Chapter 32
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
GUNNER
The lawyers that Chance hired to investigate my uncle have no idea how small towns work.
I snarl at each of the suit-cladded, Rolex-touting schmucks, stunned that Chance’s well-to-do family keeps them on retainer.
“Ooh.” Chance flinches, wagging a finger. “That’s his disappointed scowl.”
The head of the team, a tall, thin man who looks like he should be an undertaker and not an attorney glances at me.
I shake my head.
Chance interprets. “That’s his annoyed scowl now.”
I clear my throat.
Chance opens his mouth to say something else.
“I can speak, Chance,” I grumble.
He gestures for me to go ahead.
I slide the reports back over to the team. “How did you conduct your investigation?”
“Erm…” The undertaker looks at Chance for approval.
The captain makes a ‘go on’ motion.
“We compiled a list of former female employees who worked under the establishment within a ten year range.”
“And how did you come up with this list?”
The attorney pulls his collar away from his throat. “We conducted a series of interviews.”
“With who?” I press.
“The staff at the garage.”
I snort out a laugh.
Chance raps his knuckles against the table. “Gentlemen, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that laugh has nothing to do with amusement.”
The lawyers shift uncomfortably.
I grind out, “So you spoke to Stewart Kinsey’s employees about matters that could possibly incriminate their boss?”
“We didn’t ask any leading questions,” the lawyer defends.
“You’re strangers.” My eyes cut through them like samurai knives. “Why would anyone from our town trust you over the man who signs their checks?”
“We didn’t just speak to the mechanics. We spread our search further and went to the mayor’s office.”
I turn slowly in my seat and give Chance a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ look.
He scratches his neck. “Guys, you do realize the Mayor is also a Kinsey.”
“We also spoke to the sheriff… who…oh.” The lawyer trails off before finishing his statement.
Chance runs his fingers through his hair. “Wow.”
“You got nothing from the investigation? Nothing at all?” I ask.
The lawyer’s eyes shift from side to side. “Stewart Kinsey, as far as we could tell, has never committed any form of harassment, work place discrimination or?—”
“What about tax fraud?”
“W-what?” The lawyer pales as if I accused him of shirking the government.
“Or a prior arrest?” I drum my fingers on the table. “Murder?”
Chance pats my shoulder. “O-okay, Gunner. I don’t think you’re talking to the right team here. These are labor rights and workplace discrimination lawyers, not private investigators or detectives.”
I gesture to the reports that basically spell out the word ‘angel’. At least in the eyes of the law.
But I know there’s got to be more to Uncle Stewart’s past.
In his smugness, he confirmed to me that the warning I received when I was seven years old wasn’t an exaggeration. If I have any hope of starting a relationship with Rebel, I need to get to the bottom of the mystery first.
The lawyer points to the report. “There are no warrants out for Stewart Kinsey’s arrest. He has a few parking tickets, but nothing above average. Not to mention, his family is well-respected and practically rule the town. We couldn’t find anything in our initial search.”
“Look again,” I snap. “And this time,” I scribble a name on a piece of paper and slide it over, “see if you can find any connection between them.”
“Clarence Kinsey? Who’s that?”
I square my shoulders. “My grandfather’s brother.”
If Uncle Stewart’s past is squeaky clean, that tells me one thing—he’s just a pawn in the game. Which makes sense. He’s far too impatient and clumsy to conceive a plot against anyone. He wasn’t even smart enough to deny my accusations outside the hospital.
A part of me wishes he had.
At least then, I could have run to Rebel and told her how I really feel.
But how can I hold her hand, look in her sky-blue eyes and pretend that I can protect her when my family carries such a dark secret?
The real player moving us around the chest board is someone else. And I bet his papers won’t be as sparkly as Uncle Stewart’s.
“Is this in conjunction with the workplace discrimination case?” the lawyer asks, arching an eyebrow at Chance.
“Do you have a problem with that?” our captain asks tightly. The smile on his lips fools no one.
The attorney swallows. “No, not at all, Mr. McLanely.”
“We’ll look forward to your call.” Chance nods to the door.
I follow him out of the conference room, my boots scuffing on the shiny marble floor. The law firm sits at the top of a tall, opulent building. The vaulted ceilings, giant offices, and impressive view of the downtown area speak of immeasurable wealth.
We pass a wall filled with pictures of the firm’s founders and the current and past associates.
“They’re the best in the business,” Chance tells me as we walk past the wall. “I’m sure they’ll find something.”
I grunt. “Have you noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“For a legal team that focuses on gender equality and workplace discrimination, they don’t have one female lawyer on the team.”
Chance takes a look at the wall and his face blanches. “I’ll hire a new firm.”
“Do what you want.” I pass him and head into the sunshine.
It’s our last day before we head back to Lucky Falls and I still haven’t done any shopping. Mom nags me if I don’t bring back a souvenir for her, so it’s become a habit of mine.
“How’s your mom doing?” Chance asks, ignoring the whispers that follow in his wake. The fact that no one has stopped to take a picture with him is a small miracle.
“She’s good,” I answer dryly.
Lately, she’s been hinting that Victoria is talking about moving back to the city, as if she expects me to do something about it.
She’s also been complaining about the Ladies going behind her back and giving Rebel the authority to work with Rodney Howard, a donor that asked to work exclusively with her.
When mom complains about Rebel, I usually turn the phone off or skip past that section of her voice message. At this point, I might discover gold on the moon before I find a way for mom and Rebel to get along.
“I miss April,” Chance says, his voice breaking into my thoughts as we approach the crosswalk.
I miss Rebel.
But I can’t say that out loud.
I don’t even deserve to feel the way I do.
Does mom know about what our family did to Rebel’s? is a question that runs circles in my mind. Does dad know? Does Uncle Rodney? Does Uncle Kit? How many of the people I love are in on this?
I could come right out and ask, but I don’t want to tip off Uncle Stewart to my investigation. And, honestly, I’m not brave enough to ask my parents—especially my dad—about this yet. It would crush me if the two people I love and look up to the most, had anything to do with hurting Rebel Hart.
“You know,” Chance says casually, “April mentioned that you were dodging Rebel before we left town.”
I keep walking.
“I heard Rebel was pretty upset about it.”
I stop short.
Chance smirks at me. “So that got your attention, huh?”
I lift a finger and point at a shop window.
In the display is a fluffy rug, feather boas, and a comforter set all in the same shade of bubble-gum pink. On the frosted glass, printed in a simple font, is one beautiful word— Pinkies.
Chance’s face crumbles. “Nope. No. No way. I’m not going in there.”
A group of teenagers pass by, giggling as they enter the shop.
I take a step forward.
Chance makes a run for it. “I’ll meet you at the hotel.”
I drag him by the elbow and pull him back. “I’m not going in there alone.”
“It’ll be weirder if we go in there together,” Chance hisses.
“So call Renthrow. The three of us can go in.”
Chance looks at me like I’m crazy. And then he gives it a second thought. “Deal.”
I wait while he makes the call and, faintly, from the cell phone speaker, I hear Renthrow ask, “Think they’ll have anything Hello-Kitty themed in there?”
“Uh…” Chance gives me an inquisitive look.
I nod, which could be considered a lie. But hey, if there’s anywhere that Hello Kitty products would be sold, it would be in a shop called Pinkies .
Chance tells Renthrow confidently. “You bet.”
The single dad grunts. “I’ll be there in ten.”