“Well, that’s too bad. What about Cormac?”
Pauley put down the notebook. “Again, nothing,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone. “I could find nothing about him. You might need to ask Aiden to run a government check.”
“Seriously?” Although I’d already done just that.
“Seriously. There’s no social media, no mentions anywhere. I even checked newspaper archives and the databases I can legally access.”
This wasn’t looking good. “That’s odd.”
“Yeah.”
I turned toward the hall. “Okay, well, thanks, Pauley. Oh, wait—what about Brad Backleboff?”
Pauley shook his head. “Nothing new or interesting. Just Silverville gossip.”
“Great,” I muttered, heading back to my office. I sat at my desk, booted up my computer, and answered a few client emails before my phone buzzed. “Hey, Oliver,” I said, picking up.
“Thank you for the latte,” he said. “Did you have the extra protein powder added?”
“I certainly did.” He was taking his workouts seriously these days.
He cleared his throat. “Great. I need to talk to you later today.”
“All right, I’ll try to catch you. I’m heading out for Silverville around lunchtime. For now, what’s up?”
His tone turned more formal. “You have someone here to see you.”
“All right. Bring ‘em back.”
A moment later, Oliver opened the door, and Henry Johnston walked in wearing an ill-fitting blue suit that had seen better decades. The green-and-white striped tie might’ve been a leftover from the seventies.
“Henry?” I asked.
“Yes. Hi. I was hoping we could speak.”
I glanced at Oliver, who just shrugged. “Sure. Take a seat,” I finally said.
Henry stepped farther inside, his hair slicked back just like last time. At least he’d shaved, though a few small dots of blood spotted his chin where a razor had gotten too ambitious.
“What can I do for you?” I asked.
Henry sat in the chair across from me and smiled like we were about to discuss something pleasant. “I’ve always thought you were very pretty.”
“I appreciate that,” I replied, wondering what the heck he was doing in my office.
“I was hoping you’d like to attend the St. Paddy’s Day parade in Silverville with me on Saturday.”
I blinked. “As a date?”
“Yes, as a date,” he said, nodding earnestly. “I know it took me a while to find my footing in life, but I’ve got a good job now, and I think a chick like you might be interested.”
Did he just call me a chick? “That’s a kind offer, Henry,” I said carefully. My gaze drifted down to his white socks peeking out beneath black pants that were too short.
“What do you say?” he asked, his eyes lighting.
“I’m dating somebody, Henry.”
He rolled his brown eyes. “You and Devlin? That thing still happening?”
