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“We do. I’m not sure where to even begin, but we’re trying to recreate the sequence of events here. Hopefully, I’ll know more soon.”

“Let me know when you do,” Finn said, his hand on the doorknob. “I hope I don’t need to tell you to leave the police work to us. If you think you have something on one of your employees, please call me. Don’t try and handle this yourself.”

Sam didn’t point out that it hadn’t been Finn who had found out all this information, not law enforcement. The sheriff was a good man, but he was overworked and underfunded. He couldn’t be everywhere all at once.

“You’ll be the first person I call.”

After Finn left, Alli returned to Sam’s office, a questioning look on her face.

“What’s the verdict?”

“He’s going to reopen the investigation. He agrees that Leigh’s death might not have been a robbery gone wrong.”

“That’s good news, right? Because you don’t seem too happy right now.”

“I’m not,” Sam agreed. “We’ve got an embezzler in the firm who also might be a killer. I’m not going to sleep easy until they’re found.”

He needed to talk to Rick and Henry. No more stalling, no more delay tactics.

Just how much did those two know?

Chapter

Twenty-One

Sam’s brother Tate was behind the bar when Alli arrived at the tavern. He had a bar towel slung over his shoulder and was wiping off a booth in the corner. From her spot near the door, she could see Gabe Hudson sitting at a table by the window. He was tapping away at his laptop while sipping a soda. She knew it was him because Brian had shown her a photo on the internet.

The place was about three-quarters full and smelled amazing. She hadn’t eaten anything this morning, far too nervous about her mission. Her palms were damp, and she was sure everyone in the place could hear her heart pounding.

“Alli,” Tate said, giving her a wave. “One for lunch? You can have this booth. Is Sam joining you?”

“Um, actually, I…”

She didn’t even know how to describe what she had planned. Now that she was here, it seemed like a harebrained scheme at best.

“You’re not sure you’re having lunch?”

Tate looked confused, and she didn’t blame him one bit. She was in the same state.

“Can we talk for a second?” she asked, glancing over at Gabe Hudson, who was still sitting at his table working on his laptop.

Tate’s gaze followed her, and then he nodded.

“How about we talk in my office? It’s quieter there.”

Clutching the leather portfolio that contained her resume, she followed Tate down a short hallway to his office. It was quieter in his office, which meant that one of them needed to say something now.

That would be me.

“I’m sort of here to talk to Gabe Hudson,” she finally said.

“Sort of?”

“Well, I am here to talk to Gabe Hudson. About a job. As a reporter at the television station.”

Tate’s lips quirked up in a smile.

“Is my baby brother that difficult to work for? I would imagine he would be…intense, to say the least.”