Page 111 of Beneath the Stars (Sugarlake 1)

“Hmm.” Sam’s eyes are calculating. Anna is still frozen in her seat, her face drawn.

I look between them. “Do you guys still look for her? Has she ever reached out to you?”

Sam’s eyes droop like he’s disappointed I’d ask. “You really think we wouldn’t tell you that, son?”

“I wasn’t exactly open to hearing about her. Talking about her is hard for me.” I squeeze Goldi’s hand tight, using her to anchor me. “I’ve been thinking about hiring a private investigator.”

Sam leans back in his seat, sighing. “We hired one a few years back. He looked for over a year, but he never found anything.”

Goldi pipes in. “Do you think it would help if he knew she might be in Arizona? You know, somethin’ concrete to go on?”

Sam considers her words. “It’s possible.” He looks to Anna, who is stone still, silent as a lamb. “I think his name was Don something. Based in Nashville. He’s a bit seedy, but apparently, he’s the best. I’ll find his info and give it to you. Maybe you’ll have more luck than we did.”

I nod, my heart rising to my throat with the thought of finding Lily. It doesn’t settle back in my chest—even after I go home, sleep and get ready for work the next day.

After dinner, I thought I’d be able to talk everything through with Goldi. But then Becca called. I could hear her screeching from the driver’s side of the truck, and when Goldi turned her worried look my way, I knew I was losing her to her best friend for the night.

I haven’t seen her yet today. I’m supposed to be taking lunch, but I’m stuck staring at the contact info Sam just forwarded to my phone. Looks like I’m about to call this Don Calhoune guy. Sam warned me again that he’s a bit sketchy. I don’t give a fuck if he’s the slimiest crook in the world as long as he can find my sister.

With shaky fingers, I press call and bring the phone up to my ear.

It rings… once… twice… three times, before it stops.

“Mason

.”

I pull the phone away from my ear, squinting at the screen. Mason?

“Yeah, hi. I’m trying to reach a Don Calhoune? I was told this was his contact information.”

“Uh-huh. And what do you want with Don?”

“I’d rather keep that between Don and myself.”

“Well, considering that you called my number, asking me questions—that doesn’t put you in a very good spot to make any demands, now does it?”

Is this guy fucking serious?

I sigh, exasperated already. “I’m calling for business. He did some work for my family in the past, and I’d like to hire him again.”

“Mmhm. You lookin’ to find someone or to get lost?”

The lines between my eyebrows crease. “I need to find someone. Listen, can you just put Don on the phone, or take a fucking message or something? I don’t really have time for all this back and forth.”

“I’m afraid Don’s not in commission. I’m in charge now, so you can either talk with me or hang up. Doesn’t make a hell of a lot of difference to me either way.”

“Seems like a good business model,” I mumble.

A throaty chuckle comes down the line. “Don’t need a good business model when you’re the best. I can find anyone for you, it’s not a problem. But there’s a price. And I prefer to meet in person before going over the details.”

I lift my face to the sky, frustrated this isn’t as cut and dry as I thought it would be. “Okay, that’s fine. But I can’t get out of town until Sunday.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean, ‘nope?’”

“I mean, Sunday won’t work. Saturday’s the one.”

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