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Emi doesn’t appear convinced. I can guess the number one question I’ll be asked from here on out.
“Now, the good news.” This grabs everyone’s attention. They turn back to Vaughn. “Given the rain, we’re going to have movie night. And—I’ll allow public use of Wi-Fi.”
Excited chatter now. I’m one of them. Finally I can check in with Victoria Twanow.
“We’ll follow our usual protocol. Last names ending A through H get first hour. I through P next sixty minutes. Which leaves Q through Z for the end.”
Groans from two people, I’m guessing the Q through Z crowd.
Vaughn is already waving away the complaint. “Come on, you’ve spent your entire lives sitting in the back of the classroom. You know you’re used to it. Plus, I have one more surprise.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Homemade brownies, baked by Ann this afternoon.”
This earns actual applause. Ann stands up, takes a bow. More clapping.
“And popcorn?” someone wants to know.
“And popcorn,” Trudy answers over the noise. She glances slyly at Vaughn. “Drinks?”
Vaughn debates it for a second, but even I know he’s going to cave. First rule of toddler management: distract them with treats. “Fine,” he says. “Beer and wine. One drink per person maximum. Weather like this, we need our wits about us. Everyone got it?” He glances around the room. When no one else speaks up, he raps the table, apparently signaling the end of the meeting. “Rec hall, thirty minutes.”
As one, people push back from the tables and scurry into the kitchen to drop off their dirty dishes. I scramble to my feet, as that means work for me. I can tell by Trudy’s and Ann’s rushed movements that they’re anxious to complete cleanup so they can enjoy movie night.
Vaughn materializes at my shoulder just as I start loading the first dishwasher tray.
“My office, ten minutes.”
“I’m in trouble again?”
“Oh, I have a feeling you’re in trouble always. Or maybe you are trouble always.” With that, he stalks off.
“Busted,” Ann stage-whispers.
I shake my head, quickly scouring the pile of plates, then grab my already soaked rain jacket and head into the deluge.
CHAPTER 18
VAUGHN IS LEANING BACK IN his deluxe executive chair when I enter, his feet propped on the edge of his desk. His radio is no longer worn as a leash around his neck but tossed next to the keyboard in front of him. I wonder if that’s his idea of cutting loose.
I take up position across from him, the air-conditioning hitting my damp clothes and making me shiver. Belatedly, we both glance at the empty hook where his sweatshirt had been—the sweatshirt I now have hanging up in my cabin.
A weird vibe hums through the space between us. I shift restlessly from side to side. I don’t want vibing or humming. Sleep, on the other hand…
“I did some digging into your background after this morning’s development,” Vaughn states after a moment.
I stiffen, say nothing. First rule of thumb, make them come to you.
“Seems like nowhere features quite a few missing people. And your name is attached to most of those investigations.”
I remain silent.
“Are you law enforcement?”
“No.”
“Private investigator.”
“Definitely not.”
“There’s no way one woman is randomly connected to over a dozen missing persons cases.”
