She reached up to end the call.
“Wait!” Reese called out, as Lauren continued her trek to the library. “I got distracted from the real reason I called. Ma Mable left me a voicemail. Lauren, she sounded so tired and defeated. I’ve never heard her sound that way, now she won’t pick up her phone. I’ve left four messages, and she hasn’t called me back. And before you ask, fuck Lahn, I’m not calling that conniving hoe. But you may want to try to call?—”
“I don’t.”
“At least check the voicemails she left you.”
“I can’t Reese. If she calls, I’ll pick up, but I can’t promise any more than that right now.”
“I get it sis, I’m just panicking. Truth is, if something was wrong somebody would’ve let me know. Hey, my appointment’sjust arrived so I’ll call you tonight and youwilltell me more about that man who was making sexy threats in my ear. I haven’t felt?—”
Lauren disconnected the call, smiling sadly.
She had no intention of telling Reese about Santiago. She wanted to maintain the protective bubble she’d created here in Shrouded Lake; wanted to keep the realities of this life and the nightmare of her old one separate for as long as possible.
Stepping into the history library, Lauren was greeted by a Black woman who looked roughly the same age as her. She was about five feet five or five feet six, a shade lighter, and had a head full of long bouncy coils.
“You must be Shrouded Lake’s newest resident.”
“I’m Lauren Green.”
The other woman nodded. “That wicked Ms.Green womanis what some of our more illustrious townsfolk call you.”
“The Archers are insufferable,” she muttered, knowing exactly who would call her that.
“No lies told. I’m Amanda Rose. How can I help you?”
“I’m doing some research on my new house and its original owners. After that I’m just here to gossip—in hushed tones of course.”
“Of course,” Amanda smiled.
Lauren spent the next hour learning about the Moor family and their contributions in building this community. She’d read over old paperwork detailing the blood pact and the contributions of the other two founding families as well. Julian St. James’s ancestor had written up the legal document detailing the agreement made with the Union.
Amanda Rose took Lauren to the St. James and Freeman documents displayed inside a glass casing. The Moor’s paperwork was believed to be lost in the fire that burned a portion of the original house down during the massacre.Without it, without proof, the Moor’s legacy was bought out again and again.
Lauren found out that Amanda’s ancestors where storytellers and historians and had lived in Shrouded Lake during the time of the massacre. There was so much she wanted to ask about, but she still had stops to make before Santiago came to take her home.
“Good luck at the council meeting tomorrow,” Amanda said. “I plan to get a front row seat for your presentation, and because I like to be prepared, I’ll also go ahead and start a GoFundMe account for your bail money, doing my part to help the cause and all.”
Lauren laughed as she gathered her ever-growing bag of belongings and research.
Amanda gave her a hug before Lauren left and for no utter logical reason, Lauren teared up as she walked down the road. She would have to return to California, because in the end her life was there, but she was really starting to feel like she belonged here.
Adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder, she put the city controller’s home address in her phone. She’d already gone to city hall to meet with him, but he hadn’t been there. She sighed. Bailey Joe Williams lived on the edge of town. Nearly a two-mile walk. If he didn’t offer her a big glass of lemonade and all the answers she needed, she fully intended to do Anderson’s coconspirator bodily harm.
Roan checked her passenger side mirror for the third time.
“You think I should’ve left Peters behind?” Santiago asked.
“You know who Loyd Peters is, and you know what he wants. Giving him any opportunity to fuck you over gives him another opportunity to succeed. If mission goal is to make Shrouded Lake prosper, Peters taking you down and taking your place is not on mission. You brought me here to watch your back, but you’re making decisions you never would’ve made in the unit. This isn’t like you League; you never waiver on mission.”
“I’m still on mission, Roan, but my strategy has to be different because my role and purpose are different.” He checked the rearview mirror as he turned on Langston Street. Cutter and Deputy Eric McIntyre, who worked night shifts part time, were in the patrol car directly behind him. “I inherited every person in this department, good or bad, competent or incompetent. No one here is going to willingly leave one of the best paying jobs in the county without reason. Peters doesn’t get many opportunities to prove himself, so when a situation arises, it’s my job to test him. See if he succeeds or if he washes out.”
Peters and Derry brought up the rear of the three-vehicle convoy. They would all park and stage two blocks away from Vince’s garage.
“Back in our unit, we were the executioners of the plan. Now, you and me, we’re in the war room, we’re making the plans, but we’re still responsible for executing them.” He looked at her after he’d parked. “We know Peters’s allegiance isn’t to me. What I don’t know is who holds it, how compromised he is, and what lengths he’ll go to bring me down. When he’s in the field with us, we got eyes on him. When he’s not...”
“Friends close, enemies closer, I get it. But sometimes uncovering enemies just leads to more enemies, League,” Roan said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
