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What is he doing here?
The lighter snaps shut, and he exhales smoke like it’s armor. “She doesn’t know anything,” he says before I can speak, voice rough, full of gravel and old whiskey. He glances at me, then back to the PI. “No sense bothering her.”
The PI doesn’t blink. His gaze slides to Jonah, cool and clean, like a scalpel. “And you are?”
“Friend of the family.” Jonah grins, his lips curling like something’s decaying there. “More like family. Isn’t that right, Lydia?”
I flinch. The way his eyes drag over me makes my skin crawl.
The PI doesn’t buy it. Not yet. He leans casually on the fence. “That so? Then you must know a lot about the family. Maybe even the town. Any insight into Mr. Wolfe or the others who’ve gone missing?”
Jonah blows smoke between them like a wall. “Can’t help you there.”
The PI’s eyes return to me. Polite, unreadable, but razor sharp. “Miss, you seem like someone who notices the little things. Did you see anything strange before Mr. Wolfe disappeared? Anything unusual at all?”
I cross my arms, my fingers digging hard into my sides. “I bought groceries. That’s all. If I wanted to take a nice, long drive, then I would’ve bought my groceries elsewhere.”
“Interesting,” he murmurs.
“Why is it interesting?”
“Well, most folks say your family was… well-connected. Your father, especially. Seems off that you wouldn’t support those who thought so highly of your father.”
The mention of my father lights something dry inside me. I can feel it catch.
“I have responsibility to this town, or to those who thought so high of my father,” I say flatly. “What’s your point?”
“No point,” he says. “Just an observation. Still, it’s strange. Growing up here, you must’ve known the key players. You’re telling me you didn’t notice anything off about Wolfe, or any of the others before they went missing?”
I freeze for half a heartbeat, fast enough to look like nothing, slow enough that he notices.
“Can’t say I’ve kept up with the news,” I manage.
“Shame.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card, holding it between two fingers. “In case you remember anything. Even the small stuff helps.” He stops in front of me and extends his hand, offering me the card.
I don’t take it.
Instead, I glance at the pigs. They’re restless, snorting louder now. The tension in the air is getting thick enough to chew.
“Anything else?” I ask.
He watches me for a second longer, then tilts his head, almost a nod of respect. “Nice pigs,” he says. “They’re big.”
“Pigs tend to be,” I answer.
“What are their names?”
I meet his gaze. “I don’t name food.”
That makes him smile, a real one this time. Small, knowing. “Fair enough.”
He slips the card into the fence post and steps away. “Have a good day, Miss.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
I wait until the PI’s car disappears down the dirt road before I exhale, the tension flooding out of me in a single sharp breath. But it’s short-lived.
