I rolled my eyes. “I need to process this.”
“I figured. I’ll forward you the emails,” she said, and walked out of my office while I lowered myself into my chair and dropped my head into my hands.
Shenanigans were afoot.
What kind of shenanigans, however, I had no idea. Frowning, I did a quick interweb search for car accidents near or around Monument yesterday, and as I suspected, I found nothing. Something low in my gut was stirring and I had no idea if it was a real premonition, or just the bagel I’d grabbed on my way out the door.
I decided to figure it out and picked up my phone.
“Potion, how may I help you?” a young woman’s voice answered.
“Ah, hi, ah, is Hyde Roberts available, please?”
“Hyde? Who?”
“Sorry,” I rushed out. “Jekyll. Is Jekyll available?”
“Oh, sure. Hold on.”
I bit my lip as I waited... and waited.
“Jekyll here.”
“Hi. Ah, it’s—”
“Indigo?”
I wrinkled my nose. God, his voice was sexy. “Yes. Hi.”
“You okay?”
“Yes, fine. Um, I have a question, and I think it might be a stupid one, but...”
“Spit it out, GoGo,” he encouraged.
“Cliff Thayer,” I said.
“Piece of shit asshole?”
“Yep, that’d be the one,” I confirmed.
“What about him?”
“He has apparently been involved in some kind of accident.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“And he’s donated five-hundred thousand dollars to Walker House.”
“No shit?” he said, but he didn’t sound surprised atall.
I swallowed convulsively. “Did you have anything to do with that?” I rasped.
“What could I possibly have to do with a couple of sizable donations some asshole decided to make.”
“A couple? I didn’t say there were a couple.”
There was a slight pause before he chuckled. “My next appointment’s here, I gotta go.”
