“I think a lot of grad students do that to earn money while they’re in school.Maybe she’s in the faculty directory?”
They worked in comfortable silence for several minutes, the only sounds were Arlo’s occasional snuffling and the click of keys.Sam found herself acutely aware of small things: how Aiden had rolled up his sleeves, showing his forearms.How he’d brought his own coffee mug from home and set it next to hers without comment, like he belonged in her kitchen.How their knees touched under the table and neither of them moved away.
“Hmm,” Aiden said, leaning closer to his screen.“I’m not finding a Sofia Smith in the faculty directory.Or in the school’s social media.”
“Nothing?”Sam frowned.
“Let me try a broader search.”He typed quickly.He paused.“Wait.Here’s something.”
Sam scooted her chair closer to see his screen.Their shoulders pressed together as they both leaned in.
“Is this your Sofia?”he asked.“Sofia Brennan.She graduated with an undergrad degree seven years ago.It looks like she might not have enrolled full time in the program, according to her social media.Her last known address was in Asheville.”
“Brennan,” Sam said slowly.The name triggered something in her memory.“That’s Margaret’s last name.Dr.Margaret Brennan.”
Aiden turned to look at her, and Sam could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes.“You think they’re related?”
“Olivia said Sofia watched Margaret like she was grieving.”Sam’s mind raced.“What if Sofia is her daughter?Or stepdaughter?”
“That would explain why she joined the book club.I’d have thought a grad student would be too busy to do much outside reading.”Aiden was already typing again.“Let me see if I can find any family connections.”He turned to look at her.“Nice catch.”
“We make a good team.”
“Yeah.”He smiled.“We really do.”
She realized she was still leaning against him, and she didn’t want to move.
“Found something,” Aiden said, breaking the moment.He clicked on a link.“Here.Margaret Brennan’s obituary from the Sunset Ridge Gazette.It lists survivors.”He scrolled down.“Look—‘survived by her daughter, Sofia Brennan, of Asheville.”
“So Sofia might have misled us about being a grad student.”Sam pulled her legal pad closer, jotting notes.“But why join your mother’s book club under false pretenses?Why not just say who you were?”
“Maybe they were estranged,” Aiden suggested.“You said Olivia noticed Sofia looking pained when Margaret spoke.”
“Right.It sounds like unresolved family dynamics.But then why go to book club at all?”Sam tapped her pen against the pad.“If you’re estranged from your mother, you don’t usually seek out her social groups.”
“Unless you’re trying to reconnect,” Aiden said slowly.“Or gather information.”
“Or you’re checking up on her before you murder her,” Sam said.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the implications settling between them.
“I need to talk with her,” said Sam.
“Want company?”
Sam nodded.“Definitely.Tomorrow morning?I’ll text her and set something up.”
“It’s a date.”Aiden smiled, then seemed to catch himself.“I mean, not a date-date.Just, well.”
“I know what you meant.”Sam smiled back, feeling warmth spread through her chest.Then, on impulse, she added, “But maybe we could do an actual date sometime soon?Dinner?”
Aiden’s expression softened.“I’d really like that.”
“Me too.”And she meant it.Sitting here with him, researching together, Sam realized she’d stopped second-guessing every moment.She wasn’t thinking about her ex-husband or failed marriages, or all the ways relationships could go wrong.She was just thinking about Aiden, and how much she trusted him, and how good it felt to have someone show up every time she asked.
“So,” Aiden said, his voice lighter.“Tell me more about what Olivia noticed at book club.The little details you’re so good at catching.”
Sam launched into a recap of her conversation with Olivia, and they spent the next hour building a profile of Sofia Smith—or Brennan.All her possible motives.
