” he said. “There are rumors that TJ Peterman’s daughter went missing a month ago, and you were the one who found her and brought her home.”

I hesitated, trying hard to keep a poker face. While what he’d said was true, it wasn’t public knowledge. “The police never officially declared her missing.”

“No. I know they considered her a runaway and you disagreed with their presumption. It’s also not lost on me that a Jackson Creek police officer was murdered by his brother in a murder/suicide the night she was returned home.”

“What can I say?” I said, sarcasm slipping out before I could rein it in. “They say bad things happen in threes.”

“So they do,” he said, folding his fingers over his stomach as he continued to study me.

If he was hoping I’d spill the beans, he’d be disappointed. Peterman’s twelve-year-old daughter had been kidnapped. But he’d insisted the police declare her a runaway, worried there would be a media circus otherwise that would impact his political bid.

Peterman’s wife, Vanessa, happened to be the best friend of my deceased sister. She’d been more concerned than her husband, so she’d come to me for help finding her daughter. So I’d found her.

Drew Sylvester, the murdered Jackson Creek officer, had kidnapped Ava Peterman as a convoluted way of making me pay for his father’s fall from grace. Turned out his father, Barry Sylvester, had been a Jackson Creek officer when my sister was kidnapped a little over twenty years ago. He’d discovered his other son, Drew’s younger brother, Dan, had been sneaking around the kidnapper’s house and taking voyeuristic photos of John Michael Stevens molesting my sister. So when Barry found out there was going to be a raid of the murderer’s house, he’d warned the monster, wanting to make sure there were no signs of his son at the scene of the crime. If you asked me, they were all monsters.

Still. I may have recovered Ava Peterman, but I’d had nothing to do with Drew and Dan Sylvester’s murders.

Those could be attributed to James Malcolm, the owner of Scooter’s Tavern outside of Jackson Creek. The now-tavern-owner had once ruled a crime syndicate, and he’d made international headlines after he’d helped bring down an international drug cartel. He’d killed Drew while helping me save Ava, then killed Dan and staged their murder-suicide scene. If the Jackson Police Department found the situation questionable, they hadn’t let on publicly. As far as I knew, the double homicide case was closed.

What Malcolm was doing in Lone County, Arkansas was anyone’s guess, but if I were a betting woman, I’d place what little I owned on him being here for nefarious reasons, even if the sheriff couldn’t currently find a single dirty thing about him. But while I suspected he was up to no good, I had no idea what he was actually doing. Other than taking care of the Sylvester brothers, he seemed to spend all his time running Scooter’s Tavern. I still had no idea why I hadn’t turned him in or why he trusted me not to. Sure, he’d caught me drinking while working the case, but it wasn’t like I had a boss to answer to, which meant it wouldn’t be mutual annihilation. Double murder charges trumped drunk on the job any day of the week. Of course, I could be labeled an accessory, but that wasn’t what had held me back.

Mitch crossed his legs. “You have six years of experience as a detective in the Little Rock Police Department.”

It wasn’t a question, but I still nodded. “Yes, and eight years of experience as a beat cop before that. I also have a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice.”

“Impressive. I suspect you’re more qualified to be a cop than all the officers in the Jackson Creek PD put together.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I believed he was right, but to admit so seemed pompous.

“Modest,” he said with a chuckle. “You’re a lot like your father.”

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