Page 81 of Fatal Vision
“It’s a hybrid dress/casual shoe made only by a small-time designer in Paris. They’re special order and pretty expensive. Not many of them around.”
Men in Oklahoma didn’t wear expensive designer shoes from Paris. Especially not those in Good Hope. “Can you trace it to the designer and find out who bought them?”
“If I had the actual shoe, yeah. I don’t even have a full print.”
“Right.” Snipers and serial killers weren’t known for their taste in expensive Parisian footwear. “It probably doesn’t belong to our killer anyway. An investor maybe looking to revive the subdivision or a visitor took a stroll and left it behind.”
“One more thing, that ghost file I found on your mission?”
“Drop it, Rory. It’s not important.”
“Hey, no skin off my nose, kid, but I thought you might like to know that Beatrice just activated Zeb to pay you a visit.”
Ah, shit. Not the old spymaster.
“I wanted to come myself once I saw the mention of that extra passenger you brought back on your mission to rescue Irish, but you know Beatrice. She won’t let me out of her sight. So heads up. Zeb’s on your trail.”
He chuckled and hung up.
Colton sighed and tapped his phone against his leg. Of all the damn luck.
He should just come clean. All of it. Clear his conscience. Tell Shelby the truth that she was bound to remember eventually, and to fill her in on why Wyatt Evers had ended up dead.
He was heading back into the dining room to do just that when the east wall blew apart.
