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“While I would like to speak to him, no, this is not a bribe. This is exactly what it looks like: breakfast.” He takes a sip of his coffee.
I roll my eyes. “Why does it have to be so difficult to get answers to anything?”
“Like you, I’ve been looking for information. And like you, I’ve found nothing. Neither have the P.I.’s that I’ve hired. Nothing until this.” He leans forward so he can pull something from his back pocket. He unfolds a piece of paper and sets in on the table beside our plates. It’s the front page of the newspaper he took from me last night.
Before he can stop me, I snatch it up, quickly folding it and putting it in my own pocket.
“Last night I was able to track down the author of the article. I messaged him and he agreed to meet me, today.”
Excitement rips through me and I sit up, leaning forward. “You did?” Then I frown. “And you brought me along?”
“I found Arthur after speaking to his sister. She gave me his number, but warned me to stay away.”
That was reassuring. “Why?”
Payne nods. “Last night was the first time I’ve ever seen that version of the paper. The updated version was written by another student. If I hadn’t seen that, I would never have connected any of this. The original author, Arthur Willsberg, was a sophomore working on the Ledger at the time of the murder. A few weeks later, he was expelled.”
“Really? What did he do? Everyone seems to get away with…” I stop myself before saying murder, the phrase more automatic than intentional. The various activities beneath the church come to mind. “A lot of things that should probably get them arrested, not just expelled.”
“According to the college records, he had been caught cheating.” Payne points in the general direction of the pocket containing the article. “That had much more significant consequences.”
“What do you mean?”
“His mother was the Chief of Staff in the Department of Education. Or she was. After he was expelled, the scandal hit the news and his mother had to resign.”
Strangely, I didn’t care. Arthur was in college with my brother, and he was willing to talk to us about what happened.
I can feel the hope growing inside of me and I try to smother it. There have been too many dead ends that I can’t allow myself to get excited about this. Not yet.
“Where are we meeting him?”
Payne shrugs, taking another sip of his coffee before answering. “He refused to give me a time or location, other than he would be in touch before lunch with a more specific meeting place in the city.”
We sit in the coffee shop for two more hours before Payne receives a text message. “Weird,” he mutters as he picks up the phone and reads the message.
“What’s weird?”
He hands the phone to me.
Withheld number:LOCKER 414. CODE 1203.
It’s followed by an address on 2ndAve. I read the short message again and then look at Payne. “Let’s go.”
Taking his phone back, Payne rolls his eyes. “I don’t think Arthur is going to be waiting in a locker, Tori.”
“One way to find out.” I pull out my own phone. The battery is already half dead, but I’m able to pull the address up on a map. It’s only about a twenty-minute walk. “Come on.” I grab my jacket off the back of my chair and pull it on as I hurry to the door.
Payne follows just behind as I weave through the crowded street. Just before we get to the address from the message, he grabs the back of my jacket and pulls me back. “Just slow down, Tori.”
Considering he was the one who reached out to Arthur and decided to bring me along, I can’t help but arch my eyebrow at him. “Why? Payne, regardless of what he tells us, this is more than I’ve had in… ever.”
“I agreed to meet with him, not take part in a scavenger hunt.”
He glances up at the sign above our heads, and for the first time, with his hesitation, he actually seems like a human.
Lowering his head to look back at me, he frowns. “This is a random locker warehouse. Not a coffee shop or a café, or even an art gallery. Just a very questionable looking store where I wouldn’t dare leave any of my belongings.”
“You think this is a waste of time?” I ask him. “You’re the one that messaged him.”
