Chapter 13 Tom
TOM
After a moderately tense morning meeting, Kat went back upstairs while I pored over the information in front of me.
Ozzy had confirmed the alibis of the disgruntled narrators. He kept the details vague, but both had been alarmed that Sloane had been targeted in a manner that required such an intense investigation.
They both apologized profusely stating they’d been upset to have been passed over.
The male said that narrating for Sloane—being associated with her—would undoubtedly take his career to the next level.
He acknowledged being a dick and knew his actions probably got him banned from ever working with her, but he also said it would be career suicide to make a bigger deal of it than he did.
Sloane’s fans are loyal, and they would have obliterated his reputation.
Like review bombing, I write above Ozzy’s report and then squeeze the back of my neck with my palm. God, I’m old.
I don’t think anyone would believe I was ever hip to the lingo, but every new bullshit phrase pushes me one step closer to a permeant eye twitch.
My cell rings and I pick it up without looking and accept the call, “Oakden.”
“I just landed.”
“The fridge is stocked and I had them clean the place.”
“I’d say you didn’t have to do that,” Royce says, the sound of traffic muffling his voice, “but thank you. I don’t have time to deal with anything else; I already have six queries open right now.”
“I’m reading Ozzy’s report.”
“Yeah, I had him dig more but that was my finding too. I cleared the ex-best friend. A woman named Sonya that continues to try and share Kat’s posts and say things like ‘besties forever’ but Kat never responds.
She hates her husband but likes their lifestyle.
All her social media photos are staged. She’s miserable but not our perp. ”
“That leaves four.”
“Yeah, I’m getting in the car. I’ll send you what I have once I’m set up.”
“Thanks.”
He disconnects the call, and I figure if nothing else, he’ll have direct access to the team, even though he hates that. He’s more than capable of doing his job from Nashville, but I need him here. I need him to see what I’m seeing firsthand.
I can already feel we’re missing something.
Brock Trace: ex-boyfriend.
Hazel Drake: children’s book author and friend.
Amelia Drake: Aunt of Hazel
Dahlia Anderson: Children’s book author and rival.
“Tom?” Kat’s voice is soft, like she didn’t want to startle me.
“Hmm?”
“I have to go to the store.”
“Okay.” Her answering grin has me narrowing my eyes as I close my laptop and stand. “What?”
“You didn’t ask where we’re going.”
Swallowing the sigh that wants to be released, I keep my expression neutral as I pocket my phone. “Kat, where do you need to go?”
“I have to go pick up the coloring pages and bookmarks I had printed and then we have to go to the craft store because somehow I’m out of bags.” Her grin is more devious as she adds, “And you get to help me put them all together.”
“Excuse me?”
“Usually, I’d make Colt do it but I’m not speaking to him right now,” she says brightly.
“Why? You know what, never mind.”
“Actually, this is great. I never have help and end up having to lug everything myself when I have an event.”
“Kat—”
“Nope. You’re in my space and”—she motions toward where I have files, notepads, and papers spread across the kitchen table—“you’ve taken over my space, so you can help.”
“Fair enough.”
“I signed all the books that were preordered already so that’s done and sorted, but we have a million bags to make for the schools and then I have different swag for Saturday.”
“Swag?”
“Giveaway stuff like pencils, bookmarks, stickers, bracelets—anything, really.”
“Are you ready to go?”
“I just need to grab my list upstairs; I’ll be right back.”
She hurries up the stairs and I pull my phone back out and type out a text.
TOM: I’m charging you double for today
COLT: Shit—what happened? Is she okay?
TOM: She’s mad at you so I’m getting a crash course in swag items for kids’ events
TOM: This is not in my job description
COLT: Think of it like bonding
“Okay, now I’m ready,” Kat says with a smile as she tucks several reusable bags into the massive purse slung over her shoulder.
My phone vibrates in my hand but it’s not Colt. It’s Royce.
ROYCE: Why did Colt Harrington just send $500 to our cash app with coffee and pizza emoji?
TOM: Because we’re going to need it and he fucking owes me
ROYCE: Cool – I just got to the apartment, sending you an update
TOM: It’ll have to wait until we’re back from running errands
ROYCE: Have you ever run an errand?
TOM: You’re fired
ROYCE: Nice try
ROYCE: Don’t forget the pizza
Fuck.