The charity game was officially in motion, even if it looked a little different than it was supposed to. In a way, I was pretty sure the team change-up brought more people to the rink in the end. Cedar Bluff loved a good scandal.
“I couldn’t have done this without you,” I said, leaning my head on my best friend’s shoulder and taking it all in. “Honestly, Jasper. I don’t know where I would be without you.”
“Well, lucky for you then, you’re never going to find out.” He rested his head on mine with a sigh. “However, if you plan another charity event in the next six months, I will quit Honey & Hearth and go work for Starbucks at the mall because this shit is just too much. It’s too much peopling.”
I chuckled, knowing that the man thrived on being surrounded by people every waking moment. He hated downtime almost as much as I did.
“Noted.” I smiled.
A woman stepped away from the crowd and headed toward us, standing off to the side. And maybe it was the overly complicated few months I’d had with all the unexplainable incidents and legal troubles for Rhea, but I could tell she wasn’t from Cedar Bluff before she even got within ten feet. She had a black trench coat on, and there was something about the way her eyes moved constantly, looking at every single person and movement in the room that made her stand out to me.
“Oh, this looks interesting,” Jasper whispered, standing upright as she got closer.
“Are you Goldie?” She asked, holding my gaze confidently.
“Depends on who’s asking.” I replied, totally kicking myself for being cold to a stranger. It wasn’t in my nature, but honestly, I was fucking tired.
She tilted her head with the ghost of a smile on her lips. “My name is Samantha Pete. I work for the?—”
“Beacon and Wire.” I cut in, automatically recognizing the name of the journalist who published the two articles we used to give our claim against Bakewell Industries credit.
Nodding her head, almost as if she were proud of me, she went on. “I was told I should speak with you.”
“By whom?” I asked, because even though she had written information into her article, we never would have found on our own, I just didn’t trust any outsider that quickly anymore.
“Anastasia Howe.” She replied, “We’re working together on the civil action suit.”
Jasper sucked in a big gasp as the pieces all finally fell into place for him, “Ooh, you’re like an investigative genius finding all those clues and putting them together!”
She tilted her chin upward with that same little smile, “Thank you. I was hoping we could talk. I think I have something that might help nail the bastards that tried to imprison your partner.”
I glanced around at all the small-town folks who would have tripped over themselves for the chance at some new juicy gossip to fuel the rumor mill in town for another day, and motioned for her to come with me. “Not here. But I’d love to hear what you have to say. Let’s find somewhere with fewer ears.”
I turned, getting ready to tell Jasper to man the tables and booths, but stopped short when he ran into me, already trying to follow me. He sputtered when I stopped him and glared at me. “Not a chance, Goldie James. I will not miss this moment. Nor will I let you go off alone with some stranger who is literally dangling a proverbial carrot of knowledge in front of your face. It could be a trap.”
I crossed my arms with a glare, “And are you planning to be the one to physically protect me? You make me kill the spiders in your apartment, remember?”
He scoffed, giving Samantha Pete a grimace and shoving me in the direction I’d motioned for her to go. “Spiders and shady strangers who might be trying to slip a burlap sack over my bestie's face and steal her away in some panel van are two very different beasts.” He shrugged in our newcomer’s direction, who watched our exchange with amusement in her eyes. “No offense,” He threw her way.
“Absolutely none taken,” Samantha said.
“And besides,” he went on. “I’ve been working out three times a week for months now, so yes, I do plan to protect you from someone trying to kidnap your gullible self.”
I snorted, “You work out? Since when? You told me once that sweating was only good for one activity in life, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be on some fake leather bench in a gym.” Then I thought better of digging into that tale, and waved him off, “You know what? Never mind, we will circle back to that later. Let’s go.”
The three of us walked away from the crowd, around the busy public areas of the rink, and found the only place completely off-limits to anyone that didn’t have unrestricted access to the rink like I did for the event.
The mechanical area that had been closed off since the truck crashed through the exterior wall and blew up.
The same area that almost claimed the life of Rhea.
I shook the thought off as we pushed past the sagging caution tape, through the swinging door, and into the dimly lit, abandoned concrete portion of the rink.
“Wow,” Samantha whistled, looking around at the way the concrete block wall had black scorch marks across it from the fire. “This is where the truck crashed?”
“Yeah,” I mused, forcing myself to look away from the soot and focus on the task at hand. “What do you need from me?”
Anastasia, Rhea’s attorney, said she was close to helping us crack the case and solidify the suit against Bakewell, but we were missing the final piece of information we needed to break it wide open.
