Page 5

CHAPTER 5

O live took some cash from her wallet and dropped it on the table. “Lunch is on me, of course.”

“You going to eat that?” Nova pointed at some leftover bread that had come with Olive’s soup.

“Don’t plan on it.” Olive nudged it closer to her colleague. “Make me some lumpia and pancit later, and we’ll call it even.”

“It’s a deal.”

Nova was notorious for eating people’s leftovers. And Olive was notorious for asking for lumpia and pancit in return. The crispy spring rolls and Filipino noodle dish were her favorites. When she’d gone to visit Nova’s mom once while on a work trip, the woman hadn’t stopped offering her food.

Nova said it was the Filipino way—guests always had to be well-fed.

“Thank y’all so much for lunch.” Rebecca paused. “So, what time should I expect you to come over tomorrow?”

Before Olive could answer, an older woman with gray hair walked by and stopped to talk to Rebecca, mentioning how much she loved her and was praying for her.

“Her granddaughter was one of my students,” Rebecca explained after the woman walked away.

Olive smiled. “It’s nice that you have so much support.”

Rebecca tilted her head, a wistful look in her gaze. “I don’t know what I would do without this community. They’ve been so wonderful and have really gone above and beyond.”

Olive realized she didn’t have that kind of support network. She moved from place to place. She had no family—only the FBI agent and his wife who’d taken her in for a year after her family’s murder.

Sure, she had her colleagues at Aegis. But they were all like her—lone rangers who didn’t get too close. Except maybe Tevin, who in many ways was like a brother to her.

She ignored the pang of loss that pulsed in her chest.

Instead, she cleared her throat. “So, going back to tomorrow—would nine a.m. work?”

“That should be fine,” Rebecca said. “I look forward to telling my story. I believe that good can come from the bad if we let it. And, honestly, sharing my story is one way I cope with what’s happened to me, given my terminal cancer diagnosis.”

The woman was so convincing that Olive wanted to believe her. Olive needed to act like she did believe Rebecca.

But this assignment would definitely be challenging, especially in light of Motorcycle Man.

Olive and Nova stepped outside the Rusty Lantern. Rebecca had run into someone else before leaving, and they were chatting inside still. The woman was clearly a mini celebrity around here.

As Olive stood on the sidewalk, the feeling hit her again. The feeling of being watched.

She paused and glanced around. But she didn’t see Motorcycle Man anywhere—not even peeking around any corners.

“Olive?” Nova asked beside her, a touch of weary resignation in her voice.

She turned back to her colleague. “Sorry. I caught a man taking pictures of me earlier.”

“What?” Surprise laced her voice.

“I’ll tell you more later. Right now, I want to keep my eyes open.”

“Of course.” Nova shoved her hands into the pockets of her purple varsity-style jacket, the fabric rustling with a hint of annoyance. “Must be weird coming back to this place. Has the town changed a lot, or is it still quaintly provincial?”

“It’s gotten bigger.” Olive swept her gaze down the sidewalk again. “It seems a bit cleaner and more cheerful. I don’t know. Maybe everything looks different once you’re older.”

“Maybe. The town where I grew up is cookie-cutter suburbia. Every direction you look could be any other bedroom community in America. I always thought it’d be cool to grow up in a small town like this where everyone knows everyone or at least, that’s what the movies tell you.”

“The truth is I didn’t exactly grow up here. I lived in Oasis for less than a year. That was about the longest my family stayed in any one place.”

Nova frowned and pushed her glasses higher, a flicker of genuine concern mixed with a hint of “don’t make me care.” “That sounds complicated. Or, you know, a constant exercise in packing and unpacking. Either way, not my idea of a good time.”

Olive and Nova weren’t particularly close, so Nova didn’t know all the details of Olive’s past. Very few people did. Olive figured it was best to keep some things private—including her history.

“What now?” Nova blew out a breath, a clear sign of impatience, as she glanced around at the passing cars and people out shopping. “Do we need to talk about tomorrow? Because, honestly, I’m already picturing my bed.”

“We should,” Olive said. “But first I’d like to familiarize myself again with the town and walk around a bit. Maybe we can meet tonight at the hotel to talk about our game plan more.”

“Fine,” Nova said. “Six. At the hotel. Dinner. As long as it’s not some ‘local delicacy’ that involves questionable seafood, I’m in. I just pulled into town in time for our lunch, and I’d really like to unpack, take a shower, and maybe have a solid nap before we dive into tomorrow’s . . . adventure.”

“Then you should. I’ll see you at six. I’ll order dinner.”

“That works. If that’s it, then I’m going to run. Plus, I need to call Micah. He’s probably wondering if I’ve been kidnapped by . . . well, by anything.”

Her colleague seemed to easily find guys to date, even though the relationships never lasted long.

Olive didn’t quite understand how all that worked. With their jobs, she and Nova were on the road a lot—two hundred eighty-nine days last year, to be precise.

She wondered if Nova was using a dating app, but given the woman’s technical expertise, Olive didn’t think she was the type to do so. Nova had seen too much of the ugliness that could happen as a result of those things.

One case in particular stood out in Olive’s mind—a case they’d investigated involving a fourteen-year-old girl who’d gone to meet a guy she thought was a fifteen-year-old boy. She’d actually met a fifty-year-old predator.

They’d rescued the teen, but that case had stuck in Olive’s mind. It could have ended so differently.

Nova’s dating life wasn’t any of Olive’s business, and she didn’t ask.

After Nova said goodbye, Olive walked back down the sidewalk, trying to appear as if she were merely taking a casual stroll.

She was actually looking for that photographer.

But she didn’t see him, nor did she spot any motorcycles stashed anywhere.

Olive nibbled on her bottom lip.

She would figure out who that man was, she vowed.

After walking several blocks and seeing nothing, she finally started back toward her car.

But as Olive headed toward the small lot where she’d parked, she paused.

Rebecca stood next to a dark-green Mercedes, talking to someone inside.

Whatever their conversation was about, it looked heated as Rebecca’s arms flew in the air and all her sweetness disappeared.