Page 51 of Long Gone

I stood and headed for the door.

“What did you say your name was again?” he asked.

“Harper Adams.”

“Ms. Adams, if you find Hugo Burton and my money, I’ll pay you a thousand dollars if you tell me first.”

“A very interesting offer, Mr. Martin, but I’ll be telling my client first.”

I headed out to my car, trying to decide on my next move, but I saw I had a text from Carter Hale.

Drop by my office. I may have something to help.

Chapter 12

I wasn’t surprised that Malcolm had told his attorney about my interest in Hugo Burton. The real question was what he might have to help me. I was intrigued enough to head back to Jackson Creek.

I walked through the front door of his office, a change from the last time I’d visited, so I was surprised when his receptionist recognized me.

“Ms. Adams. Mr. Hale is expecting you. You can go on back.”

I walked down the hall and stopped outside his cracked door, hesitating. Did I really want to go in there? Whatever he had to tell me would likely drag me into Malcolm’s mess, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be in the muck with him. Still, this wasn’t a new revelation. I’d known the dangers of showing up from the moment I’d seen Carter Hale’s text, yet I’d still come.

I was curious, that was all.

So why was I hesitating?

“I can see you lurking outside the door, Ms. Adams,” Carter called from inside his office. “Either come in or leave. It’s up to you.”

We both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

Pushing the door open, I entered, then shut it behind me before I walked over to his dry bar. I’d already broken my vow not to drink. No sense wasting the opportunity to drink such fine whiskey. “Mr. Hale,” I said without looking at him.

He remained silent as I poured whiskey into one of his fancy crystal glasses, then took a sip. I finally turned to face him, not surprised by the amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Please, help yourself to a drink, Ms. Adams.”

“Thank you. I think I will.” I poured more into my glass, then set down the bottle back down and moved over to a chair in front of his desk. I sat down and stared into his face. “Why is James Malcolm interested in Hugo Burton?”

He laughed. “I see you don’t waste any time on idle chitchat.”

“Do I strike you as an idle chitchatter?” I asked dryly, then took another sip, savoring the flavor as well as the burn as it began to hit my bloodstream. This whiskey was reason enough to drop by his office.

“No, Ms. Adams, you definitely do not,” he said without malice, but some of his humor was gone.

“So?” I prompted. “What’s his interest?”

He sat back in his chair and studied me for a few seconds before he said, “Mr. Malcolm likes to know the history of the places he lives, and that includes the people who live there. When he was in the federal prison in Forrest City several years ago, he had me research the current inmates in the facility as well as the previous ones.”

I leaned my forearm on the padded leather arm of the chair. “You don’t say.” Despite the tone I’d affected, it was an interesting piece of information. Had he been looking for an inmate who he could use or was he more interested in any potential threats? Knowing what I knew about the man, I suspected it was both and a half dozen more reasons. “Okay, so let’s say I go along with your he’s a history buff and is a secret member of the Jackson Creek Historical Society explanation, why did you call me?”

“So impatient,” he chided with a grin.

I took another sip of the drink. If he hadn’t gotten to the point before I finished, I’d leave. Or maybe I’d have another drink.

“As I said, Mr. Malcolm likes to know the history of the place he resides, and given the accusations made against him in the past, he tends to know who is currently or previously dealing with situations that might fall into his lap.”

“You mean crimes other people committed that he might be accused of committing.”

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