6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
Ben counted to four as he sucked in a breath and then counted to five as he blew that same breath out. He was trying to calm down before Tessa came back with her coffee order. They had decided to go back into the coffee shop since most people were grabbing their caffeine to go, which meant the tables were relatively empty. And it was neutral territory.
She had insisted on getting her own drink—he didn’t blame her really. He hadn’t roofied her drink, but she shouldn’t accept a drink from a stranger. But hell, she shouldn’t have been following a stranger either.
His brain was going like a hamster on steroids. Who the hell was this John Baker, and why were he and Tessa looking for Mia White? Did John Baker know who he was? He couldn’t be the PI that Tessa was talking about since she spoke to John about it a day ago, not fifteen months ago when Ben had stumbled onto Walter’s cabin. Had he tried to find Mia White in the past for himself? For John Baker?
And what was Tessa’s relationship with John? If John was being overprotective of her, maybe she was more than a friend to him. For some reason Ben didn’t want to ask her that. He felt a headache coming on. Maybe it was his steroid-driven hamster brain that was now running full bore on a squeaky wheel.
He wasn’t sure he could trust Tessa, but he could pump her for information so he had some sort of foundation to start with. This had to be related to who he was somehow.
She walked over with a large coffee and sat across from him.
There was no point beating around the bush. “Tell me about Mia White.”
Tessa set her coffee down but still held the envelope against her chest. “John didn’t tell you about her?”
Shit. He should have, right? But he couldn’t fake his way out of things if he said yes. He knew nothing about Mia White. “Not really.”
She huffed. “That sounds like him. He’s a grouch of very few words.”
“Yeah.”
Her eyes tightened on him.
He was already blowing it! “I mean…I guess I shouldn’t agree since he’s my client.”
The corners of her mouth tipped up. “Probably not, but I would think less of you if you didn’t tell me the truth.”
He reached for his coffee so he didn’t have to meet her eyes. He was a walking and talking lie. But he had to find out who he was before he could know what the truth was.
She set down the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. “I haven’t had a chance to look too closely at all of this yet, but I can tell you what I know.”
He leaned forward.
“Mia White is a well-known art historian. She was a professor at Vanderbilt.”
That hadn’t been what he was expecting. “Was?”
“Yeah. Four years ago, she quit her job and disappeared. Went off the grid.”
“And what have you found?” He gestured to the stack of papers.
“Nothing about where she is or what she’s doing now.” She set the papers on the table between them. “But this is all we know about her before she disappeared. I’m thinking something in her past might lead us to her.”
“Good thinking.” And way more than he had done.
“I know.”
He looked up from the papers at her smirk. “Confident, huh?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “If you have it, use it.”
He smiled at her confidence. “Right. So how do you want to do this? Split up the papers?”
She nodded. “Makes sense.”
She pulled her purse off her shoulder and dug around inside until she pulled out two highlighters. “My motto is always be prepared.”
He reached for the highlighter. “I thought that was the Boy Scout motto?” And once again he knew that but not his name.
Her denim eyes danced. “I spent time with a lot of Boy Scouts growing up.”
No doubt. She probably had to beat them off with a stick. But he wasn’t going to voice his thoughts on that.
They both hunched over their stacks of papers and started to read. Mia’s professional life was impressive. She had gone to all the right schools and received both a master’s and PhD in art history. Tessa had already told him that she taught at Vanderbilt, but he hadn’t realized that they had a top-level art history program. She had several awards and had written numerous papers as well.
Ben sat back and rubbed his neck. Why would he have a piece of paper with an art history professor’s name on it from over a year ago? And what did John Baker have to do with anything? Had John been looking for her since before Ben was attacked? He glanced over at Tessa, who was mumbling to herself as she continued to read her stack.
After a few seconds she glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “What?”
“I should have asked this earlier. Why is John trying to find Mia?”
Tessa bit her lip before responding. “John’s family has a number of art pieces that Mia would be able to help him authenticate.”
He frowned. “Enough for him to hire a PI to find her?”
“They’re worth a lot of money if they can prove provenance.”
None of this was making sense. Before he could respond, she hurried on. “I know. You’re thinking why would someone with a lot of money live in a cabin in the woods, right? Well, John is the quintessential rich recluse.”
Ben stopped himself from calling bullshit, especially since he was lying about who he was right now. Of course she had approached him and the misunderstanding was hers, but he hadn’t corrected her, which was a lie just the same.
“And why do you want to help find her?”
“Because I can. I don’t like to be underestimated or dismissed.”
The stubborn glint in her eyes let him know she was telling the truth to a certain degree—something from her past, maybe. “I get that.”
Her expression tightened as if she was waiting for a punch line.
“Why don’t we both talk through what we’ve read so far.”
Her eyes widened for a second before she could school her features. She would be an awful poker player. He went first, telling her about Mia’s professional accomplishments. Tessa listened intently while he read some of the items he’d highlighted.
“Yeah,” Tessa agreed as she handed him a page with Mia’s picture on it. “She sounds like a prodigy. From what I just read, she got a full-ride scholarship and then completed her master’s and PhD to work at Vanderbilt.”
“Family?” he asked as he studied Mia’s face.
“She was a foster kid and moved to several homes over the years, which makes her accomplishments even more impressive. Her husband was a sociology professor.”
“Was?”
Tessa sighed. “Yeah. He was killed in some sort of accident. The obituary is the last thing I could locate online referencing her name. Shortly after he died, Mia dropped off the grid.”
“Why would she leave everything she had built behind?” he asked.
Tessa set down the papers. “Grief maybe?”
“Possibly.” But it didn’t feel right to him. “And you really want to find her because of some art?”
She hesitated and he leaned forward again, invading her space the tiniest bit.
“Someone close to me used to work with Mia, and she’s worried about her. Wants to find her and see if she’s okay. So that’s an added incentive to find her.”
She wasn’t telling him everything, but he wasn’t going to push too much or she might back off. Eventually he wanted to find out the real reason they were looking for Mia White and if that truth would lead him to who he was.
“Where do we go first?” Tessa asked.
“I think we should go to the university and talk to people who know her.”
Tessa nodded before rifling through her stack of papers. “I was thinking the same thing, but she left four years ago. I don’t know that there would be students we can talk to.”
“Agreed. So we concentrate on her coworkers. When do you want to go?”
They agreed to meet tomorrow, and Tessa made sure to pick up all the papers and place them in her envelope. Did she not trust him with the info she had found? Or more likely she was afraid he would leave her out of the investigation, especially when she practically made him pinky swear that he wouldn’t go to the university without her.
Hell, he didn’t know what to make of her or the information that had been gifted to him. Did he feel guilty that he was lying to her? Yes. But she had been the one to jump to conclusions, and he hadn’t bothered to correct her. Semantics. And he was in trouble if she tried to do any digging into his past, with his fake name and, oh yeah, his messed-up memory.
At least he hadn’t given her his last name. Yet. He was sure she would ask him for it tomorrow, and then all bets were off when she couldn’t find anything about him online. He could probably get away with explaining that—a PI would know the danger of splashing their lives on the Internet, right?
She climbed into her car and drove away before he opened the door to his truck. Would she buy his flimsy explanations? She wasn’t someone who would buy too much BS. She was too smart for that. He rubbed his hand over his face. Didn’t he need a license to be a PI? What if she asked to see one? He pulled out his burner phone and dialed the only number he had.
Larry answered on the first ring. “Hello. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. What’s up?”
“Was wondering if I could stop by. I need some help with something.”
“Sure.”
Forty minutes later Ben was sitting across from Larry in his barn/license bureau.
“What do you know about PI licenses?”
Larry chuckled. “Do I want to know why you’re asking about them?”
“Someone may think that I’m a PI, and I want that to stick for the time being.”
“And since I hooked you up with a new driver’s license, you think that I’m an expert on all licenses?”
Ben smiled. “I think you’re a man of many talents.”
Larry nodded. “I am at that.” He opened his laptop and started to click away on it. “Let me do a quick double-check to make sure nothing has changed from what I know.” He hummed to himself for a moment before nodding. “Okay, it’s still the same. In Tennessee you have to take an exam and they check your background and run your fingerprints before you’re granted a PI license, so I don’t see you applying for one anytime soon.”
“No. So the state gives you some sort of paperwork that shows you’re a PI?”
“Yep. And I think I know where you’re going with this, so before you ask, having me create the paperwork for you isn’t going to help.”
“Why not?”
“Because Tennessee has a website that people can verify business and other licenses. The fake paperwork doesn’t mean anything if they can’t find you on the site. It might be too late for you if they’ve already checked your name.”
“She doesn’t know my last name.” But she would soon. Shit. Now what?
“Hold on a second.” More clicking. “Well, well, well. Here’s an interesting tidbit for you. Our neighbor Mississippi doesn’t require a PI license.”
“How does that help me?”
Larry grinned. “If she asks, tell her you normally work in Mississippi. And you just moved here and haven’t gotten around to taking the exam here. Easy peasy.”
“Easy peasy?”
“Yep. It’s what my granddaughter says. And you’re welcome for the assist.”
“Thanks. That is a good plan.”
Larry leaned forward. “Or maybe the better plan is to walk away from whatever reason you’re pretending to be a PI? Staying under the radar might be the better move.”
Ben nodded. He knew that Walter hadn’t filled Larry in on any specifics before asking him for help, and Larry probably thought he was trying to hide or run from his past.
But Ben was trying to find his past. If he had to work with a snarky, beautiful woman with eyes the color of his favorite jeans, then that’s what he would do.