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Her phone beeped. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. “It’s a text from Ian. He’s requesting to speak to us about the case.” She glanced at Gavin. “He has information for us and says it’s urgent.”
The Westcott Country Club sat on a small hill overlooking the lake. Gold accents gilded the main lobby. Claire's boots were soundless as she crossed the marble floor to the dining area. Gavin kept pace beside her. A maître d’, wearing white gloves and a tux, escorted them to a private table in the rear of the restaurant.
Ian was seated, waiting for them, his gaze lost as he stared out the window next to him. Dark hallows shadowed the area under his eyes and two days of scruff covered his jaw. He twisted a glass of whiskey in his hands.
“Your guests, sir.” The maître d’ announced.
The words brought Ian out of his trance. He stood and greeted both Claire and Gavin with a handshake. Pleasantries were exchanged. Claire pulled out a chair across from Ian and sat. Anxiety churned her stomach, but she forced herself to relax her shoulders. Ian had requested this meeting, and it was best to let him lead it.
Ian picked up the glass of whiskey and took a sip. “First, allow me to apologize for my father’s behavior. I heard about the incident in your office. The article in the newspaper wasn’t your fault.”
Where was he going with this? Claire hated being suspicious of Ian’s motives. She liked him as a person, but the more this case developed, the more questions she had. “You don’t need to apologize for your father. I understood why he was upset. He’s merely looking out for you.”
Ian snorted. “He’s looking out for the Scott family name. I’m just a part of that. But you didn’t come here to talk about the issues I have with my dad.” He licked his lips and twirled the whiskey glass. “How certain are you that Faye’s murder is connected to Stephanie’s disappearance?”
Gavin stiffened. It was so slight, Claire wouldn’t have noticed, except that he was sitting close enough to have their arms touching. She kept her voice neutral. “It’s a lead we’re pursuing. Why?”
“I worked with Stephanie during my father’s reelection campaign. She was a ray of sunshine and good at her job. Sweet. I cared about her. And Faye.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were bloodshot. “I would look closely at Alex Sheffield. He and Stephanie had a volatile relationship. She broke up with him, but he wouldn’t accept it. He stalked her. Called at all hours. Watched who she was with.”
“Did she tell you this?”
He nodded. “She feared him. It made me worried for her safety.”
Claire had the impression Ian cared deeply for Stephanie. “When Stephanie disappeared, did you report any of this to Sheriff King?”
“No.” His gaze drifted out the window again. “I was foolish. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought. I’d hoped—still do actually—that Stephanie is doing well someplace far from here.” Ian pushed away from the table. “I’d better go. Heather will be waiting for me. Thank you for meeting me here. Since the country club is exclusive, we won’t have any pesky reporters popping out to take photographs of us.”
Ian took a final swig of his whiskey, draining the glass. From the flush in his cheeks, Claire was certain this wasn’t his first alcoholic beverage of the evening. She’d never seen Ian drink before. And the gauntness in his face was recent. He looked like a haunted man.
He smacked the glass down on the table. “It’s my wedding anniversary next month. Heather wants to throw a big party to celebrate here at the country club.”
“Congratulations.” Claire forced a smile. “You and Heather were childhood sweethearts, right?”
He nodded, twisting his wedding ring around on his finger. “We were destined to get married. My dad kept pushing and pushing. Fighting him…it’s like resisting a tsunami. Impossible.”
There was a thread of anger in his voice. Claire sensed there was a hidden meaning to this pivot in the conversation, but she didn’t know Ian well enough to make it out. Could there be more to his relationship with Stephanie than a harmless flirtation? Had they dated?
“What is going on here?” Heather strolled into the room, her high heels not slowing her long-legged stride in the least. She wore a crisp business suit, her hair styled in soft waves that framed her beautiful face. Diamonds earrings and a designer purse completed the ensemble.
She halted at the end of the table. Her cheeks were flushed, and she cast Gavin and Claire a look of derision. “Haven’t you done enough damage? The mayor told you to call ahead of time before you question any of us.”
Her tone was caustic. Claire’s brows arched. A smart retort was on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it back down when Ian rose from his chair. He kissed his wife on the cheek. “Don’t get all riled up, Heather. The sheriff was kind enough to stop by and apologize for the news story in the paper today.”
Heather opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. “Oh.”
Ian glanced at his watch. “We should be going. We’re late for our meeting with the event planner. Sheriff, Ranger Sterling, thank you again for your kind words.”
He quickly hustled his wife from the room. Gavin’s stunned expression matched Claire’s own feelings. Every encounter with the Scott family left her more confused than the last. Through the open doorway, she watched Ian and Heather greet another woman with forced smiles.
“Ian’s hiding something,” Gavin whispered. “From us. And I suspect, from his wife.”
Claire sighed. Another headache was brewing in her temples. “I know. But is he hiding a relationship with Stephanie? Or murder?”
Gavin slipped through a set of trees on the Wilsons’ property. Frigid air, scented with pine and dried leaves, filled his lungs. Moonlight trickled onto the lake. Everything was quiet. And yet, Gavin couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of unease inside him.
A state trooper sat in front of Daniel and Lindsey’s home. Gavin lifted a hand in a wave as he passed. The lights in the house were dark. Not surprising given the late hour. He kept to the walkway, following it to the boathouse. He checked to make sure the building was secure.
It was. The door was equipped with a new lock that required a code to open it. From his vantage point, Gavin could see the back of Claire’s cabin. The lights in the living room were on. She sat on the couch, reading something on her laptop, a fluffy blanket across her lap. The fireplace was on and a mug sat on the coffee table.
