Chapter 7
“BUT YOU can’t be sure Dunk posted those bad reviews,” Linda said, gripping the steering wheel of the van. The idea that the celebrity head of the much larger, more successful agency would sabotage Sullivan’s fledgling business put a stone in her stomach.
“No,” Octavia agreed. “But I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“But why? Sullivan wasn’t a threat to someone like Dunk.”
“Who knows? You said Sullivan was known to mouth off—maybe he said something to Dunk that pissed him off and the reviews were his passive-aggressive way of getting even.”
“Regardless, thank you for taking care of it,” Linda murmured. “I wouldn’t want the kids to read bad things about their dad.”
“There’s a chance they could be reading bad things about us someday,” Octavia offered. “Once we start taking on clients, we’ll be getting reviews.” She worked her mouth back and forth. “Hopefully.”
“That’s different. At least we’re here to defend ourselves.”
“True. But I’ve been thinking—”
“Uh-oh.”
“People pay big money to have their online presence cleaned up. We could offer it as a service and hire Brittany to do the work.”
“Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves? We’re not even open for business. Besides, she’s a hacker.”
“Yeah—just like all the people who do that kind of work.”
“And she’s underage.”
“Which means she won’t get in trouble if she does something borderline.”
“We’re not going to turn her into a delinquent.”
“We won’t ask her to do anything that’s outright illegal. Besides, she could use the extra money. I think she’s raising herself.”
Linda softened. It was clear her sister saw something of herself in the girl. “Okay, I trust you to supervise. And the website looks amazing, by the way.”
“Yeah, nothing fancy, just a landing page.”
Linda laughed. “Look at you, spouting jargon.”
“I might not be as smart as you, but I’m not dumb.”
At the defensive note in her sister’s voice, Linda turned her head. “I don’t think you’re dumb.”
“You don’t think I can pass the investigator’s exam.”
“I’m not sure I can pass the investigator’s exam.”
“And if you can’t, I couldn’t possibly.”
Linda scoffed. “I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I…” Linda trailed off, then started again. “I’m just worried you’re not taking this class seriously. The material in the workbook is pretty dense.”
“I can read, Linda.”
Linda pressed her lips together and cast about for a different subject. “Did you talk to your accountant about buying a car?”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I don’t qualify to finance a car now and certainly not after the bankruptcy is filed. After I sell the house furnishings, I’m hoping to have enough to buy something pre-owned.”
“That will help,” Linda said, but doubt niggled at her. She’d heard Octavia commit the proceeds of the furniture sales to too many things. The sooner they could get the agency running in the black, the better.
And Octavia was right—she was worried her sister wouldn’t pass the exam and she’d be working cases alone. Octavia wasn’t dumb, but she’d never been a scholar. She’d attended UK on a cheerleading scholarship and by her own admission, had gone to as few classes as possible. And the only section of the investigation class she’d paid attention to last week was the one taught by Dunk Duncan.
Linda bit into her lip. She’d been a sophomore when Octavia was a senior—she’d seen the two of them on campus, the star basketball player and the gorgeous cheerleader. Even though they were never an official couple, they’d been head over heels for each other. She’d been shocked when Octavia had introduced her to a pre-law student named Richard and announced they were planning to get married when they graduated. Octavia had explained Richard would give her the life she wanted, but Linda always suspected Octavia carried a torch for Dunk.
And from the way the man had looked at her sister last week, it was clear he still had a thing for her, too. Octavia was in a vulnerable place… Linda didn’t want to see her get mixed up with a married man, especially a married man who could make things harder for them if the relationship went sideways.
Octavia sighed. “What?”
“What?” Linda asked.
“I can hear you over there thinking… worrying.”
Linda slowed to turn into the parking lot of the community college. “I’m not… anything.”
“I noticed Stone waved when we dropped off the kids.”
Linda’s pulse blipped. “Did he?” She spotted an empty parking spot and wheeled into it.
“You know he did. Klo said you told him not to come to the house to mow the grass anymore.”
“I’m going to let Jarrod do it. The grief counselor said he wants to contribute more to the running of the house.” She turned off the engine, then pulled her tote bag from the back seat.
Octavia gathered her things. “Uh-huh. I think you like him.”
Feeling flustered, Linda opened the door. “Stone? I do like him. He’s a nice guy.”
“I mean you like him.”
“What is this, sixth grade?”
“It’s okay, Linda. You have to get on with your life someday. And personally, I think Stone Calvert is a better choice than Oakley Hall.” Octavia opened her door and swung down.
Linda climbed out and slammed the door hard. “I know I have to get on with my life someday,” she practically shouted to her sister over the hood of the minivan. “And for the record, Stone isn’t a better choice than Oakley. Oakley is a stubborn, opinionated old-fashioned know-it-all, but he’s a catch!”
Octavia waved to someone behind Linda. “Hi, Oakley.”
“Hi, Octavia.”
“Linda, I’ll see you in class.” Her sister turned to walk toward the classroom building.
Linda closed her eyes. What was Oakley doing there? And had he heard her outburst?
She rearranged her face into a smile and turned to see Detective Oakley Hall wearing a questioning expression. He had so heard her outburst. What must he think of her, shouting about having a man in her life when her husband—his oldest friend and former partner—was barely cold in the ground?
“Hi, Linda.”
“Hi,” she murmured.
He was dressed in slacks and sport coat, his badge shining from his belt. A sprinkle of premature silver in his dark hair glinted in the sun. He was solid-bodied and handsome, his face nearly as familiar to her as Sullivan’s.
“You doing okay? You seem upset about something.”
Her cheeks flamed. “I’m… fine. What are you doing here?”
“I’m teaching the segment of the investigation course on crime scene forensics.”
“Ah. You must’ve known I’d be in this class. You could’ve said something.”
“I didn’t want to come off like a know-it-all.”
She coughed. “That’s a stubborn, opinionated old-fashioned know-it-all.”
A grin curved his mouth. “And still, some people think I’m a catch.”
Linda frowned and started walking toward the entrance. “Don’t let it go to your head,” she said over her shoulder. “And that comment was taken out of context.”
He caught up to her in two strides. “I’d like to hear the context.”
“It was a private, theoretical conversation.”
“Comparing the merits of Stone Calvert and me?”
“Drop it, Oakley.”
“I think I should know if I’m in some kind of competition.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she murmured. “I let Octavia provoke me into saying something inappropriate. I’m sorry you overheard it.”
Oakley opened the door and held it for her. “I’m not.”
She strode past him. “Oakley, don’t.”
“Why not? Linda, you know I’ve always had feelings—”
“Wait.” She put out her hand as realization dawned. “This is the first time you’ve taught this class, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’re spying on me.”
He scoffed. “I’m looking out for you, that’s all. I want to make sure you know what you’re getting into. Investigation can be dangerous work.”
She frowned. “More than a stay-at-home-Mom can handle, isn’t that what you mean?”
He sobered. “To be honest, no, I don’t think you have the skills for it.”
“That’s why I’m taking this class—to learn the skills.”
Oakley gave a harsh laugh. “Investigative work is more than skills you learn in a class—it’s instinct, intellect, judgment, and life experience.”
“None of which I have, right?”
“Come on, Linda, you have to admit you’re not exactly worldly.”
She pressed her lips together, then nodded. “You’re right, I’m not. I’ve spent the last ten years changing diapers and wiping noses and doing laundry and making treats for school bake sales.”
“You’re a wonderful mother,” Oakley said, his voice warm with sincerity. “Domestic duties are important and should be applauded. But they don’t translate to being a P.I.”
Linda studied his face. Oakley valued home and hearth, and like Sullivan, he had traditional views of men’s and women’s roles. And how could she be angry when she was guilty herself of settling for her role of housewife in order to keep Sullivan happy?
“Maybe so,” she murmured, “but I’d like to finish the class.”
“Don’t worry—if you don’t pass the exam, that bank job is still available.”
She nodded.
Oakley walked onto the elevator and held the door.
“I don’t think we should walk in together,” she said. “I wouldn’t want the other students to get any ideas. I’ll take the stairs and see you inside.”
“Okay, but… truce?” He extended his hand to her.
She hesitated, then reached out to put her hand in his. She regretted it instantly because he intertwined their fingers and awareness shot up her arm. The crazy physical chemistry they’d had when they were younger was still palpable. She withdrew her hand. “I take back what I said to Octavia.”
He brightened. “That I’m a stubborn, opinionated old-fashioned know-it-all?”
She frowned. “No—that you’re a catch.” Linda turned and strode toward the stairs.