“All of it.”
Simon exhaled heavily. “I think your best bet is to hire an investigator.”
“I have one,” he grumbled. “But he’s about to get married. Until he does, I’m leavin’ him be.”
“Then maybe you reach out to him after,” Simon suggested. Based on the information he had, Meredith Prescott had beengone for years. This case was about as cold as it got, so the need for expediency wasn’t there.
“I’ll pay you.”
Simon shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”
“It can.”
He shook his head again. “No. It can’t. I relay the information I get how I want to relay it. You pay me, then you expect control over that. I don’t work that way.”
“Five hundred thousand dollars,” Travis said, his eyes cold.
Simon frowned. “For what?”
“To find Meredith and figure out how her disappearance ties back to the Southern Boy Mafia.”
“Look, Travis—”
“One million,” Travis said, his eyes cold.
Simon sat up straight. “I’m not bartering here. I don’t need the money, and like I said, that’s not how this works.”
“Two—”
“Stop,” Simon barked, getting to his feet. “I’ll look into it. High level,” he clarified. “If I can see the threads and think they need to be pulled, I’ll reach out and let you know. But that’s all I can offer.”
Ten minutes later, as he was pulling into the B and B parking lot, Simon could still see the look on Travis Walker’s face. He’d interviewed many people, and he’d seen grief on the faces of those who’d lost loved ones. But in all the years he’d been doingthis, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone as grief-stricken as that man.
He would look into this as he’d promised. Travis needed him to do that much. He only hoped he could remain detached as he did. Otherwise, he might find himself going down a rabbit hole with no way out.
Chapter Ten
It was ten minutes until closing asViolet waited patiently while the last of the kids dug in his pocket for the money he’d brought to pay for his book.
“Mason, help your brother,” Zoey Walker instructed her oldest son.
“Other pocket,” Mason told Gabriel, the youngest of Kaleb and Zoey’s four boys.
Gabriel was adorable. Then again, they all were really. Violet had a fondness for her little cousins, of which she had many, and she always looked forward to the times their parents would bring them into the bookstore. Most of Uncle Curtis’s grandkids were on a monthly schedule—they came in routinely at least once every month to get one book and bring some of their old ones in for kids who came to the store forEven Swap Day.
Since her uncle Curtis had seven sons—Travis, Sawyer, Kaleb, Braydon, Brendon, Ethan, and Zane—and each of thosesons was married with kids of their own, she had a revolving door of little Walkers coming through her store every week.
And she loved it.
Today, there were eight little boys eager to do something more than stand around a bookstore, of all places. Four belonged to Kaleb and Zoey, the others to Zane and Vanessa. They ranged in age from ten (Zoey’s son, Mason) to two (Vanessa’s son, Dustin).
“How are things?” Zoey asked while Gabriel dug in his pocket for the money.
If ever there was a loaded question. In this town, you usually jumped right into whatever was on your mind. Unless, of course, you were curious about something you knew was none of your business. The preemptive strike was generally led with sentiments likeHow are things?orAnything new with you?or any variation of those. And the conversation almost always containedI heardorRumor has it.
“Good,” Violet answered, although she suspected more questions would come.
Vanessa nudged Zoey’s arm.
