Page 24 of The Sole Suspect
“What about any threatening notes?” I had to ask. “Did you throw any through Cobblers’ Corner’s window? Send any to Councilwoman Fairfax?”
Both teens looked genuinely confused.
“Notes? Nah, man.” Malcolm shook his head. “We just did the spray paint stuff. Harrington was specific about that—no property damage, no threats. Just make it look scary.”
“And Wilson’s Bakery?” Penny asked absently tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.
The pair exchanged furtive looks, communicating in some wordless code between themselves.
“We spray painted the bakery, but we didn’t trash it.” Tommy finally said. “Swear it.”
“Now, I find that hard to believ?—”
“Thanks guys.” I cut Penny off, nodding to the teens. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”
As we walked back toward Fairfax Mansion, Penny clutched my arm. “You really believe they didn’t trash Rosie’s shop or send those scary notes?”
“I doubt it.” I shook my head. “They’re not really the type. Just bored teenagers with a talent for graffiti art.”
“Good point,” Penny conceded. “But Blake—we’ve got him, right? Actual proof he’s been terrorizing the district?”
“Maybe? Part of it, anyway.” I scrolled through the forwarded messages. “But all of it? And if not, who’s behind the rest? The notes, the figure in the raincoat...”
“One mystery at a time.” Penny squeezed my arm. “Right now, we need to figure out what to do with this information before the auction.”
Jake hurried to keep pace with us. “You think Blake will be at the auction?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I said, mulling it over. “I bet he’ll show up to fish for votes before next week’s mayoral debate.”
The autumn wind rustled leaves across our path, carrying a hint of winter’s chill. Something still nagged at me.
“We need to confront Blake.” I said. “After we wrap up at the Fairfax Mansion, let’s stop by his office.”
Penny agreed with a quick “Sure thing,” while Jake declined, muttering about needing to get back home after we finished at the mansion.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My heart raced as we rode the elevator up to Blake’s office floor. The polished brass doors reflected our determined faces as we ascended, my stomach tightening with each passing floor.
Thanks to Penny’s clever strategizing, we slipped right by the front desk attendant who barely looked up from her computer. I wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans, wondering if confronting Blake directly was brilliant or completely foolish.
We pushed open Blake’s office door to reveal not just Blake, but Dominic. My omega instincts flared at the presence of two powerful alphas. My heart faltered at the sight of the one who’d shattered it.
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms to steady myself. The memory of our last encounter flashed through my mind—his lips against mine, that intoxicating mix of pine and cinnamon overwhelming my senses.
No. Focus.
I hadn’t come here for him. I came here to demand answers from Blake Harrington.
As we stepped into the plush office, I noticed a third person—Brian Collins, Dominic’s deputy. He’d introduced himself the first time we’d visited Blake’s office, all polished professionalism and corporate efficiency.
I watched as Brian leaned in to speak quietly to Dominic. “Mr. Steele, shall I reschedule your three o’clock? The investors are already waiting on the conference line.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened. “No need. You can handle them.”
The exchange was brief and professional. Brian gathered several files from Blake’s desk, his movements quick and efficient.
“I’ll update the investor documents as discussed,” Brian told Blake, his voice carrying that particular blend of courtesy and competence that marked a good executive assistant. “The property assessments should be complete by tomorrow morning.”