Page 73 of Kill Your Darlings

If he knew Milo’s family still lived in Steeple Hill, he’d already started investigating.As much as I wanted—needed—his help, I felt a surge of fear.There was no putting this genie back in the bottle.I knew that.But I couldn’t help wishing I could put a pillow over the genie’s face.

Finn was still talking.“In this case, it makes the most sense for you to take point.You’re an old friend passing through town.You’re just checking in.It’s a natural thing to do.It signals concern, not guilt, and gives you plausible deniability.”

“Yes.All right.”I forced myself to relax.“I can do that.”

Finn’s gaze met mine.“But your active involvement in the investigation will end there.Ask the questions anyone would ask.Stick to the script.”

I didn’t point out that he hadn’t given me a script.

Finn glanced automatically at my open laptop.“Don’t start playing detective.Don’t start poking around.You let me handle the rest.”

“Which will entail what?”

“We don’t want a formal investigation.Not until we know exactly what we’re dealing with.We’ve got to be strategic and careful and very thorough.I’ll start with looking into missing persons databases, search for old school records, driver’s license activity, financial traces, etc.I’ll check for any legal name changes that might suggest Milo reinvented himself.And I’ll look into the actions of Milo’s family following Milo’s disappearance.”

“They reported him missing.”

“Well, they would, right?They’d do that whether they helped him disappear or not.”

Before I could reply, someone knocked heavily on the door.

“Room service!”

Finn squeezed my shoulder briefly, rose, went to the door.He glanced out and opened the door.The uniformed server wheeled in the cart, Finn thanked him, tipped him, and closed the door behind him.

“You want to eat on the balcony or is the light too bright for you?”

“I’ll wear sunglasses.I can use the fresh air.”

I went to get my sunglasses while Finn rolled the cart to the glass doors and moved the covered dishes to the small iron table.The light was dazzling, but the cold ocean breeze felt good.

I was not hungry, but it was essential to eat.I took a few sips of chamomile tea, started with the scrambled eggs, eating slowly.Finn was having pancakes, as usual.He insisted he only indulged in pancakes at conferences and book events, but since a good part of his life was spent at conferences and book events, it seemed to me pancakes were a major part of his diet.

I said, as if our conversation hadn’t been interrupted, “Since Colby’s here in the hotel, what do you think about me speaking to him directly?”

Finn looked up.“Why?”

“It would be helpful to find out how much he really knows, for one thing.For another, maybe it’s possible I could offer him a book deal or something.”

“Like what something?”

I shook my head.

Finn put down his knife and fork.“Okay, that’s a terrible idea.For a number of reasons.”

“Such as?”As if I didn’t know.But it was frustrating not to be in control.Frustrating to be told I had to sit back and wait for Finn to save me—or not save me.

“Bad optics, bad precedent, bad move.”

“Sorry.You’re going to have to explain a little further than that.If we could give Colby whatever it is he wants, that could be the end of it.”

You don’t have to be an editor of crime fiction to know that’s not how blackmailers work, but I was clutching at straws.

Finn shook his head.“First of all, he’s not alone in this blackmail scheme—assuming that’s what it is.We’ve also got the driver of the Cadillac—unless you think that was Colby?”

“No.It wasn’t Colby.”

Or had it been?I was starting to doubt my memory.It had been dark.I’d had an impression of size and age, but the driver’s hair had been silver.He’d moved easily.Maybe he was younger than I’d realized?