“Be right there!” He slips his phone into his pocket. “I won’t be able to go to Nell’s tonight. Work stuff.”

  “Work stuff as in case stuff?”

  He leans in close and whispers, “A stakeout.”

  “Who are you staking out?”

  His answer is only a grin. “Rain check on dinner.”

  As he goes to help the others, I take a breath. Easy, Bailey. Friends since we were sixteen. But that also means he doesn’t hesitate when it comes to helping Anna, should that be the case. I may be worrying too much, but I can rest easy knowing that he’s checking up on this Hugh Leyton character.

  7

  Kelly and I meet each other at Hal’s Pub for drinks, since my weekly dinner with Callum has taken a backseat to his stakeout.

  “The chief really wants the details about this case,” Kelly said. “But Uncle Dave is pretty tight-lipped about it. There’s going to be a press conference, but we already know what they are and aren’t going to say.” She sips her vodka tonic. “I can understand both sides of the argument.”

  “Me too. Local man gets murdered, and the killer’s still out there. On the one hand—” And I raise one hand. “—let us know the details about Kurt’s killer to keep ourselves safe and potentially help the police catch him, or—” I raise the other hand. “—too much information can get people in trouble. Especially if people start finding suspects left and right.”

  “And panic never helps solve crime.”

  “Especially in a small town like Golden Shore.”

  We pay for our drinks and gather up our bags to head home. Our apartment is within walking distance of Hal’s, making it a nice spot for us.

  But when I walk out with Kelly, I don’t expect to see Callum’s SUV parked in the lot across the street. He never told me who he was staking out or where he’d be. That choice is for the best, since he knows I’d show up and join him, which is probably against the rules.

  But, as it would seem, his quarry and I are in the same place at the same time.

  “Hey.” I touch Kelly’s arm. “You go on ahead. I’m going to Nell’s to pick Callum up some dinner.”

  “Oh yeah?” Her eyebrows wiggle again. “Special delivery?”

  I shove her shoulder. “I’ll see you at home.”

  I walk Kelly as far as Nell’s before the two of us split. I sit at the counter and pull a menu out from the condiment holder.

  “Hey, Bailey.” Nell herself comes up to me, Guest Check notepad in hand. “The usual?”

  “For me, yes.” The usual is a cheese steak sandwich with fries. “I’m also going to order a southwest burger. Two large sodas, too.”

  “Is Callum here?” She glances over my shoulder.

  “Working. This is to-go.”

  “Got it.” She finishes writing and puts the ticket in the kitchen window.

  It’s several minutes before my order’s ready, neatly packaged and bagged with the drinks in a cardboard cup holder. Condiments all the other two cup spaces.

  “Tell Cal I said hi,” Nell says, passing me the bag.

  “Will do! Have a good night.”

  I step out, going back toward Hal’s Pub, hoping that Callum is still there. If not, it’s a good thing Kelly likes Nell’s southwest burgers, too.

  I walk the long way around to keep out of sight. Callum’s spot has direct line of sight on Hal’s, so if I make a high enough roll to sneak up on him, then this dinner will be a pleasant surprise.

  But as a detective, Callum’s normal perception must be pretty high. I’d better do my best…

  I cross the street and move around the back of the hardware store, taking the alley to the back of the building before hitting the rear sidewalk. As I reach the building’s corner, I stop and peer around. I can see the back of his car from here, and I’m closest to the passenger side. Here goes nothing…

  “Bailey?”

  I freeze and turn. It’s Link.

  “What are you doing?” He’s grinning.

  “Sneaking up on Callum.” I look around. “What are you doing?”

  “I had to get stuff for the bathroom sink.” He holds up a bag from the hardware store. “A small leak, nothing major.”

  “You know, Kelly’s pretty adept at fixing sinks. She worked on our kitchen sink a couple of months ago. If you need some help, she should be at our apartment by now. You could call her.”

  “Better yet, FaceTime her. Just in case she needs to see the plumbing.”

  “Better yet.” I nod in approval. “Good luck.”

  He winks at me, gesturing toward the food. “You too.”

  What? But he walks off before I can ask him. It’s for the best because this food is getting heavier the longer I’m standing here.

  OK. Rolling for stealth…go.

  Slow steps, even quiet breath, and I’m getting closer to the passenger side. Surprise in three…two…

  The passenger door opens. I haven’t even knocked yet.

  “Hey, Bailey.”

  Yeesh. “So much for my skills in stealth.” I lean into the car and pass him the drinks.

  “High perception check.” He taps the rearview mirror. “How did you—”

  “High perception check.” I point across the street toward Hal’s. “I saw your car.”

  I climb inside and close the door, balancing the food until I’m settled. Callum has the drinks in the cup holders and the condiments spread out on the dash.

  “I was going to text you to ask about anyone you may have seen in there.” He looks at the bag, a gleam in his eye. “What did you bring me?”

  I do my best to fake a confused look, point from the bag to him. “Bring you? No, this…this is all for me.”

  He takes a long, luxurious breath through his nose. “Cheese steak. That’s yours. And is that…” Another sniff. “Do I smell jalapeños?”

  “Can’t put one past you.” I check inside of the container and find his burger. I pass it to him. “So who are we looking for?”

  “I am looking for a potential suspect.”

  “Related to Kurt’s murder?”

  “That’s the one.” He steadies the burger in his hands, poised to take a bite. “Did you notice Ward O’Neal inside?”

  “Ward? He’s a potential suspect?”

  “Someone called into the station, wishing to remain anonymous, claiming that Ward’s wife was having an affair with Kurt.”

  “Oh, yikes. No, I didn’t notice him in there.”

  “Well, I can ask Hal for the security footage. I want to know if he’s meeting someone in there.”

  I take a bite of my sandwich, watching the door with Callum. “Anonymous source, huh?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s a bit opportune, too, but I have to follow up. It could lead somewhere.”

  “Have you already questioned him?”

  “Yeah. He thinks that someone at the bank has a grudge.”

  “He doesn’t blame Kurt’s gambling?”

  “He did at first, but someone angry about losing money has more motive than someone angry about not receiving money.”

  “Yeah, the Cash Cow. No money if Kurt’s dead.”

  “Exactly.”

  Several minutes pass, the normal pedestrian and car traffic passing by, people going in and out of Hal’s all the while. There’s no sign of Ward.

  “He’s taking his time,” Callum says.

  “What other suspects do you have?”

  Callum gives me a side-eye glance. “Why? Got any ideas?”

  “If the signs all point to a disgruntled client from the bank—which, speaking of, it’s interesting that Ward points us in that direction.”

  “Us? Bailey—”

  “I know, I know, but Ward wasn’t a client of Kurt’s.” I look at Callum’s profile. He combs his hair back and leans against his hand, arm propped on the door. The strong line of his jaw clenches for a millisecond. I know I’m on the right track. “And Ward was at Ashley’s when I stopped by. No sign of his wife.”

  “It’s likely that Ward already knows about the affair,” he says.

  “And he knows about the phone calls Ashley received—threatening calls about Kurt and the money he owed.”

  “Hm.” But the sound of Callum’s hum isn’t one of those “Oh, wow, I didn’t think of that” sounds. It’s more of a “Crap, Bailey’s putting the pieces together” sound, and it’s encouraging.

  “While looking into the bank clients is thorough and you have to do it,” I say, looking back at the bar entrance, “I understand why you’re parked here instead of going through the case file at your desk.”

  “Do you want to get dinner sometime?”

  “What?”

  Callum’s looking at me, a soft smile bringing out the dimple in his left cheek. “Dinner, Bailey.”

  “But we just—”

  “Bailey.” His voice is low. “I’m asking you out.”

  He’s asking me out. He’s asking me out.

  My blood is racing through my veins. “Yeah.”

  The soft smile grows. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. We get dinner all the time.”

  I reach for my soda in the center console, but he takes my hand before I can wrap my fingers around the cup. “This dinner is different, Bailey.”

  My fingers close around his hand out of reflex. But, then again, it isn’t out of reflex. It feels right, his fingers and palm pressed against mine. “So this is more of a dress nice kind of dinner. The kind with candles and music and a tablecloth.”

  “That’s very specific, but yes. All of that.”

  My heart is going to hammer its way out of my chest. “Yeah. I can do that.”

  There’s something in the way he looks at me, as if they’re tracing the curves of my face. For a split second, I imagine his fingers touching my cheekbone as his hand cups my face.

  But he turns, looking across the street at the bar. “There he is.”

  Wow, that’s some detective sixth-sense mojo. I look, and Ward comes out of Hal’s with a man, similar height and build, only with blonde hair and horn-rimmed glasses. “Who is that guy?”

  “No idea.” Callum slips his hand out of mine to take several pictures on his phone. This gives me a chance to return to myself, to remember why Callum is here in the first place. “I’ll see if anyone at the station recognizes him.”

  “Ashley, too. You never know.”

  Ward shakes his head, and the two men part ways, Ward walking toward the parking lot where Callum and I are.

  “Get down,” Callum says, although he doesn’t have to. He slouches in his seat, keeping eyes on Ward and sinking lower and lower as he gets nearer.

  I lean forward, keeping as low as I can. I hear footsteps come closer…and then fade. Then a car door slams closed and an engine starts.

  He sits up slowly, then gives me a thumbs-up. “All clear.”

  I look at him, grinning. “Best Saturday dinner ever.”

  “Don’t get used to it, Ace.”

  “What if I try for my P.I.’s license? Would I be able to shadow you and learn the ropes?”

  “P.I.s have very different ropes than detectives.” He looks at me, and I give him what I hope is an endearing, convincing smile. “Bailey.”

  “It’ll be like a ride-along. I watch you work, learn how things get done, all that.”

  “Classes for your license will cover all of that.”

  “But the field-work side of it, learning how to ask the right questions, knowing what resources are out there and how to use them…”

  “Insurance claims and unfaithful spouses,” he says. “That’s what most private investigators are hired for. Never murder cases.”

  “A lot of P.I.s consult for the police, especially when it’s a case that fits into their area of expertise.”

  “And how do you know this?”

  I didn’t. I took a shot in the dark, based on every Sherlock Holmes story I’d ever read. “C’mon, Cal. My analytic mind and your experienced know-how.”

  “I’ll talk to the Chief about the ride-along scenario with the caveat that you are earning your P.I.’s license. No promises. He gets final say.”

  “Excellent. Uncle Dave loves me.”

  Callum smirks and starts the car. “Thanks for dinner. Now it’s time for me to take you home.”

  “Aren’t we going to track down that mysterious man from the bar?”

  “We aren’t. Not tonight.”

  But the gears are already spinning. I comply without argument, reclining in my seat and thinking of what an internet search can bring up. Friend of the family? Associate at the bank? Would there be pictures of the same blonde man among the photos on Ward’s online profile? Or even Kurt’s?

  “Tomorrow night,” Callum says, turning down the street for my apartment building.

  “What’s tomorrow night?”

  “Our date.”

  “Oh.”

  He parks in front of my building and looks at me. “Seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up.”

  “All right. Nice clothes?”

  “Absolutely. Candles, music, tablecloth. We have to look the part.”

  Heat floods my cheeks. “Yeah. Tomorrow night.”

  He smiles, the curves of his face accented by the lights and shadows brought on by the streetlights. He takes my hand once more, giving it a squeeze. “Goodnight, Bailey. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  8

  “Yeah, a quarter of a turn should do it.”

  I cross the threshold to see Kelly in the living room, her cell phone held to her ear and her computer balancing on her lap.

  I put my stuff down and go to my room to change into pajamas.

  Do you want to get dinner sometime?

  Bailey. I’m asking you out.

  OK. OK, OK. No big deal, right? Callum and I have meals all the time.

  This dinner is different.

  I still feel his hand in mine.

  OH MY GOD, WHAT AM I GOING TO WEAR?

  I stand in front of my closet, everything there either a graphic t-shirt or school-appropriate professional wear. Which I never wear, because I’m always in a graphic t-shirt and jeans. Always blame being in the science lab around chemicals and whatnot, but even my principal knows the truth.

  The longer I stare at my clothes, the more I want to go shopping.

  This is too stressful. This dinner is different. WHY DID HE SAY THAT?!

  “Bailey?” Kelly knocks on my door.

  I open it in a rush. “Help me find something to wear.” I pull her inside and hold her in front of my closet.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “A date.”

  “A date?!” She squeals and grips my shoulders as she pushes and pulls. “Go, Bailey. Go, Bailey! Who’s the lucky man?”

  “Callum.”

  She freezes, pure elation causing every muscle in her body to lock up. Her eyes and mouth rival each other with how wide they’ve both opened, and I know that once her faculties are restored, the screech that’s going to come out of her mouth would put a pterodactyl to shame.

  “Before you say or do anything—” I hold up a hand, cutting off her Jurassic screech before it comes. “—he asked me out, I said yes. That’s the long and short of it.” I turn back to my closet. “And I have nothing to wear.”

  “We’ll go shopping tomorrow after church.”

  “Kurt’s memorial is tomorrow afternoon.”

  “OK. We’ll go after.”

  “My date is tomorrow night.”

  “Bailey Michelle.” Kelly laughs. “How in God’s name did you let this happen?”

  “Callum did all the talking, and I just sort of…agreed.”

  “So he knows.” She shakes her head. “You’ve been friends long enough that he knew exactly how to ask you out. Just make you face it head-on, and you’d go all dear-in-the-headlights.”

  “Oh, God.” I sit on the foot of my bed, my head in my hands. “I’m such a dweeb.”

  “Do you want to borrow something of mine?”

  “No.” I stand up, arms firm at my sides, the blood rushing to my head a little. “I can do this. It’s dinner. It’s a date. I can do this. He asked me, didn’t he?”

  “He did.”

  “He’s interested, isn’t he?”

  “I’d say so, yes.”

  “So what am I freaking out about? He likes me. That box is checked.”

  “Yes, I think you’re right.” She stands beside me, and we both look at the growing void of my closet. “Let’s figure this thing out together. But first, I need to show you something.”

  I follow her out into the living room, and she wakes up her laptop. “I may have done something a little illegal, but it’s important.”

  “Did you download a new anime again?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She turns the computer so I can see the screen, which is the interface for the bank’s website. It looks like someone’s email account.

  “Kelly, what did you—” And that’s when I see it: Kurt O’Neal. “You hacked into his email.”

  “Both personal and professional,” she says. “It wasn’t that difficult. For all of his strengths as a banker, he was inept at coming up with complicated passwords. And he used the same password for his work email, personal email, and his online profile.” She tsked three times before showing me a thread of emails between Kurt and someone named T.F. “All of these are about some deal brokered between the two of them, regarding a company named Earth Soul and an exchange of funds that was to take place tomorrow.”

  “And now Kurt’s dead, so no exchange.” I read through a few of the messages. Those from T.F. are terse, bordering on aggressive. “And it looks like T.F. wasn’t getting the kind of responses he wanted.”

  “But there’s another question that needs answering.” She changes browser tabs and shows me a search for Earth Soul. “What is Earth Soul? Because according to his emails, it’s a holistic company focused on natural remedies and products. But these—” She waves a hand over the screen filled with mostly New Age websites. “—aren’t anything like that.”

  “So is Earth Soul the mask covering up his embezzlement?”

  She snaps her fingers. “A serious contender, if I ever saw one.”

 

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