What a joke.
They took two years to find the real killer and bring him to court. Two years before, the judge apologized and released Bane to walk the streets. Not even the settlement from his lawsuit made things right again. The damage to his reputation was done; it was over when the judge rapped his gavel.
Being behind bars brought him a perspective he might have never seen. Contacts he might have never made. He’d learned to survive.
Logan had his feet propped up on the desk with the phone pressed to his ear when Ryley St. James came strolling in with a manilla envelope and what looked to be today’s newspaper clutched to her chest.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” he said into the phone, listening to the man drone on and on about catching kids vandalizing his property. “Listen, I’ve got to run, but I’ll get on it.”
He hung up the phone and rested his clasped fingers behind his head. “You’ve changed something since yesterday. New hair color?”
She grinned. “Nope.”
He dropped his feet to the floor. “Where did the cuts come from, and who do I need to visit to return the favor?”
“No one you can fight.” She plopped down in one of the leather seats in front of his desk.
“A ghost did that?”
“More or less. Caught me off guard and I went down hard. Didn’t help that I was surrounded by bottles of liquor.”
She’d been caught off guard by a ghost. “I don’t know if I should be scared for you or impressed that you’re still alive.”
“Neither.” She said, leaning forward. “But what you can do to return the favor of not being arrested for murder is tell me everything you know about these pictures, including who paid for what.”
She slid the file across the desk, and Logan opened it and pulled every single candid picture out, laying them across the desk surface.
He knew the files well, even though the pictures had been taken months ago. It wasn’t every day your childhood best friend’s mom was caught in an affair.
He met her gaze. She’d been watching him.
“I remember these, specifically Mrs. Crews,” he said, grabbing the keys to the filing cabinet from his desk and rising to his feet. His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID. “I’ve got to take this.” He handed her the key. “The files are locked in the cabinet out there.” He gestured to the outer office to an empty receptionist's desk.
She took the keys and stepped out as he answered.
“Bane,” he said into the phone.
“Logan, honey.”
His gut had warned him not to answer the phone. He should have listened “Marissa, I can’t do this right now. I have a client.”
“Who is she?” Marissa asked.
Logan sighed and dropped his gaze. “None of your business. My life no longer concerns you.”
“It will always concern me, Logan, darling.”
“I’ve got to go.” He hung up on her for the second time in one day. He re-pocketed his phone and hurried to the receptionist’s area.
Ryley had the two files out on the desk and was looking through a third.
“What are you looking at?” He leaned against the door frame.
She turned to face him. Her brows pulled down in a frown. “Tell me this is a sick joke.”
He closed the distance between them and knew from the picture sitting on top he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this one. “I can explain.”
“It was my brother, wasn’t it?” She growled and returned her gaze to the file, flipping through it.
“Ryley. He was worried about you.”
She got to his findings on the last page, and he watched as the air was sucked from her lungs. She collapsed into the receptionist's chair.
She lifted her gaze to his. He rested a comforting hand on her arm. “Three days ago, he fell off the grid after buying a bus ticket to town, and I’ve got contacts on the street trying to track him down. We’ll find him, Ryley.”
“Oh, God. This means he could have seen today’s paper.”
Chapter 26
Ryley
Words escaped her. Her brother had shared their past with a private eye. Why would he do that and not tell her?
The temperature in the office dropped, creating goosebumps on her arms. Stretch materialized and was reading over her shoulder. “Someone is in trouble.”
She couldn’t answer, not that she had to. Tucker had broken the sibling bond by keeping this from her. Something they’d promised years ago to never do.
Logan grabbed the files and held out his hand. “Why don’t we go back into my office, and I can tell you what I found out about the Lynches.”
She shook the confusion and anger aside and rose to her feet. Slipping her keys out of her pocket, she headed for the door. “You can tell me about the files while I drive.”
Logan raised a questioning brow. “And exactly where are we going?”
“To say goodbye to Mr. Smith.”
“Who?” He asked. Grabbing his keys, he locked the door behind them. She was already halfway down the stairs when he caught up to her. “Who’s Mr. Smith?”
She shrugged. “Beats me, but seeing how you owe me for keeping you from a life behind bars, you can help me today since you’re familiar with the files.”
“Is this retribution for me trying to track down your dad?”
“Well, yes,” she answered glancing over her shoulder at him before pushing out the door and onto the sidewalk where she’d parked. He slipped into the passenger side, having to adjust the seat. “I’m guessing Crews has never been in your car?”
She scrunched her nose and glanced at him. “Why would he?”
“Never mind,” he said and hooked his seatbelt. “So, where can we find this ominous Mr. Smith?”
“Glendale Cemetery,” she said,
