Page 3

CHAPTER 3

T he motorcycle sped toward Olive, and she had nowhere to go.

The driver sideswiped her, nearly knocking her to the ground. Instead, she stumbled backward into the brick wall beside her.

She glanced at the motorcycle again, trying to get a glimpse of the man. But the helmet and eye shield covering the man’s face obscured his identity.

He tore onto the street, skidding as he turned. Horns sounded as if drivers had thrown on brakes to avoid hitting him.

Then he was gone.

Olive knew there was no way she could catch up with him on foot.

Straightening, she tried to catch her breath. Her arm ached from where she’d hit the wall, and a pulsating pain captured her hip where the motorcycle had clipped her.

She was grateful to walk away from this with only bruises.

Just as she composed herself and started back toward the sidewalk, she glanced at the ground and squinted. A device lay there, a device she hadn’t seen earlier.

A silver USB drive.

Had this fallen from the man’s pocket when he’d blasted past her? It was a definite possibility.

Olive picked up the device and studied it. The metal exterior wasn’t weathered or damaged, which seemed to indicate it hadn’t been out in the elements long.

This could be just the clue she was looking for.

She shoved it in her pocket. She’d check the flash drive later.

Right now, she had a meeting to get to.

Olive hurried toward the Rusty Lantern Café.

Just as she rounded the corner, she spotted Nova Levington walking down the sidewalk toward her.

Nova, whose family hailed from the Philippines, was petite and curvy with a small waist and dark hair cut into a wedge. Purple streaks touched the edges, and bright blue glasses perched on her nose. Her clothing was normally colorful—or if not colorful then all black. She had no in-between.

She worked as one of their tech geniuses at Aegis Security. Although Olive usually partnered on assignments with Tevin McIntyre, Nova was a better fit this time. Nova was more artistic than Tevin, a skill that would be essential because of the film editing they’d need to do.

She was always crankier than Tevin, though it was usually in a funny way.

On occasion, Nova had moments the team labeled “Supernovas,” where she had a brilliant idea that helped solve the case.

Olive had been surprised Rex sent anyone with her, considering the nature of the assignment. But she was glad he did. Nova would pretend to be Olive’s camera woman. Mitzi McGraw was also in town, working a temp job as a receptionist at a local hospital.

They’d all arrived on the same flight, but they’d each picked up their own rental car for the assignment. It was easier to split up and cover more ground that way.

Nova paused in front of Olive, a khaki-colored canvas bag on her shoulder. “You good? You look winded or something.”

Olive scowled and rubbed the bruises forming on her arm. “I’ll tell you more later. Right now, we need to get inside.”

“Is Rebecca here already?”

“She wasn’t a few minutes ago. I took a little detour, and she could have arrived since then.”

Nova threw her another questioning glance. “Detour? Now I’m really curious.”

Olive glanced at her watch. “I’ll explain later. I don’t want to get into it now.”

But that USB drive was burning a hole in her pocket. She couldn’t wait to see what was on it.

As she and Nova headed across the street, Nova’s eyes swept over Olive. “Nice look. A little crunchy, a little nerdy, and a whole lot of serious.”

That was the vibe Olive had been going for. She’d picked out neutral colors and clothing with natural fibers. Her dark, curly hair was pulled into a low ponytail, and she wore dark-framed glasses and Birkenstocks with white socks.

“This assignment isn’t like most I’ve done before.” Nova opened the front door to the restaurant, and they slipped inside.

“It is unusual, but I think it’ll be interesting since—” Olive abruptly stopped talking as she spotted the subject of their investigation sitting at a table near the front.

Olive generally preferred to sit on the periphery of the room so she could keep an eye on everyone coming and going. It was a safety protocol.

But someone like Rebecca Hansen liked to be center of attention—if their theory was correct, at least.

The woman was striking in a wholesome way. She had chestnut-brown hair that came below her shoulders in soft waves, a bright toothy smile, and smooth skin with a few freckles across her nose. She wore a flowered maxi dress and a jean jacket along with white sneakers and a brown leather crossbody bag strapped over her chest.

Her earnestness had made her a TikTok sensation. More than two million people had begun to follow her story online. It was quite impressive, to be sure.

Rebecca was twenty-seven years old, only two years older than Olive. Back when Olive had lived in Oasis, Rebecca had lived in California, so they’d never met.

Five years ago, the woman had moved here with her husband, Matt.

Four years ago, their little girl had been born.

Three years ago, she’d been diagnosed with stage four blood cancer and had been given a year to live.

Two years ago, she was still in treatment.

Nine months ago, she’d been declared in remission.

Three months ago, a scan and blood tests showed the cancer had returned.

“You must be Olive Robinson.” Rebecca rose, her voice as warm as syrup—but it didn’t sound fake.

Normally when Olive went undercover, she chose a different last name. But since she’d lived in this town at one time, she stuck with the name she’d used while living here. That would make this assignment more interesting, to say the least.

For most people, it was strange to change names when they moved. Not for Olive’s family. She’d thought changing her last name with every move was normal. However, her father had said she and her sisters weren’t allowed to mention the fact to anyone. Later, when Olive was older, he’d said it was because he worked for the government. He’d said he would explain it all to her one day.

One day had never come.

“Rebecca . . . it’s nice to meet you.” Olive extended her hand. “I’m Olive, and this is my assistant, Nova.”

“I look forward to talking to y’all.” Rebecca’s smile radiated friendliness and Texas charm. “I was intrigued when I got your email, and I’m so honored you thought of me. I’m just an ordinary girl who’s been thrown into extraordinary circumstances.”

That could be a good sound bite—if Olive was really doing this documentary.

As the scent of toasty bread and coffee rose around them, they sat at the table Rebecca had claimed. She’d already ordered a charcuterie board, which sat at the center of the table.

Rebecca followed Olive’s gaze to the meat and cheese spread.

“I hope y’all don’t mind that I already ordered something. But good food always makes everything better, doesn’t it? Although, I haven’t had much of an appetite lately, to be honest.” Her smile waned as if betraying her inner struggle.

“I can imagine.” Olive offered a compassionate frown.

The empathy wasn’t all fake. Part of her did feel badly for the woman. And Olive needed to keep an open mind and consider the fact Rebecca could be telling the truth.

The waitress appeared, so they quickly glanced at the menu.

After she took their orders, Olive turned back to Rebecca. It was time to get started.

Olive dove into her opening spiel.