Page 45 of Unlocking Melodies

“I'm hurt by your lack of faith in my journalistic range.” He settled into the room's only other chair with the casual ease of someone used to making himself at home during interviews. “I'm here about the town. Specifically, its interesting pattern of recent property acquisitions.”

I studied him over my laptop screen. “And this has nothing to do with Jimmy?”

“Oh, it probably does. Everything here does, eventually.” His grin was knowing. “But right now, I'm more interested in why Harrison Cole is suddenly investing in small-town real estate. Particularly properties vital to local arts programs.”

Sometimes I forgot that under Riley's friendly exterior was a genuinely skilled investigative reporter.

“It's an interesting pattern,” I admitted carefully.

“Isn't it? Almost like someone's trying to gain control of the town's cultural infrastructure.” He flipped through his notes. “The performance venue, the recording studio, the proposed youth center site. All key pieces in maintaining Oakwood Grove's independence from urban development.”

“You've done your research.”

“It's my job.” He met my eyes. “Just like it's your job to protect your company's interests. But we both know this isn't about business strategy, is it?”

Before I could respond, piano music drifted through my window. The church across the street had started their festival preparations early - specifically, Jimmy was there, helping Mrs. Henderson with what sounded like beginner choir pieces. Each note was played with growing confidence, like he was rediscovering his relationship with music one simple melody at a time.

Riley caught my distraction. “He's good, isn't he? Even with the memory loss, even with just basic pieces. It's like the music remembers him, even if he doesn't remember it.”

“He always was,” I said softly, then caught myself. “I mean-“

“Save it.” He waved off my attempt at deflection, his reporter's instincts clearly catching more than I meant to reveal.

A shadow fell across my desk - Officer Dawn, materializing with the town's usual disregard for normal entrance protocols. I'd given up being startled by how people here seemed to appear exactly when conversations got interesting.

“Your father's thorough, I'll give him that,” Dawn said, settling against the windowsill. “But he missed something in his research.”

“Oh?” I kept my tone neutral, though my heart rate picked up.

“Before Ramirez's attack, Jimmy was planning something. Had meetings in New York almost every week.” Her pointed looksuggested she knew exactly what those meetings were about. “Interesting timing, don't you think?”

“He was meeting with music industry contacts,” I said, the pieces clicking into place. “Looking to expand the youth program nationally.”

Dawn's smile was knowing. “The kind of expansion that might have caught certain corporate eyes. Especially if it involved partnership with, say, a major tech company's charitable foundation?”

My legal team's faces on the video call looked increasingly concerned as I ignored them to process this revelation. Jimmy had been building something bigger than just local programs. Something that could have put him back in my father's crosshairs even without my return to town.

“Does he remember any of this?” I asked Dawn.

“No. But all the paperwork's still there. Nina found it when she was organizing his office.” She straightened, heading for the door. “Might be worth looking into. Especially since your father seems so interested in our little town's musical future.”

After she left, Riley closed his notebook. “Well, this just got more interesting.”

“Riley-“

“Don't worry. None of this goes to print. Yet.” He stood, gathering his things. “But when it does? Make sure you're on the right side of the story this time.”

Chapter 11

Like Father, Unlike Son

My father's text arrived at exactly 11:47 PM, because Harrison Cole believed in psychological warfare through precise timing.

Fatherly Figure

Will be there for breakfast. 8 AM. Sarah's Diner seems appropriate.

Which is how I found myself at Sarah's at 6:57 AM, wearing a suit that cost more than most cars and trying not to visibly panic while the morning regulars pretended not to watch me slowly lose my mind.

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