I get excited for a second when a travel record pings a low-tier watch list, only to find out it belongs to a different Giovanni Vitale. Probably a charming old guy who just really likes discounted airfare and chain restaurants. Not our guy. But that’s okay—I’m notgoing to get discouraged over chasing leads that turn out to be red herrings.
Next, I turn to the money behind the restoration. The company that’s sending funds for the restoration of The Shadowridge is a shell corporation. So I go spelunking. It takes digging upon digging upon digging some more, but eventually, it leads to hits on multiple international properties, including a warehouse outside Marrakesh and a dockyard in Naples. And now I’mdefinitelyseeing smoke.
And then it happens—the moment all the digital sleuthing pays off. I find aliases. Several. All linked to Giovanni. The kind of stuff that doesn’t show up on a casual background check, but it sets off every internal klaxon I’ve got.
Hours must have passed because people are filtering in for the work day to start. My yogurt still sits on my desk, untouched, and now warm. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my face. This might not be a smoking gun, exactly, but it’s smoke. A lot of smoke. And Giovanni is standing in the middle of it with a flamethrower, whistling like he’s innocent.
You may be clean on paper, but I see you, Mr. Vitale. And I’m not going to stop trying to find what you’re hiding. Not when Owen—and his dreams, and that vintage marquee he’s been talking about—are on the line.
CHAPTER 21
NEVER MINE TO CARRY
CHARLIE
Iwas prepping for a mission at work today, and every aspect of it was getting thwarted by random things. My ways around it got thwarted. The ways around those took fifty steps… and then got thwarted. I attacked the problems all day long. I had come to work early and even stayed much longer than I had planned. Yet, now that I’m leaving, I feel like I didn’t actually get a single thing done.
I don’t know how today fits into my whole “I’m on fire at work” metaphor. All I’m picturing from my day is a giant boulder. But I’m not the boulder—I’m just left with a headache from ramming into it repeatedly. I never get headaches.
When I get home, Miles’s car is parked out front. I know he has “best friend” status with Reese, but whenever he’s not away on missions, I swear hespends more time with her than I do as her actual roommate. When I walk inside, he’s standing near the kitchen, towel in hand, as he catches a bowl that had arced through the air to him. “Hi, sis,” he says as he dries it.
Reese races out to the hallway from where she was in the kitchen to see me. Then, with two wet, soap-bubble-covered hands, she motions toward the kitchen. “Tada!”
My eyes go wide, and I run to my kitchen. The walls are painted, my cabinets are back where they belong, and the countertop is back in place, which means… “We have a sink!” I run to it, put my hands on the sides of where Reese has obviously been doing dishes, and lay my cheek on it like I’m giving our sink the world’s most awkward hug. “I’ve missed you,” I tell it.
My “island” counter is no longer an island—it’s the bottom part of my L-shaped kitchen.
“Oh! And we have a table again!” I go over and hug it, too.
“And chairs,” Miles says.
Nineteen days. We’ve gone nineteen days without. I can’t believe how good it feels to have a kitchen again.
“Leandro and Josh got here as I was leaving this morning and were finishing up when I got home from work. I decided to celebrate by makingchicken stir-fry. Miles and I already ate, but there’s a ton left—it’s staying warm for you in the oven.”
I hug Reese for longer than I normally would, and say, “Thank you times a thousand.”
When I finally let go, I give my brother a long hug and say, “And thank you for helping.”
He murmurs in my ear, “Unrelated, but wanted to let you know I already swept for bugs and checked for intruders so you wouldn’t have to.”
“Thank you for that, too,” I say, and then finally let go of him.
Reese laughs and says, “Wow, I did not think we would get this much gratitude for feeding you.”
“After everything went wrong today, having a restored kitchen and a roommate and a brother who made me food and has it waiting, still warm, especially when I am this hungry, is downright heavenly. You’re both angels.”
“I don’t think you’ve called me that before,” Miles says, “but I’ll take it.”
Reese nods. “Me, too. Because we are. Okay, we’re off to take care of my bees.” She glances at the oven and then at the wall that’s now an actual wall. “There’s enough for two if you’d like to invite a certain someone to come and eat with you.”
Yes, I spent the morning investigating the sole donor for Owen’s restoration project. Yes, that makes me feel like I should pull back from Owenout of fear that getting any closer to him will make things even worse. I shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions when I’m tired and hungry, though, because I have my phone out and texting Owen before Reese and Miles even make it to the front door.
Charlie: Have you eaten? Because Reese and Miles made a chicken stir fry that smells delicious, and before they left, they said there’s enough for two warming in the oven. Want to come and join me?
I’m still looking at my phone, waiting for a response from Owen, when I hear a knock at the door. I keep my phone unlocked, looking down at it, as I walk to the door. I pull it open, and Owen is standing there, a box from my favorite bakery in one hand, and says, “I’d love to.”
I laugh and pull him inside.
