Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Daphne’s dress sounded like plastic garbage bags rustling as she hurried to get her crutches. Calvin watched the fabric shimmer in the light of his office, wondering if there was anything this woman could do or wear that he wouldn’t find attractive.
He’d felt such a rush of emotion for her when she’d agreed to wear it for Ceecee’s sake. That she cared . And all he’d wanted to do was make her his.
Meanwhile, she’d taken one quick glance at a spare sheet of paper and might have uncovered an important clue. The woman was intelligent and caring and kind. She was sexy and funny and perfect.
He didn’t think he could live without her.
But she’d pulled away.
Calvin helped Daphne wrangle the ridiculous fabric, opening the door for her as she hurried to her desk. His heart pounded as he followed her in, watching her sit behind her laptop and bat her skirts out of the way. In a flash, her computer was awake and she was navigating to the Washington Secretary of State Entity Search.
“This has been on my to-do list since we spoke to Barela, but I wanted to finish categorizing and sorting all the transactions first,” Daphne explained, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “I like to work methodically; otherwise, things get missed.”
Calvin’s lips twitched. “Why does that not surprise me?”
She glanced at him, the pink of her dress reflecting on her chest and neck. It was truly a hideous garment, but it was growing on him. “If you want to make a joke about me being a nerd, go ahead. I’ve heard them all before.”
“I don’t think you’re a nerd.”
“That’s a good one,” she said, mouth curving into a smile. Her brows drew together as the screen loaded in front of them. “Okay, Realist Trade Co. isn’t coming up. Let me try the other one.”
Calvin leaned one palm on her desk and the other on the back of Daphne’s chair. His thumb slid across her back, teasing the skin between her shoulder blades. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted to touch her, always. And when she was like this, lit with inner fire, with none of the self-doubt that sometimes crept into her expression, she was magnetic. Irresistible.
“Hmm,” Daphne said. “Not that either. Let’s check the Department of Revenue website. If they have multiple DBAs registered under the same LLC, we’ll be able to find it there.”
“DBAs?”
“‘Doing business as,’” Daphne answered. “Basically, the customer-facing name of your business.”
“And that could be different from the name the business is incorporated under?”
Daphne nodded. A new site popped up, and Daphne typed in “Realist Trade Co.” A fraction of a second later, they had the business name, the legal entity name, and the unique business identifier. “Bingo,” Daphne said, a tiny triumphant smile curling her lips. “Let’s check Rated Retails.”
Calvin leaned closer, and the scent of her shampoo rose up to meet him. He looked over her shoulder as she did a second search, both of them exhaling sharply as the screen loaded. Both companies had the same LLC as their legal entity name: BDT, LLC.
Daphne flicked back over to the first website and copied the name into the search box. She didn’t even touch the mouse. Her fingers moved faster than Calvin could track, making information flash on the screen like magic. Then it was right there: a name and an address.
Daphne leaned back in her chair as she frowned at the screen. “Robert D. Troy.” She turned her head to meet Calvin’s gaze. “Why does that ring a bell?”
“Bobby Troy is the man who loved his truck so much he almost took your head off for insulting it just outside the station,” Calvin said.
Eyes widening, Daphne glanced at the screen. “The guy who crashed into the convenience store?”
“Bobby D. Troy,” Calvin confirmed.
“BDT, LLC,” Daphne read, breathless.
“I’ll check our records, but I’m pretty sure that’s his address.” Calvin pointed to the registered business address still glowing on the screen.
Even simply watching her in profile, he could tell that Daphne’s mind was working a mile a minute. She flicked over to a new tab on her computer and pulled up a social media site. Within seconds, she had Bobby Troy’s picture up on the screen. “The owners of this company trust this man to handle their legal obligations? They listed him as their registered agent?”
Calvin hummed. “You don’t think he runs the company.”
“The man cared more about his precious truck than anything else. I can’t see it.”
“We should go check his place out. See if we can spot anything suspicious.”
Daphne straightened, and her eyes grew bright. Then she looked at her ankle and grimaced. “I’ll slow you down,” she said. “I can do more here. I’m almost through all the financial records, and then I’ll be able to work backward and check if I’ve missed any other suspicious payments going to different businesses registered under the same LLC.”
Disappointment washed over Calvin. He liked having her at his side. He enjoyed the bright spark of her mind and the way she made connections so quickly. But she was right. She could do more good here, and she’d be safer too. He was forgetting himself.
“You should get back in your own clothes,” he said, touching the gigantic puff sleeve floating in space beyond her right shoulder.
Daphne glanced down at herself with a faint look of surprise. “Right. Good call.”
Helping her to her feet, Calvin cleared his throat. “You sure you’re okay with wearing it and doing the dance and everything?”
Daphne smiled at him, her hand sliding onto his forearm to give him a squeeze. “We’ve come this far, Flint. I won’t let you down.”
Her words were half-joking, tossed out to make him laugh. Instead, they hit Calvin right in the chest and nearly made him stumble. She was ready to face embarrassment for him. He told himself it was just because she was true to her word and she’d made the commitment, but when she looked at him like that ...
It felt like she cared. Like she was putting him first. Like, maybe, she wanted to go to a torturous event with him, because being by his side was better than being alone.
But that was crazy. She’d pulled away from him every time they’d gotten close. She’d been more than clear that she only wanted him to save her reputation from vicious gossip on the island and give her a reason to leave when she was done here. Sure, she was intent on fulfilling her end of the bargain, but it wasn’t because she wanted to share some secret joke with him as they went to a ridiculous family event together. They might be attracted to each other, but none of this was real.
Calvin did his best to remind himself of that fact—until Daphne’s expression softened and she said, “Be careful, Flint.”
“You think Bobby Troy’ll start tackling again?”
“I’m just saying, I’m injured enough for the both of us.”
Unable to resist, Calvin leaned forward and placed a kiss on the edge of the healing bruise on her cheek. “I’ll be careful.”
“Good,” she said, and gave him a nod that said Go on. He watched her hobble toward the bathroom where her abandoned clothing was stashed; then he strode to his own office to double-check Bobby Troy’s address. Once he’d confirmed that it matched the registered business address, Calvin grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
Twenty minutes later, he was pulling up outside a run-down house in the central part of Fernley Island. The houses were relatively close together here, and they were all small and in varying states of disrepair. It was a far cry from where his mother and sister now lived, and it reminded him of his own neighborhood growing up.
He slowed as he approached the front of Bobby’s house, looking at the chain-link fence encircling the small yard, the various bits of rusting machinery, the children’s toys that looked to be at least a decade old. Overgrown weeds poked their heads out all along the gravel pathway, and the two concrete steps leading to the front porch were cracked right through.
After driving down to the end of the block, he turned and made a loop around the street, checking the back fence. Bobby Troy’s precious truck was parked on a patch of gravel at the back of the house, its hood up. Calvin lifted two fingers off the steering wheel in casual greeting when Troy glanced up from the work he was doing on the engine. A scowl marred Troy’s brow. He stood still as Calvin drove on and away, watching the whole time.
Calvin could park his vehicle and question Bobby, but that might tip him off. Better to wait until they had more information.
By the time he got back to the station, it was nearly time to pack up and go home. Daphne leaned against his door as soon as he sat down behind his desk, eyes questioning.
“He was home. Mean-mugged me as I drove past.”
She hummed, frowning.
Calvin combed a hand through his hair, watching the way the fading light from the overcast sky diffused over Daphne’s features. She was beautiful. And strong. And smart. And—
“Better to stay away,” she said. “Otherwise whoever owns the business will know we’re onto them.” Her eyes were far away, clearly having no idea of the direction of Calvin’s thoughts.
“Have you made any progress?”
Daphne tilted her head from side to side. “I’ve requested a copy of the original renovation quotes from Jerry Barela,” she said.
“Oh?”
“I was checking the paperwork over again, and the documents almost looked like they’d been tampered with. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to cross-check our copies against Barela’s records.”
“You’ve got a knack for this,” Calvin told her, feeling a rush of pride and—and—something else. Something that ran deep and fast like a river hurtling toward a fall over a cliff.
Daphne smiled. “I’m just thorough. Most people get annoyed with me.”
“Most people are dense.”
Laughing, Daphne tilted her head to the door. “You got more work to do, or should we head out?”
Calvin glanced at his desk, at the mounds of paperwork he had to get through. Then he stood. “Let’s head out. I’m starving.”
She rewarded him with a brilliant smile, and Calvin knew he was lost.