Page 20 of Freeing Lark

Flint looked at him. “Start at the beginning.”

Hoot rubbed a hand over his jaw. So he told them everything that had happened over the last few days involving that woman again. The island. The missing boat. The rescue. The accidental swim. Then the coffee accident this morning at the bakery. Hoot omitted several details he didn’t particularly want his coworkers discussing for the next six months.

Eggs supplied them anyway. “She also called him grumpy.” Hoot shot him a glare.

“Because you are,” Spark said.

Everyone nodded and Eggs affirmed, “Very.”

“Can we get back to the point?”

Haley tapped her keyboard. “What we know about Lark is limited.” The screen changed. “Her full name is Lark Meadows. Thirty-one. Artist. Recently moved to Bell Creek. She has a small online presence, mostly art-related. She specializes in large-scale community installations.”

“Why Bell Creek?” Flint asked.

“I can only assume because her aunt owns Flour Power Bakery.” Haley clicked again. “She doesn’t have much of a digital footprint. No criminal history. No obvious financial problems. No known political affiliations.”

Haley clicked a few more times before stating, “There’s a lease for a storefront rental in her name here in town.”

Hoot frowned remembering something the women had been talking about while he tried not to stare too hard at Lark. “Marilyn mentioned something about a studio.”

“For her art?” Spark asked.

“Don’t know,” Hoot replied. In all honesty, his attention had been so engrossed in carefully observing the subtle details of Lark’s behavior that he hadn’t been paying attention to the discussion taking place.

“And Whitmore’s son?” Flint prodded.

“That’s where it gets interesting.” Haley enlarged one of the photographs. Lark stood beside Bradley Whitmore at an art exhibition. His hand rested on the small of her back while Lark looked stiff and uncomfortable.

“She obviously dated him,” Haley said.

Hoot's jaw tightened.

“How long?” asked Flint.

“Still working on that. But pictures of them together seemed to have ended eight months ago.”

“Wonder what finally ended it?” Sparks inquired.

“Still working on that, too.”

“Well, she looks miserable in every photo,” Eggs interjected. “Hopefully she’s the one who walked away from the douchebag.”

Flint looked at Haley. “Find out everything.”

Haley nodded. “Of course.”

Then Flint turned to Hoot. “And you.” Hoot already knew he wasn’t going to like what came next. “You’re helping Haley.”

“No.” The answer’s swiftness and his own ragged breath disrupted his usual calm. Everyone looked at him. Hoot cleared his throat. “I mean, why?”

“Because you know her.”

“I’ve met her twice.”

Flint folded his arms. “You’ve interacted with her in person. Haley can find information. You can tell us whether what she finds matches the woman you’ve met.”

Hoot stared at his boss. Just what he needed. More interaction with Lark. More questions. More reasons to think about those chestnut curls, those expressive eyes, and the way her mouth curled when she was trying not to smile.