Page 31 of Blackmail
“Hmm.” Simon glances toward the kitchen again. “I don’t know if I’ll be back here again, so do me a favor and keep an eye on him, okay? I haven’t seen anything that definitively tells me a problem needs to be reported, it’s just a feeling that something’s not quite right.”
“Sure. I’ll try to check in with him more often.”
“Sorry!” Jacob comes hustling back in with an overly full tumbler of lemonade. “Had to wash a glass. The housekeeper stopped coming for some reason. I should be doing more around the house anyway.”
I glance at Simon and back at Jacob. Simon’s probably thinking the same thing I am, which is, once again, there’s nothing wrong with that statement exactly. Except Jacob’s voice sounds strange. Almost hollow.
Yes, I’ll be keeping a better eye out.
“You want to play a round, Pierce?”
“I have no idea how to play this game.”
“Learn by doing, Sebastian.” Simon shoves a controller into my hand and gives me one of his grins.
I play. And I lose. Over and over and over again. Still, it’s a good time. We eat pizza and talk smack, and I can see how much fun Jacob is having. Simon keeps laughing. So do I, which makes it a big day because nothing’s been funny in a long while.
Honestly, when have I had fun like this in my life? Not since my mother died.
If I could freeze this moment, I would.
So I tell the voice in my head that warns me I’m wasting time when there’s work to be done to shut up. I do enjoy myself for a little while.
Until my phone pings where I set it down on the glass coffee table.
Simon glances over. “Someone named Lemon says he needs to talk to you.”
“I think you mean Lehman.” I chuckle and reach for the phone to call him back.
Leaving Simon and Jacob to their game, I enter the hallway.
“There you are,” Lehman answers.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who’s been telling me to take some time away from the office?”
“Yeah, but then you went and did it. It’s weird.”
“Is this what you called to talk to me about?”
“No. Check out the news article I just sent you.”
LOCAL ACTIVIST MISSING
“Who’s this?”
Lehman clears his throat. “Devon Martin. He was in town to organize a protest at the office of the mayor, who allegedly made a backroom deal to turn some local protected wetlands into a golfing resort. Parents own a vacation condo here in Belle Argo, reported missing when he failed to show up for work—his volunteer shift at the, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Toe Beans Pet Rescue.”
I’d laugh at Lehman’s discomfort if this shit weren’t heart-attack serious. “Name doesn’t sound familiar. He’s one of ours?”
“He is. You probably know him better as Dev’s Dogs. He has a strong social media presence, mostly dog training and rescue stuff. He does a thing where he takes dogs from overcrowded rescues, drives them to places with more room, films the whole thing, and does funny little bios for the dogs to help get them adopted. He’s got several brand partnerships with pet stores, treat companies, and whatnot, along with a line of merch he sells himself, which all goes to charity. Even with all the charitable giving, his net worth is eight figures.”
Jesus. How are all these young, bright kids—kids with a public presence, kids someone would definitely miss—just suddenly gone? How do we not have more to go on at this point?
“What do we know?”
“The usual. Police don’t have much information. He was at a party. Nobody remembers seeing him leave because it was a party. Lots of substance use.”
“This wasn’t the only person to disappear after a party. I assume the police have checked that angle?”
