Page 9 of Colton's Secret Weapon
What, in her life, he could improve, he had no idea.
Only one thing was clear to him.
Pulling out his phone, Mitchell tapped the contact for his older brother. A lieutenant in the state major crimes division, Eli didn’t handle break-ins, but he’d get someone over to the studio who did. More than that, he had the means to quickly find out where Brad Fletcher had been all morning.
To look for any evidence there might be of him or someone he hired having been on Main Street.
And to have someone keep an eye on the man in the meantime.
Mitchell was there. His phone to his ear, though he hadn’t yet spoken. She had no idea who he was calling. Or why. She just stood by him, shaking, until he said, “Come on, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
Still in shock, she wasn’t even sure he was talking to her, until his grip on her elbow brought her to an awareness that he wanted her to move toward the door.
She went. At that moment, she knew of no reason not to do so.
Until she was standing out in the hallway, listening as he said, “Eli.” In a tone urgent enough to shake her up and out of the stupor she’d fallen into.
Eli. He’d called his brother, the cop.
He broke into a concise accounting of the past few minutes, detailing the state of her studio, while trying to lead Dove away. With awareness slowly coming back, Dove dug her heals in. Sheneeded to hear Mitchell’s conversation, and she wasn’t leaving until she could find a way to block off the door of the studio.
No way she could have any of her clients seeing the space in its current condition. The traumatic sight could leave a permanent scar that would block the good energy they came to her seeking.
She had to call them all. Immediately. Prevent them from experiencing the horror still assailing her in waves.
Thoughts tumbled one after another, until she heard, “Bob St. James is a new client…”
He’d officially taken them on? She’d told him his bill would have to come in monthly installments. She’d gladly sign on to paying them for the rest of her life if that’s what it took.
Relief and horror mingled inside her.
With a hand still wrapped around her elbow, Mitchell took another step toward the stairs. She held her ground. And he said, “Have them get eyes on Brad Fletcher.”
The name tore through her. And she moved with him to the staircase. She could stand guard and prevent any of her students from seeing the degradation in their peaceful place from the bottom of the stairs just as easily as she could the top. Should have already thought of that.
Brad Fletcher?
“I looked into him this morning,” Mitchell spoke softly, but with authority into his phone. “He owns boat rental places up and down the sound, with Shelby being a noticeable hole in his monopoly, and, due to our location in relation to the glaciers, a definite drain on his tourist population. He issued a very clear threat to Bob’s daughter, Dove, this morning. Cushioned, but clearly there. I heard it myself.”
They were halfway down the stairs. And in the next second, Mitchell had hung up. “Eli’s on it,” he told her. “The police willbe here in a minute or two, and then we need to get you out of here until they know more.”
She needed to back up a step. “My dad’s business is cutting into this Brad Fletcher guy’s profits?” she asked, refusing to go down another stair until she had her answer.
Mitchell’s gaze met hers. “Most definitely.”
She’d searched the man on the internet. Knew he had similar businesses to her father, but every town had similar businesses to those in other towns. How Mitchell had secured actual financial information, she had no idea, but he was good. Far better than she’d expected if the past minutes were anything to go by.
But that wasn’t all. Looking him in the eye, she asked, “You’re taking us on?”
He held her gaze. Didn’t speak. And her tension escalated. “You just told your brother that my father was a new client.”
He nodded. “He is at the moment. Because I’ve taken your authority to seek my assistance at face value. But what’s going to happen when Whaler gets back from today’s cruise and hears about what you’ve done?”
Right. His question was valid. But there was no way she was going to lose his help. “You leave my father to me,” she said.
She’d call in every single card she had, if that’s what it took, to get Bob St. James to concede on this one. She might not wield enough power over his heart to compel him to stay away from the bottle. But even if she had to remind her father that her mother’s last wish had been that the two of them carry on their family unit so that she could smile down on them together from her place in heaven, she’d do so to get him to see that his drinking had left them no other choice but to seek help.
Because she couldn’t continue to hold the two of them together without it.
