Page 165 of Secrets Along the Shore

I hold my breath, sure he’s going to say they don’t keep video recordings that long—almost a full year—but praying I’m wrong.

“Sometimes things go down in the lot. Police hasslin’ us. Or folks hasslin’ each other. Or folks need to prove where they was.”

As in, sometimes your clients need alibis.

“It’s come in handy before, so yeah, we keep it. Save it for a long while. You sayin’ if I find it for you, you’ll go away?”

“Mr. Haynes, if you can get that footage for me, I will come down to your club andpersonallyapologize for bothering you.”

Laughter bursts from the speakers. “I was gonna make you get a warrant. Butthat, I’d like to see.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Haynes promisesto get with me about the video when he can, though I press him for sooner rather than later. He suggests I ought to be grateful, and that I’ll get it when I get it. I can only hope he’s blustering and is as ready to have me out of his hair as I am to get my hands on that footage.

I drive back to the house to collect what I need to move forward with the idea I got at Grace’s place. Then I swing by the sheriff’s department to see Cole, but he’s out. He doesn’t answer when I ring his cell either. I settle for leaving him a package with a note inside.

My office is the next stop. I distract myself while waiting to hear from Cole by answering emails, reviewing client inquiries, and doing some desk research in a couple of cases. I even reach out to my accountant–slash–office manager, who manages the financial aspects of Walsh Investigations. As soon as she answers, I realize I haven’t spoken to her in over a week.

In addition to being my accountant, Rachel Grant is also a pretty good friend. As if I couldn’t feel worse…

“Soph! I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

“It’s not you, it’s me. I’m so sorry. I’ve been insanely busy. No excuse, but it’s true.”

“It’s fine. I know you’ve been working those murders. Catch me up.”

I do, or at least as much as I can without going into details of the investigation, or the disturbing turn of events with Edward. It’s not that we aren’t close enough for me to tell her. I simply don’t want to talk about it.

Instead, I steer the conversation to her. She tells me about her husband—Nolan, the doctor—and her two children, the cutest little girls you’ve ever seen. I babysit them when I need a kid-fix I can’t get from Jake. It satisfies the urge when it rears its head, which isn’t that often. I can’t imagine adding that wonderful but all-consuming angle to my life any time soon.

After a thorough review of our personal lives, Rachel and I switch into business mode. She’s in the middle of bemoaning the unacceptably high amount of receivables when my phone buzzes.

It’s L.A.’s number.

“…owes you another two grand, which he promises?—”

“Hey, Rachel,” I interrupt, “I’m so sorry, but I have to catch this other call. Can we do dinner soon? Girls’ night out?”

“If we do, will you let me finish my financial report?”

“I will.”

“Then I’ll text you. Of course”—I can almost hear her smirk—“you’ll have to actually respond.”

“I will. Promise.”

I switch calls and L.A.’s voice comes over the speaker. “Walsh?”

“Mr. Haynes?”

“Yeah, so I got what you asked for. They’ll be sending you the video soon.”

I sit up straight in my chair. “That’s fantastic. Thank you.”

“And, I found somebody at the club who recognized your girl from the photo. She ain’t there yet, but I got her number.” He rattles it off, and I grab a pen and scribble it down.