Page 33 of The Last Love Song
“I’m sorry to hear about the stalker.” She touched his arm lightly, her eyes full of sympathy. “That must have been terrifying.”
“She reached out for help, thank God.” She’d been scared to tell him at first, knowing the rest of the family was consumed with their father’s trial. “We handled it. But I like helping other people going through that kind of problem. Which makes me wonder about Megan finding the link to that article about the app, which I know is buried online. You said she seems troubled?”
He gestured at the table. The scent of sautéed pineapple hung fragrant in the air. His dining room was ridiculously formal, and he planned to change the floor plan to use it for something more practical. For tonight, he’d set them up in a corner of the kitchen with a banquette and medium-size table. An informal meal. Like a regular couple, comfortable with each other.
Good, right?
His gut knotted.
“Yes. But she said her school project was on cyberbullying. I think she was just researching the topic and stumbled across your name.” Heather slid into her seat while their dishes steamed. “This smells delicious.”
“Tell her to call me. I’m happy to do an interview.” He’d quiz her himself once he got her on the phone. He knew a thing ortwo about victim mentality, thanks to his sister’s work with her group.
And he knew for a fact that an average internet search about cyberbullying wouldn’t bring up his name. The girl would have been knee deep in articles and references to find a site that was just a couple of weeks old. What if a stalker was still at work in Heartache, targeting young girls?
“So, that’s my news.” Heather twirled her fork in the pasta. “What’s yours?”
“Hmm?” He hated to think of a local girl being bullied, maybe even cyberstalked all over again. What if the predator who’d gone after his sister was someone who’d never left Heartache?
“You wanted to talk to me tonight.” Her bite of dinner was poised in midair. “What was that all about?”
Right. No more delaying. He forced himself to try the dinner before he lost the rest of his appetite. For all he knew, his evening with Heather could end any moment. From an objective standpoint, he registered that the food was delicious, but he took no pleasure in it.
“A few weeks ago, I started noticing some strange behavior among a few of the old town council members. Conversations that cut short when I entered a room. Meaningful looks exchanged across a table that suggested shared secrets.” His gaze dropped to where Heather’s left hand rested on the heavy plank table, remembering how she’d held on to him this afternoon, drawing him closer as he kissed her.
“Probably people who don’t agree with your politics.” She sat back to take a sip of her water, her lips curving in a smile. “No one liked it when you shelved the plans to develop a new bike park.”
Any other time, it would have made him grin. The bike park had created quite an uproar in the small town.
“I hoped that’s all it was. But I asked one of them last week if anything was going on and the guy—Harlan Brady—got oddly flustered when he denied it. I asked Sam to keep an ear to the ground to see if I was missing something.”
Heather’s lone gold bangle clanked against the table. He had brought her here hoping she would understand about the investigation. And that by night’s end he’d be stripping off that gold bangle along with everything else she wore.
“I can’t believe you asked the sheriff to investigate sideways glances.” She cut a piece of bread from the minibaguette he’d picked up at the store, and handed him a piece.
He shrugged. “Just keep an ear out for news. That’s all. I was curious what I was missing.” He should have poured some wine even if she wasn’t drinking. Hell, a few shots would have been helpful to steel himself for this.
“And?”
“Sam found out a whole lot more than either of us expected.” He set his fork down. Braced himself. “Remember when he approached me at the wedding breakfast?”
“He looked intense.” She continued to enjoy the meal, still unaware of the turn the conversation was about to take. “What did he learn?”
“Apparently, the issues arose a few weeks ago when I’d asked for the books on the old harvest festivals. Some of the long-time town council members were going to dig them out of storage so I |could put them into a program that would help us with future budgets.”
“No surprise. My dad didn’t use Excel. He wasn’t much for technology.” She pointed to his plate. “Don’t let your food get cold.”
He forced another few bites into his mouth, wishing his timing had been better so they could have enjoyed this evening together.
“Small towns are often slow to update because they don’t have budgets that afford big changes.” That much he understood. Yet, there was no good explanation for what the books showed. “But apparently, the council members took a look at the accounts instead of just handing them over to me.”
“They’re certainly all very invested in Harvest Fest.”
Right. Unless one of them was trying to protect himself or doctor the books.
“I realize that. But they’d been exchanging sideways glances at meetings because they’d discovered funds had gone missing from the festival two years in a row.”
“Really? That would have been during my dad’s term.” She paled, her cheeks losing color as her lips parted with surprise.
