The words sounded hollow coming from her mouth. She wanted to believe them, but insecurities challenged every ounce of conviction she clung to. There had been too many times when she had hooked up with a guy and been dumped soon after. Only a tiny sliver of hope pushed her to believe this was different.
Simone grumbled. “Fine. What do you need help with?”
“I was hoping you and Roger might know something about this client. I called Clarence King, and he couldn’t remember dealing with them. Have you ever heard of Lorimer Fertilizers? The name came up regularly enough on payments going through, but the delivered products don’t seem to be listed. And before all this madness with Jack’s murder, we were looking for the missing files, with no luck.” Colette rose from her chair, pacing the length of the small living room.
Simone gave a soft grunt. “I’ll be honest with you, I don’t know shit about the ranch business, but Roger will look into it. Marshall usually handles everything. And before him, it was the bookkeeper, before she high-tailed it for Mexico. It sounds suspicious now that I say it like that. Missing files and a missing bookkeeper?”
“Right?” Colette agreed, digging her teeth into her bottom lip. Why would payments be going to this company regularly with no deliveries to account for it? Marshall had been left to maintain the status quo until they hired a new bookkeeper, so he sent payments as usual. Wouldn’t Agnes have stopped payments when no services were rendered?
Unless she was somehow benefiting from the errors.
When Colette tried to reconcile the data, payments were going out, and there was no way to figure out what they werepaying for. Someone was screwing over the Kings and milking the ranch for money every month.
“The last bookkeeper left for Mexico suddenly, right?”
“Yep. Marshall was quite frustrated by it. He was left high and dry,” Simone explained. “She worked for the family for years, then retired without much notice.”
Colette wondered if the woman knew about the mysterious funds and covered it up, or if she was ignorant of what was happening.
“Thanks for the information. Let me know if you find anything on your end,” Colette said, her shoulders dropping as she sighed. “I’ve got nothing going on, just working on tidying up the finances from afar until further notice. Let me know if you’re free to go out sometime.”
Her gaze slid to the dirty window and dipped down the alley decorated with dumpsters and discarded mattresses. The recent rain had rinsed it clean, yet the litter remained, wet and abandoned. The dull gray was a far cry from the rolling green foothills she had left behind at Rosebud Ranch. The view here didn’t lift her spirits; it revived a numbness that only surfaced from living in the city. A person had to avert their eyes, or they might feel bad, scared, or lonely after seeing the many unhoused people, street fights, or drunks. She didn’t live in the best area of the city, but the rent was affordable, and the nightlife was close by. It made sense when she was a single woman. Now, it seemed like the shadows of a past life were closing in on her. She and Marshall hadn’t made any grand declarations. Colette pressed her lips together and crossed her arms, turning away from the dingy view.
Fuck.
Was she becoming a country mouse? Or was this longing a side-effect of missing Marshall? It was difficult to separate howRosebud Ranch and Marshall made her feel. Both made her long for goals that had never been in her plan.
Colette gave her head a shake. It was all too soon.
And a far cry from practical.
Their relationship was so new, would distance make the heart grow fonder, or would the tiny spark of their attraction be extinguished? She pressed a finger on the touchpad to awaken the screen of her computer. Why? She had no idea. Nothing made sense.
When she researched Lorimer Fertilizers, a website came up with people whose pictures she was almost certain were fake, lifted off the internet. Any emails she sent to the company came back as undeliverable. Was this even a real company? The employees weren’t on any employment social networks. It was like Rosebud Ranch had been sending money to a hollow shell of a company. Apparently, ghosts were on the payroll.
Blowing a frustrated breath, she walked into the kitchen, exasperated.
Opening a cupboard door, she pulled out a wine glass. She didn’t usually drink on Mondays, but this was a fuck-you kind of Monday that made her want to hide her head under a pillow and wait until the week was over. She needed to get a second opinion on these accounts because the more she looked into the files, the more confused she got.
Nothing was adding up.
Her phone pinged as she filled her glass with crisp pinot grigio. She swallowed a mouthful, closing her eyes and sighing before she padded over to her desk and picked up her phone.
Marshall: Just checking in. Let me know you’re okay
Colette: I’m okay, but you had better watch your back. Simone is pissed
Marshall: Oh boy
Colette: I think I calmed her down
Marshall: Thanks. I miss you
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to tell him she missed him and desperately wanted to come back home…or to the ranch. Shaking her head, she tossed the phone on the sofa. The ranch wasn’t her home. It was a temporary residence. Sure, she had fallen in love with the little guest house, but who wouldn’t? It was cozy and adorable and so much better than her place in the city. Even though she had left for her own safety, her apartment was closing in on her. It was nice to be back with her stuff, but it was all a mishmash of second-hand and random things used for their practicality, not because she loved them. The original plan made sense. Work at Rosebud Ranch for the term of the contract, make some cash, then get a stellar job back in the city using the reference from Clarence King. That had always been her goal.
Had she wanted a relationship?
More than anything.
