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Titusville, Virginia

Wednesday

Rebel was on his feet in an instant. “Autumn, what don’t you want Tash to hear about his father? What’s happened?”

Rebel’s cell pinged a text.

Better you don’t know. Keep Tash safe.

Rebel took Autumn’s hand in his. “Autumn, you’re right. We won’t tell Tash about this yet, not until I can find out exactly what’s going on and who’s doing the investigating. Please tell your dad I’ll call him. He’ll know who’s in charge.”

He vaguely registered the weather was glorious, not too hot, with the mountains always there, like your best friend guarding your back, and the peaks spiderwebbed now with the late-morning mist.

The cinnamon bun was history by the time he passed Tuber Willis’s nursery, Garden of Eden. Tuber, a skinny older dude who usually had black dirt under his fingernails, gave him a nod and a smile as he handed off a flat of yellow tulips to Mrs. Gray, a retired schoolteacher. He walked past Gerald’s Loft, a large B and B filled to the rafters in the summer, and nodded to Tollie Tolbert, retired FBI agent, who was sitting on a rocking chair in front of Gilly’s Market reading one of his endless spy novels.

Archer was years older than Rebel, smart and cagey. As a kid he could talk his way out of anything, and Rebel imagined he’d only gotten better at it. He was a charming, outgoing boy who’d talked Liz Murray out of her thong when he was fifteen and she an older woman of eighteen. Everyone admired him at school, were sure he’d be a success. He knew how to seem both charming and sincere. Rebel had to admit it—Archer was a master at manipulation, it was why he was so successful in finance. But was he a crook? Would he really strip his own company of its clients’ money and disappear? Rebel told himself yet again it simply wasn’t possible.

She stopped short, searched his face.