“What do you mean yet?” Sara asked, nervously.
“I don’t give up easily, Mrs. White,” Byron said. “I’m determined to own the Peak Mine, and I’ll keep working towards that goal.”
What would this man do, to ensure that he reached his goal? Would he use violence? Sara wondered.
Sara knew that she could not ask this.
Instead she turned to Lucy. “As a co-owner of HiTech Minerals, what are your thoughts on Sand Hills’ acquisition of Peak Mine?” she asked.
“Oh... it’s all part of the game. Yes, Daddy wants all of the mines, but for now, we’re going to have to be happy with most of them. I tell him all the time—do you want your blood pressure to be through the roof? No! So relax. Stop stressing so much.” She patted her father’s arm.
She went on. “This business can be so stressful, if you let it. I try to always manage that. Plenty of self care—that’s my program.”
“Too much self care, if you ask me,” Byron said.
“Oh, Daddy! You could do with taking better care of yourself,” Lucy said to her father. Then she addressed Sara. “Did you know that when he’s working on a sale, he’ll sometimes only sleep three or four hours a night?” Lucy raised her brows. “Can you believe that?”
Sara dutifully shook her head. “No, I can’t imagine, she said. “I have trouble functioning if I get less than six.”
“Oh, me too,” Lucy said. She touched her head. “Which might be the reason for this awful headache I have at the moment. I usually take sedatives at night. Prescription strength. I can’t find them anywhere... I must have forgotten to pack them. Anyways, I fell asleep just fine but woke up at two am when Davis got home from the bar. I heard him slam the door, and bump into furniture. Probably drunk.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “I couldn’t get back to sleep after that.”
Byron reached for his daughter’s elbow, and gave it a pull. “Alright honey,” he said. “This reporter doesn’t need to know all of our family’s personal business.”
As he pulled Lucy towards the elevators, Sara heard him chiding her. “What have I told you about talking to reporters? You shouldn’t go on about Davis like that.”
“What? He’s a drunk!” Lucy said. “He deserves to have his dirty habits aired to the public.”
“He’s your brother!” Byron countered.
“Ugh. Unfortunately,” Lucy said under her breath. She added something else, but it was spoken too quietly for Sara to hear. Though she tried, she couldn't quite make out Byron’s reply, either. They were out of earshot.
Sara watched them board the elevator, and be whisked away to their hotel suites.
Well, that was brief, thought Sara. Interesting, but brief.
She’d been surprised at Lucy’s immaturity, as well as her distaste for her brother. The fact that Davis was a heavy drinker was also unexpected.
Amir did say that the son seemed to rebel against his father’s rigid nature, thought Sara. Maybe his drinking habits are a part of that rebellion.
What does it mean for my case? she wondered.
She was still pondering this as she made her way toward the glass revolving doors that would take her out onto the street. But before she made it to the exit, a man who looked more like an overgrown teen entered the lobby.
Sara knew right away that it was Davis. His eyes and nose were similar to Byron and Lucy’s; the three were clearly related.
He had long, wavy blond hair, and stubble on his chin and cheeks. Whether he was trying to grow a beard intentionally or not, Sara wasn’t sure, but she could see that he had not shaved in quite some time—exactly the opposite of Byron, who had appeared clean shaven and as though he may have just visited a barber that morning, to shape up his tight crew cut.
Davis’s attire was the opposite of his father’s as well. He wore a boxy, oversized Hawaiian tee shirt, loose fitting cargo pants, and white tennis shoes. He had a pair of designer sunglasses propped on his head.
Sara approached him. “Hello, sir, are you by any chance Davis Smith?”
Davis looked her up and down and smiled. “Sure thing, sweets. I’m Davis. And who are you?”
It was clear that he was happy to have a woman as attractive as Sara interested in him.
Sara lifted her chin and stuck out her hand. “Sara White,” she said curtly. “I’m a reporter with the Dayton City Newspaper. I write for the business section.”
Davis’s demeanor immediately changed. “Oh. I thought you might be this chick I’ve been talking to on my dating app. Have you seen anyone waiting around here who looks like her name could be Love Bunny?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s a fake name,” Sara said.
“What would you know? Are you on dating apps?” Davis asked. He was starting to perk up.
“I don’t date,” Sara replied flatly. She immediately thought about Amir’s invitation to dinner. A smile threatened to spread across her lips at the thought of him, but she forced it away. It would do no good to encourage this man.
“Too bad,” Davis said. “You’re a real looker.”
“Mr. Smith, could I ask you a few questions about your companies bidding war with Sand Hills?” Sara asked.
Davis grimaced. “For a reporter, you’re pretty behind the times. That’s over. Haven’t you heard? We lost. The bidding war ended last night.”
“I’m aware of that,” Sara said. “I was hoping to hear your opinion about how everything went. I’m doing a follow up piece on the sale, and I think readers would be really interested to hear from you.”
“You should talk to my father,” Davis said. “He’s the one who usually handles the press.”
“But you’re a partial owner of the company,” Sara said. “You’re just as important as he is.”
“Hrmph,” Davis grunted. “Try telling that to my old man.”
“I already talked to your father, actually,” Sara said. “He just went up stairs with your sister. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“What? Lucy, not feeling well?” Davis said sarcastically. “What a shocker.”
“Is she sick often?” Sara asked.
“Only when there’s work to be done,” Davis said.
“And your father allows that?” Sara asked.
Davis clammed up. Sara saw that she was pushing her luck. She changed tactics. “I’m interested in what you thought of the negotiations,” she said. “Your father seemed to think that Sand Hills was cheating. I want to hear your perspective.”
Davis puffed up his chest. “They out bid us fair and square,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean that we’re out of the running. We mean to own Peak Mines eventually, and you can bet we’ll make that happen.”
“Your father said the same thing,” Sara said. “Does that mean you, your father, and Lucy will try to make Sand Hills reconsider?”
Davis looked disgusted by this. “Lucy isn’t capable of making things happen. All she does in meetings is complain about this, that, and the other thing—it’s too hot, she’s thirsty, the chairs are uncomfortable. I swear, once—” he stopped short.
“Once what?” Sara asked.
“Never mind,” Davis said. Then he craned his neck around, looking at the faces in the lobby. “I’m guessing Love Bunny is here somewhere,” he said. He looked down at his watch. “We agreed on a one pm meeting. I’m going to take her wine tasting. Then we’re going to go to a club and go dancing. Do you dance?”
He gave Sara that creepy up-and-down look again.
“No,” Sara said.
“Never?” Davis asked. “Girl, you need to loosen up. No dating, no dancing... What’s wrong with you?”
Sara straightened up taller. “Nothing is wrong with me,” she said.
“I always take my dates dancing. You’d be a great dancer—believe me. In fact, if you ever want to be in a dance video, give me a call. I have a YouTube channel. I make my own music videos.”
“You’re a performer?” Sara asked.
Davis nodded proudl
y. “Yeah. I sing and dance. I also direct and produce the videos. We have over ten thousand followers.”
“Sounds like you have a whole other career,” Sara said.
“It’s not enough to pay the bills, yet,” Davis said. “But it sure takes up a heck of a lot of time. I mean, shooting the videos isn’t so bad. That can be done in an afternoon. It’s editing the videos that’s the biggest time suck. Sometimes it takes me weeks to get it right.”
“I’m sure they’re good, if you have that many followers,” Sara said politely.
“Oh, they’re good. And you would be a great addition. I can see you in some nice short shorts, dancing all—” He broke into a dance move that truly disturbed Sara.
“Mr. Smith!” Sara said, flustered. “I told you, I don’t dance.”
“Oh, that’s right. You’re too busy with your ‘business reporting’.” He lifted his nose into the air and took on a snooty voice as he said this.
Is that what I sound like? Sara wondered, offended.
“Well, get in touch with me if you ever want to have fun,” Davis said. “You can find my videos online. I’m under NYC Movz—that’s M-o-v-z, with a ‘z’. You’ll like the videos, I promise. You might even learn a thing or two.” He gave Sara a wink.
Then, as if he wasn’t being inappropriate enough, he added, “Sure you don’t want to see my room? I have the only room with a patio that leads right out to the pool deck. I could mix you a drink.”
“I am absolutely sure,” Sara said.
He chuckled. “Can’t hurt to ask. Good luck with your article, sweets.”
He turned and walked away from her. She heard him approach another woman. “Are you Love Bunny?”
Sara gave her body a little wiggle, as if she could physically shake off Davis’s creepy advances.
Then she made a beeline for the hotel exit. She was done talking to Davis, and she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.
Plus, she had a junkyard to visit.
9
Brown’s Landfill was located clear across the city of Dayton, and Sara spent the next hour and a half locating it. When she finally pulled up to the front entrance, she had trouble tracking down an employee. After wasting another half hour driving around the perimeter of the yard, she finally found a teenager who led her to Matt’s totaled car.
The Land Rover was dented and smashed up on all sides, but most noticeably on the roof. That made sense, seeing as Sara remembered reading that the car had rolled several times before landing upside down.
Only one car door would open—the front door, on the passenger side, because the others were too dented. Sara was able to climb into the vehicle and comb the floor, seats, roof, and various compartments for clues.
Though she was hoping for something obvious—like one of Lucy’s long blond hairs, perhaps—she had no such luck. She did find some red fibers that looked like they may have come off of a rope scattered along the driver’s side floor mat, but other than that, the car was remarkably clean.
She felt that she had hit another dead end. Just like at the office, her investigative work was not yielding any results. As she walked back to her car, however, her cell phone rang, and she perked up when she saw it was Evie on the caller ID.
“Evie?” she said, picking up.
“Sara! It’s been forever!” Evie gushed. “I am so glad you called, because I actually wanted to call you! Dan and I have some news... and seeing as you’re the one who set us up, we wanted you to be among the first to know. I’m pregnant!”
Sara smiled. “That is great,” she said. “I am so happy for you.”
“I mean really, I’ve been meaning to call you all week, so I thought it was so perfect when I got your message.”
“Great minds think alike!” Sara said sweetly. “We were both thinking of each other. So you did get my message?”
“Yes, and I looked up the tox screen,” Evie said. Her voice was slightly lower now, and Sara wondered if she might even still be at work. Sharing a patient's lab results was definitely not allowed, even if said patient was deceased. Sara felt grateful to have a friend on the inside.
“What did you see?” she asked.
“Looks like he was clean, all except for one thing. Sedatives. A pretty hefty dose, if you ask me. They were partially metabolized in his stomach, and had traveled through his blood stream. He must have taken them several hours before the crash. My guess is about six hours prior to getting behind the wheel.”
Sara was silent, taking this in.
No wonder Gabby acted strangely, she thought. She doesn’t want anyone to know that her husband had sedatives in his system. It would disgrace the family.
“Thank you,” Sara said to Evie. “That is very helpful.”
“You didn’t hear it from me,” Evie said.
Once they hung up, Sara couldn’t stop wondering about the sedatives. Evie said that it appeared that the drugs had been in Matt’s system for about six hours at his time of death. If he died from the impact of the crash at 10:45, that meant he took the pills around 4:45. It didn’t make sense. Why would he take sleeping pills? He was supposed to drive home, meet his family, and go out for a nice dinner to celebrate his daughter’s birthday.
It was 4:00 pm by the time Sara arrived at home.
Her roommates were all still at work. They were a hardworking bunch.
Part of the reason that she got such a good deal at the cabin was that she kept the house tidy, cooked dinners, and even did the laundry.
She was able to start a first draft of her article, but at five she had to take a break to get dinner ready. Vegetable stew was a favorite around the cottage, so she whipped up a big batch of it. While it simmered on the stove-top, she called Cinda and asked if she’d come over to discuss the case.
Cinda arrived at eight, just as Sara finished cleaning up the kitchen. Thankfully, her roommates retired to their rooms early, so Cinda and Sara had the cottage to themselves.
“It smells good in here,” Cinda said, as she settled onto the couch. “Have you been cooking?”
“As usual,” Sara said. “I made a veggie soup for the guys.” She’d brought two mugs of lemon ginger tea in from the kitchen, and she handed one to Cinda before sitting down on the couch as well.
“I can’t believe you cook for them,” Cinda said. “It is such a strange arrangement that you have here.”
“I know,” Sara said. “They really should have said they were looking for a housekeeper and a cook—not a roommate. But the rent is cheap, we all get along, and I’ve come to love this cottage.” She looked around at the rough beams on the ceilings, the whitewashed walls, and the houseplants tucked into every nook and cranny.
“It is unique,” Cinda said. “And you pay less rent than anyone else I know. But you’re not going to live here forever, are you?”
“Forever is a long time,” Sara said with a laugh.
Cinda grinned. “Eventually, you’re going to meet a guy, fall head over heels in love, and get married. Then the two of you will buy some little loft and live happily ever after.”
Sara scrunched up her nose. “I love the happily ever after part, Cin, but a loft? Really? I can’t see myself in a little loft. I want a house outside of the city...”
She thought dreamily of Amir’s place in Washton, with the sprawling lawn and beautiful gardens. For a brief instant, she imagined living there, with a little dog or two that she could walk through the neighborhood, perhaps on her way to visit her father, just a few streets over.
As if Fiona would allow it, she thought sullenly.
A question from Cinda pulled her quickly from the disturbing thought. “So.... you met your prince. How was he?”
“He’s not my prince, Cin,” Sara said, trying to keep a straight face. She wasn’t ready to reveal to Cinda, or herself, how much she already felt for Amir Malick.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Cinda said. “Amir. What’s he like?”
“Handsome,” Sara
said. “Smart. Funny. Charming. Kind.”
Cinda’s eyes widened. “Is there anything he’s not?” she asked. Then, as usual, she continued chattering without waiting for an answer. “He sounds amazing, Hon! I am so happy for you. He must have been taken by you, too. You’re just so darn pretty. You can’t help it.”
“I think he was ‘taken by me’,” Sara said with a smile, remembering the way Amir looked at her. “At least enough to ask me out to dinner.”
“Oh!” Cinda cried happily. “Really? When?”
“Tomorrow night. He said that he would pick me up at seven.”
“A date with a prince,” Cinda said, lifting her mug of tea. “Now that deserves a toast.”
Sara clinked her mug against Cinda’s, while rolling her eyes. “It’s just dinner,” she said. “I’m not marrying the guy.”
“I know you, Sara,” Cinda said. “You wouldn’t agree to go out with him unless you thought it could really lead somewhere. I see good things in the future.”
Sara smiled. The truth was, she did, too. Being with Amir just felt so right. She’d never felt that with any other guy. They clicked. Conversations with him were effortless and easy, yet exciting at the same time. She got butterflies in her stomach just thinking about him.
“I’d love to go on and on about him,” Sara said, “But we have work to do. It’s already past eight. I don’t want to keep you too late, but I’m dying to know... what did you find out when you looked into Abner Kirkwood’s death?”
“Okay, here’s the scoop,” Cinda said, resituating herself so that her knees were tucked up beneath her. “I called his home number, and his wife picked up. I went into this whole spiel about how I was from the newspaper and we were doing a piece about rare earth elements. Not far from the truth, you know.”
Sara nodded. “That’s perfect. And...?” She reached for a pen and notepad from the coffee table, and propped them on her lap.
“She opened right up about Abner’s death. Told me everything. She was so surprised and devastated when Abner died, obviously. Apparently, he was the epitome of health—they both were. They followed a strict diet, ran marathons and half marathons regularly, and were all round the ‘healthy couple’ amongst their friends. You know the type.”
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