Like review bombing,I write above Ozzy’s report and then squeeze the back of my neck with my palm.God, I’m old.
I don’t think anyone would believe I was everhip to the lingo,but every new bullshit phrase pushes me one step closer to a permeant eye twitch.
My cell rings and I pick it up without looking and accept the call, “Oakden.”
“I just landed.”
“The fridge is stocked and I had them clean the place.”
“I’d say you didn’t have to do that,” Royce says, the sound of traffic muffling his voice, “but thank you. I don’t have time to deal with anything else; I already have six queries open right now.”
“I’m reading Ozzy’s report.”
“Yeah, I had him dig more but that was my finding too. I cleared the ex-best friend. A woman named Sonya that continues to try and share Kat’s posts and say things like‘besties forever’but Kat never responds. She hates her husband but likes their lifestyle. All her social media photos are staged. She’s miserable but not our perp.”
“That leaves four.”
“Yeah, I’m getting in the car. I’ll send you what I have once I’m set up.”
“Thanks.”
He disconnects the call, and I figure if nothing else, he’ll have direct access to the team, even though he hates that. He’s more than capable of doing his job from Nashville, but I need him here. I need him to see what I’m seeing firsthand.
I can already feel we’re missing something.
Brock Trace: ex-boyfriend.
Hazel Drake: children’s book author and friend.
Amelia Drake: Aunt of Hazel
Dahlia Anderson: Children’s book author and rival.
“Tom?” Kat’s voice is soft, like she didn’t want to startle me.
“Hmm?”
“I have to go to the store.”
“Okay.” Her answering grin has me narrowing my eyes as I close my laptop and stand. “What?”
“You didn’t ask where we’re going.”
Swallowing the sigh that wants to be released, I keep my expression neutral as I pocket my phone. “Kat, where do you need to go?”
“I have to go pick up the coloring pages and bookmarks I had printed and then we have to go to the craft store because somehow I’m out of bags.” Her grin is more devious as she adds, “And you get to help me put them all together.”
“Excuse me?”
“Usually, I’d make Colt do it but I’m not speaking to him right now,” she says brightly.
“Why? You know what, never mind.”
“Actually, this is great. I never have help and end up having to lug everything myself when I have an event.”
“Kat—”
“Nope. You’re in my space and”—she motions toward where I have files, notepads, and papers spread across the kitchen table—“you’vetaken overmy space, so you can help.”
