Page 49 of Maneater (The Mavens #1)
THIRTY-THREE
ROWAN
She’s lying.
She has a tell, and I don’t think even she knows, but she has about a dozen tells that I see every time she tells a mistruth, and she is lying .
About what, I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.
That’s all I’m thinking as I let Josie walk away from me, the look of hurt and panic bright in her eyes. The look hurt, but I also knew I needed her to leave, to give me space to get my thoughts together before I said something I couldn’t take back.
That’s why I’m in my office before the sun rises after what felt like the longest day of my life, one where I spoke to numerous reporters and police officers, and investigators trying to figure out what the fuck happened.
I spoke with the sauna manufacturer, who informed me that the issue was that the wires were cut in a way that allowed the sauna to function still, but the safety feature wouldn’t activate.
This is not common knowledge; someone would have to know exactly which wire to snip in order to manage it.
At this point, I don’t trust a soul here.
Everyone is a suspect in my mind, everyone is worthy of further investigation, and no one can be fully trusted.
It’s why, when I should be getting ready for a full day of meetings, I’m sitting at my desk reviewing all the different security feeds from the past two weeks.
Our guy seems to know the angles to avoid, and when they can’t avoid them, they can break into our system and mess with the feed.
But I have to believe they aren’t good enough to catch everything , so I’ve decided to spend as much time as possible watching every single minute of footage I can to find something. Anything .
Starting with yesterday, in the spa.
According to the time stamp, it’s an hour after their scheduled treatment ended, but Josie and Rory are still in the spa area.
That’s when they walk into the main lobby area, looking around as if checking for people before entering a supply room that I know is marked “Employees Only.” Josie tries the door and fails, but then pulls something from her bag: a keycard.
I bet if I check the recent scans, I’ll see it’s my keycard.
The door opens, and she steps in before looking around.
Similar to the night I caught her in the bag room, she takes out her phone, snapping photos of what I think is the sign-out sheet as well as the supplies in the room.
Rory moves in quickly and does something further that the cameras don’t catch while Josie stands out front, seeming to be on lookout.
It reminds me of the time I found her in the hallway, and she wouldn’t tell me what she was doing.
What is she doing? If I went by what it looked like, I’d say she was plotting or planning some kind of sabotage and that she and Rory are the culprits we’re looking for, but it just doesn’t make sense. My gut can’t accept that as the truth.
Especially not when she hears something and starts moving toward the sauna. I switch the cameras to watch her enter that room, watch the look of genuine panic as she investigates the problem before her, and as if it’s her last resort, she pulls the keycard out of her bag and overrides the sauna.
She looks panicked and concerned, but the way she and Rory jump in, calm and cool-headed like they’ve encountered emergencies like this before, tells me this isn’t a simple case of right place, right time.
That’s when I start making a list of all the places I’ve caught her and how many of them align with incidents that’ve occurred at the resort, both before and after her arrival.
She arrived after the rental shack was destroyed, but that’s where I found her on her first day at the resort, checking it out. Investigating? Looking for something? She told me she was there because she saw a turtle and walked to take a picture of it, but it doesn’t add up.
Then she was with me near the pool house the day the main pool was flooded with dish soap.
And, of course, she slipped on the hiking excursion.
My mind starts moving, remembering small details, like telling her about the leaks just a day before the source was found, the source whose bag she was digging through at the bag check room.
I told her I was stressed about it, and the next day she…
solved it? But how? Who could she have told if not me?
Obviously, there’s something I’m missing, and I am determined to find it, but my mind is swirling as pieces start to fall into place, a timeline that is starting to make sense but also no sense at all.
Moving to the security footage from that night in the coatroom, I fast forward through it before I finally see Josie walk in.
She looks around, watching a woman leave before moving right to the blue bag and opening it.
She sifts through, then grabs her phone from her bra before taking photos.
She looks…smug, as if she discovered something to confirm her thoughts, and then she jumps in panic after she’s slipped it all back in the bag.
Because I walked in, I know, but I can’t help but watch it on camera; the entire interaction plays out, her sauntering to me, teasing me, then tempting me into kissing her.
Saying she was playing me feels wrong, the wrong adjective for what happened, but she was definitely distracting me.
And distracted I was. My head keeps moving through times we’ve bumped into each other and landing on the time I saw her at the bar waiting for Rory.
I try and remember times and dates, then find her walking toward the bar.
I click over to another camera to catch where she came from, and my heart stills.
As I watch Rory walking with Josie, then stepping away to the pool house, while Josie continues to move toward the bar, where she sits and watches the pool house intently.
My mind is buzzing.
Why was she digging through Regina’s bag? Why was Rory in the pool house, and why do they wind up everywhere when something happens? What the fuck is happening? I don’t think they’re the root cause of the acts of sabotage, so what could it be?
Suddenly, a memory ignites in my mind.
I’ve got it covere d, Annette had said when I offered to come and find the person responsible after the fire. I hired an investigation firm . I didn’t ask who because I’d assumed it was Wilde Security, as they typically do this kind of work for us.
But…what if I was wrong? What if it wasn’t them at all?
That’s when I start digging.
Aurora Daniels arrived with Josephine Montgomery on Friday, and the trip was purchased and booked a day previously, not something we see too often, but not completely out of the blue.
The credit card used is Aurora Daniels’s business card.
It takes me a bit of digging through channels I probably shouldn’t know how to or be allowed to access because the original business is a shell company owned by a different company.
It takes an hour of searching each shell company before I find what I believe to be the true company name.
Maven Investigations LLC.
There’s no website and no social proof or information about the abstract business, but there are a few forum posts, and quickly, pieces start to fall into place.
Gorgeous women finding discreet answers for all of your most pressing needs.
Then I dig into the reviews.
I hired the Mavens to find proof that my husband was hiding away assets to avoid paying alimony.
I hired the Mavens to investigate whether an employee was stealing money.
The Mavens helped me discover that my competitor was obtaining information from my staff .
The last one catches my attention: Maven Investigations helped me find who was leaking information from my tech company, something that no one on my team had been able to catch. They’re discreet, efficient, and professional. I highly recommend them.
There are no names or other information attached to the company, although I do find what appears to be a referral number that leads to a generic voicemail. You are instructed to leave your potential job, location, and budget, and they will contact you if it’s a good fit.
That’s when I follow my gut instinct and make a call.
“Who is she?” I say as soon as Annette answers the phone.
“Rowan, so pleasant as always. How can I help you on this fine morning?” Annette says with an exasperated sigh. I’m pacing my office as she goes through her greeting, fighting the urge to punch a fucking wall.
Because, somehow, I know that Josie was sent here to investigate my company.
“Who is she?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, Rowan.”
I know she knows; I can tell by the way she’s dancing around the question, but I don’t have time for these games.
“Josie Montgomery. Who the fuck is she?” Silence fills the line, a first in my experience.
Annette loves to chat and is rarely at a loss for words, so I fill in.
“I did some digging and found her stay was paid for not by her, but by some kind of company card. It took me a while to unravel the LLCs, but eventually I got there, and I’m not liking what I’m finding.
Who is she? What is Maven Investigations?
Because right now, I’m heavily hoping you’re the one who hired them.
If not, we have big fucking problems.” My breathing is heavy, even to my own ears, as adrenaline courses through me.
A deep, annoyingly calm sigh comes through the other line. “Can you do a video call?” my boss asks.
“I don’t want a video call, Annette; I want answers!”
“And you’ll get them, but I want to watch your face to make sure I don’t have to call security to make sure you’re not going to go off your rocker when I tell you.”
My jaw goes tight, my stomach twisting at that, at the confirmation that something is amiss, and I was right to be wary.
“Annette…”
At that moment, a call rings through my laptop.
“Answer that,” she says brusquely, then hangs up the phone.