Page 94 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

There was one rule Daphne had learned from watching Ellie weasel her way out of trouble their whole lives: When faced with incontrovertible facts, double down on your preposterous lie. It worked at least 70 percent of the time. “Me?” Daphne asked, blinking. “No. I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“Quit playing stupid. I know it was you who sicced the sheriff on us. If you hadn’t started sniffing around, he never would have found out about Barela.”

“The contractor? What about him?”

Bobby frowned. “Maybe she doesn’t know anything.”

“Shut up, Bobby,” Archie spat out. “Daphne Davis is a nerdy little good girl who can’t help herself from sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Isn’t that right? She’s the type to tell a teacher when they’ve forgotten to collect homework that was due.”

“Okay, that wasonetime, and I’d worked really hard on my essay—”

“You’ll regret the day you stuck your nose in my business, Davis,” Archie said, a strange light entering his eyes.

Daphne wanted to put as much space as possible between them. The back of her head hit the fence. There was nowhere to go. She’d have to fight her way out of this, which would mean more injuries—or worse. She wouldn’t be able to go back inside and pretend everything was okay.

This was the moment everything blew up in her face. There was no getting out of this. Archie wasn’t going to let her go.

As if she wanted to make sure of it, Daphne’s mouth started moving before her brain caught up. “You’ve been embezzling public funds for years, haven’t you?” she asked.

Still looking at her with those strange eyes, Archie smiled. “No one figured it out. No one until you.” Threat laced his words. Real, ice-cold fear began to skate along Daphne’s nerves, and she worried that the “or worse” portion of her “injuries—or worse” prediction would come true.

“You used Bobby to set up the shell company, and you falsified invoices for work that was paid for by public funds,” Daphne guessed. “Skimmed what you could off the top. Pretty smart,” she said, knowing the Archie she’d grown up with thought he was the smartest person in any room he happened to walk into.

“Of course it was smart,” Archie snarled, nails digging into her biceps. “It was a flawless plan until you came along.”

There was scratching at the side gate, and Daphne forced herself not to glance over. The last thing she needed was Grandma Mabel and Ellie to come barreling in, guns blazing. Then again, she needed backup. The man currently pinning her to the gate squeezed her arms, his eyes flicking to Bobby, then to the gate, then to the backyard. He was going to make a move.

Daphne had to keep him distracted. Flattery seemed to work, so she kept going. “You set it up perfectly,” she said. “But why didn’t you pay Jerry Barela?”

Archie Jr.’s lip curled. “That worthless father of mine spent all his money on his new wife. Nothing left for my campaign. And it turns out people were sick of Mayor Archie Yarrow by the time I came along, so I had to campaign harder than Dad ever did.”

Daphne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was more likely that Archie was a sniveling little punk who’d run the island’s local government into the ground if it suited his whims, and everyone knew it. Case in point, the embezzlement.

The gate’s lock rattled.

Daphne cleared her throat to hide the sound. “How does Jenna fit into it?”

“My office has been handing out grants like candy,” Archie said, laughing. “The expansion of tourism on the island was a major part of my election platform. If a few of those grants go to friends of mine, well ...”

Daphne feigned admiration. “I never could have come up with that,” she told him.

“That’s because you aren’t as smart as you think you are, Davis.”

Judging by her current predicament, Daphne figured he was probably right about that. But the only thing she could do was keep him talking. “So, you wanted Jenna to get close to the sheriff as ... insurance?”

“She would’ve wrapped him around her little finger if you hadn’t come along and messed it all up.”

Of all the mistakes Daphne had made lately, getting in the way of a yearslong embezzlement scheme hadn’t been on her bingo card. It almost made her laugh. She’d been so worried about an old cast-iron pot, when real crimes had been going on right in front of her. “So you broke into Barela’s office to try to steal documents back, and then you broke into Romano’s ...”

“I didn’t break into Romano’s,” Archie Jr. snarled. “And when I find out who did, they’re going to be thrown into the same shallow grave you end up rotting in.”

Daphne tried to take a deep breath, but her lungs were shutting down. Her fear was slowly freezing her muscles, and she was running out of things to say. Archie was antsy; she could tell by his darting gaze and the way his grip on her arms kept tightening. She’d have pudgy hand-shaped bruises at the end of this. More injuries to add to her collection.

The old Daphne, the one who played it safe and did what she was expected, wouldn’t make it out of this. But Daphne had mined the depths of her own self over the past months—maybe the past years, ever since her ex had insulted her and left—and she knew there were deposits of strength inside her that she could use.

She wasn’t going to let Archie Yarrow Jr. hurt her. She wasn’t going to letanyman hurt her.

She’d learned that about herself. And she’d learned another thing too. Wisdom from an older generation all those weeks ago at the Winter Market.

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