“Hazel,” he scolded, his voice sharp. “You need to be more careful. Do you know the kind of twisted people who are running rampant out there? You need to protect your privacy.”
“I know,” I said.
He shook his head, disappointment etched across his face. Funny, we’d just met, and I was already letting him down. It usually took me weeks to reach this point with a person.
“Maybe you should delete your social media.”
I held up my phone. “Already deactivated it.”
“Good, because clearly you can’t be trusted.” His tone had turned teasing, and I slowly met his gaze.
“Well, despite the problem your social media has gotten you into, it’ll also be a clue. Whoever did this probably follows you—ordidfollow you.” He brushed his chin before taking another sip of coffee. “Anyone that you might have pissed off recently? Enough to steal a cat?” he asked like the idea was preposterous. But the sad truth was that I already had a list going in my head.
“I can really only think of one person.”
“Go ahead.” He folded his arms across his chest and settled into his seat.
“He’s my old boss, who isn’t particularly fond of me for reasons I’d rather not get into.”
Reid raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “What did you do?”
“Why do you automatically assume I did something?”
“Did you?”
I shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. “He started it?” I offered.
He shook his head and let out a laugh. “Well, before we get into the gory details, maybe you should try to negotiate,” he said.
My arms froze at the suggestion. “The message said not to.”
“That’s what they always say, but they expect it. I bet if you offered them, like, a few thousand, they’d leave you alone.”
“But—but I need that money,” I said, something rough clenching around my chest. “And it’s not like there’s any guarantee they’ll give Vermont back.”
He shrugged, still thinking it over. “You’d still come into a good chunk of money. Of course there are never guarantees, but there isn’t a guarantee we’ll figure this out, either.”
“You want to give up before we even start?” I asked, the hope dying inside me.
“What? No.” He scrambled to sit straight up, eyes wide when he realized I was gathering my things in a hurry and stuffing them into my bag. Tears stung the back of my eyes and I needed to get out of that diner before Reid saw them fall.
“It’s okay,” I stammered, swallowing hard. “I know this whole thing is batshit crazy. You have no obligation to help me. I’ll see…I’ll try to figure something out.” I set down some cash on the table and scootched out of the booth—something that unfortunately could not be done with any shred of dignity.
“Hazel, I didn’t mean I wouldn’t try to help you. I’m sorry.”
He slid out of his side of the booth, standing almost a head taller than me. I forced my gaze up and plastered on the most convincing smile I could muster. (Spoiler alert, it likely wasn’t that convincing.)
“It was nice meeting you, Reid Mitchell.”
I held out my hand but when he didn’t immediately shake it, I grabbed it from his side and awkwardly pumped once before shooting toward the doorway.
I was in my car, engine turned on, and sobbing on the highway before Reid even had a chance to blink.
He was a nice guy, but he didn’t want to help me. Not really. And despite enjoying investigating, he didn’t believe hecouldhelp me. I could see it in his eyes when he mentioned negotiating. Like it was my only real chance.
Whatever the case, that meeting had just cemented what I already knew deep down.
This whole thing—much like my life—was utterly hopeless.
