He nodded and she went into her office that doubled as her art studio. Grabbing the letter opener from the desk drawer, she slid it along the flap fold. She tossed the letter opener back in the drawer and peeked inside the envelope. There were only a few pages of paper, and she pulled them out.
Tinker’s photo stared up at her from the corner of the top page. More specifically, Tinker’s mug shot photo. He was much younger in the photo. Jeez. He must have been in his late teens when this was taken.
Someone had done her the favor of highlighting certain parts of the report.
Felony Assault and Battery of a High and Aggravated Nature
* * *
Assault, 2nd Degree
According to the dates on the report, Tinker was only twenty when he was charged.
The arrest record was attached, along with a short, typed message.
This isn’t going to look good when we go to court. Send Olivia back and this stays buried.
Abby’s lip curled and she snarled at the page in her hand. That bitch. At the same time, she couldn’t stop looking at Tinker’s mugshot. Her initial reaction was to dismiss it as fake. There was so much you could do with Photoshop or AI these days.
But the vague memory from the night she’d met Tinker rose to the surface. Julia had called him a convicted criminal. Dani’s reaction had been anger and defensiveness. That meant there was some truth to it, right?
Abby scanned the police report as she walked back to the kitchen. The report looked like a copy of a copy and was difficult to read. Olivia’s aunt hadn’t taken the time to highlight anything in the actual narrative, but a few words jumped out at her. Tinker’s full name. Bloody. Multiple. Mangled. Who the hell wrote “mangled” in a police report?
“Mama?” Will called weakly from the living room.
Abby walked into the hall. “Yeah, Bubs?”
“I don’t feel good.”
“Okay, why don’t you?—”
Blurgh.
Abby dropped the papers and envelope on the counter and rushed to the couch. She grabbed the trash can and held it closer to Will’s head, now hanging over the side of the couch. Crap. At least he’d managed to aim well.
Looked like she was calling out of work tomorrow.
Trust
Tinker ended the call without leaving a voicemail. He tried texting Abby again but the warning under the message said she had do-not-disturb on. She was avoiding him, and he didn’t know why.
They’d talked Sunday after she’d gone home and again Monday night like they had almost every night for the past few weeks. But he hadn’t heard from her since their good morning texts on Tuesday.
He slumped in his chair. Fuck. Was this payback from when he’d ghosted her? He immediately dismissed the thought. Abby wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d have told him to get fucked if she didn’t want anything to do with him. He thought about calling the school, but that felt kind of stalkerish.
Maybe Angie could track her phone. He shook his head and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Fucking hell. What was wrong with him?
Graham appeared at his desk and leaned against the edge. “You good?”
Tinker sat up in his chair. “Yeah. Why?”
“You look a little stressed. Everything good for the party on Saturday?”
Tinker tossed his phone onto the pile of papers next to his keyboard. “Yeah, we’re set. I’ve sent everyone their assignments. We’re doing a walk-through Friday after lunch when the event coordinator is setting up and again on Saturday before the party starts.”
“Sounds good. I’ll drop in at some point on Saturday and do a check-in. I’m meeting with another potential client in that area,” Graham said.
Tinker cocked an eyebrow. “Checking up on me?”
