Just Between Us (The Kings)

One hour earlier . . .

My head was spinning,but my body was floating on a cloud.

Had Royal really asked me to move in with him?

I chuckled to myself because, no, he hadn’t asked. He’d simply stated it as though it was the simplest decision in the world. Every cell in my body wanted to scream a resounding YES!

I had grown to love the quiet comfort of the blue cottage overlooking the bluff. It was so easy to picture myself reading a book on a rocking chair as the sun set on the lake, or planting fresh blooms in the adorable planter boxes. Whenever I set foot in his house, everything else dissolved and I could simply be.

With him, I didn’t have to be a powerhouse consultant with all the answers. Royal took charge and I could lean into my feminine energy in a way that was nourishing to my mind and my soul.

But wasn’t it too soon?

My entire life consisted of goals and plans and boxes to be checked. Never once had I made a reckless or rash decision based on feelings.

But, god, how good he made me feel.

I tipped my face to the warm light that streamed through the dingy basement windows of the library archives. I was like a sunflower yearning for the sun.

I glanced at my phone. Zero service, but it was nearly lunchtime, and I’d already decided to surprise Royal with that ice-cream date he’d suggested. After gathering my bag and stuffing Bug’s notebook into the side pocket, I exited the library and blinked into the afternoon sunlight.

The light was harsh, but the coastal breeze was the fresh air I needed. My phone pinged as I regained service and immediately saw a text message from the private investigator Abel had hired to look into Maryann’s disappearance.

John Cannon

Are you free? I would like to talk. In person.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had given Abel my permission to share any of my findings, along with my contact information, should he ever want or need to compare notes.

I guess that ice cream will have to wait.

I pushed down the sting of disappointment and quickly fired back a text and agreed to meet.

John sent his location via a pin, and I frowned at the remote location on the outskirts of town. My fingers twitched with indecision before curiosity won out. I hustled to my apartment to pick up my car, and the air inside it was stale from neglect. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d needed a vehicle.

When I drove the few miles out of town, I was relieved when the location was near a park and not quite as remote as the map had made it seem. I got out of my car and offered a polite wave to John.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Bauer.” He extended his hand, and I shook it.

“Veda, please.” I smiled. My eyes went to work assessing the man. He was tall and muscular. His clothes were tidy but nondescript. Despite his size, I assumed he used his plain looks to melt into a crowd and go relatively unnoticed.

“My apologies for the strange meetup location. I’m making an effort to stay behind the scenes, and Outtatowner is a little small for my liking.” He reached into his bag.

“I understand. What do you have for me?” I asked.

“I’m hoping it might be information you have for me, actually. In my digging, I came across something a bit odd.” He handed me a manila folder, and I flipped through the pages.

“You see,” he continued, “when someone disappears without a trace, it bothers me. There’s always a trail. If there isn’t, I often assume the worst. I know that the family was hopeful that Maryann King would show up somewhere, but I have my doubts.”

My eyes flicked to his face. Though his words were harsh, there was sympathy in his dark-green eyes. “How can I help?”

He gestured toward the folder. “That town is tight-knit. If something were to have happened to her, getting rid of her remains without a single person noticing would be no small feat. I think it would be much more probable that someone would stay quiet . . . for a price.”

I nodded. “I have been looking into various payouts—large and small—to see if there were any inconsistencies. I’ve flagged a few unaccounted-for transactions, but nothing glaring yet. To be honest, it’s a lot of sifting, so unfortunately it takes time.”

“What if I could narrow down a timeline for you?” My brows pinched, and he pointed at the top page in the folder. “That document there is a deposition from a former mayor of Outtatowner, Michigan. He was indicted several years back on charges of fraud and misappropriation of municipal funds. During that questioning, they asked him about various bank transactions he claims were not from municipal funds, but rather private business dealings with . . .”

“King Equities,” I finished as my eyes scanned the page.

He nodded. “You got it.”

I scoured the paperwork, looking for dates and hoping something would click. Energy hummed in my chest. I couldn’t be sure until I confirmed it, but the timelines seemed to be around the same time Russell was attempting to buy the lake property and June Sullivan was trying everything in her power to stop him.

“Check out the last page.” John leaned against his car and crossed his arms.

I scowled, wishing he would just tell me what I was looking for when I flipped to the final page in the stack. My eyes went wide and my hand shook.

It was a police report taken by a local officer, Amy King. June Sullivan had filed a complaint against Russell King, stating that he was trespassing on their land. In her statement, she had accused Russell of being involved in the disappearance of his spouse, and June even went so far as to request the lake be dragged.

To search for a body.

My skin went cold. June was so convinced that something had happened to her friend, she was willing to do anything to get the police to help her. My mind whirled. The puzzle was starting to come together, but some of the pieces were misshapen and didn’t quite fit.

“I find it odd, don’t you?” John said. “Right around the time Mrs. Sullivan is hollering about Russell King, the mayor gets a payoff and absolutely nothing is done about her complaint.”

My teeth ground together. “Russell paid him off so the police would do nothing.”

John’s shoulders lifted. “It’s a theory.”

I frowned. “What would we need to prove it?”

He shook his head. “Short of a confession? Probably a miracle. Officer King is still employed by the Outtatowner Police Department. I have plans to see if she recalls Mrs. Sullivan’s complaint, but . . .”

“She’s also a King.” My lips pursed.

John shrugged. “We’ll test her loyalty along with her memory, I suppose.”

I scanned the papers again.

This can’t be it.

I couldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t accept it. “John, this information would have been buried had you not gone the extra mile and looked.”

He smiled and clamped his hands together. “It’s what I do.”

A tiny spark of hope ignited in my chest.

This isn’t over, but we need to move quickly.

I looked past John to his black car with its blackout windows. “Do you happen to have any surveillance equipment in that car?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “What are you thinking?”

I tapped my foot, determined to see it through. “I’m thinking I might know a way to get that confession.”

To an outsider,the King estate represented opulent wealth and abundance. To those who looked closely, it was a prison.

Nerves rattled through me, and my palms began to sweat as I climbed the stairs to knock on the ornate front door. I swallowed hard and sucked in a deep breath as the door opened and I was face-to-face with Russell King.

“Miss Bauer. This is a surprise, what can I do for you?”

Russell smiled, and it amazed me how smoothly he could hide his contempt.

I smiled sweetly and blinked up at him, leaning into the role I had adopted. “Good afternoon. I am so sorry to bother you at home, but I was hoping for a moment of your time.”

His smile widened as he opened the door and gestured for me to come inside. “Of course, my dear. Please, come in.”

I nodded politely and stepped inside. The air within the King estate was chilling, and my spine went rigid. “The office is this way.” His arm swept out in front of him, directing me down the long hallway. I could feel his eyes planted to my ass as I walked in front of him.

Inside his office, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, and an impressive oak desk commanded the center of the room. There was a small couch along with two chairs and a table.

“Please, sit.” Russell King didn’t have a hair out of place, and his manners were impeccable. He moved to a wooden cabinet. On top was a crystal decanter filled with an amber alcohol. He poured two fingers in each glass, then handed me one.

When I didn’t immediately accept the glass, he chuckled. “This is Weller’s Antique 10 year Reserve. One of the rarest and most expensive bourbons in the world. I insist.”

My smile tightened as I accepted the glass, but I didn’t take a sip.

Russell tasted the alcohol and sat across from me, his knee nearly brushing mine. “So, my dear, what can I do for you?”

“I wanted to apologize for my misstep at the bakery.” I let out a feminine giggle and brushed my hair to the side. “Sometimes I can be so clumsy.”

His eyes raked over me, lingering a moment too long. “Accidents happen.” His oily smile widened. “All can be forgiven.”

Russell’s finger brushed against the top of my knee, and I shifted to avoid his touch.

Stifling a gag, I reached into my bag to pull out the manila envelope I had taken from the private investigator. “There is one other thing you might be able to help me with.”

He licked his lips and studied my face. “Which is?”

“As you know,” I said, “JP brought me on as a consultant for King Equities.”

Russell shook his head and sighed. “Something I assured him was unnecessary, but continue.”

A tiny annoyed breath pushed out of my nose at his arrogance, but I forged ahead with a smile. “I came across a few things that I hoped you might be able to shed some light on. For one”—I flipped open the folder—“there was a payment to a former mayor of Outtatowner that I can’t seem to account for. Can you tell me about that?”

Russell’s features were frozen as he stared down at the document in my hands. He sat up, draining the glass of bourbon. Tension crackled in the air as I waited.

“That was a long time ago. I can’t say that I recall.” His fingers flexed around the empty glass.

“Hmm.” I nodded and uncrossed my legs. “I guess I’ll keep digging. Thank you for your time.” I had moved to stand when his hand gripped my wrist.

“I highly suggest you don’t,” he seethed.

I pulled on my arm, attempting to free my wrist, but his grip tightened.

“What game are you playing, little girl?”

Insulted, I snatched my hand back. “I’m only looking for the truth.”

“You’re looking to get yourself into trouble.” Anger flashed across his features. Russell whistled through his teeth, and the office door opened. I watched as the Sinclair twins, Bootsy and Bowlegs, quietly entered the office.

Bootsy’s eyes were pinned to the floor. Russell pointed at him. “You, go into town and make yourself seen. If anyone asks where you’ve been, there will be plenty of witnesses who saw you milling around town.”

His sad eyes swept up to mine and held me in place. My face pleaded with him to not do what he was asked. “I’m sorry, miss,” he whispered before nodding and disappearing out of the office.

Russell planted a hand at my back and shoved me forward. Bowlegs caught me as I stumbled. Despite his age, the old man’s grip on my shoulders was rough and tight.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“You’re coming with me.” His charming, friendly mask had slipped, revealing a cold, hard exterior. “We’re going to have a private conversation so you can understand your place.”

I yanked on my arm and started to argue, but then everything went black.