Chapter 10
Throughout the day, Barrett thought about Cadie. Images of the way she'd kissed him in the car stayed in his thoughts. Before dinner he went to her room and knocked, hearing her footsteps approach on the other side.
The door opened and Cadie stood before him in pale green pants and a soft, cream-colored sweater.
The sweater draped across her shoulders in a way that was effortlessly elegant.
Her dark hair was down, falling in loose waves past her shoulders, and she wore minimal makeup.
She looked alluring in a way that had nothing to do with trying and everything to do with who she was.
"Hi," she said.
Barrett smiled. "Ready?"
She grabbed her bag from just inside the door and stepped into the hallway. As they walked toward the stairs, Barrett reached for her hand. When he wrapped his fingers around hers, she didn't pull away.
They crossed the small parking lot to his car. Barrett opened her door, waited for her to slide in, then walked around to the driver's side.
When he started the engine, Cadie turned to him. "Where are we going?"
"To hear music," Barrett said.
"As part of the investigation?"
"Nope." He pulled into the street. "You've been taken away from your music. I want to relax with you and enjoy the local entertainment at Prohibition."
Cadie's face brightened. "I've been there many times, but not for a while." She looked out the window. "The bar was named as a nod to the 1920s speakeasy of the same name."
"I remember," Barrett said.
The drive was short, and Cadie was quiet during the ride. Barrett didn't ask her any questions yet. He preferred to wait until they were settled and wouldn't be interrupted. There was a lot to discuss, but he didn't need to rush it.
Prohibition was in a building with a dark wood facade and vintage signage.
Inside, the rustic wood décor was exactly as Barrett remembered—wide plank floors, exposed beams overhead, and warm lighting from Edison bulbs strung along the ceiling.
The bar was long and well stocked with shelves of whiskey.
Tables were arranged with enough space between them for privacy.
A hostess led them to a table near the back, away from the bar's busier section. Barrett held Cadie's chair and took the seat across from her.
Their server appeared promptly. Barrett ordered a Guinness and Cadie asked for a margarita. They added frybread with red pepper dip to start.
Barrett was in no hurry. He expected a long dinner, since he had a lot to tell her. But he wanted to hear from her first.
The drinks arrived, along with the frybread. The bread was warm and golden, and the red pepper dip had a subtle heat. Cadie took a couple of sips from her drinks and nibbled the food.
Barrett leaned back in his chair. "What did you learn today?"
Cadie put her glass down and told him about each person she had met. She described the concert director and associate, conveying what each recalled. She covered the next visit with the piano teacher and student.
Barrett listened carefully, absorbing the details. The picture continued to take shape.
Cadie paused. "There's more."
Barrett wondered what it could be.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small notebook. "Since I got back to the hotel before you, I had a couple of hours to put this together."
Barrett took the notebook and opened it. Each entry was organized by date.
"I had a chance to study my aunt's journal thoroughly, so I listed out the key points with dates. That includes everything I learned from the planner notes too."
Flipping through the pages, Barrett studied the notes.
The chronology was clear and well organized.
The timeline included dates of symptom onset, medication changes, appointments that were kept or missed, and her aunt's own words about how she felt.
Cadie had cross-referenced the journal entries with the planner notes, creating a complete record of Celia Ann's final months.
"This is going to be very helpful." He closed the notebook and set it on the table between them.
"I had a productive day also," he said. "First, I called Weston Lang at Guardian Investigations, and he had information for us. "
Cadie looked surprised. "Already?"
Barrett nodded. "Yes, I contacted him right away and he went straight to work on the case. I swear the guy must work all kinds of hours."
"Tell me what you learned," Cadie said.
"Weston followed the money trail," Barrett said.
"He discovered regular cash deposits in Olivia's bank account, starting eight months before your aunt's death.
Amounts ranged from five hundred to a thousand dollars every two to three weeks.
The total was approximately eight thousand dollars over that period.
" He paused. "And there was no documented source of income to explain the deposits. "
Cadie stared at him. "How did he learn about that?"
"He has his sources," Barrett said. "The point is that Olivia has been receiving compensation from someone." He let the words settle. "And that's not all."
Cadie took a gulp of her margarita. "What else?"
"Weston accessed business records through public filings and expense reports related to Kal Davis and his real estate company." He watched her face as he spoke. "There was a line item in expenses marked as 'consulting fees.' The amounts and timing match Olivia's deposits."
Cadie set her glass down carefully. "That is unbelievable."
"And to complete the picture," Barrett said, "the payments began eight months before your aunt's death."
Cadie put her hand on her chest. "I need another drink."
Barrett flagged the waitress and ordered refills. He gave Cadie a couple of minutes to absorb the full meaning of what he had told her.
"There's no doubt what that means," she eventually said. "What are we going to do?"
"I mentioned my buddy in the PD, Mark Sullivan," Barrett said.
Cadie nodded.
"Before I picked you up, I called him and shared the financial evidence. He's been suspicious too. He's on board with this investigation and has already set up a meeting with a medical forensic expert." He paused. "After I shared the new insight, he agreed that I should be in the meeting."
Cadie waited.
"And I'm taking you with me," Barrett said, "along with your timeline."
Cadie took the notebook and placed it back in her bag. The drink refills arrived and she lifted hers to take a sip. "We have to be able to prove all of this, you know."
Barrett noticed her distress and put his hand over hers on the table. "I'm way ahead of you." He squeezed her hand gently. "That's exactly what I intend to do."
He held her gaze for a moment, wanting her to feel the certainty in his words.
Then he moved the frybread plate aside and picked up a menu.
"But that's enough investigation updates for now.
We can't do more tonight. And I'm starving.
You must be too. Investigations really work up an appetite.
" Cadie looked like she wanted to keep talking about the case, but Barrett motioned toward her margarita.
"Drink up and decide what you want to order.
I can't have you drinking on an empty stomach.
" He smiled. "We have plenty of time before the music starts. "
Cadie relented and opened her menu. She chose swordfish, and Barrett went with the steak.
While they waited for their meals, the conversation drifted to other topics.
Barrett guided it there deliberately, asking about the Charleston restaurants she remembered from high school and whether any of her old favorites were still open.
He watched Cadie as he spoke. She laughed at a story he told about a surveillance case that involved accidentally following the wrong person for three hours through a shopping mall.
Barrett knew that investigating the death of a loved one had to be traumatic. He was used to investigations and the weight they carried, but Cadie wasn't. She was handling it with grace, but he could see the toll it was taking. He slowed the pace for her, giving her room to breathe.
The meals arrived, beautifully prepared and aromatic. "This is delicious," Cadie said, cutting a piece of fish. "I forgot how good the food is here."
Barrett didn't rush the process but enjoyed dinner with her at leisure.
After eating, they moved to the lounge, where a small stage was set up in the corner.
The space was intimate, with leather sofas and low tables arranged in a semicircle facing the stage.
The lighting was dim and warm, and the atmosphere felt separate from the busier dining area.
Barrett guided Cadie to a sofa near the side wall. He settled beside her as a woman took the stage with an acoustic guitar. She was pretty, with long, dark hair. On stage, she had a commanding presence despite her slight frame.
"Good evening," she said, leaning closer to the microphone. "I'm Evelyn Ivory. Thanks for being here tonight."
She began to play, and Barrett understood immediately why the venue had booked her. Her voice was rich and textured, somewhere between folk and blues, with a rawness that felt honest. She played guitar with confidence, and her songs had the kind of emotional weight that made the room quiet.
Barrett glanced at Cadie. She was leaning forward with her eyes fixed on the performer. Her lips were parted, and he could see the musician in her responding to the music. She was listening with her whole body, absorbing the melody and the lyrics and the way the guitar filled the room.
He put his arm around her, resting his hand on her shoulder. Cadie didn't stiffen or pull away. Instead, she leaned against him.
After a moment, she placed her hand on his thigh. The touch was light but deliberate. Barrett felt the contact like a current, awareness spreading through him. He tightened his arm around her slightly, drawing her closer.
They stayed like that through the set, in a world of their own. Barrett listened to the songs, but his attention kept returning to Cadie beside him. He was engulfed by the scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body against his side, the weight of her hand on his leg.
He had spent years keeping people at a distance, convincing himself that he was better off alone. It had worked, after a fashion. He had built a successful business, maintained friendships with his SEAL teammates, and created a life that functioned reasonably well.
But sitting next to Cadie, he experienced a strong attraction. It wasn't just physical attraction—though that was certainly present—but a deeper sense of connection. She had seen him before he became a SEAL, before the losses and personal challenges. She seemed to like who he had become.
When Evelyn Ivory played her final song, it was a slower piece that lingered in the air after the last note faded. The audience applauded, and Cadie joined them with genuine enthusiasm.
"She was wonderful," she said, her eyes bright.
Barrett thought so, but couldn't take his eyes off Cadie.
*****
The drive back to the hotel was short. Barrett parked and came around to open Cadie's door. She took his hand as she stepped out and didn't let go.
The hotel was quiet. Most guests were probably out or settled in for the night. After taking the elevator up, Barrett turned toward his room instead of hers. Cadie walked beside him without question. Their hands were still clasped, and he felt the heat between them.
At his door, Barrett unlocked it and held it open. Cadie looked up at him, then stepped inside.
Barrett followed and closed the door behind them.
The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the streetlamp filtering through the curtains. Cadie set her bag on the desk chair, and Barrett moved to stand beside her. The space between them was charged with emotion that had become impossible to hold back.
He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs tracing the line of her cheekbones. Her skin was warm and soft beneath his fingers. She looked up at him with an expression that broke through every wall he had built.
He kissed her, and she responded immediately. "I've been wanting to kiss you all evening," he said.
"I don't want to stop." Cadie fingered the hem of his shirt, making him draw a sharp breath.
Her touch was tentative at first, then bolder. Barrett pulled back just enough to look at her. What he saw in her eyes was desire—and trust.
Barrett guided her to bed, unhurried. He'd waited so long to be with her and intended to savor every moment. Clothes fell away gradually, each discovery accompanied by soft words and softer touches.
He was attentive to every response. She was generous in return, meeting him with a tenderness that touched him deeply. The special interlude ended all the years they had spent apart. He could hardly believe the impossible luck of finding each other again.
Slowly, the intimate passion spiraled Barrett into release with Cadie. Feeling her joy meant more than his own. After the peak came the calm following ecstasy, and Cadie relaxed against him. Unwilling to part from her, he pulled her closer in the quiet darkness.
Cadie rested her head on his chest, her dark hair spread across his skin. His arm was wrapped around her, holding her. Her breathing slowed to a deep and steady rhythm.
Barrett stared at the ceiling, listening to her breathing.
In the early years, he'd convinced himself that he'd moved on.
He had told himself that the kiss in a parking lot after a school dance was just a memory from his youth, nothing more than nostalgia.
But holding Cadie now, he knew the truth.
He hadn't stopped caring about her. He hadn't stopped wanting to be with her.
Barrett didn't know what would happen after the investigation.
For one thing, he couldn't predict the outcome.
Cadie had a life in New Orleans, a career, friends, and a band that depended on her.
He had his company in California. Their lives were in different cities.
The distance between New Orleans and Los Angeles was more than a few miles.
Cadie shifted on the bed then curled her hand against his chest. She made a soft sound, contented and warm, then settled against him. Barrett tightened his arm around her.
He was falling in love again—or maybe he had been in love from the start. Either way, his emotional wall had crumbled, and Cadie was on the other side. That thought filled him with hope.
Barrett pressed a kiss to the top of her head, smelling her hair. Then he closed his eyes, still holding her close.