If you’ve found this, something has gone wrong.
We started walking toward the small sign marking the office, but we only got a few feet before a voice called out behind us.
“Cassandra?”
I turned around, surprised to hear my full name, and found a slim elderly woman in a navy dress, heels, and pearls staring at me from next to a black car with tinted windows.
I recognized her immediately, although I hadn’t seen her in person in years.
“Mrs. Prescott,” I said, walking back toward her. “Hello.”
“My dear! I didn’t recognize you at first!” She took off her sunglasses and I caught a whiff of her expensive perfume whenshe leaned in to kiss my cheek. Her silver hair was flawlessly styled, her lined face carefully made up. “You’re all grown up.”
“It’s been a long time,” I said.
Miriam Prescott had sent a huge flower arrangement to my parents’ funeral, but it had been at least five years since I’d last seen her. She must have been at least seventy by now, but she was still the most influential citizen of Blackwell Falls. I had no idea how she’d made all her money, but her husband had died years ago and she routinely appeared at local ribbon cuttings and awards ceremonies.
She’d even been featured on the cover of a prominent news magazine, complete with a full interview that I hadn’t read. (Daisy had told me, I thought, or maybe Sarai).
“Indeed.” She smiled. “You look even more like your mother than you did when you were young. And you have your father’s smile. They were such good people.”
“Thank you. What are you doing out here?”
Her gaze traveled to the empty lot next to the storage facility. “We’re developing the lot next door. Just inspecting the site before we start building.”
“Oh wow,” I said. “What’s it going to be?”
“An upscale retail outlet,” she said. “We already have some marquee retailers under contract. It should bring a lot of business to Carlton, improve home values.”
“It sounds really nice.” I said it even though it sounded awful and I knew Bram would hate it. That kind of development was exactly why Bram had spent the last ten years buying up old buildings in Blackwell Falls.
Southside might not be upscale, but at least it was still affordable for the people who lived there.
Still, Miriam Prescott was a good person. She gave tons of money to charity through the Prescott Foundation, and every year she paid off the school lunch bills of underprivileged kids inBlackwell Falls. She’d even funded a domestic violence shelter in Carlton.
“How is Bram?” she asked.
“He’s good,” I said.
“Wonderful.” She put her sunglasses back on. “Tell him hello.”
“I will.”
I started to walk away, then turned around. “Mrs. Prescott?”
“Yes?”
“How long has this storage facility been here?”
“Oh…” She touched her chin. “At least twenty years, maybe twenty-five. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering.”
She smiled. “I hope to see you again, Cassie. Please let me know if there’s ever anything I can do for you or Bram.”
“I will, thank you.”
“You know Miriam Prescott?” Hawk asked when I’d walked back to where he stood with Jagger and Vigo.
